MORNING
Do you ever get that brain-dead flash about the “consequences” of using ad-blocking software? I decided to see what the hell they were talking about. I was sternly warned that the site was supported by advertising and that if I did not want to see them go under, I would mend my ways. All I can say to such people is if you can’t post on the Internet without asinine ads, I don’t want you to survive.
[Author's note 2016-01-09: when I call these type of people down, I truly am at a loss for insults over how loathsome I consider such scum. "Spoiled, soft-palmed candyasses with misplaced superiority complexes." Such people are beneath contempt, not to be endured. Nothing compares to the look on their slimeballs faces like the one when anyone suggest others may not want their name on his file. Nothing except, unless I have not heard that mental retardation has been observed to occur in apes.]
What a douche, Vance. If you can’t “do your job” without breaking the law, maybe you should not be a lawyer. The Constitution clearly states people do not have to testify against themselves. That is why it says a warrant is necessary. Mass surveillance is a warrantless search, itself an unspeakable evil. Vance has that typical blockhead attitude that people who want privacy must necessarily have something to hide (um, especially from Vance). Gotcha, Vance, having something to hide is not illegal, but you are doing everything money can buy to make it so.
I fully understand why degenerates like Vance like the idea that privacy should be just another a commodity, available only to those who inherited the riches to afford it. Yes, Cyrus Jr. is the offspring of the real Cyrus Vance who died in 2002. Junior, an attorney, is opposed to the death penalty because dead men cannot afford infinite and expensive appeals (um, especially from Vance). He is mysteriously soft on automobile death cases, raising the Kennedy question. Anyway, “Twit of the Month” goes to Cyrus Vance, Jr. for using his unearned wealth to become an enemy of the people. And to become a general all-round jerk, who must “make conscious effort” to avoid talking about his father. Pitiful. Just pitiful.
NOON
How many kinds of apples are there? Here’s at least seven at the local Publix. And they all cost close to a dollar a pound. In Florida, I’ve never seen crab apples. When I grew up, every second house on the street had a crab apple tree. Have they fallen out of favor? This, and other important questions as I sipped my coffee at the bakery most of the morning. A guy’s got to wake up proper, you know. At my age these things don’t always happen all at once.
Programming, you know, the job that Patsie claims she can do. Time to time, I watch for developments, but dumbo code has become so entrenched that all “new” codes look alike [to me]. No, I do not think Nit, the “new” programming language is new at all. It is another cryptic C-like abortion. Object-oriented programming
I’ll tell you what it is. It’s what an idiot sounds like when he’s trying to pretend he is smart. It is strings like this that tell you when a computer language sucks. It has no bearing on the actual steps taken by the application to complete the task. It is programming overhead that should be taken care of automatically when the variables and parameters are set. The more lines of non-stepping code, the poorer the language. Whatever this command does, it is not one of the seven core commands common to all programming languages, including C.
You might find it curious that most of the skill involved was from shoemaking. Elementary as this project seems to the skilled tradesman, all of this is new to me. I know as much about fine woodworking as fine woodworkers would know about my trade. The difference is, I’m learning and I don’t laugh at beginners. But I do laugh at ignorant dicks, so read on.
And how about that North Korean all-girl group, the Moranbong Band? I count at least eleven including the saxophone and the grand piano. Hailed as representative of Korean culture, they also have electric keyboard, electric viola, electric guitar, electric bass, at least four electric violins, and other traditional North Korean instruments. That’s the thing about communism, everything you can imagine was invented there. Their video backdrop depicts a nuclear rocket launch. Seriously.
By request, here is that jimmyr link to the country songs that all sound alike. All “new country”, incidentally. Before I forget, another weird incident makes mention. I’m in a string of traffic returning from Big Lots and this bozo up ahead is standing on the curb munching his cell phone. There is a crosswalk, but he waits until we all approach at speed for the next light before deciding to walk. He gets cut off.
So he yells at us. Instantly a bunch of windows went down and told him where to stick it. The situation here is he was a wimp not very good at insulting people, so everybody got his goat. But he wouldn’t quit. When my turn came he screams at me something about paying attention. Right, a guy crossing a traffic lane while talking on a phone is going to lecture me about paying attention. My reply was too easy, “Hey, asshole, where’d you get the shirt? Gay-mart?”
Don’t worry, he was too fat to cause a problem and there were seven of us. The point is, he was giving himself a conniption fit because his insulting skills were like level 2. Probably wears Brut cologne and claims to have relatives in all 57 states. The type that doesn't need Q-tips as long as he's got car keys.
Here are a batch of my favorite six-word stories this week:
I found my soulmate. She didn’t.
Winning ticket. Back pocket. Laundry Day.
For sale: college textbooks. Never used.
Brought roses home. Keys didn’t fit.
Sorry, soldier. Shoes sold in pairs.
Before I forget, we have a small contest going to find a use or name for my "letter O" scroll saw doodad from last day. Earrings and napkin holder have already been taken, Ken.
AFTERNOON
Here is the culprit! But first the background. Lately, every time I sit down to practice guitar, my appetite goes bonkers. It is so easy to blame my restrictive diet and that 40% of my daily heart pills list that as a side effect. Today, heading back from shopping, I got splattered by a rare Texas-style wind devil in downtown Hallandale. Grit got into everything and I don’t mean just my carburetor. So I proceed home and scrub off two layers more than necessary.
Not yet mid-January and the first movie is already out with 80’s plot, the wrongly accused ex-cop/marine/karate instructor who has to find his wife’s real killer before the deadline. I like those deadlines because they don’t exist in real life. Before the bomb explodes or the plane runs out of gas or they kill the kid. It’s so lame, I won’t mention the title here. AMC Theaters.
The movie “Fury” was on the Indonesian pirate sites within days after I paid full price. The Sherman tank contributed greatly to the end of the war. In the words of Ralph Bernhard, “In retrospect, everything the Allies had or did "contributed GREATLY to end the war". Radar "contributed GREATLY to end the war". ULTRA "contributed GREATLY to end the war". The atomic bomb "contributed GREATLY to end the war". The Fletcher class destroyer "contributed GREATLY to end the war". Yorkshire Pudding "contributed GREATLY to end the war". Woolen socks "contributed GREATLY to end the war", and now, wait for it, Dusko Popov also "contributed GREATLY to end the war". Well said, Ralph.
I started into arranging that Oslin tune, “Come Next Monday” and ran directly into difficulties. I should have known there were reasons I liked the song and my old classical piano training tricked me. What I thought were bass runs were piano notes. I’m the guy for that job, but this means a lot more work. I reviewed her live on-line videos to see how she did it, in case it was studio trickery. Nope, she actually stops playing and at one point says over the mic, “I forgot the words”.
Trent called, so we’ll decide on a strategy. Probably pick the best lines from her videos and do a recombinant version that plays the most generic riff. Check back later, we are meeting up at Jimbos II. About fifteen minutes from now.
EVENING
It was a nothing evening in that I didn’t meet the babe of my dreams. So let’s take inventory of what constitutes a nothing evening in my books. We met up at the pub, the waitress was grouchy, not the boisterous lady I knew, but she was cheerful enough, maybe having an off day. My wooden “O” was loved by all. Trent hasn’t been in the place often enough to know we’ve destroyed tradition with our playing of old country on the jukebox. We checked out the Frenchie bar, where an old guitar-playing buddy of mine got me to sing a song I can’t do that was out of my range. But I chatted up the barmaid. Figuring we can’t speak French, we headed back, stopping to tour the Russian market. We drank up and decided that Texas is the best place in the world and we’d rather be there. He says Austin is tops, I’ve never been in there. All around it, but never actually there.
You see, when the old man drove us around in the back of the pickup, he would avoid cities so I could not jump out and run away.
ADDENDUM
Today’s Twit award was not an easy decision for our panel of judge. You read that right, judge, one judge: me. It was a toss-up as NPR is also, and there is no cute way to phrase this, pro-queer. What is the difference between queers and homos? A queer advocates the importance of his personal right to be queer whenever and wherever he pleases, that every molecule in the universe need make allowance for him. And they clearly have the full support of NPR. This faction maintains that the answer is education. Yours, not theirs, they mean.
For clarity, I am not anti-gay. I am, however, against any type of minority imposing their will upon a majority. Follow the money, the issue is the formula of the tax laws and such items as health benefits. In other words, the money. Giving benefits to any group for whom the original tax law was not intended is a contraction of allowances available to those for whom the program was designed.
Remember my analogy of the kid brother who didn’t really want his own bicycle? Well, these gay types don’t really want their own party, they want to crash yours. And don’t we just love the way NPR portrays gay issues as if they are everybody’s concern? Like inflation and ebola. So it came down to a real toss-up between Vance and NPR. Both have the attitude that the majority, the mainstream, have so many damn rights already that they should not be making such a squawk about giving up one or two here and there. Every day. For years on end.
PS: How do you like that neat Jesus graphic. It's from the Christian Left, or was it Christian Right? Who cares? Without it, my addendum was lacking in controversy, so why not bring Jesus into the loop? Hope you liked that.
Living Dangerously.
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
