One year ago today: March 17, 2014, on Hampton, Florida.
Five years ago today: March 17, 2010, my false friends.
Ten years ago today: March 17, 2005, an evening in school.
MORNING
Rattlesnake eggs. That is the musical instrument you hear in the background of my upcoming single, “Anything But Tequila”. Fine, what are rattlesnake eggs? They are a toy, shown here. When placed on a smooth surface around four inches apart, these objects wait about a second, then magnetically snap together. Since the encasement is ceramic material, they clatter very rapidly, producing a chirping sound. If you’ve never seen them, well, that’s part of the fun of this blog.
What is a wimp standard? I wrote about this before. That is where they have to water down everything in America because there are people so goddamed stoopid they’ll hurt themselves and sue the manufacturer. That’s why you have to take two aspirin instead of one. And your ladder has a sticker not to stand on the top rung. Wimps.
Those dud cells. My research shows that the problem occurs shortly after a sharp acceleration. Hence, slight variations in the cell chemistry, usually resulting from age, are the prime suspect. Double-hence, I’m designing a custom case for each bank of cells (batteries) where the offending cell can be easily replaced. On a production model, the cells would be brand new, so the problem would not appear until well after any warranty period. We learned this kind of thinking from Sony, you know.
Further research caused me to propose the addition of a large capacitor across the cell banks. A budget has been approved for Agt. M to salvage these capacitors from old clothes dryer motors at the junk yard. Thus, a sharp start will draw mainly from the capacitor rather than jolt the batteries. This diversity is part of why the club, although we have never built a robot, is highly successful in getting other things done.
For the record, I recognize two types of diversity. Good and bad. You can guess which variety I support. Good variety is where everyone benefits, like with our club. Bad diversity is when at least one party in the group is forced to suffer or subsidize the others. No need to ask if I like cultural integration, workplace teamwork, or large families. That wraps up this morning.
NOON
“If I ordered a truckload of sons-of-bitches and they just sent him, I’d accept the shipment.” (Texas humor)
Great day in the morning, JZ actually got a new truck. Same style and format, small extended cab, full size deck. I have not seen it yet, but this means an inaugural trip soon. Maybe Naples or the Keys, since those are not that far from his place. Go for Naples, he’s never seen the causeway they built on Tamiami Trail to restore the Everglades natural water patterns. And he says new, not another second-hand. But this remains to be seen. Like a lot of locals, JZ figures the women are looking at him more now that he’s in a new rig. I got brothers who think like that.
Forget the sandwich, I’m pointing at something you have never seen. European mulberries. These are as big as they get and are not grown commercially. So this is special stock, for insiders only. Never try to deny you’ve been eating mulberries because your fingertips and tongue will be purple for hours afterward.
I also took another quick look at two properties. You need to be very conscious of location in this area, never too close to some place that does not “share your same value system”. So I had to reject the first place just by the neighborhood I had to drive through to get there. And the second was an automatic reject because I do not know how to assess fire damage. I had been told it was tenant damage, not that they had started a fire. The PVC piping was burned, but without JZ there to see it, I said no.
So that you are aware of the financial situation we are operating under, this is not a normal case of supply and demand. There are tons of properties that can only be bought cash because of the banking cartel’s (illegal) pact not to finance anything that doesn’t reflect rising prices. This is the “wonderful” news you regularly hear in the papers, and it is completely false.
There are places that will finance, but they are predatory. JZ and I have traditionally sought to buy a place, renovate it, and flip it. We know that doing so pays the equivalent of $85 per hour each. And much more if we find the right deal. And that is why that new truck spells an opportunity here. Take a peek at this picture. This is part of a duplex for sale in West Palm, asking price is only $29k. The problem is, it is on 13th Street. Yep, that’s as bad as it sounds.
This operation has nothing to do with my search for a mobile home for myself. That is a separate matter completely. The only area that might overlap is this time I am prepared to use my own money to carry the project myself in case anything goes wrong. And I have cheap labor available.
Also, I am now set up to finance the place to the subsequent purchaser if it comes to that. But I’m not that keen on any arrangement that takes ten years to pay back. You can deduce my reasoning on that entirely by yourself. I would probably discount it to a loan broker.
Either way, make no mistake about it. I am not looking to give somebody a square deal for their precious house. Screw that noise, they borrowed money and I didn’t. I’m of half a mind to wave $15 thou under the nose of the guy selling this joint; take it or leave it. Ain’t nobody else got the cash around here and he knows that I know that. And that is a good indication of how much mercy the credit-class can expect from me. Do you think I care how much you paid for something if you borrowed the money to do it?
AFTERNOON
Now pay attention, I’m not going to over-explain this. True story. This guy walks into the gas station up on Federal and buys a pack of cigarettes with a $100 bill. The clerk, as trained, grabs the marker pen and strokes the bill. The line turns black. The customer sees this and grabs the cigarettes and bolts out the door. And hightails it, leaving the clerk with the $100 bill.
Funny thing. The bill is perfectly good, just like the one in this photo that I’m shown marking on my desk. But, but, the line turned black, didn’t it? Nope.
The clerk had accidentally grabbed an ordinary black felt marker like the one I’m using here. Fooled ya, dinnit?
Just so you know, when a real counterfeit marker is used, the line does turn black but it does not stay black. In a short while, it will return to the inert yellowish-brown. That’s how the manager knew instantly the bill was good. Which goes to prove to the guilty-minded shit-heads of the world that smoking is one expensive hobby. Bwaaaaa-ha-ha-ha . . .
NIGHT
Thanks to an invite by Billie-Bill, I jammed at the pub up the street. A lot of the old crowd from the now-defunct “Triple B” showed up. We brought down the house with “Hey Baby Que Paso”, which Billie-Bill afterwards calls “the country version”. Actually, the way I play it is exact but, on stage, it somewhat forces the guitar player to listen more closely than at rehearsal. Don’t argue with me on that point.
Most of the musicians played their old sets, but a couple of them have improved since five years ago. I collected their phone numbers, so let’s see who follows up. One was that lady conga player with the super-shy stage presence. I met her through the Hippie, but neither of us remembers where. And that guitarist who works at the pawn shop, he played an impressive version of “Crimson & Clover”.
It was a great night out. I was on stage nearly an hour. I was not satisfied with my work but got enough compliments after to decide I didn’t flop. Not applause, which is immediate, but people working their way over later to put in a good word. Henceforth, I must consider the evening a considerable success. There were other encouraging developments I think I will reserve mentioning because the rate of good consequences in this town is off the bottom of the bass clef.
Last Laugh
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