One year ago today: June 28, 2014, Old Miss Delaware.
Five years ago today: June 28, 2010, on music committees.
Six years ago today: June 28, 2009, on hiring programmers.
MORNING
A total bout of insomnia means I read 200 pages of Agatha Christie. I’ve already said it is well-written and I can now add to that. It was also, I propose, intended to be adapted for radio, stage, or cinema work. That;s clever, considering the year it was written (1934, originally titled “Murder on the Calais Coach"). The radio connected explains the emphasis on voice and accents, the odd characters the live stage linkage, and the costumes the movie association.
Agatha helps a bit here by a few sentences that place the subject back in the reader’s familiarity zone whenever a suspect comes back into focus. I’m at the chapter where Hercules (I’m quite aware of the correct spelling) is using ESP to uncover people’s backgrounds as they pertain to an earlier kidnapping. I guessed the Cyrillic H was the N on the handkerchief, but many of the other clues have long since been overused. It remains a classic, mind you, at age 70.
Curious, I think, is how the adaptations over the years for theatric adaptations have resulted in changes to the character’s names and nationalities. The inspector changes from French to Italian, the pretty women become French, and the German lady’s name switches to a far less Semetic version. No, I have not yet guessed the outcome, but it has forty pages to happen.
The picture? That’s the hotel room at the Pera Palace, where legend has it Christie wrote the book based on her own experiences while stranded on a train. The room as shown came replete with latter-life portraits of the lady author. Somehow, after 264 pages, that seems in keeping..
NOON
“Confession is good for the soul; not so good for the credit rating.” ~Me, I said that.
These days I’ve been hitting the books and studying the complexity of the Arduino. I’ve a box full of them that have never been used because they are so difficult to program. And you can’t half-learn the code, it’s all or nothing. Actually, it would not be bad if the code designers had any common sense, but they refuse to even name the commands intuitively. To most people, int_UART is gibberish.
In all, the Arduino did succeed in popularizing the microcontroller despite its serious flaws, the language topping the list. So that you will know what to watch for, I’ll give some specifics on that. The programming code is based on C+, the worst language in existence (guess which one MicroSoft chose). Worst, it is a limited version of the C+ command set and is thus dependent on imported “libraries”.
These libraries are mysterious and elusive. They are snippets of code written by people you don’t know. They make up their own commands based on caprice, so you can never say you “know” the whole language. These libraries are scattered all over the Internet, there is no single repository or even a maintained list of what’s there.
Proponents of C say the language is fantastic, but it is a mess, so that tells you where they are coming from. All it did was take BASIC, a perfectly good language, and rename the commands, then add around a dozen mis-used punctuation marks. C has never introduced a single new and useful command ever. As I’ve pointed out, you will spend more time looking for missing punctuation marks than you will creating code.
Beware also that C promotes the worst in coding practice. Passing by reference, creating variables in the code body, “short-hand” math operators, constructs and instances, all of which are error-prone and of questionable utility. Like the “void loop” which has to be included even if there is nothing inside it. Or renaming the Case command to Switch. I can’t tell you how many hours that one has cost me.
AFTERNOON
Aha! Didn’t I tell you something was going to happen with real estate? Suddenly, I’ve got dozens of alerts for places coming on the market at $10,000 less than six months ago. This is the wrong season for that, so stand by while I find out what is going on. Be sure to check back this evening, but here is a photo of a 4 bedroom in a good area for an asking price of below what we have on hand. Don’t go nuts, however, it is not like you can call up the agent and ask if it is a
It would seem, in the final analysis, the property in Deland was largely lost due to the delay with Peggy, the lady I met there. I doubt she meant anything malicious, but she did not pass the “meet my friend” test. That would be JZ. He found her place had a tincture of old dog and her birds, he surmised, were rescue pets. I stress I did not leave them alone for small stretches because I trust JZ’s judgment, but mainly, possibly only, because they were both drinking on Sunday morning.
The connection is that I was again looking at properties. This decision cannot be left much longer, for reasons. The biggest reason is I cannot commit to paying anything beyond a certain date in the not too distant future. And I would appreciate not committing everything I have over a property. It took long enough to rebound, I doubt there is time left, at least for me, to do it over again. No, I would not like that.
This time, matters are mitigated by having no debt or other obligation, so I am free to make a certain amount of mistakes. But one mistake Ill never repeat is ever again trusting a Canadian. A society that makes it difficult to sue promise-breakers does not nurture personal trustworthiness, rather a culture of street-level swindlers and bunkos. It runs so deep they consider small-scale cheating as normal daily fare.
I heard one completely honest Canadian say, in absolute naïve sincerity, “I said I’d pay you. I didn’t say I’d pay you promptly after the work was finished.” Back to Peggy, it seems the four-day postponement required to arrange alternate travel was enough to lose the deal to the other party. This will never be forgotten, but I don’t blame Peggy directly.
Like Wallace and Patsie, she has chronically reduced capabilities to get along with highly educated people and consequently presumes their consequences are congruent to her own. Her thinking was likely that I’d gotten a motel the other two times, why not just do that again and never mind what I said about being over-budget. What’s “over-budget” anyway? Sounds like a fancy word and you can keep them, right?
NIGHT
Another Space X rocket explodes. The question on everybody’s lips, “Was Beiber on board?” Ha, wishful thinking. Did you see his Miley Cyrus crotch grab imitation? Sorry, J-boy, even if you are prettier than her, it loses something in the translation.
I’ve found several places up country that are worthy of second looks. Here is a three bedroom that I have talked down to less than we already have on hand. (In other words, I could buy it cash and have money left over.) It is nicer and three times the size of the shack I was raised in. A buy decision is likely not that far away.
Here’s my reasoning so that all can follow along. Damn rights I’d live in this place no questions. It only needs a great fence, a proper driveway, and somebody to ignore that aluminum siding.
At the same time, a huge place (four bedrooms) in Arcadia has come on the market. I’m calling JZ to go have a look. Additionally, some places in Naples. Don’t expect a mansion, since our original plan was a fixer-upper. And we are not intimidated by major repairs if it comes to that. I’ve cribbed basements and built roof trusses. JZ can plumb anything and we can take a look at a place and tell you to the inch how much electrical wiring is in there.
The building in this picture has a weird interior, lots of L-shaped rooms. I once saw a design in my twenties of a house that was built so that doors were not needed. Every interior room was designed so that you could not see from one into the other without deliberately walking to it. This place s something like that. First thing I would do is plant privacy hedges. My offer on this place lopped off 15% and has not been rejected yet.
ADDENDUM
For those who wonder why I was listening to conspiracy material last evening, it is because of 2015-07-05. This is the date predicted twenty years ago for the great American financial collapse. That’s one week from today. When I first read about it in 1995, I thought the dot-com bubble was the end. But the system was not anywhere near as far in debt back then and proved resilient. This time, I dunno.
Where will it start? I told you Germany was only going to put up with so much nonsense from the European have-nots. And DC has stopped pumping free money into the economy over here. While nobody can predict the moment, it is plain I’ll be watching very closely for the next short while. I don’t need a total implosion, just a 30-day slump. Just enough to bring these types who live paycheck to paycheck down to their knees. Yeah, a month should do it. And don’t expect any more mercy than was shown.
Remember last time? If the banks had obeyed the law, there would have been 112,000 foreclosed housed on the Florida market by 2009. Mansions would be selling for $45,000 if the free market had been allowed to prevail. I had staked a lot on that and I’m no gambler. Instead, the banks invented the preposterous “pre-foreclosure” status and kept the houses in limbo, letting the irresponsible continue to dwell in them for years for free.
No, don’t expect any mercy. In one sense, I see the next collapse as unique in that this time, every possible global resource is now owned by somebody. Food, water, land. The supply is totally owned. Most affected would have to be the West, where even the food is produced industrially.
As for most people, the most immediate danger is the money supply. Only 3% of the “money” in the system is cash any more. The rest is electronic. That tap can be turned off instantly. Those who rely on credit cards to buy their food will quickly find out cash is king. And who has enough cash to buy food for six days anymore, much less six weeks? Um, I’m aware of one person who has, in the past, had enough socked away to buy food for six years. And he was not so much as anticipating disaster at the time.
Last Laugh
Scarred for life.
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