July 12, 2015

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 12, 2014, saving money by renting.
Five years ago today: July 12, 2010, we deported THIS?
Six years ago today: July 12, 2009, covetous barmaids.

MORNING
           I stayed home and read, didn’t cost anything, and I learned that one civilization that never interested me was the Inca/Mayan thing. So they had a calendar, big deal. They were rank savages of the first degree and their entire structure came crashing down when the first Spanish syphilitic kicked in the door. They invented nothing, contributed nothing, and it follows that they disappeared overnight.

           And I don’t like their carvings either. Weird misshapen spirals and poor depictions of human heads and skulls. Nor were they the first failed empire to think being retarded was special. I was out in the west end to return that defective air tank to find there was a huge lineup at Harbor Freight, like 1 hour. Well, it wasn’t that long, but there were some real ignorant bastards ahead of you. Like my family when they know you gotta go.
           So, I asked this guy to keep my place and went over to the bookstore to read and have coffee. It’s my Sunday services. I read Makezine and you know, I caught another whiff of plagarism, but not enough to write the letter. Anyway, here is an advertised product to smooth out the edges of most 3D printed objects. You paint it on your orange skull collection. I don’t know if it is a coating or a solvent, but would not either one destroy your dimensions? I call the stuff “plastic plastic”.
           Returning the air tank, I see this guy in the Family Dollar next door. Mid-twenties, overweight, but I know this guy. After a few minutes of asking questions, indeed, he was the bass player in one of the bands I saw out at that storage facility on Pembroke Road. Way out there, and I noticed it was across the parking area from a daycare center. I can’t place the date, about four years ago?
           Anyway, we remember the venue and the owner. It turns out that daycare drove them out of business, constantly complaining about the punk rockers gathering around in the late afternoons. I found that odd, as the music hall had been there first. But, he informs, they sued so many times the other guy could not afford the lawyers and pulled the pin. Sad when you lose when right because the other party has more money.

NOON

           “Until I was thirteen, I thought my name as ‘Shut Up’.” ~Joe Namath

           I didn’t get out of Harbor Freight until 2:30PM. And I’m not happy about that. The checkout lineup should not be the same as the line taking job applications, exchanges, and filling out extended warranty cards. Anyway, when I got home JZ was just pulling up to borrow some tools. We carefully went over the motorcycle and concluded we could do the labor of removing that rear wheel ourselves.

           Honda kept it simple. It looks like three 22mm bolts, the kind with a retaining cotter pin. Without robotics experience, I’d never try it, yet I never had any problem changing a flat on a car. I supposed what scared me is that drive axle into the hub. But so far, every mechanic that’s removed it has told me it was easier than they first thought.
           JZ decided not to stick around, so I headed down to the beachfront by mid-afternoon. Here’s a picture of the scenery and I know it looks like I snapped the big-butt lady. Not so, this was part of a series of shots and she must have hopped up to get over the concrete flood wall just below the bottom of this picture. Also, four people in a row, that made this the interesting photo of the day.

           Speaking of photos, do you know what a “ring light” is? Most people don’t. They are just a ring shaped light that pro photo studios hang on the opposite wall the talent looks at. Thus, the most prominent feature in their pupils is not the studio bulbs, but a reflection of the shape of that ring. So I was amused to see in Makezine a square ring light. You can see the effect in this model’s eyes.

NIGHT
           Trent and I met up at the Walkabout. That’s the Tiki bar next to the Marriott. You know, where you can nip across the road and get oiled up for a quarter the price of the hotel facilities And, factually, the waitresses are prettier, even if they are over-friendly with the owner. You tend to put up with that when the babes are pretty enough. Did I just say that? Yep, here, let me turn that up and say it again even louder, in case anyone missed it, “How much crap I take from a woman is directly proportional to how attractive I find her.” And yes, I mean in that department.

           So Trent and I sat around agreeing that Trump is going to landslide this election. He [Trump] said himself he began on the jobs ticket, but had no idea how serious the illegal immigrant situation was. It negatively impacts the lives of every American, every day. These people are not even required to speak English.
           The talk arising in our circles is now whether the corporations and their government lackeys will allow Trump to get much further. As far as I am concerned, that is who killed Kennedy. The first thing Johnson did on getting into the White House was appeal Kennedy’s proclamation that states could issue their own gold-backed currency. At least I think it was gold-backed.
           Anyhow, what convinced me with Trump is the way he swore on stage and not a single Libtard in the audience whimpered a sound. Trump was introducing some guy in Nevada and asked, “Where the hell is he?” A politician would have kissed his politically correct career goodbye, but with Trump, hey, not a peep from the peanut gallery.
           This guitar player, I don’t know, but I’ve seen him jam at the other Tiki bars on the beach. He’s okay, but his backing tracks are so plush that it is hard to tell whether or not he is playing. I gave him my calling card in case he knows somebody. But I’m down to asking strangers if there are any acoustic guitarists left. I remain terrible with names and I can’t make a list. Yet I do believe I have tried every guitar player possible within 50 miles of here without success.
           There may be exceptions I have never met or heard of, how likely is that, but every one so far has not worked out because of their pre-conceived notions of where the guitar fits into a band. This has many facets, but the usual is refusing to play any music except the songs on their own list, coupled with the attitude that “good” drummers and bassists will unquestioningly follow them.

ADDENDUM
           Ha! Did you see Trump in Arizona last night? He’s even got me listening. To all those news reporters who said, laughingly, that Trump has lost the Spanish vote. Um, I don’t think he even cares about that any more. Besides, like he said, when the legals want jobs, they'll vote for him.

           Somewhat comical are the very few Mexicans who show up at his rallies and make snarky comments. I love it when Trump shuts them up, but I wish I could hear what they said. It would, I suppose, just reveal how one-sided and closed-minded they are about the immigration issue, but I'd still like to hear it. The stadium microphones never seem to pick it up. Anyway, they are so outnumbered they would be drowned out if the rest of the crowd scratched their own asses.


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