One year ago today: August 9, 2014, I hate Outlook.
Five years ago today: August 9, 2010, another free traveler . . .
Six years ago today: August 9, 2009, gasket goop.
MORNING
I am determined to do nothing today. Well, make that nothing by my standards. Doing less than I will today, now that would really be lazy. In the background, I’m playing documentaries about historical naval warfare. It is incredible how indoctrinated the world is that England alone had the “right” to rule the waves. And if that isn’t enough, anyone who challenged this “right” was evil. Why, those nasty Germans were building their own battleships. Those upstarts must be punished. Those who upset the "natural order of things" must be quashed in their infancy.
My doing nothing plan lasted until 11:00AM. This photo is a load of the new plywood for the camper pod, version 2.0. Before, I made it solid, soundproof, waterproof, bulletproof and heavy. Now I’ve learned. Waterproof is plenty. Small panels are relatively stronger than large ones. And this sleeping compartment is half the size and a third of the weight when buttoned up. Thanks to the money spent in Denver in 2012, that tow bar is the strongest part of the motorcycle. The house can wait, I’m not missing my annual vacation this year. I want to see the Georgia pine forests, for example.
But I won’t soon be driving through Punta Gorda. It turns out even long-term Florida residents don’t know about that prison. So as far as I’m concerned the entire population of that city is now nothing but cons of some sort or another. Imagine, trying to sell a house next to a prison without mentioning anything.
NOON
This was sad to see. JZ and I stopped to buy supplies and met this Irish lady whose eyes were almost as blue as mine. She was whiter than white, as you see in this photo. In fact, she was pink from standing too near the store window. How sad it was to see her whip out this cell phone and show us a picture of her baby. She announced she intends to marry the father some day, an undocumented illegal alien. Welcome, future welfare mothers of America. Unless you are going to try telling me a minimum wage dropout like this lady will be paying her own way through life.
And now we get the entire last generation totally indoctrinated that if you are white speak out against anything, absolutely anything, you are a racist. It is doubly sad, because they are so young and inexperienced that they do not realize they are not in one big happy family.
But here is an attractive young lady who could have anything she wants pouring her entire life down the toilet to prove how “tolerant” she is. As soon as we saw that photo, we discovered we had to be across town at that very moment. Long before Ann Coulter came along, I had considered single mothers nothing but irresponsible delinquents. And don’t hand me the crap about the deadbeat fathers, not with the way the courts have been attacking them for fifty years. Only the mother has rights to planning a pregnancy but the other person has to pay for it. Equality, my eye.
Again, I have nothing against people doing pretty much what they want—as long as others are not forced to suffer the consequences. If you want to pay welfare to single mothers, you go right ahead, but the minute you compel others to do so (through taxation), you are a son of a bitch. Libertarianism, folks.
AFTERNOON
Another 88F out there, I stayed in the shade and painted panels for the cPod. And listening to NPR, always an unpleasant experience. But it keeps one informed of what not to think and how not to act. I do not recall them ever expressing a point of view that I agree with. Finally, today they came through with some excellent advice on personal financial organization. It was good advice although I’ve noticed for most people, such advice either arrives 30 years too early or 30 years too late.
Japan is commemorating the bombing of Nagasaki, funny they don’t celebrate any of their sadistic victories. It’s all poor-me theatrics if you ask me. Three times as many people died when the Allies bombed Dresden, but a German today would probably get arrested for memorializing that.
However, I often mistrust experts who paint too cheery a picture of any topic. Real experts wouldn’t do that, would they now? Being an expert would mean they knew the other point of view.
I was reared in an atmosphere where everybody around me, without exception, would always take a side they knew was wrong or state a viewpoint they never believed in if they thought it made them look good. Toeing the party line. My family used to embarrass the hell out of me doing this in public. It was a shameful performance.
They ended the afternoon with some recording of interviews with BB King, who died in May. While I liked his pure Blues and appreciated that is what he played at his later concerts, I am not a fan of his earlier jazz. But this was NPR, who think it is high-brow to like or pretend to like jazz, so none of the interludes were familiar to me. Typical NPR, the man is a Blues legend and so they feature his obscure jazz numbers. Gee, are they ever smart.
NIGHT
What goes around. My mention last day of our plan to “act rich” struck several chords in my reading audience. Basically, the intent is to intimidate our new-found “auction enemies”, those who use bank money to bid against us at auctions. You must not blame JZ and I for this plan, because most of you probably do the same thing already with a credit card. Acting outwardly like you have more money than you really do when in fact, you are spending money you will not even have until a later time.
The picture? It is unrelated to the blog, it is the Russian version of Gerber baby food.
But what’s this about “goes around”? Well, if you’ve been one of our exclusive club of readers for long enough, you may be able to recall the famous “Account 4018”. This is the “Found Money” account where all the money I find in the streets is socked away to prove a point already proven beyond question: that I can find more money blowing in the streets than my parents spent raising me. This is the famous account that eventually grew to $28,000 (3-1/2 times what my parents spent raising me in a day when it cost $125,000 (according to Ronald Reagan) to raise each child*). Well, that account was the first one re-instituted when JZ and I approved this new plan.
[Author's note: through no fault of anyone, JZ was unable to keep up any contributions, so I was essentially on my own for the entire time between this date and the time I actually purchased a house, some eight months later. I can help anybody along the way, but I'm strapped if that person falls behind. Account 4018 was put on hold. That was wise because when the time came, I was less than $200 away from losing the deal.]
The first deposit today was from my penny jar. $31.20.
While I’m sure there is a proper literary term for it, I’ve resolved to coin a new slang term for that situation where somebody always includes an unnecessary worn-out fact. If anybody know the term, I could use a little help around here on this. Examples of this useless over-explanation is whenever somebody mentions a black hole, they have to next say that nothing “not even light” can escape.
Or another one, when somebody mentions the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, some dickweed has to mention it was “on the Jewish holy day of Yom Kippur”. Like in case there is one hermit in the universe who does not already know that.
*[Author’s note: these figures are correct. Nobody in this country was raised as cheaply as my parents raised me, which averaged out to $432 per YEAR (these figures in 1970 dollars, or around $7,400total). By comparison, my older sister, the luckiest of the lot, got somewhat over $80,000 including a free degree at medical school. My marks were 15% higher (than hers) but my parents held me back a grade and actually tried to force me to drop out in the 9th Grade. To become an unskilled laborer.
My youngest brother who did drop out and became a car thief, got around $42,000. The others got around $31,000 each. The reason for this disparity is simple—I was the only one of six children who ever actually did anything but sit around having farting contests. My parents did not like upstarts or tolerate independent thinking. I needed to be taught a lesson, see? Those who upset the "natural order of things" must be quashed in their infancy.]
Last Laugh
Ah, candlesticks. How romantic.
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