November 4, 2015

Yesteryear
One year ago today: November 4, 2014, listen to them roar.
Five years ago today: November 4, 2010, on willful ignorance.
Six years ago today: November 4, 2009, reminiscing . . .
Nine years ago today: November 4, 2006, a real blond.

MORNING
           Do I detect another bloom of properties hitting the market? That central axis between Tampa Bay and Ocala is a rat’s nest of paved wagon trails. I’ve been in most of the towns passing through, but except for Winter Haven, I have to find them on the map. It is reminiscent of rural Texas, dozens of towns and small cities wherever there is no looming metropolis. I’ve been in Bartow, Haines City, Lakeland, and my first overnight in the camper was in Davenport. These are 3 hours away by car, 4 hours by sidecar.

           Stay away from anything called Martin Luther King Blvd and these are quaint little towns with a little character, something sorely lacking south of Okeechobee. Anyway, I’ve eliminated the two houses found y’day. The first one was not in a ghetto, but it was exactly between two on the only main road in and out of the area. We’ve this before, I call it “running the gauntlet”. The second place did never specify if it included the land (scumbag realtors: Adam, Cameron, & Co. Ltd) but a search of the surrounding area showed all other places for sale were not real estate.
           That’s a disgusting way to do business. There is a bit of a code in operation, when the listing tells you it is a good rental area, they usually mean section 8. Those people actually wind up losing welfare benefits if they buy a place, so like all society’s leftovers, they adapt to living on perpetual handouts. I finished reading “The Pearl” and it is a kid’s book. The old theme that poor people are rich in “other ways”. The guy finds a pearl, the rest is predictable.
           And you know why it is predictable? Because he never learned the lesson of privacy. Within minutes of finding the pearl, everybody in town knew about it. The book teaches the wrong lesson, it is more about the greed of others than the man, “Kino”, finding out about himself. That is the purported theme of the book, but read it. Only a hundred pages long, you’ll quickly find it is small-minded types who would interpret this to be a book about poor people learning their place in society.
           If you read what Seinbeck says, it is not the other poor people who are going after the guy. It is the doctor, the priest, the pearl buyers. To me that is a totally different message, and these are people that could be avoided by simply keeping things to yourself. And, of course, making a trip to the city and selling the thing direct. I learned this lesson before I was ten. What, you want the details on that? What for, it is a standard life lesson. Keep your assets away from the prying eyes of your peers or you will be looted, and always have an excellent cover story, or, if you would, a few tales from the trailer court.

           Okay, explanation of the sniper rifle last day. This is plainly not a weapon to be used against enemy soldiers. It would vaporize them. Instead, you saw an example of an anti-material rifle. Used for the destruction of high-value enemy assets, I know how easy it is to knock out a box of electronics. Notice the shooter is shoved back nearly a foot by the recoil. And that is despite the “yuge” muzzle brake, which undoubtedly also serves as a flash suppresor.

NOON
           My Xmas cholesterol check this morning says my counts are so low and under control, they have issued me some placebos. Actually, I have learned to tell the difference, they’ve been using me as a control for nearly a year already. I simply respond to any type of treatment exceptionally well. Enough about that. Once bitten by the electronics bug, there is always something cooking. You know those cheap little light bulb sockets and assemblies from the lab back in high school?

           Yeah, the ones where the science teacher was too stupid to show you more than how to switch one on, a process familiar to anybody who has taken a piss at midnight. Well, they are not even ceramic anymore, but plastic (see photo) and cost $2 apiece (Radio Shack 272-0357. It is cheaper to salvage them from old flashlights.
           Wait, there’s more. Radio Shack has never, in the decades it took them to nearly bankrupt themselves, learned to package the bulbs with size descriptions that match the socket bases. The socket size is listed as “mini” while the bulb size is “E-10”.
I’m talking about the shelf packages, folks, because as you know in most Radio Shacks, you are on your own. They only hire dropouts. I’m saying the information you need to match the bulb and socket is NOT printed on the packages. (It can be found on-line if you know what to look for, but if you know that, you don’t need help at that level.) Why does Radio Shack persist in this? Explain it yourself, I can’t even describe stupidity when it gets that thick and deep.

           And when you do find the matching bulbs, careful, they come in different voltages. These are DC components (direct current), so they must match your intended current. Too little, the bulb won’t light, too much, it will act like a flashbulb. In a pinch, I would use the highest rating (14V) and resistors, but my standard is the 6V (the 7.5s are not always available). I’m building a small device to completely discharge NiCad batteries, as I move toward rechargeables, and that is what I meant by “the electronics bug”. A while back, I would have just left them in the flashlight.
           Now, my unit has the bulb with a heat sink, power indicator, waggle meter, fuse, battery clips, reverse-currant protection (NiCads can reverse polarity) and an attractive casing. Oh yeah, before I forget, the bulbs. They are sold only in pairs, with the confusing term “E-5” in the title, and cost $2.50.
           Thus, it just cost me $3.98 plus tax to turn on a tiny light bulb. Boy, and I’m calling my science teacher stupid?

AFTERNOON
           On the way home, I test drove a scooter called a Honda Fusion. Nice, smooth, and very low to the ground, maybe too low. After sinking more into my Chinese scooter, that’s now more than it is worth (although one should not count good tires in that equation), I’m ready to sell the thing. But not until a smooth transition to the next unit, and that would also mean loss of the tag fee for 2016.

           Here’s what it looks like new, I don’t think they make them anymore. Conclusion: if I’m going to buy a 250cc Honda, I’d prefer to have the 1995 Rebel. Next, I stopped at my buddy’s café, the one by my clinic. My logic is that if I eat cholesterol food only after my checkups, they’ll never spot the cheating. (Actually, I’m far beyond any cholesterol problems or cravings.) The sad news is the guy is on the same diet I am and he has lost 30% more weight than me in the same period.
           That’s the place I indulge, the home fries with gravy. And that gravy has more GMOs than the Monsanto employee Food Day. It is time to mention food, so here is the modified corn starch special. Part of the prolific-length blogs these days is the late fall hot spell out there. With the follow-on rainshowers, I’ve got plenty of indoors time, unscheduled.

           Now, I know people that would head straight for the pub, but there are so few real pubs left. You know, the type where the focus is drinking. Why I’m reminded of that is because of food. The clubs now view each bar stool as a potential mini-booth at a restaurant. Naw, I don’t like that atmosphere. As I’ve said, you eat in restaurants and drink in bars, only the “couthless” get the two confused. Note the ever-present composition booklet, cafe time is not to be wasted watching what other people eat, Ken.
           It’s also pathetic when bar food becomes some people’s entertainment. Say, honey, would you like to go see a blues band or a rock band tonight? What, you want to go to Red Lobster and pig out? Sure, that sounds like fun. Maybe catch the game on the flat screen and start playing the juke box at 6:59. You know, drown out those infuriating eggheads who unapologetically play “Jeopardy”, the game that’s harder when you drown out the sound.
           And you know the house is not going to turn down the 70s Rock just because the other people got there first. There will always be ten times as many drunk, stupid jocks as people with enough brains to answer geography questions. Who cares about science when there is important stuff to know, like who won the 1935 World Series.
There, that should hold them for a while.

NIGHT
           This property (see photo) just slipped by on a narrow margin. It is just too far out of town. My guess is nine miles, but not less than seven. Still, this beauty is a 3/2 on a hill (such as we have in Florida) and has a waterfrontage. Again, hell yes, I’d retire in something like that. It’s three times the size of the place I was raised in. But I have to think ahead and live where I can walk to town if I must.

           After another four hours on the cPod, it is beginning to resemble what I had in my head. The “walls” stand an inch apart and I have not yet decided on how many drawer glides I want. The four that are installed seem to work okay, but jam when the “floor” is installed. Good enough for a first try.
           There was a lot of fancy measuring and marking going on, as conceptually, the correct way to proceed is to regard the wagon as telescoping from the drawer rather than the orthodox other way around. Even then, I got several of the pieces wrong, as in left-handed instead of right-handed.
           Certainly, I wish the four existing glides prove enough to support the “slide-out” part. The concept is valid and I have it now that each wood screw affixing the “drawer” needs only support only three pounds of my sleeping weight. But that weight is not distributed all that equally. Not to worry, I can always use a prop to keep the compartment level. And I’m within the desired 42” length limit.
           After dark shut ‘er down, I took a small kit of the new “ambient light sensors” out for a drink, pondering how to mess with these things. It turns out they work very similar to those cesium light sensitive thingees, but at a fraction of the cost. Their resistance increases as light decreases, but even covering them to utter darkness does not raise the resistance to infinity. I got several easy circuits working, including one circuit detecting another. Unless you can invent a toy McDonalds would like, I’m just good old-fashioned tinkering around.

ADDENDUM
           Last evening I spent reviewing the books, talking to Seattle on the phone for 32 minutes, and eating veggie sandwiches. Is there any particular reason there is no marmite/vegemite on these premises? It certainly isn’t a calorie risk, since nobody could eat enough of it to make any difference. At any rate, everything is in order back west. As Trump would say, I filed my papers and it turns out I’m richer than I thought. But not that much richer, so don’t go nuts. Just say 10% of what I used to be.

           And owning some inhabitable property is a step closer. This is a final crossroads for me. With some land, I can relax knowing I’d be impossible to budge. I like to say I’d sit back but you know how fast I can get things done when motivated. That is really something I’ve thought about for years.
           You know, how you never really have a worry-free existence. The world is designed, I think, to keep up a certain and persistence level of stress on everybody. But having a bought-and-paid-for place to live near the end is something of the North American dream. So much so that most people sacrificed their lives to it.
           I’ve long since assumed once I get the place, the concern over rising rent will be replaced by concerns over the condition of the property. But I’ve owned property in the past, and I’d rather deal with that kind of problem. We all know about fixed incomes and butter is already $7 a pound. It was $1 a pound when I planned my retirement. Oh, by the way, I’ve been retired 10-1/2 years now. So I’m not imagining the situation of other retirees with several times my income not having any money to hop the Amtrak. Because my Seattle buddy, who just retired, reports the same.
           These people got their 1/2-million dollar condo, but between the taxes and $1,600 per month fees, they have to skip breakfast to go out for evening coffee. Myself, when I get a place and lock the world outside, I’ll have all the time I want to read. Here’s a scan of the book I just finished, “In Harm’s Way”. I’m hoping my biggest worry will be finding adequate literature to keep me interested.
           There’s also the aspect that once I’m operating at a surplus, I’ll certainly find the next deal in record time after I settle in. These things follow a design. Two weeks in town, you own the local country band, two years in town, you are the mayor.


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