January 13, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: January 13, 2015, graham wafers ain’t cookies!
Five years ago today: January 13, 2011, sex-ed, Texas-style, 1960s . . .
Nine years ago today: January 13, 2007, 40 miles by bicycle.
Random years ago today: January 13, 2004, a pseudo-conspiracy.

MORNING
           Okay, $1.3 $1.5 billion in the Powerball, even I went and bought a ticket. Take-home would be in the area of $600 million. In savings closer to home, here is what experimentation can net you. The blue propane bottle is the standard for soldering copper pipe. It contains 14.1 oz of propane, which costs you $11 per bottle up at Barnet, or a couple dollars less if you want to drive through town up to Home Depot, a ten mile round trip.

           Now look at the second bottle, the green unit for a camp heater or light. What do you know, the nozzle fits both cans. But the second can holds 16.4 oz [of propane] and the price is $6.49—for two bottles. Rounding down, that is 78¢ versus 19¢ per oz, so go figure what has changed over here. The larger bottle can be held in one hand for soldering, it is not too big. And you know something else? It doesn’t tip over as easily.
           Now that I think of it, the ridiculously expensive can is from BenzOmatic, the outfit that sold me that butane soldering iron that never did work right. All together now, “Screw you BenzOmatic.” I posted that on Craigslist, y’know. BenzOmatic is the same outfit that sold me that expensive butane soldering torch that never did work worth a damn.

           DeeDee showed up at the bakery this morning with a gift, she game be 30 brand new country CDs. I’m not that big a fan of country music, though I am a YUGE fan of slim country gals in tight blue jeans. Oh yeah, big time, it’s the only reason you’d ever find me at a rodeo. It’s the CDs that are new, the artists range from Alabama to Haggard to Anne Murray. Remember Anne Murray’s “Snowbird”. That’s the tune Jerry used to torture RofR and I to wake up every morning to go work in the orchards.
           Time to confess, I have never owned an album by any of these artists. Nor have I ever listened to any. As a real musician, no a semi-talented clone, I listen to tunes, not artists. Often, I’ll play a piece for years before learning who released it and even longer before I care. Hence, today, I first listened to albums by Tanya Tucker and Leann Rimes. It confirms my attitude as right. One or two good tracks, the rest is filler music. Music the Hippie would play if he ever went country.
           It also validates my age-old theory that albums have a crowding out effect on good music. Long ago, people bought 45s (single track vinyl recordings) and would have a collection of dozens of artists. I was around during the switchover to albums and always considered them nothing more than a blatant rip-off. They always were engineered to get people to spring for the whole cake to get one good slice. I never thought the public was dumb enough to fall for it. But, then, they elected Nixon and Bush Sr., didn’t they?

NOON

           “The safest place to be during an earthquake would be in a stationary store.” - George Carlin

           I’m continuing to read “Dark Matter”, this has nothing to do with the book lecture of last December, rather it is a murder mystery. Not easy reading in the sense that while the plot is rigidly cliché, the terms are unfamiliar to most readers. Like the physicists arguing over bonsons while the one woman in the lab frets whether she’d shown enough cleavage at the Nobel Prize ceremonies. It’s a book of the 90s because when the white male boss places the black female detective on admin leave in chapter three, we just know who is going to crack this case.

           Here’s your picx of the cover, since there seem to be around seven different books since 1937 that have this same title. Again, this one is not a textbook, it is a detective novel. I’d recommend it as reading for anyone who thinks it is “safe” to talk to the cops about a crime, any crime. Don’t do it, even if you were not even in town on the day of the robbery. This book, so far, was written in the pre-DNA days. But even so, should you ever step over the line, make sure the location is certain to have the DNA of hundreds of other people.
           Running from the cops? Beware of the TIP procedure. The squad car will pull up at speed so his front tire is even with your back tire, then swerve into you. This will cause your vehicle to fishtail out of control. Recommended defense? Slam on your brakes and grip your steering wheel hard. This will cause the squad care to zip ahead of you and effect the maneuver on his car instead of yours.
           And make sure you have a place to “hole up”. This is trickier than it sounds, because in too remote and area, you will stand out. As for other places, hey, I’ve been looking for a cabin in the woods for ten years now, so wait your turn.

           I was out for a nightcap last evening and the overhead was blasting on. It was the “State of the Union” event. What a boring exhibition of PC crap. They should just allow the audience to read the teleprompter. And the audience, what a pack of trained-monkey Grecian Formula clone puppets in their rented clothes. Applauding on cue, and that one jerkoff behind the president, leaning constantly to get his ugly mug in the frame.
           There, see him? That mouse-eared prick in the red tie with the widow’s peak. Captain Obvious.

           The news later said Bill Cosby has been adequately framed. Did I say framed? You bet. You can’t have respect for the law when people wait 30 years to report a crime, then expect instant justice in more spectacular times. Thank goodness I never became a celebrity because I can’t tell you how many times I’ve screwed college women when we were both half-drunk. If I’d become rich and famous I have no doubt that would called non-consensual. Or worse. And we are talking a lot more women than Cosby ever got.

NIGHT
           Here’s your welcome to Broward sign, or as they say in New York about the country, “Arrive on vacation, leave on probation.” I took a closer look into these lithium batteries they say will boost a car. Nearly weightless, I’m skeptical, but I do know the quality of regular lead acid batteries has plummeted in the past few years. That is, all regular car batteries are now junk no matter which brand you buy.
           Blog rules say to mention health, so let’s see, do I have any issues. Nope. Well, there is those frightfully costly injections I get for free, they have clearly over-done the job on me. I can tell they’ve given me placebos for nearly six months. When I hear the price others are paying, $1,000 per month, I’ll stay on the program. For the record, this is the soon-to-be-famous anti-cholesterol treatment. It lowers your body temperature by about 1°.

           Blood pressure, that killer of men over 40, is no longer a factor, I’ve been under control for years. I have my own sphygmomanometer, a total 1950s classic model. There’s more to that than I told you before. Let me explain something. I think it is plain dumb for people on fixed incomes to sit around and wait for the inevitable hyperinflation. It is partially their minds that are fixed also.
           I know that walking through everything from grocery stores to corridors at city hall, I regularly get mistaken for a lawyer, the manager, a doctor, etc. I know it. When I lived in Caracas, on my morning walk to coffee, there was a man like me. He stood in the shade on the south side of Sabana Grande in a white lab smock and took people’s blood pressure for donations. He’d scribble the results on a small writing pad like a prescription, dramatically tearing it off each slip.
           I’ll say it again, people in the real world have a lot more survival skills than your average American. Several afternoons, I watched that guy from the café. Compared to others like street musicians, he was doing a booming business. Where others chuckled at him, I took what he was doing very seriously. He was definitely making more money than most of his clientele. And the tourists would gladly leave him a dollar each. That was 3,500 Bolivares back then, or a day’s wages for the desperately poor.
           Don’t think I wouldn’t copy him before I’d go hungry or beg. And I’m fully aware of how the last economic downturn flooded the local musician’s circuit, dropping prices so low some pros got out of the trade. Furthermore, most cities have severely cracked down on street performing. But there is nothing in the law about blood pressure. Remember, you only have to outrun the bear.

           Y’know, when I think about it, George Carlin would, if he’d ever thought about it, had something snappy to say about how you shell peanuts at the exact same rate you eat them. Winston Churchill, too.

ADDENDUM
           Speaking of music, I’ve gotten off my tush and mapped out some new background audio. These are the generic tunes you hear behind videos. Too many people simply use tracks from old CDs or downloads, not stopping to think that is all copyrighted material. Other than a few Johnny Cash tunes, I have never infringed recordings. The new camera (the one I built) works well enough that I’ve already made several short features. I can do this in my head these days, no need for storyboarding or scripts. I even cut loose with a twenty minute impromptu speech on GMOs.
           What I wanted to divulge was a little about my “creative” process. I’m the first to admit I hear nothing new in any of today’s music, but I’ve also analyzed why. When you get older, your ear picks out anything you remember and there really isn’t that much novelty in most music and most musicians. Hence, I don’t expect or put much into writing what I refer to as “filler music”.
           I have five techniques for rapidly coming up with original backing tracks. They are

           1) Playing something backwards. Think of “La Bamba” played descending.
           2) Adapt Mozart melodies into bass lines, works unbelievably well.
           3) Inverting music by playing the melody as a bass line, an iffy process.
           4) Write lyrics, then adapt bass lines to the natural accents of speaking. Think “budda-bing”.
           5) Combine two totally different pieces, like Tammy Wynette and The Knack.

           Now, don’t under-think this process. I’m not saying it is original and it isn’t meant to be. Phrase for phrase, most of it isn’t. But I’ve never forgotten how predatory them Nashville lawyers were just a year ago when I asked about licensing fees. (Tell us what you intend to play, they said, and we’ll decide how much to charge you. Fat chance. They go ballistic when they find out you’ve given them a false name to check into behind your back to affect your inquiry.)
           The tunes I’m working on now are (the titles I make up as I go along)

           a) “Country Rumble”, it would remind you of “Walk Don’t Run” ascending in Am.
           b) “Broken Leg”, the guitar & bass only match every second measure.

           There, now you know too much.


Last Laugh


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