One year ago today: March 20, 2015, bumper, grabber, & shill.
Five years ago today: March 20, 2011, my first computer, 1980.
Nine years ago today: March 20, 2007, older women in college.
Random years ago today: March 20, 2008, Wally’s Folly was Wally World.
MORNING
Okay, over the previous few days, I’ve been getting this yahoo’s name wrong. (Like, whose fault is that?). He could be Stefan Molyneaux and I’ve been calling him Blake Williams. He should clarify things better. But anyway, other than his novel presentation, he’s not saying much I didn’t philosophize over myself in my teens. I don’t feel sorry for any “minorities” in North America, they’ve got it far better than back where they come from and should learn to appreciate our system more.
I need another morning off, and so do you. Take yourself and maybe the old lady out for brunch. Be a nice guy for a change. There, that’s my good deed for the day. The bad deed for the day was taken care of by CNN, who’s banners proclaim “protesters block road”, but don’t mention these protesters are a definite well-recognized type of persons I won’t say here. Good, I say, because if blocking traffic is the best these anti-Trump bozos can manage, then they’ve already admitted defeat. Bad political philosophy for the past 40 years created Trump, and now they complain that they can’t control him? Get outta here.
So I took the morning off and had a store-bought breakfast. And then over to the Panera for yet another coffee and work the puzzles. (Crossword, Sudoku, Ken-Ken, & Jumble). For a challenge, I like to do all of them simultaneously. What? Doesn’t everybody? And peanuts, I bought my jumbo peanuts and guess what I’m going to do all day? Get me a good book and woe to anyone who comes to the door. Well, I shouldn’t say that, because at first they scoff shelling peanuts. But just you watch, once they sit down and start themselves.
I have vowed not to do much today but think, and one project I’ve got in mind I really like, because not that long ago, I would not have attempted such a thing. My band saw uses an odd 59-1/4” blade. They are as a rule available only from Home Depot, in sets of three, at nearly $30. What I have in mind is to purchase one of the more common and considerably cheaper 62-1/2” blades from Harbor Freight and see if I cannot rig up a small idler pulley to take up the tension.
Or failing that, put some type of spacer around the 9” pulleys to take up the slack. While I know this is unlikely, it is worth investigating. And come on, the idea has at least some merit. I’ve been welding the broken blades, but this involves a trip to the clubhouse which costs more than the cheaper blades. And the weld seems to last a little less each time. The expensive Sears blades lasted maybe ten small cuts each. For all-purpose cuts, the wider “metal cutting” blades last longest, but can’t make sharp angles.
What has my attention is these milling machines. There’s another tool I have zero experience with. I saw some videos of some “low mental energy” types using them, so it can’t be that challenging. Then, I took a look at the prices on these things. Whoa, maybe in the next decade. Even the smallest desk models are outrageous, it would be safe to say these machines don’t exist on a hobby level. Even the accessories, like table vices, cost more than most of my tools combined.
Sextant view & rocking.
NOON
”When talking to a writer, remember they will always have the last word.” - Me. I said that, but it’s been kicked around by many.
The last day of spring, and it looks like the last day of spring house bargains. Maybe six houses cam on the market where it is usually six times that number. This is a property I put in a low-ball offer on basically because it is a two bedroom somewhat near to where I’d consider living. By low-ball, I mean half price. I may not be rich, but I know I have more cash money than 99% of the people around here. Somebody will eventually see things my way. The house is also in an area we are semi-familiar with from the days of attending auctions and learning how that disgusting process works.
I mean, it is no big deal, I will eventually get the bargain of the decade, but creeping inflation is about to start galloping. For the things I consume, prices are insane. Notebooks, $8. Alka-Seltzer, $7. Everything has doubled, even Popular Mechanics. If capitalism was left alone, these things would be dropping in price, but away go those government printing presses to pay for all the votes they bought.
It is totally hypocritical to hear people say their taxes are too high, yet agree with welfare, handouts, food stamps, and governmentalized education, forestry, and secret agencies. Liberals are buffoons, you can’t have it both ways. The first thing Trump needs to do is cancel the DMV. Send ‘em all home to look for real jobs. Did you know the entire DMV concept was based on a farce? But it survives because the police and insurance companies know how to manipulate the thing.
Which is why I decided to go to the movies. “Embrace of the Serpent”, and it was a sold out house. For a Sunday? Then, maybe the place is finally catching on. It is one of the few places that it is a safe bet to take a lady friend. In fact, one side of the theater is seating for couples only. Mind you, I sit there myself when somebody takes MY chair. Because I don’t know any women in this town I would take to the movies.
Now, who are the women in my arena nowadays? For me, there is nobody special, which for me largely means a lady whose nonsense I’ll put up with. You can factor love in on your own time, myself there are some women whose antics are just not worth enduring. Right, Theresa? So what women are even in focus?
V. She’s nice, but a totally clinging dependent. She wants a man who supports her and is rumored spends money like it is her own. Nice shape, but not near enough to tolerate the money thing. Likes me but likes her horrible boyfriend’s money even more.
W. Fairly rich, not bad for pushing 50, owns a lot of inherited property around town. But dumb, a bit of a lush, and a chronic shack-up with the most mediocre of men. Has unsuccessfully hit on me twice.
C. Nice, but has been leaving her boyfriend for fourteen years already, the type who knows she’s in a rut but won’t break out until it is really too late. Flirts with everybody without realizing how serious some boys take that sort of thing.
And a few cling-on types who would not last a week in my world. You know them, can’t sing, can’t dance, checkered past, blurry future, barely self-supporting, the ones who would benefit best by getting themselves some vocational training for that fast-approaching day when the country goes broke.
What about the movie. Ho-hum. It was nothing but another of those worn out Amazon themes. You know, where the white explorer tries to photograph native culture before civilization destroys the jungle people with their knowledge of natural cures. This has never actually happened in real life, but man, how amateur film-makers love to beat it to death over and over. The white man gets the ever-mysterious jungle malady, the Indian shaman takes him to the sacred whatever where he discovers himself. Hey you, stay awake! Watch this scientist type get born again.
Yes, there are the evil rubber plantations, the sordid job the Catholics did on the natives, and the classic scene where the guide tells the European to abandon all his material possessions. Psst, that’s the same guide with no material possessions, well, other than the spear, necklace, loincloth, nose-bone, canoe, paddle, blowgun, darts, earrings, machete, beads, and facepaint.
But gang, as far as that goes, there has never been a major medicinal discovery in the Amazon, only one explorer, a German, went deeper than the riverbanks near the plantations, and western medicine is far more effective at curing natives than the other way around. Still, it is a nice fairy tale, and there are the skeptics who say we didn’t find anything because either we can’t see or we didn’t look hard enough. This two hour movie taxes your ability to not catch some sleeping sickness.
Thusforth, if you are content with yet another boiled-over hack movie about another quest for the sacred healing plant, "Embrace of the Serpent" is your baby. If you are expecting a shred of novelty, action of any kind, or overly-friendly bare-breasted native gals, you lose. Both the film and the plot are as black and white as it gets. It is a two-hour movie about paddling up a river to where all primitive cultures hide their secret mountain/cave/statue.
NIGHT
I stayed home to play bass, thinking it is about time to waste another ad for a guitar player. Checking in on my old band, they are still flogging that dead horse. Music without fun or profit, just endless the endless rehearsals needed to keep going over a song list that is three times as long as is required to gig. They’ve revamped some of the advertising, but even though I now know who they are, I still have never heard of them and neither have any of the other musicians I know.
They still have the same bassist, which makes sense, since he fills their pre-conceived notions of what a bass player is supposed to be. Humble, background, non-influential, don’t ever hand the guy a microphone, ever, because the audience might notice he is there. I see on bandmix the average age in that band is 64 years, so I was the youngster. I’ll wager they are still as guitar-centric as ever, unable to change or learn anything really new. But you have to give them credit for sticking with it year after year after year after year . . .
What else can you say about a group that has been together for so many years and yet does not have a single review on any web page, newspaper, or anywhere really. Not even a mention among our peer group. I never played in a band as bad as that one for never allowing any new influences into their music, and in particular not any influence from such lowly crumbs like the bass player. Those consistent MVP episodes on the Applause-O-Meter for the bassist? Why, every one of those were nothing but an unbroken string of coincidences.
ADDENDUM
Tell you what, here’s a link to a definition I agree with. It just takes the guy (Molyneaux?) nearly a half-hour to say it. But he gives some great analogies, like the people who keep hitting the guilt button to get your money. That empathy is used by many as a giant guilt button. He clearly divides good and bad guilt on the same basis I do, but tends to excuse people who feel no empathy where I tend to aggravate them by my natural behavior—that is, by letting them know they don’t matter.
Blake/Molyneaux also presumes that to be outcast by society is universally hurtful, where I actually like to be left alone by certain large groups. Like the stupid and the druggies and generally most people on welfare. So, given the time, watch the video. It emphasizes that empathy is reciprocal, like at the 18 minute point where he questions feminism. And moments later when he rags on Catholicism, how you can never pay a Catholic priest enough to not feel guilty.
Last Laugh
Return Home
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