One year ago today: July 8, 2015, 100% is not allowed.
Five years ago today: July 8, 2011, a better mousetrap.
Nine years ago today: July 8, 2007, a generic day.
Random years ago today: July 8, 2004, Soapy Smith.
MORNING
Morning? You call this a morning? You know the old dining area in the mobile home I converted to a work shop? That’s the room with the drill press and band saw you came to know during the peak of my robotics years. I just spent three hours cleaning it up. Lots of vacuum work because fine work produces fine sawdust. It is now 8:30AM and I’m famished. Come back later when the rest of the day has happened. Right now, it is breakfast time at the Venezuelan place. I could eat a horse, but I said Venezuelan, not French. Or the Ikea meatballs.
I’m back, it is still early and already too hot to consider any yard work. So you get editorial as I take work breaks during the day to tidy this place for the last time. Here is a photo today of the latest model of the monster e-Bike. These are not, I say, robot club projects, but they are largely assembled with club tools, certainly the welder. That welder stays with the club as my enduring contribution after I leave. Besides, the new place is wired for 220.
One reason the club distances from the electric bikes other than the expense is they are dangerous. This model will easily hit 65 mph and stay there. Even with designer wheel spokes and golden pedal cranks, anything over 12 mph on a bicycle is, in my opinion, reckless. Not inherently hazardous, but a needless risk. If you need to go someplace at 65 mph, there are safe and cheaper alternatives. As shown here, this bicycle costs three times as much as a good used car, if you discount licensing, insurance, and registration.
Alas, today was the last formal meeting of the robot club. It has been over five years. No robot was built, but we know the reason why. It would have been nice but think we were only a few months into the subject before we realized actually building the robot meant either a kit or a fully equipped machine shop. The long-term spinoffs of the learning process proved more interesting. What I learned about tools alone was worth it. The club is sending me off with a mini-get-together at the coffee shop later today. The theme is, “At least you’re getting closer to Texas.”
Mount Fuji. When you see it . . .
NOON
Who remembers my mention of that super guitar player last month? I probably didn’t say for reasons, but he did a set with a female singer who I watched, but kind of knew she was not freelancing. Sure enough, she’s from Tampa and her country band is looking for a bassist. They specify classic country only, or new country if it “sounds like the old stuff”. Jump on it? No way. The band is first class, but it is going nowhere. Too heavy on the music, not enough on stage personality.
You know, guff like which songs you want to play—you are always outvoted for music that showcases anything but the bass. You are expected to backup their solo work, but they cannot imagine doing the same for you. Duh, you mean actually turn on stage, face the bassist, and just do chops and backup vocals that enhance what he’s doing? You must be insane.
However, I did see her doing a duo. And musicians tend to know other musicians. On a related issue, over time I’ve beginning to dislike upright bass. Both the sad-sack types who play it and musicians who think it has some special or superior status to the electric bass. It is a very limited instrument at best. You know why all the riffs sound the same? Because they are. I also sense a [musical] difference between most country-only musicians, and the smaller group who gravitated toward country later in life.
Examples would be myself, Kenny Rogers, and Johnny Cash. It’s actually a sharp distinction if you know what to look for. I know it to hear a country musician who has a more diversified background, but I admit for most people, it makes not a lick of difference. I watched the videos of this band and while they are tight, it is “Guitar Center” tight. Lessons on how to play country music are like recipes for home-made pie. Even when you get it right, it lacks originality.
After sifting through their material, I’ve decided against inquiring. I shy away from bands where the guitarist even thinks he is some kind of leader. It affects their thinking to the point where they tell the other band members what to sing. In any case, I will undoubtedly bump into this band, possibly I have already. I do recall hearing at least one band who had all the moves down, but none of it seemed natural. There’s another factor and I’m sticking my neck out here by even saying so. I read down their song list and it is too strongly determined by obvious personal preferences and reflects a recognizable set of limitations.
Too much listening music and not enough dancing and drinking music. Too many B-sides and slow songs. I’m a country musician and I’ve never heard a third of their list, almost as if they chose some tunes thinking it would make them sound different. I just quit a five-piece group that did that with 1950s rock music. Oh, they were different alright, judging by the number of bored and bewildered patrons. I mean, if you are going to play a Beach Boys tune, go for “I Get Around”, not “Don’t Worry Baby”. I swear I either never heard that last one or it was a signal to pick up the needle and skip to the next track.
I’m being indirect, but the fact is, this is the type of band I like to spoof and ridicule. Not openly, and I don’t mean this specific band. But give me the right guitarist and I can put on a musical show that eclipses everything they do. I’m proud of my ability to make a two-piece sound like a four-piece, and I’ve done it many times.
Even my last successful duo with Jag, who had never heard of the music we played, was an instant draw. Remember that coffee-house? Both the staff and the customers stopped to stare, wondering what we’d do next. Hey, no fair saying that’s because I rehearse my show to have that effect. I feel anything less is short-changing your audience. There’s a reason people phone ahead and ask if there is entertainment. They want it live, not plasticized in the background.
AFTERNOON
For anyone who might opine that I’ve overstated my case about clone bands just above, here is another item from their same web site. It is an actual map of where some arrogant asshole thinks each band member should stand. I had to laugh, I’ve got twenty bucks it was some twisted guitar jerkoff who came up with this diagram, called a “stageplot”. Let’s zero in on one aspect of it. The bass player. Where is he? Let’s see.
Why, there he is, way up in the top right corner. Behind the steel guitar, where bass players belong. Even then, he’s taking up too way much room for the egos on stage. What’s that fine print? Ampeg SVT Reissue? Boom stand? Um, pardon me, Mr. Guitar Player. If you’re as cool as you claim to be, you don’t mind if I say that the SVT piece of shit designed for guitar players who only ‘think’ they know what a bass amp is. If you don’t mind, I’ll play through my own PA, because face it, I know better than any sound man about how loud my bass playing should be for a given room, thank you.
And what’s with this “boom”? That is so 1960. If you don’t mind, I’ll use my own headset, so when I sing, I can hop off the stage and get personal with the crowd. You know, get their total attention when it is your turn to show how well you back up a soloist. Considering you are the one who places so much emphasis on that ability. Bwaaaa-ha-ha-ha.
That, folks, is my theory about why these bigger bands are constantly looking for a replacement bassist. Makes sense to me.
Richard Stephens: Peace, 2010. Rick led the team that discovered swearing relieves pain. Damn, the guy’s right!
NIGHT
Are there any emotional softies out there? Good, I’ll tug at your heartstrings. I’m no fan of women who wind up on the skids, but sometimes I can identify with the parts of their hard-luck stories that could happen to anyone. If I lost you on that, don’t bother with what I have to say. I’ve told you about that terrible McDonald’s up the road. There’s a lady that works there, maybe four feet tall and half as wide. But I know her story because she is a regular in my audience. I’m going to give you some details.
Right now she works minimum wage and pays $255 per week for a place about half the size of my Florida room. I know both her daughters from Karaoke and she rather desperately needs a break. I’d sell her this place in an instant, but she’s only 45. Should I go to bat for her? Personally, I thought she was well over 50, but you don’t need to tell her that.
I know the one lady across the way in this 55+ court was well under that when they first let her in. Was it because she was Latina? I know the office turns down men under 55, but I think I’ll ask about this new lady. She’s living like I had to live in college, where some scumbag rents you a room so small you can’t fully open the dresser drawers because they bang into the bed. I’ve been there.
She asked about my place and when I told her it had double sink in the kitchen, she offered me full price on the spot. I informed her that while everything works, it is an older building. At that point she informs me that her daughters know every construction worker south of the Mason-Dixon. If you have access to free labor, then my place is ideal. No sense her paying 80% of her income in rent. A lot of people in Florida have to, you know.
Last Laugh
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