One year ago today: August 14, 2015, boiling mad.
Five years ago today: August 14, 2011, 992 pages on Japan.
Nine years ago today: August 14, 2007, a generic day.
Random years ago today: August 14, 2012, Wichita Falls, TX.
MORNING
Everyone is still stunned by the theft of the truck. It was a work truck, not just transportation. And that includes food deliveries, flower deliveries, plumbing, hauling, and tool storage.
Who recalls the new wagon I was about to purchase last August? Yes, that deal fell through because of external influence. But I’m re-looking at matters now after JZ’s vehicle has been stolen. While the vehicle will undoubtedly be replaced, the theft reveals how completely we were relying on it. And what have I often said is required to run a business in America. Right, three vehicles, because two will let you down.
While this crime isn’t going to wipe us out, it’s a wake-up call about the situation. And confirmation of how multi-cultural south Florida is becoming. These immigrants discover the streets aren’t paved with gold, but they are lined with millions of parked automobiles. What I can’t figure out is why they chose JZ’s truck, which was not the nicest or newest on the lot.
I’m now nearly half way through “The Origin”, see picture. I’m struck by the descriptions between savages and my own family. No rule of law, no respect of property, relentless infighting, punishment as the only form of justice, corruption so complete it becomes the norm, and constant, constant begging as the basis of daily economy. You must not think corruption involves only money, it can be done by playing the system just as well, where it is called things like “diplomacy”, “tact”, and “personality”, mainly by those who fancy they have it.
Later reading shows this description was unfair to the Fuegians. (But not to my family.) More details in today’s addendum and links. It seems ethical to state if the Fuegians were savages they at least were not so for the sheer pleasure of harming others. The book also takes a stance that I can agree with—that people living in complete equality cannot become more civilized.
Those with prowess must be allowed to rise above the pack—but that does not imply they become leaders although this is normally the case. The outrages occur because such leaders try to replace themselves with offspring while excluding outsiders. This is just as capable definition of politics as anything taught at the universities.
BP Gulf spill, 2010.
NOON
See this fancy space heater? That solves the problem on no heater in the far bedroom, where the door is normally intended to be closed. That’s the newly insulated room you’ve been seeing around here lately. I’ve calculated that the understructure of that floor can proceed without worrying about how level the hallway or bathroom become. They are interconnected, but the joists run parallel to the joints and act like independently sprung suspension.
It is the air conditioner that has me puzzled. It is always best to mount these units along the shady north wall. There is no way that can be preserved if I add the new bedroom partition. And I intend to proceed with that work immediately after this place sells and I arrive permanently at 509. New here? “509” is shorthand for the cottage I bought in mid-Florida. It was the 509th property I examined in my year-long search for a retirement place of my own.
Here’s a photo of the pub set I wrote of last day. I suppose the term comes from the design where the table and two chairs are somewhat taller than would be for an ordinary small dinette arrangement. This, and the heater, are not expensive pieces of furniture. They are not intended to be. My budget for furnishings is around $500 per room and double that for the kitchen. So forget the heirlooms, let’s stick with what is functional. For a Spartan, anyway.
Gulp. Pretty smooth, but she reminded me of Amelia and I’m far too unwilling to take a chance on that situation. You might say I’m not afraid of commitment, I’m afraid of commitment to the wrong woman. And if you might say that, you’re a jerk, but carry on.
My signs are out and these low end properties indeed attract a lot of the local yahoos. One guy kept trying to pry background information out of me, like where was I from before I bought this place and where would I move after I sold it. He got nowhere. Another kept saying he had too much stuff in storage to fit, so why he was bothering is beyond me. Yet another wanted details of who else has made me offers. Then, what do you expect when I put the signs over on Federal Highway. The stretch through Hollywood is not exactly the “Miracle Mile”.
AFTERNOON
You know, there is a little idea I’ve been toying with. Without binding myself to anything, I’m going to design a spreadsheet that plays what-if on selling silver by the ounce. In the early days, I noticed the dealer where I bought was able to make a go of his silver counter never really operating with more than a fraction of the amounts one would think necessary. Hmmm.
The way this works is simple—and I advise anyone out there that is the only type of business you should even consider under the current regime. Like a stock broker, you charge a “commission” for each transaction, buying or selling. You’ve heard me refer to this as the “bar charge” although that term seems puzzlingly unpopular with the dealers.
Anyway, the concept is that you treat the silver as inventory, buying and selling to a small group of customers. It would be unwise to try this by mail or out of a storefront. The operation would revolve on how many times per period the silver was bought and sold. Also, it would probably be a dumb idea to buy and sell from the same source. Or accept credit cards. I’m not advocating anything illegal, but I’m warning you that nobody knows what will become illegal in the future—and they go after the easy targets first. Ask the Kennedys if they agree.
As always, be honest, but deal in cash as much as you can. Remember, it was the FBI and a ton of police that failed to get Al Capone. In the end, the only way they could get him was to bring in the final dispenser of all American justice. The tax department. I’m shocked how few people realize that the law so favors the wealthy that ordinary cops and lawyers could not touch the guy.
Later. Yes, I could easily run such a business. As long as I maintain enough inventory to cover sales, the business model works on two principles. One is the fear factor, people who panic sell at the slightest dip and buy back on the upswing. Two is those who cannot go the distance, or put another way, the rest of their lives are such a shambles, you only need wait for them to get into the next jam and need cash fast. Those who think these are not sound or ethical motives, maybe you should go read the fine print on their mortgages. Because you just know they didn’t read them before.
NIGHT
He isn’t Ig Nobel prize material, but the idiot of today is Norman Mailer, the goof who champions the cause of murderers to be let out of jail. You may know some of these people I point out, but recall that they mean nothing to me. I know the issues, but am only now finding out their names. The world would be a better place if everyone had ignored these people as much as I have.
Mailer is a wife-stabbing advocate of “fairness” for Cuba who spearheaded the release of a convicted murderer who promptly killed again. Mailer stated he had no regrets. He tried to avoid the draft by claiming he was writing a book of major military importance. Yes, Mailer is Jewish. Why do you ask?
Next, I get a snarky E-MAIL from some Latina lady who says she won’t buy my trailer because I “refused” to give her “required” information. My ad specifically states I do not provide the address or pictures of the interior until the prospective buyer provides me with a contact telephone number or e-mail address. Too much riff-raff in town already. Or this spooky guy who kept trying to get me to say I’d smoked weed, which I denied about 15 times and he left thinking I’m a liar. What a ‘tard, I should have said I don’t watch TV either and watched him have a meltdown.
At the other extreme, there’s this one guy who sold his condo and has all his gear in a storage locker that’s costing him $150 per month—and he’s renting studio for $750.
I pointed out my storage shed or the Florida room is twice the size of his locker. He might be the one, but talk about strange. As in phone company or civil service strange. Hey, just show me the money.
ADDENDUM
Now Book Four of “Origin” by Irving Stone. This is not the investigation of Darwin’s motives I thought, but more a running chronicle of his trip, focused on letters from his family and relatives, and his association with other crewmembers. Still, it is a good book and I’ll continue reading. There is very little content about fossils, botany, or geology and maybe ten sentences so far that hint at his growing suspicions about evolution. If, like myself, that is your goal, this is not the book.
But you sure learn a lot about navigation and shipboard life. At deck level (little pun there) it is not an occupation that exactly attracts your Rhodes scholars. The book does not overlook the fact that the tropics are a place where white people get sick and die from ordinary activities, like swimming in a river. The only savages encountered so far were Fuegians, and that was only to return three of the natives who had been transported to England on an earlier voyage.
Years ago, probably 2003 when I read “Voyage of the Beagle” on the way to the San Diego Fair with a million toothpicks, I came across the word “yammerschooner”. While I’m sure I wrote it down in this journal [blog], I cannot find the date. Darwin, if I recall, did not understand this word except the Fuegians always shouted it at white men.
According to Irving and other sources, this word is quite well known and the title of a book of its own. The term is Patagonian for “Give me.” They were begging, says Irving, but since they fed the strangers, that makes it more like trading. Some missionary sources say that is a harsh translation and that “yammerschooner” is more akin to “Be kind to me.”
And that is why you like this blog.
Last Laugh
No thanks, MicroSoft.
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