September 14, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: September 14, 2015, I built this . . .
Five years ago today: September 14, 2011, I explain the straw man.
Nine years ago today: September 14, 2007, they shot him.
Random years ago today: September 14, 2012, you call that living?

MORNING
          What do we know about skylights? Possibly a little more by the end of today. Not that I would put them in after the amount of work required to trim back those oak branches in July. The stormy weather further leaves broken branches around enough to say just maybe plastic or laminated glass on the roof isn’t a swell idea. I also learned that skylights can create a greenhouse effect in the room below, and that the translucent material is prone to scratching and pitting.

          Here is your information component for this morning. It shows the reason you do not lend out your circular saw with a carbide blade. First let me glance if Agt. M is around in case he gets the impression I’m picking on him. Anyway, look at this major damage, the teeth are not just broken, in some cases they are missing entirely. And the way the paint on the sides is worn down to the shiny metal, somebody has been cutting steel or concrete with this blade.
          Either that, or they are not making them like they used to. Maybe I can get my daily dig at Millennials in here by saying I have no doubt one of them calculated a way for these blades to self-destruct. Now, some morning trivia. What is the main cause of heart attacks in the winter? Shoveling snow. We still don’t know if that is only in North America because that’s where such things are reported.

          What, you want more trivia? It’s either that or hear about my major grocery shop. Don’t locate your piano on an outside wall or near any vents. Put it against an inside wall out of the sun. Since you know I intend to get a porch, the only type of chairs you should have out there are rockers. The trivia is how to keep the rocker from scratching permanent grooves in your decking? It involves a properly cut length of old bicycle tubing placed under the rail where you can’t see it. Some people say surgical tape, but see how long that lasts. (Later, I’ve heard the tape lasts well, so I retract that statement.)
          And to any northerners who decide they would like to try Mexican hot chocolate. Be informed it sometimes has a hot pepper bite to it, plus a little more salt than usual. Don’t be taken by surprise, you should know by now that in hot climates, spicy foods are normal. I seem to be the only one around here who like clamato juice. Good. More for me..

Picture of the day.
Cave in Viet Nam
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NOON
          Interesting. There is a southern mansion for sale nearby. I’ll find the deals now that I’ve spent all my money. I’ll get you the details, but the price tag is $109,000. However, since it is listed through one of the big real estate companies, you can bet that price is bogus. Click-bait. The place sold in 2006 for $145,000 so my calculations show that the 109k is likely a short sale. I dislike real estate lingo because most people never buy and sell enough houses in their lifetime to get smooth with it. A short sale is where the seller has the banks permission to sell it for a lower price than they owe on the place in preference to defaulting on the entire mortgage.

          I’d buy it, but all of you would have to move in there with me to make a go of it. This is representative of what Wallace and Theresa would have been living in by now if they had kept their words to me. I think I’ll put in a lowball offer on it, see if I get lucky.
          But make no bones about it. Everybody knows there is some corporate buyer snapping up all the mid-range properties in the white parts of town. The higher end places like this can sit for a long time, particularly if they need a little TLC. The corporate buyer does not renovate or improve, they have the bucks to let the properties sit for up to three years and flip them at twice or three times the price.

          I worked hard, so I’m using this segment as a sounding board for what bothered me today. To vent, get some things off my chest. Like that idiotic policy making the rounds that a store will not allow exchanges or refunds unless you give them your home phone number. Folks, they have no legal right to refuse you the refund under those circumstances, so either stand your ground or be ready with a fake phone number. Outdated phone books at the library are a great source of old business numbers that get stuck in modern databases and show up as valid when they key it in. Plays havoc with the system.
          I have a gripe with Goodwill. As you go through the checkout, they ask if you would like to “round up” your purchase by donating your change to such and such. Absolutely not! My objection is not the charity, but the asking for donations in public in front of strangers. That’s deliberately subjecting a large segment of people to unwelcome peer pressure. People come up with such bullshit should be whipped until they smarten up. Do that in public and see how they like it.
          And while I’m crabbing, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed how much eating healthy has skyrocketed in the past few months. My average grocery bill is now over $50—and I bring everything home on a scooter. How about the mail? Where is the my mail? I have not received a single item, so I checked with the mailman. Yes, I’m on the route list. So I checked with the postmaster, yes, I’m on the radar. Nothing in two months. What I didn’t tell them is I’ve been mailing myself a letter a week since early August. So let’s draw a wide furrow between conspiracy theory and natural skepticism.

          Take that further to the guitar players who have responded. My ad states emphatically that day job, practice gear, and transpo are requirements. The first guy has no guitar, no job, just moved here, and lives with his sister up near Winter Haven. The next guy knows the duo concept (he’s from California) but he lives 103 miles from here, down in Ft. Meyer’s Beach. The remaining guy, well, he’s the question mark.
          He has stated his interest in a bass/acoustic duo (I always say “acoustic/bass” in company) for a unique sound. In Florida, it certainly is that. I checked and his server is only 11 miles away, I also checked a map and there is a side road all the way there. He swears he is a committed acoustic player, so he’s quickly rising to the top of the list. I’ll send some MP3s ahead to see if he’ll run with those.

AFTERNOON
          Let me sit down for a spell. It’s already 5:00PM. It’s still taking four hours per joist, but a substantial part of that is that no section is completed yet. So I have to step up and over every joist to move around. I had a small section done, but had to rip it up when the floor shifted. I’m back to working in the dirt. It’s moving along, so be patient.
          It’s 7:00PM, that’s if for the day. I have two more joists to go to have a work space. The joists are already cut and in position. I’ve got some planks to walk on now and you can tell the floor is level to itself, if not to the building. Good, because once that plywood lays down flat, I’m not fastening anything permanently until it stays level for [at least] a month.

          I've learned plenty, like how to feed the joists from outdoors instead of down the hallway. That I only require two feet width of space to complete each joist. To insulate between the joists as I go along rather than trying to go back later. But the biggest lesson was how to do one four-foot piece of the floor at a time. I didn’t dare do that before in case I forgot a step. Now, full speed ahead.
          I’ve also measured out a section of the back yard beside the garden. If I knock back all the underbrush, I’ve got room there for a dandy small work shed. This is in addition to the huge barn-like structure I measured out a couple months ago that would double as a garage. No, I mean a third and separate shed, about 12 foot by 16 foot, if I can afford it. I didn’t walk back there before because that’s where the 62-foot dead tree is situated. Anyway, just a thought. Maybe a kit?

NIGHT
          I went out. I wrote Marion a letter and sang one Karaoke song. I mapped out the work to do tomorrow and got home to the wonderful realization that there is no junk food in the house. You hungry? Make something. There’s unlimited cole slaw and celery. Stay thin, my friend. Here is a blues album photo. It’s a display over in the east end of town.

          I had time to review the case of this dismal asshole David Brinkley. He gets out soon, the dorkbreath who tried to assassinate Reagan, but got off on an insanity plea. Insanity, my eye. He’s the same prick who avoided the death penalty by claiming testimony from the victim’s families (he shot three people) had “emotionally prejudiced” the jury. Lawyers who argue such points should be stripped of their licenses. They are abusing the intent of the law.
          They argue as if the family suffering was a separate subject, not part of the trial. There seems to have been no shortage of Liberal lawyers (of a common persuasion) to argue his case, and Brinkley gets out on good behavior.
          Disgusting. Him and Chapman. Glorified by the media they so counted on to make themselves notorious. (Chapman is the asshole who killed Lennon. He wants out and he should be let out. People are waiting.) I would not kill them, but I’d stand aside to let anybody cripple the bastards. Either way, these scumbags will not last long. The only known deterrent against assholes in all of history has been punishment, swift and certain. And the punishment needs be constant, as the number of assholes on Earth is also constant.

          There, that was my grumpy day. Are you happy now?


Last Laugh


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