One year ago today: September 22, 2015, given the same idle time . . .
Five years ago today: September 22, 2011, $214,000 today.
Nine years ago today: September 22, 2007, Disney barf bag.
Random years ago today: September 22, 2012, Rule 30.
MORNING
Here is something new, at least in its application. A regenerative brake. As a lad, I recall reading that regenerative braking systems would never work because in those days, the braking energy was applied to a flywheel. When you braked, the flywheel spun faster and faster, storing the power. Then, as you sped up, this momentum was released to bring you back to speed using far less gasoline. The problem was the flywheel began to act like a gyroscope. You could not steer the car.
Insomnia, but mild, like my sense of humor before sunrise. I finished reading “The Lock Artist”. Nope, I still can’t endorse it, though it remains realistic enough maybe it’s based on some real events I never heard about. I’m wide awake at 3:10AM and looking for that totally boring book on the American Left. It goes on about these European commune experiments in the 1700s and 1800s, always on frontier areas in America where they’d pretty much be left alone. But that was before income tax turned the entire nation itself into a welfare and pork-barrel commune.
Let me clarify once more that I am not as much against taxes as I am the system of putting on that tax money into a single pool, then letting people sing and dance for a share. That’s when the professionals move in. The military, the schools, the government itself, their needs are infinite. I would not be as opposed to an arrangement where the taxpayer could, on his tax form, specify where he did NOT want his money to go. For instance, I would say I don’t want a penny of my money to go to things like foreign aid, the Coast Guard, and NASA, at least until they smarten up and do their jobs right.
This book on the American Left is not difficult, but it’s hardly a bestseller. I just passed the point where the author separates the Left movement into two eras at the Civil War. That’s when the USA changed from a mind-your-business country to a mind-your-neighor’s-business state. Now maybe he’ll get on with the tale. I, too, have thoughts on that war, expressed long ago. For example, right after that war, voting and politics should have been outlawed in America. I hear the hew and cry, that it could not be, but who says that is not thinking it through.
The Civil War is the vector that caused the rise of the American political class. The conflict taught them that you could, in fact, keep English-style records on everybody and punish dissenters with immunity. You could flip causes from “preserve the union” to “abolish slavery”, and people would follow along. The book correctly points out this coincides, in history, to the change from people growing food to manufacturing goods. Industrial plant tends to stay put. It is far easier to keep tabs on who shows up at the factory at dawn than who is raising sheep in Nebraska.
Have a heart.
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NOON
This is a weed whip. Your analog weed whacker. I found them on-line, always with a note that the article is not in stock in this zip code. I’m planning on taking a run up to either St. Pete’s or Kissimmee tomorrow and see if they have such a beast. I tried to walk back into the jungle this morning before dawn and the undergrowth is too thick. I’ll cut the vine stalks first if the weather stays obliging. It was perfect last evening, only September and I didn’t need the air conditioner.
Yes, I’ve been busy around here. Don’t go thinking I moved in and propped my feet up. I’ve been at it five days a week and can’t sustain that pace. That’s busy enough to neglect my music. So far, no local guitarist has gotten to an audition. I quickly sift out the heroes but unfortunately that’s all I got so far. Well, except the guy from Nashville who has no guitar. Maybe I should give him a kick at the can. He’s a butcher. And I like my pork chops thin and lean, a lot like my women.
Speaking of which, the new neighbors have an unmarried daughter. That’s one rough looking broad if I know my woman-flesh. She waits out in the morning for her ride to work and when you are that out of shape, ladies, working for a living is your remaining option. She’s one of those short little butterballs with legs that splay at the knees. The type if you marry them always have fifty things wrong with them at any given time. No photo. I’m mean, not evil.
Easily made out is the tilting pan and the segment of free-rotating PVC pipe above it. My sources say squirrels have trouble with PVC so let’s watch for some rodent antics. They have to get under the lid to get at the seeds, although they can tilt the whole birdfeeder and get small amounts to spill to the ground. Come on Chip, let’s see your strategy on this one.
The frilly pattern along the top of my window is my aluminum awnings. The birds are extremely jumpy which I attribute to the number of feral cats. They can easily detect my movement through the window as I lean back for a look.
AFTERNOON
Sometimes I can be so transparent. The rapid pace of repairs and hobby material reappearing here tells you I’ve found some of the boxes with my tools. I mean my robot tools, not carpentry. Robot tools double as excellent repair gear, since they are not only handier for small jobs, they tend to be better maintained. In case my brother ever reads this blog, I’ll spell that word out: m-a-i-n-t-a-i-n-e-d.
My destination was that music store in Auburndale, as it sells mainly used equipment. I purchased a wireless guitar jack. Like I told ya. The infection of the open road had me within minutes. But this time I had a reason to not keep going. This makes news because to me, it is a novel situation. Having a place to return to, and a comfortable well-stocked pantryat that. I met all the jealous bastards on the road, including a school bus who rode my ass for 15 miles, but I do not take my baby over the speed limit.
I stopped at that place with the confusing advertisement for Mondays. Is it a jam, or an open mic, or a showcase? I asked because I need to know before driving up here after dark. The barmaid at “Jesse’s on Fire” kind of cleared things up by explaining it was all three. Show up, run a tab, see if they let you play, run a tab, don’t be better than any of the other boys, run a tab, and listen to full bands clobber anyone who might do too good of a job. Seems we’ve seen this act before, most recently at the Dania Beach Bar and Grill. Don’t turn that amp up loud enough so they can hear you, it belongs to the band. And don’t forget to pay that tab.
NIGHT
You get a photo of the batbike parked in front of Jesse’s On Fire. Otherwise I stayed home, which still takes a little practice for me. But I did get out of the house for a forty mile sprint on the bike and man that was fun. Like it’s owner, the bike takes over the spotlight wherever it goes. You know, of the roundabout twenty women I’ve met since I moved into this area, all have been waitresses of some stripe. I have not met one professional anything yet.
For example, while I’d help another member, to me the condition of the neighborhood was more the concern of the churches, the welfare agencies, and the city council. My bit ended at the horrific taxes I was paying. I also advocated shorter working hours over more pay, since above a certain level of income, working longer doesn’t make much difference. The tax system is geared to the investor, not the worker. We’ve all worked overtime to have it evaporate in taxes.
The passage of time allows me to tell you that back then at any given time, I had between $20,000 and $40,000 tied up in financial investments at any given time. I did not buy property or anything that resembled inventory, it ties you down. If I had made a killing, I would have voted with my feet. Suffice to say that never happened. My point is, not only did that distance me immensely from my co-workers, but the union was aghast on the point of lower working hours. It makes sense now, if you are up to your eyeballs in debt. That’s part of why I never feel sorry for people who borrow money. Particularly those suckers who brag about their credit score.
These investments led me to another factor that differentiated my attitude from the union. I viewed profit as the repayment for proper planning. Their view was that profit represented a form of “unpaid labor” that the capitalists were raking off the poor working man. It’s one of those areas I would have liked the union more if they had left it alone. There are no poor people working at the phone company, it is their lifestyles that make them feel poor. What do they expect, with 30% of their paycheck gone to taxes and another 17%-20% disappears as interest on personal debt?
It’s getting near the time limit where I can openly write about how I managed to retire at age 41, but it should be clear from the above that by age 35, I pretty much knew how little I had in common with the rank and file. Have you ever listened to ten people who are worse off than yourself telling you what you think is wrong? Just go to a union meeting.
The book should get increasingly contemporary from here. The only thing I’ve learned so far is that not one theory of communism was invented by Karl Marx. He borrowed every thought except one. Where other communists wanted to change the world by example, Marx advocated the violent overthrow of the system. Hmmm.
ADDENDUM
That was JZ on the phone. I’ve given you plenty of details how he is a city kid and how I honestly believe some time away from South Florida will do him wonders. He has family, so my influence goes only so far as extending the invitation. Today he said he’s working on getting away for over a month. He’s welcome here, but told him he’d best show up a couple of weekends first to help me finish the room.
JZ, like many men who don’t get it, still thinks that a woman wants satin sheets first. Guys, when love is new, she’ll drop her knickers in the mud. All you need do is extend the invitation. But make that a proper invitation, not the old "C'mon baby let's mate."
I’m concerned that anyone [such as family] would say I had undue influence [over his decision to leave for a while]. The reality is things were pretty much 50/50 as we went along on this entire project. I could have been him rather than me who found a place first. JZ said one thing, I said another, and in the end it balanced out. Thus, if he decides to show up here for a long time, he knows to bring his own money and help out with the heavy lifting. Besides, he needs to meet a higher class of women than what exists in South Florida. Don't laugh, so do you.
And when I go home after dark, I checked the birdfeeder to see the squirrels had not been present, but very little of the seeds had been eaten. Where are my beautiful northern cardinals?
Last Laugh
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