One year ago today: November 14, 2015, visiting Margaritaville.
Five years ago today: November 14, 2011, still my favorite helmet.
Nine years ago today: November 14, 2007, R. Paul / D. Trump coincidence?
Random years ago today: November 14, 2009, on the Chet Atkins method.
MORNING
Apologies if this entry is clipped. It had to happen, I lost my pen drive in the library computer and when I raced back two hours later, it was gone. Everything was backed up except some minor new music files and a spreadsheet of blog addresses. That last one was my own fault, I looked at it the day before and figured I’d get around to making a copy. There were also a lot of personal letters (nothing identifiable) but one should not keep copies of those anyway.
I recall writing about Trump. There was one single incident in all of America about a “white” slogan spray-painted on one church in the Virginias, but guess what the mainstream media has been headlining for 72 hours straight? These hard-core Liberals are sure a bunch of sore losers. But they lost a whack of their base supporters this time around, trying to tell us the big issue was our lack of tolerance. Indeed. The system is dysfunctional and they want to talk about global warming and adjust your attitude.
Note, the library once again claimed they could not look into their system to see who had logged onto computer 11 during that two hours. This is, of course, bullshit. But that is what the staff has been told. They also say the files are purged every night, which is also a lie. Nothing these days is ever really, really, destroyed. Except cell phones at the Clinton Foundation.
Down staircase.
NOON
And that is where most of the guitarists I’ve met around here come in. Great at what they do, as long as it is forty year old tunes they’ve been playing for forty years. This is 2016 and I’ll say it again—I have yet to see a guitar player actually learn a new tune that he never played before. And to do it for the sake of the band.
The bat-guano crazy Theresa strikes from a distance. Remember that neon reading lamp she abandoned at Wallace's? I kept it, probably the only time it was actually used for reading. But the 10,000 hour bulb gave out after 1,951 hours. So I bought a replacement for $10.81. When I plugged it in, the problem returned. So it was the lamp, not the bulb. Theresa. Fond memories of Theresa. Who, if she thinks you love her, means she doesn't have to pay the rent. To newer readers, that's the gal that filled out the eHarmony personality chart and they sent it back to her stamped "REJECT". No joke, she's the one who told me.
NIGHT
It was the smallest turkey in the bin, something like 9.81 pounds I really don’t have any idea what I’m doing here. But I foresee a lot of turkey over the upcoming week. Maybe I’ll actually have some of the “cubed turkey” called for by so many recipes. At the moment, I don’t own a turkey cuber.
And yes, it is a butterball.
ADDENDUM
By page 220 (of 510) I am about ready to throw “The Name of the Rose” into that tiny pile of six or so books I’ve purposely not finished in my life. It’s like reading a law book where there are a dozen statutes that apply to any situation. All of them contradictory and mutually exclusive. Facts fly out the window while the word-mongers have a field day. If the monk is poor, burn him because he is corrupting people away from the Church collection plates. If he is rich, burn him because since he has no job, he therefore must be stealing his money.
You know about that one? Ann quoted the undeniable statistics that the worst thing that can happen to children is to be raised by a single mother. I don’t have the exact figures, but something like 70% of repeat criminals, rapists, drug dealers, and serial murderers are from single-parent families, and those are overwhelmingly single mothers. Coulter then gets lambasted by stupid women who can’t disprove her quotation, but who just want to go on about the “sacrifices” they made. One of those sacrifices does not appear to be making a good wife.
And trying to convince women they are doing something selfish and irresponsible? It’s been tried.
They attack Ann personally, although she is not the one who is responsible for the stats. She’s right though, that while there are single fathers, they are not glorified in the media. All you see in the movies is how hard it is on women holding down two jobs for their kids blah, blah, blah. But 70%, well, that says it all, ladies.
In my opinion, the major cause of the problem, which Ann won’t touch, is giving welfare to black women so the fathers can skip town. An points out before the massive expansion of welfare (she calls it the War on Poverty), the illegitimacy rate was less than 20%, now it is approaching 80%.
Later, Admo, the assistant who is actually authoring the book, finally gets some action around page 246. It seems some of the monks who carve the meat (usually mutton or beef) for the meals have a brisk trade with the younger village girls who will trade for the offal (hearts, livers, etc.). Admo heads for the kitchen for a late night snack and one of the gals “of sixteen or eighteen summers” mistakes him for a monk. Dang, it takes him longer to describe the romp than to seal the deal. Return tomorrow and I’ll quote you some passages.
Last Laugh
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