One year ago today: November 7, 2015, a long-overdue patriot.
Five years ago today: November 7, 2011, at least four witnesses . . .
Nine years ago today: November 7, 2007, California railways.
Random years ago today: November 7, 2013, Yakima, Washington.
MORNING
Ha! The Liberal establishment sinks into panic mode. The world was treated to the sickening spectacle of the US president practically begging illegals to vote. (His wording was that if they did vote illegally, there would be no consequences.) Nothing spells desperation in the Liberal camp more such frantic last-minute ploys. The loser on the way out makes a reckless gamble, hoping he can upset the pending threat that can’t be answered until after he’s gone. Dear Establishment: you are going down.
I recall the first time I formed my opinion of welfare cases. I was around eight years old and found that the welfare kids didn’t have to pay for their own clothes. On first day (of school), the Ridleys, Nadeaus, and McAlistairs would be wearing new sneakers while I wore my best pair of old felt shoes. Then, you’d see old man McAlistair, with not a damn thing wrong with him except that he refused to work, heading down to the local pub every day around noon. We’d see him when we walked home for lunch.
You can imagine my indignation to find out that not only was such free money permanent, but the only people who basically could not get it for the asking was single white men. I also noticed none of the parents were disabled. Old Man Nadeau played on the town softball team and the Ridleys all made extra money through heavy labor during harvest, stooking or feeding the thresher. The final aversion was to discover many of these families were on welfare into the thrid and fourth generation.
I’m not saying it is wrong, I’m saying either the supply or the demand has to sooner or later become cut off. That was my version of whoever said democracy lasts only until people realize they can vote themselves largesse out of the public purse. Along with the bureaucracy that accomodates the welfare state, it cannot be corrected. The cure, Mr. Trump, is to cut everybody off and make them start over again one by one. Remember Proposition 13 in California in the 80s. They said cutting off welfare would cause riots. Instead, they all went back to work.
Where are you going to get the jobs for these 47 million people on welfare? Well, start by deporting 30 million illegals and their families. These people have shown no mercy on the American taxpayer and should expect none in return. The whole lot of them know they are here illegally and that makes them accomplices. The picture, “What Do You Make” was graffiti at the Methodist college, but I apply it to the situation of welfare. Those who contribute least to society should not be the primary benefactors of its benefits. The result is a distorted system. Ask any Russian.
Noon pollution, Shanghai.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
NOON
Here is a campus classic, the old oak tree at Southeastern. Look how great this picture turned out, that’s Trent ‘neath the spreading limbs. Like he says, when you see the live oaks, you know you are in the south. He’s the source for great restaurants in the area, I told you the guy’s been everywhere. We toured the university with an eye to the Frank Lloyd Wright buildings and their angular lines which contrasted somewhat perfectly with the local women and their curved lines.
I measured out the size of the skid needed to fit under the scissors jack. I may find that I can lift the sill plate high enough to fit the bottle jack. It would mean even more back and forth than I’d planned. But so what? I’ve got all the time in the world, you might say. Check in tomorrow if the weather remains good.
Because the weekend outing was so fine, I’m feeling chipper as ever. While reading this afternoon, I came up with an idea I have not (I believe) seen before. Lots of people put cardboard up on walls as temporary coverings. I use it to coat areas were I know I will be taking the insulation down to work on the frames. Anyway, I got to thinking about how that looked. I can’t be the first person to come up with the idea.
If you flatten a cardboard box, you’ll notice the tabs that make the bottom and lids kind of resemble shingles. Well, in the case of my renovations, the cardboard is destined to stay in place for at least a few months. Is there some easy way to enhance these sheets of cardboard so they overlap and look like a set of shingles? Maybe glue them onto other sheets of a convenient size, say 4’x4’ so the wall looks like it has shakes or something. The idea is to have something a little nicer than ordinary cardboard. Stop me if you knows it’s already been done.
Those tiny LED garden lights or path lights are on my shopping list. There is no urban glow in my stretch of territory, so it gets pitch black by 6:00PM. I used to putter around until 7:00PM but I cannot even see the street now. Things are slowly taking shape here, just bear with me. I’ll be looking first at Big Lots. I had a few at the trailer court but they got stolen fast enough. Or pardon me, they got culturally integrated.
AFTERNOON
Here’s another Dali painting that impressed me. It’s an illusion, called “The Disappearing Bust of Voltaire”. Find a full size photo of this if you can, check the detail, it’s another Dali rendering with extremely tiny strokes.
I can’t help wondering how advanced the computer world would be by now if the startups of the 80s had not opted for “majority rules” coding, the concept that 50 coders must be better than one good one, so grind out that code until something works good enough by the deadline. Don’t debug, just mass produce the next version. All this will come back to bite them in 2036, but by then they’ll be as brain-dead on computer infotainment as their parents were on cable TV.
The laugh is what geeks thought was so cool in 2000. For me, even funnier, because I had predicted what parts of the computer field would become part of the bozo-geek mantra. The garage genius defeating the mega-corporation by outsmarting the world. The teenagers who knew how to manipulate venture capitalists and field boardroom meetings. Throw in the racially integrated programming circles without any hint of hostility and the ultimate nerd fantasy whereby the best looking girls in the school fall for brainiacs.
NIGHT
Before I forget, here is a picture of the 12-T jack I picked up for $13 in Zephyrhills. I’ll have it oiled up and greased in a day or two, but it is fully functional. Let’s see how far I get with it. That plate I’m pointing to is almost the exact size of the sill plates I’ll be raising.
Taking an evening off, I baked a week’s supply of chicken while finishing “Black Fly Season”. The plot never rises above the “we’re just as good” comparisons to the American system and in the end, all the bad guys are caught by the ultimate Canadian police fantasy—snared by a web of cross-referenced files and fancy police conversation tactics despite the non-cooperation of those pesky Americans who still cling to a few outdated notions of privacy. Those Yankees don’t like to just give you the whole list and let you scan it looking for what shit you can stir up.
I’ve been semi-adopted by the gray cat, Zeke. He knows when I’m leaving or when I’m setting him out some leftovers. He’s more evidently a former house cat than the ferals.
I’m learning and it appears even under the best circumstances, the average chain on the chain saw lasts less than an hour of cutting time. Mind you, that’s quite a bit of cutting and my wrists are likely to give out after each five solid minutes. I’ve decided to use the chain saw to make the bases for the house jacks. Don’t expect fast results because I don’t know what I’m doing. And if I want a shed in the back yard, I have to begin cutting the logjam away. Most of the logs fell exactly into the garden area I’d cleared for the foundation. You want a time-line. Okay, more than three days to clear the logs.
I composed two letters with a new format for me. Similar to the layout of this blog, but with pictures printed leaving wider margins. In those spaces, I write notes about the pictures and point out details that could get missed. I didn’t invent this, but I did derive it independently. I’m satisfied with the results, and it makes this post because it saves about 2/3 of the time required to write (or type) a regular letter that covers the same information.
Last Laugh
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
