One year ago today: January 19, 2016, orange undersink mushrooms.
Five years ago today: January 19, 2012, another “everybody panic” script.
Nine years ago today: January 19, 2008, my first “space elevator” sketch.
Random years ago today: January 19, 2004, generic days, convenient trios.
MORNING
The airwaves are alive with Trump news, but it is the perverted mainstream press, so it is mostly coverage of anti-Trump events led by third-rate morons like Michael Moore. Certain Democrats which the radio was careful not to name, have announced they will “resist” many of the appointments that Trump is making on “ethics grounds”. Imagine, a Democrat talking about ethics. The real laugh was the quip that the polls show Hillary would have “a good chance” running for mayor of New York. BWAAAA-ha-ha-ha.
Are those the same polls that showed her winning against Trump? From president to mayor of the most corrupt city in Amerca, hey, Hillary, if that doesn’t work out, I heard Decatur is looking for a dog-catcher. Here’s a supposed picture of 42 Democrats who say they will boycott the presidential ceremonies. (Who in the hell do they think they are?) Maybe they could also sit on a tuffett and throw a hissy-fit. Like all spoiled brats and bullies do when they realize they aren’t going to get their own way. Hint, Mr. Trump, these people have gotten away with lining their pockets for years at the expense of the middle-class.
They got away by claiming they individually did nothing wrong. That’s not the point, they either supported others doing wrong and failed to act when it was called for. It’s payback time, and it won’t be long before these people are after more federal money. They belong to a group that allowed the IRS to “audit” conservatives. They are the bunch that prevented the border patrol from doing their job. Here they are, cheek by jowl, the gang that’s been raping the American system for decades. Has anyone but me noticed they mostly have small ears and their eyes are unusually close together?
Mr. Trump, get the names of the traitors—and publish them. The duty of civil servants is the serve the public and that includes following the elected officials. I wish I knew where to get this information and I’d publish it. Libtards go insane when you point out their shortcomings. That’s why most of them are Liberals, they are trying cover up their inadequacies—and they all, to a one, have some dastardly dark secret in their pasts they hope being playing the role of a do-gooder will erase. Not being a do-gooder, but playing the part. (If they were really good people, they would use their own money.)
Did I get watching a bad DVD. Always check the correct DVD is inside the jacket, I didn’t this time. I got this repellent movie called “He’s Just Not That Into You”, a plot that cashes in on how brainless women are conditioned to view dating as a high stakes game. You know, the Judeo-Christian mind-set that indoctrinates them that if they sleep with somebody who doesn’t marry them, it’s a disaster, it’s psychological rape, it’s a failed business venture. The storyline centers around women who have been shacked up for a number years who decide it’s time to pressure for marriage.
Naturally, the guy’s react in amazement. They thought everything was going fine. The one gal who keeps telling her boyfriend he’s lying about quitting smoking shamelessly, then tells him she has covered up her secret desire to get married for nine years. It’s not lying when women do it?
I’ve had the fortune/misfortune in my life to meet three women who were not like that, so there is nothing instinctive about it, that is, women must be trained to think like that. I mean, what are the odds of someone like me meeting three exceptions? It means there is nothing natural about women having that attitude toward sex. So I’m watching the movie to see how well it plays on this liberated woman’s mental quirk. And every one reminds me of Sharon, the worst one I ever dated for this behavior. She is also the only women over 40 I ever dated, so consider that as well.
[Author’s note: let me refresh you about Sharon. She’s a Catholic girl who had been shacking up with a deadbeat for twelve years. His main accomplishment seemed to be coming up with the word “Toyo-tally” before the company used it in their commercials. She’s the same one who removed all evidence of younger women even from the magazines on her coffee table. The same who had six VCRs so she could record all her soaps while on evening shift—she couldn’t learn how to program just one recorder. The same that could not read a road map and wanted directions every time we drove the straight road between our apartments.
Sharon actually expected the next man was going to marry her. It went beyond that, she was after the commitment that could not be revoked. Myself, I’m the opposite, your every tomorrow depends on today. For her, it was all about the “for better or for worse” clause, especially the “for worse” part. If a woman wants a commitment on that basis, guys, trust me, she is not content with the way things are and will change it the moment you can’t back out.
True, there was more to it that this brief once-over. She was also the one who insulted you at the rate of 200 times per hour. Little insults, but constant. “You don’t know anything.” “That’s crazy.” “I never heard of that before.” “You don’t know what you are talking about.” “That’s dumb.” On and on. I should have introduced her to the Hippie. And sat back to watch the fur fly.]
Yukon Territory.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
NOON
The door kick panel is finally being glued. The orange tint to this photo is because the time was dusk before I got this far. On the books, only one hour labor was recorded because the chasing around time is not recorded. The actual total was closer to three hours. Again, I’m happy with the results. You can see I sprang for two large clamps, $15 each. The smaller clamps are to hold the individual boards flat overnight I read how they warped over time and to line them up so this natural bending acts to cancel out. There’s also a book on advanced techniques and you know, I may not be that far from using them.
Also encountered were a number of suggestions on how to attach the screen. The more popular youTubes showed a rubber spline with a fancy roller that looks like a pizza cutter, and prefitted screens with metal frames. It didn’t take me long to opt on the simplest method for which I have tools. Double over the screen edges and staple that in place. There is one concession I’d like to make and it is the dark mesh fiberglass screen. I have a roll of bright metallic aluminum but it plain does not look as great as the plastic material. They are reputedly identical to work with. It seems cooler in bright daylight for having a slight shading effect. But you can’t beat if for looks when backlit at night from inside a porch.
Watch for a big package to arrive. That tube of toothpaste that was half full was not isolated. I returned it to CVS and th manageress opened another box. Same problem. The tube feels full, but it is compressed air. She gave me a report form and recorded the lot number (0996A) and pointed out the parent company, Johnson & Johnson, is not keen on bad publicity. Got it, I took pictures and mailed them the bad tube.
It was bank time, so I took the Rebel to the south end, stopping only to get more dust masks from the Goodwill, where by some amazing oversight, they had a pair of black blue jeans in my size. There are strong features I like on this motorcycle so I guess I’ll price out the transmission repair or replacement. I wish Honda would make an automatic, I mean, seasoned guys like to ride in a certain degree of comfort—and are willing to pay for it.
“It Takes Me All Night Long To Do What I Used To Do All Night Long.”
NIGHT
It was an eventful evening. I like that adjective if only because it tips one off that I did not spend the later day at home watching cable. Like those vile M*A*S*H* reruns. I chanced upon a decent book called “Burma Road”. Connotatively, you’d think its another war correspondent rehash of the mud and blood around supplying Chiang. This is not at all the same, it is a photographer who is aware of the Japanese threat, but decided to go into the jungle for photographs. The book contains many never-before-seen in my situation.
The book is non-fiction and full of rare photographs like this one. Building the road by hand. The tale has that Ivanhoe feel to it, where he keeps bumping into the right people in the middle of nowhere, but one might forgive that two white people in Burma in 1939 might just be sporadic enough that they would know of each other.
Then, a motorcycle ride in the dark to Thursday jam. The blonde wasn’t there, the guy in charge told her not to bother showing up. Sigh, at my age she would have been paradise. Instead, there were some younger guys on the drums and guitar, my guess is 16 years old. But that’s a comparison to the other musicians, by that age I had started three bands and was a veteran stage musician; these new guys were nowhere on that scale. I played just one session, maybe twelve minutes. It was a droning progression in A and D.
The two vocalists wanted the musicians to play “metal” which brought many blank stares from the guitarists, all over-the-hill rockers. So I asked one of the singers to give me a beat or sample I could follow that typified the “metal” he wanted. Ha, it was like talking to a post. They loved rap and metal, but could not relate to me even couple of bars, the notion was too alien to their thinking—but duh-uh, they sure loved that kind of music. Hmmm, where have we seen this before/?
ADDENDUM
Here’s the old ROM device, remember this? Here’s a refresher. The ROM is the plate full of little red lights in the center, they are diodes, which allow electricity through in only one direction. I chose light-emitting diodes for show, but regular ones would have worked fine. On the left you got the
Along the top it’s fairly easy to see the knife switch, the pilot light, and the power supply. When turned up, pressing any of the ten keys caused the ROM, which lights up one “digital” row, to in turn light up a decimal display on the 7-segment panel to the right, the thing that looks like the number “8”. Depending on which keypress, it will light up the numbers 0 thru 9. The working part is the ROM, which retains its memory when the apparatus is turned off. However, to change anything, the ROM would have to be rewired. As shown here, the ROM is permanently affixed.
At the time, this was an amazingly mind-expanding project. That 7-segment display has 15 diodes that were an exercise in Euler wiring patterns, you are actually looking at the second model. From being stored, the device no longer works. This is a standing problem with home-wired projects and the person who invents an enduring prototyping method will be rich in an instant. Forget wired breadboards, they rarely last a few days without a glitch.
The most expensive part of the setup shown is that “buss” strip between the ROM and the graphic display. If you notice the rather more heavy duty wiring, you bet. It was at first hard-wired, but I finally got weary of screwing around with it and grabbed for the buss and some 16AWG [gauge] automotive stranded [wire]. As for the ROM, you can make out some horizontal lines beneath the diodes. There is a vertical grid beneath the insulating substrate which connect paths only in the predetermined patterns that produce the display. You are looking at around the third model as this became a tricky soldering job.
The purpose of this project was profit. It was in response to our contact’s assertion that no new science fair projects have been invented in the 40 years his company has been in existence. This project, designed to be divided into three teams (keyboard, ROM, display) was to be marketed only to select schools that matched a criteria on my database. I had projected the revenues to be $22,000,000 in the first three years—the longest I would agree to NOT sell the kit to the competition. A few weeks before this prototype began working right, Hacktronics went bankrupt. And the new owners are not interested.
Wait, there’s more. The project was designed for three groups of two students each. The structural parts would be prefabricated and would look better, of course. The parts that needed assembly were, like this blog, impossible to get without learning something. And that segment of the exhibit was geared toward the way science fair judges think—another area of my expertise. I’m saying in a fair fight, I would have won every show when I was a kid, but back then, the prize went to the project whose parents had obviously spent the most money on it. The same judges that always put the crown on the white girl with the biggest tits, though I'm sort of okay on that one.
Note: I will troubleshoot the wiring later and get this thing working. It is not so easy as it sounds, but that is why I used LEDs and included that buss.
Last Laugh
Who knows what you'll
find when you drain the swamp?
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
