One year ago today: February 10, 2016, whatever happened to Shkreli?
Five years ago today: February 10, 2012, the driver is okay . . .
Nine years ago today: February 10, 2008, Florida Country.
Random years ago today: February 10, 2009, is that my old Taurus?
MORNING
Here’s the guy I think has the reedy voice. His name is Markowski and he’s a professional troublemaker—against the establishment. He's worth a listen now and then. Disclaimer: I’m not endorsing his show, just saying that he brings up points from the side the sheeple are not supposed to even think about.
Today the comments were about the American cost of doing war. This is almost a saga, how the Americans spent a million dollars to kill each Viet cong. In Syria, they are spending $12 million per hour, or around $230,000 for each ISIS killed. The solution is, he broadcasts, to contract this out. Offer $50,000 per head as a reward. Who remembers how the peasants used to breed rats to collect the government bounty on the tails? Don’t let it go that far, but the concept is sound.
Or how about that Berkley group in California saying the Democrat violence is justifiable self-defense? They claim that even conservative talk is a threat to their persons and they have a right to protect their way of life. This gets back to their methods. They make the presumption that greed is not an innate human trait. They don’t grasp what greedy people will do if given the opportunity to deprive others. Remember the credo of the greedy: It is not enough to win. Others must lose.
My position on greed remains unchanged since day one. Rather than trying to tax people into equality, you put all people of the same type together in one location. Then sit back and watch. Imagine all the drunks, or loudmouths, or liberals all clumped together in separate cities, apart from the variety of the society they normally require to operate. It’s Planet 107 all over.
Y’know, now might be a good time to recap that concept, I could kick myself a hundred times for now writing that book forty years ago when the idea first occurred to me. Now that Trump is in power, it would have been super-relevant. So for the benefit of any newbies, I’ll race over the plot. It’s about planet Earth in the year 2099. What happened starts in the year 2049. Mankind has discovered a nearby region in the Milky Way that contained several hundred lavish and inhabitable planets. Social backlash on Earth resulted in all humans of broadly dominant characteristics being transported to a planet of their own.
Priority was given to groups who did not like the way Earth was being run. Hence, all the liberals got their own planet. So did the Jews (these days I’d include Muslims). The queers got their very own paradise, so did the single mothers and the gossips, you get the idea. Anybody who was against the social order on Earth, even criminals, got placed with others of the same ilk. Rather than punish or force anyone to reform or conform, each group was transplanted to an entire world of the like-minded. There they would presumably feel right at home, living in peaceful coexistence. The problem is, the transport company went bankrupt.
Each new world was left alone to its own resources for a fifty years. At the end of that time, improved technology back on Earth allowed a scientific spaceship to go visit each of the planets. The book is a tale of what they found. Not peace and harmony, that’s for sure. The book is a theoretical expose on the outcomes if any of these fringe groups ever get their own way. The expedition finds death, decay and destruction. Except Planet 107. It thrives in fabulous luxury while the other planets desperately try to claw their way in. Planet 107 maintains a massive force field to keep them out. Anyone is free to leave, but no inflow is allowed. Planet 107 has no taxes, no government, no unemployment, no welfare, no wars, no crime, no unrest. Sound familiar?
And which category of people were sent to Planet 107? Libertarians.
Winter Palace, St. Petersburg.
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NOON
Nearly noon to get underway, I told you this was a two-man job. I got the jack into position, shown here, and it will raise the house—but at the same time it lowers the earth. This was expected but I was still taken aback to watch the existing foundation actually sink nearly two inches when the weight of the house corner was set back on the blocks. If the rest of the building behaves similar, this means lots of back and forth. Outside to work the jack and estimated amount, then back inside to check for level. Since both parameters are changing, this becomes no easy task. But this is day 61 since I started.
This means stop. Retreat and regroup. Figure out why it went right the first time. Did it throw something else off? Will it settle overnight? The jack is adequate for the job, it just raised the longest single wall in the building with little effort. It doesn’t clog up with sand, which is nice to learn. I’m going to run a string across the length of the wall to find out if there’s some other factor at work. That floor did not go level by itself. This is one of those situations where you take a break and triple check every last damn thing.
On the other hand, if this did work, that projects out to only 18 more hours to use the jack to level the other pylons. Wouldn’t that be a treat? Here is your mini-view of the bubble level showing the interior subfloor is spot on. The possibility for error remains too great to continue. So, do I head for the coffee shop. I already had a nice big breakfast and it is a hot day right after a freezing night. Pick me up a gallon of glue while you’re up there.
As for the Brits refusing to allow Trump to address their parliament because some of the MPs would “snub” him, time to call the War Bond loans to England. They still haven’t paid us up for WWII, you know. They want to snub, show them who’s boss. Now, as for Trump, it’s time for him to admit that the telemarket firms are never going to obey the law. I’ve been on the no-call list over ten years and I still get a call a week. Time, Mr. President, to put these operators out of business. It’s simple. Make a law that instead of the no-call list, every new phone must have a may-call app that is off by default. The only phones that can receive telemarket calls are those which specifically activate the feature.
And give it some balls. Mandatory jail time for the principles of any company that bypasses this feature, or attempts to bypass it, even by accident. You want popularity, Mr. Trump? There is likely nothing else you could do that costs so little that could bring such universal admiration. Think of it as a self-funding stimulus package. Two hundred million people rushing to get a new phone. Start making highly public arrests of telemarket managers and owners. This system of waiting for people to complain isn’t working, obviously.
And while you are at it, end this nonsense distinction between telemarket and these fake charities and surveys and churches and political calls. Those bastards are just as annoying as the rest. Make it a felony to own or operate the telemarket equipment. Ignore the leftists who complain this will put people out of work. That is the whole idea, dammit. This is a capitalist system and the market has spoken.
AFTERNOON
Time permitting, go back and read some posts for mid to late December 1981. I found them in the bottom of a drawer. They concern my early days at the corporation, but also, I was far more likely to write about sex and women back when nobody ever dreamed things would get published. It’s amusing that I’ve never changed since then. I dislike pushy women, older women, and fat women for the exact same reasons as today. But back then, I was known to make exceptions. Trust me, they were very few. The average women I date is named Judy, she’s 18 or 19, youngest or second youngest in the family, drives a yellow car, and has her own place less than 7/10ths of a mile away. And if she’s over 20, she either is in school or has a career. I’m always been quite spoiled when it comes to women.
I’m including the original transcripts except where things get a little too detailed. Don’t worry you aren’t missing much because I’ve never been one to talk much about what I do in that department. But when I was younger, I certainly had the motivation to write some really corny visuals. Read about Sandy’s “slippery, rubbery, little body” which is about as poetic as I got about the female form in those crazy days. Sandy was the Farrah Fawcett look-a-like who would not shack up with me. Then after she got knocked up by some dorkbrain from the industrial airport, oh, did she want to marry me. Fat chance.
I’m concerned about JZ, he isn’t answering the phone. But not worried, because the family will always check on him. Here’s where I get to speculate in semi-gossip. This is what I conclude, which as you know I often write down to see how close I guess the facts. When the restaurant closed, it left a huge vacuum. I have no clue of the actual event, but I just know he wants a new truck. Well, when you are helping the family business, it is easier to save. It’s when you are not working that saving really hurts. You have to cut back on lifestyle items and good luck with that.
I’ve warned everybody who’ll listen for years that saving money is tough. If somebody tells me they are saving but I don’t see any changes in their daily behavior, I know it isn’t happening. Nobody gets it right the first fifty times. Trying to save when you have no job is a worst-case scenario. You have nothing to distract you. Meanwhile you get bombarded by the message that if you aren’t spending, you a falling behind. And of course, the whole world is having one big orgy—except you.
You are also on your own. Most people have never known anyone who successfully saved. You know when such people dish out advice, it is just hot air. So, will anyone out there listen to my advice, because I’ve got some? I’ve said it before, if you want to experience a nearly instant improvement in your financial situation, merely start writing down what you spend your money on. Every day, jot it down in an organized fashion and add up the total. Simply writing down your outgo will instantly make you better off, even if you never go back and review your figures. But you will, mark my words.
“Abstinence makes the church grow fondlers.”
NIGHT
I’ll tell you who is one smart cookie. That Hungarian Prime Minister, Victor Orban. He’s one of those rare Europeans who does his own homework and doesn’t put up with the likes of Merkel. Who, by the way, is cruising for a major incident. People are sick of this argument that they are not breeding enough to replace their own population. They must let in foreigners or their country will disappear. What blithering ignorance. Either way, they lose their life and culture. I expect to hear news soon of Merkel’s assassination. These Germans have experience handling people who don’t respect their way of life. I heard, but only third-hand that Hungary has closed their borders to these “refugees”. Of course, the liberal press only shows footage of the 20% or 30% who are not military age males.
I worked until dark and found part of the problem. My level is four feet long, and will measure level in that space. But when I ran a string line from the high point of the wall, I got a gentle slope of nearly 1-1/2” Tomorrow I will cut up a set of blocks that better match the cylinder blocks. It’s hard work and a pit often has to be dug for the jack, which then has to be manhandled into position. The good news is even walking into the room to check the interior for level is now noticeably much better.
Here’s a terrible picture of how far I got today. Blog rules, I have to record the “most” event of the day, and this was the most hard work. The earth sinks, so it is more complicated than just jacking up to level and a little, then setting the sill back on the blocks. Both the jack and the pylons sink a little, maybe I’ll get some video. it moves that much. The house seems to have settled the least where the two sections were joined together when the east wing was built.
This will be a tough challenge and will take a lot of time. If it goes well, the price of the place will soar. I was able to hear some of the siding creak and noticed it was buckling at a few joints. This indicates some of the siding was repaired or replaced after some of the frame had sunk. Because of the open floor (covered with temporary plywood) in the master bedroom and the new bathroom floor, I will have access to nearly half the spots that need raising, and I’m prepared to work on it as long as it takes. That jack works fine, it lifts without straining. That’s important for safety on this type of job.
ADDENDUM
What I have in mind is now to put a string line around the entire perimeter. This will make it easy to determine the high spot. The throw on the jack is nearly nine inches, but a cursory measurement of the exterior shows no place where the footing is more than three inches out of horizontal. Lugging that jack around is not so much fun, remind me to pick up a handful of those string levels tomorrow. I’ll need seven more.
Here’s my plan, this is for historians a few hundred years from now to follow along how 21st century man approached planning and logic. Y’see, I figure by then the Millennials and their issue will have pursued their present policy of deleting anything that doesn’t make them look or smell good. The “greatest generation” finds it easier to erase history than to learn to actually learn to spell. They’ve been getting worse each year, so they’ll undoubtedly ramp up their whitewashing.
The vast majority of Internet publication is done by these idiotic, grammarless, self-styled “experts”. Within a few years, I figure, the only source of information that includes mistakes will be blogs like this one. There you go. So, let’s walk through my idea to straighten this cabin. I have no training or experience except this morning, so I’m working with a clean slate. That hour I put in today wore me out and I got covered in wet grainy sand, yard rubble, and by the end I was needing to rest a spell after each step. Work the jack handle. Take a quick breather. Stand up, catch my wind. The hours I report are only the “billable” time. It took me nearly three hours today to do one hour’s work.
After considerable trial and error, I see that the parts of the building that sunk the most were on the perimeter. Because the house has no eaves troughs and that’s where the water saturated the mine tailings that pass for ground in this vicinity. Thus, I should raise the house in two stages. This more than doubles my work because I expect many errors. I intend to make errors. The wishful thinking part is that whatever I do wrong on the first round will be countermanded by the second round. Here’s my greenhorn plan:
Run that string line around the place to locate the high spot, and assume this is where the foundation is the most solid. Raise the perimeter to the string line as best as possible, there are sixteen more spots where the jack will fit. Then, carefully measure the interior for level. This will tell me if the joists in the center areas are level, since it isn’t possible to get under the house to jack up those spots.
Now follow my thinking here at this point: the floor will now be level, or too high, or too low. Then, go around the house a second time, lugging that jack for exercise. The second pass will fine-tune whatever situation I created on the first round. There, do you like the plan? I don’t even try to guess the work or time involved. Suffice to say it will be the single biggest project I’ve tackled in Florida. And it is mostly gronk labor. Since I have good days and bad days with that, expect me to take entire stretches off to work on other parts of the building.
For example, tomorrow I will cut up the matching wood plates to shim the sill plate as I work along. I’ll be extra careful, because two of those walls will be the spots where I want to attach the ledger boards for my porch and my sun room. I have a mind to make those joints floating, but that’s another type of wall I’ve never built. For now, I need to figure out a way to get a thinner pallet under the jack. I’ve been using that 4”x4” contraption I made up, but I have to dig down to get it and the jack to fit.
Here’s where I’ll add that while this work is taking two or three times longer than it would have in my prime. Yet I’m not finding that as distressing as I imagined. I was ready for a real downer but there are two balancing aspects that help. One is of course this time it is my own nest. The second is you know how rapidly I gain experience and I foresee the day I can’t work at all is looming. At that juncture, I’d better know how to supervise others to do the work for me. So I don’t have to hire contractors where I could hire laborers. I probably don’t suspect yet how important this will be when the time comes.
Last Laugh
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