February 3, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: February 3, 2016, Senior shoe polish.
Five years ago today: February 3, 2012, my old contemporary- Tommy James.
Nine years ago today: February 3, 2008, my first failed antenna.
Random years ago today: February 3, 2005, the Humbolt Hotel, Caracas.

MORNING
           The leftards are shitting their pants. Nobody cares, they are uneducated traitors to their own kind anyway. Of course, the press is building up their discontent, talking civil war, but that won'’ happen. Everybody knows the liberals are cowards at heart. They never attack anybody who can fight back. Besides, how could they fight a war when the first thing they’d get cut off from is other people’s money? Nothing converts a liberal faster than having to pay for something himself.

           I hauled out my gear and played through the Fishman. It still lacks that bass punch, but that’s not such a big deal for me, as I’ve never been a loud bass player. Excessive volume is more an issue for bassists who are guitar wannabes. I’ve never had to play loud to get the crowd’s attention. If I was smart, I’ve give up trying to find a guitar player and go solo strumming, like I was doing last year when that was suspended by the purchase of this house.

           The January books are done and the month passed without any surprise expenses. Finally. Well, there was one item so small nobody noticed. It was $140, but hell, I spend $50 per month on stamps for personal letters. I also took another look at my rustic door. You know, it isn’t that bad if it can be straightened. There’s an historic house on the way to Miami that I drove over to see how they made their porch doors.
           I got two ideas from this side trip, see photo. That door, fancier than mine, shuts against the frame, rather than closing into the door jamb. Uet, it looks okay to me. The first idea I got is to simply add another layer of 3/4" lumber around the outside. The second idea is that transom. If I was to put a simple 4” kind of façade across the top of the door, or just in the top corners, I could trim the door off the bottom to clear that awning that it now bangs into.

           I used the wrong lumber and the door already warped, but I’ve created a conundrum. I installed the screen door and now I can’t live without it. Crooked or not, I now need that door to let the morning sun in and keep the insects out. Let’s see what we get for warm weather and maybe I’ll tackle both the door and my idea for the fake little transom. It’s something I’d make myself, since I stopped by at the lumberyard for glue and priced out the little moldings and trim pieces. Outrageous. Keep it.
           From the same house, I took this picture of the gable vent, but you can see more scrollwork. That’s a bit overkill for my little cottage, but I do have a scroll saw and some spare time. I also like that shingle effect on the siding, see the alternating rows of square and round patterns. But that’s the kind of thing I can tackle after I get my porch and sunroom. Those two additions do not affect any part of the house where I could put trim. I wonder if I have a book on this type of scrolling? Anyway, these are your pretty pictures of houses for the day. Hope you like.

           Later, after an appropriate morning nap, I looked at that scrollwork on the attic picture again. I mean, I have a scroll saw, and why do they call it a scroll saw? And so on. Also, take a look at that sort of ritzy divider thingee across the middle of the door in the other picture. Now, if I take that idea and put one up where the transom is, would it not look like the top of the door when it was closed? And the bottom of the door would swing open underneath my awning. When I look at the feeble dent in the awning, I see the last guy never resolved this little issue. Probably a guitar player.

Picture of the day.
Arkansas.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

NOON
           According to the real estate lady, this is winter. I’m okay with the chill since the afternoon sun makes it warm enough to work on the south side of the building except on the iciest days. So, vacation over, it’s back to work. The bottle jack, according to the tracking emails, is on the way. Tractor Supply, my eye. The only things I bought there that worked out was work clothing. What does that tell you, fashion maven that I am?

           While checking out the trim and screens, I found this old hand pump in the back yard. It was not in working order, but caused me to ask about the water table. No, I have no intention of sinking a well in my back yard even if it would be a wise idea. The water table is only twelve feet down in some places, but in other it is 65 feet, below the old mine tailings. The picture is here because it was with some interest that I examined that historic property. It’s on a side road down in Bartow.

           Nextly, after an afternoon nap, (nap time is serious hereabouts), I hauled out the Ibanez acoustic and rigged up my Fishman Solo. This is the unit that I dehydrated all the potentiometers and go working again. It still likes to give the odd cackle, so stand clear. That unit still has to be worked into my act, as I bought it just before the move and time was at a premium. PA systems have personalities and I have not spent any quality time with the Fishman. All I know for sure is it has to set on full bass to get any quality sound. That, and it amplifies my lousy guitar playing, so I’ll have to hunt up my chorus pedal again.

           And help me find my folding stool. My guitar playing is better when I’m sitting. It’s also better when I have a sexy babe on stage (it’s a gift) but I think I’m going to have to settle for the chair. What, you find the babe comment to be politically incorrect? Hey, I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of having a platonic relationship with any girl on my stage in a totally professional capacity. As long as she has salty earlobes.

           While reading up on that declination error in my navigation book, I covered the chapter on charting, which I related to you I have not yet done. It clicked, I’ve got it. But first another word on the declination (latitude) example. It was actually okay, the difficulty was that the instructions could be read two ways. In my thinking, that is still an error, but I retract my statement that the example was wrong. I still have to go unlearn the practice. Back to the plotting charts, they now make sense.
           Stay with me here, the longitude or vertical lines on a globe cover equal distances on a chart, while the latitude distances converge as one nears the poles. It was the amount of squeeze I was getting wrong because of bad wording on the example. There, that was top story, appreciated only by those who have had similar experiences. If you don’t mind and I know you won’t, I’ll take a couple hours off tomorrow and draw me some charts from scratch. Like all learning breakthroughs, it seems so simple now. Now if we could just find the guy who called the smallest chart divisions “minutes”, we could castigate him. With a rusty knife.

AFTERNOON
           For better balance, and there’s nothing a retired accountant likes better than balance, here is a portrait of the Fishman PA. That’s the black tower on the left of this picture. See the keyboard. I want a small portion of the house set up as a music room with all this. But first, I got heap plenty work to do.
           What’s this about “judges” defying presidential decree and bypassing the immigration moratorium? Mr. Trump, arrest these bastards. It is illegal to aid terrorism, and that’s the precise verdict here. Round ‘em up. Send those uncaring half-trained half-brained FBI operatives and do the arrest in broad daylight maximum embarrassment thing they do. They’re all an unpatriotic and unsympathetic bunch who’ll do anything they’re told, and Lordy knows they love the publicity. Since when do judges have the power to override the president? I know there are control mechs in place, but to outright break the law? Are they above it? Well, then prove to us they are not.
           Of course, I’ve worked out the plan for you. Judges are civil servants. Do a Reagan like on the air traffic controllers. Fire the offenders, but fire them permanently so that neither they, their children, or anybody in their immediate families will ever work for the civil service again. Jail time for the sassy ones or any malingerers. Either they work for you, or they don’t. Let them realize that at their own expense. Wholesale terminations, starting with DMV employees who issue driver’s licenses to illegals. Yes, that would be a good start. And a good finish. In fact, Don, trash the whole DMV anyways. They are all parasites. What? Of course the police will wail they can’t do their jobs. Yes, they can, but they’d have to obey the law to do it, ironic as that seems.

One-Liner of the Day:
“Taxes make food in Canada so cheap
a lot of people can barely afford it.*”
NIGHT
           The cPod is no more. Having resigned myself that I will need to haul all materials to this house without any help, I converted it back to a small cargo trailer. It can easily be converted back, but I don’t know because I now have plenty of parking space for two trailers. That’s feasible as there is no longer an HOA breathing down my back. I installed a simple drop panel onto the back and I’m planning on a trip to Big Lots to finally get that dining table, or what do they call it, a bar set. The one with two chairs.

           Here’s your nice picture of the unfinished wagon, what are the odds I won’t be able to find that bucket of matching green paint? The wagon still has a matching lid for locking and transport, but the slide out camper part is removed, for now anyway. I don’t know if you’ve checked prices lately, but most items like these wagon trailers have doubled since I bought this puppy five years ago. To any new people, this is wagon was a two-behind camper. It only really got used once, and that was how I found the area I now live in. I crashed in Plant City.
           Mind you, I’ve become more relaxed about my requirements for camping. Before, the plan was a complete wooden camper that could be “buttoned up” from the inside. Now, I’ll accept canvas siding and I’m looking at an ordinary camo tarp and frame setup. Maybe a simple “roof” that folds back to form a small canopy? I’ve got until spring before another monthly trip becomes feasible. I have to make a run to Miami in about 8 weeks. Wake up my friend, get some chasing around done. You never really leave Miami, but not that you don’t want to. After that visit, I have three whole months off. What to do?

           Steve Molyneux was on the net radio as I worked. He lambasted single mothers as the worst possible sorts. He’s got the facts on his side as usual. And Farage pointed out of the 135,000 Arabs let into Sweden to turn it into the rape capital of the world, only 500 eventually got jobs. And of the masses let into Merkel’s Germany, only 50 got jobs, mostly at the post office. Here’s your trivia. The average IQ of married women is 101.3. The average IQ of divorced women is 97.8, kind of already below the curve, nomsayn? And the IQ of your average single mother is 93.6. That is borderline cretinism. The IQ of the single father, reports Mollineaux, is unknown because the cases are so rare nobody has done a study.
           Anyway, Steve goes through step by step to debunk the myths of the single mother. As he and Ann Coulter point out, the single biggest factor in becoming a criminal, drug addict, social reject, welfare case, or psychopath is the single parent family, and that means unwed mother. Note, I used the term “single parent family” as an insult long before these studies were done. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious just because the media was glorifying these women. Single mothers, well, somebody has to dress funny and shop Wal*Mart. What? Yes, I shop there—but I don’t dress funny.

*Okay, so that is one of my quotes. But it is still a one-liner!


Last Laugh

++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++