One year ago today: March 30, 2016, the sleepy village of Alva.
Five years ago today: March 30, 2012, I never bought the pillows.
Nine years ago today: March 30, 2008, the math behind “Wally’s Folly”.
Random years ago today: March 30, 2011, my potato nemesis.
Good for you. Somebody just made off with 220 pounds of gold, see picture. I like it when somebody sticks it to Canada and their welfare state mentality—unless you happen to be a white male paying the combined 60% tax on every dollar you make. What, so the government can donate 100 kg gold coins to foreign museums so people with think Canada is a nice place to live. Ha!
It took close to ten minutes of indirect skirting the issue to get even that much out of the city inspector. It’s the usual, everybody is on the take and they won’t just outright say they want you to hire their cousin Bubba and palm the inspector a little juice. To my overseas readers, in America this is not corruption because it is not against the law and therefore by definition is not corruption. Oh, and yes, a city permit is required each for building, plumbing, and electrical.
As for the structure, repairs don’t seen to be under any jurisdiction. I purchased a small metal I-beam (picture tomorrow) that spans two joists as the best way to use the bottle jack to raise the old sill plate. The plate is to damaged and brittle to even try to lift. I drove to Bartow metal works to get the steel since they always have what you need without any sales pitch. They also gave it to me for ten bucks when the sign on the wall said minimum shop fee was twenty.
[Author’s note: make no mistake about it, you should not go to City Hall on your own and make inquiries about your own property. You are just setting yourself up. These people are not helpful at all. You want information about concrete footings, they want information about you. Who are you? Where are you from? What are your future plans. The "meeting" was a 12-minute ballet of the expert on leading questions up against the master of evasive answers. At one point, he tried to trick me into giving him "the names of every person who occupies the premises". I just asked him what relevance that was.
He reacted like he was being cross-examined, which he was. Every answer he gave by this point had the same net meaning, namely, “It depends.” But forget about asking him what it depends on--the man would rather die than tell you that. It boils down to they want you to give a detailed plan of which the primary component is your personal information, so they can review it behind closed doors without telling you what the criteria is.]
The six guitar players have been narrowed down to two prospects. One audition is tomorrow around ten miles from here, all double lane roadway. The four others have failed for the following reasons.
1. One guy lives 35 miles from the area posted in my ad.
2. The bozo who doesn’t understand “duo”, but wants to be paid by the hour.
3. The one who didn’t reply back to his e-mails.
4. The multi-banding Irish jig guy whose only specialty is multi-banding.
I also keep a keen eye out for other negatives, such as the guitarist who views a duo as the core of his new super-group. That attitude is a bandkiller because he wants to showcase. They call it wanting a “full sound”, and gee wouldn’t we all like a staff of people whose main chore is to make us look good. The worst are the ones who wait until we get on stage to pull that fast one. “Follow me,” they like to yell.
Remember my response to that? I train the band to instantly stop when that happens. Then I’ll turn to the guitarist over the microphone and ask him why on Earth we would follow him. The answer is always because he is the guitar player. I correct him, he means ex-guitar player. I’ve fired four of them bastards on stage in my day.
France, 1856.
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Then home, where I measured out tarpaper but could not get into it. I made coffee and tuned in to news radio, such as it claims to be news these days. Trump is dragging his feet, but there is progress. He cut funding to many so-called “science” foundations and something called the Teen Pregnancy prevention program. I know, WTF is that? How about global family planning? Don’t tell me you didn’t know we led the world on that? We plan their families, then we bomb the shit out of their houses. These cuts are to bloated government agencies that have fancy names, but are nothing but administrative staff. Like the National Institute of Health, which does not practice medicine.
It adds up to billions, and you should hear the little piggies squeal. What a racket! Bozo of the day would be Chuck “Charles” Keiffer who bellyaches theses cuts “will have consequences for a generation”. Chuck, you dismal twit, that is the very idea. To cut out the fat. Like you. What is it you actually do? Democratic staff director? What the hell is that? And where to you get off criticizing the man who was elected by majority to be your boss? How dare you call yourself democratic?
[Author’s note: Keiffer is the exact brand of career politician the founding fathers set out to prevent. At 20, Keiffer (now 62) was handed a fat-paying government job by his equally self-serving old man, who calls himself “the 90-year-old legend”. Mr. Trump, weed out these individuals. Send them packing. Reduce civil service pensions to the lowest level found in private industry and see how many of these "public minded" people show up for work.]
Maybe Trump is proceeding cautiously. He could improve things immediately by firing the people who oppose him. I personally think it will come to that and along with most Americans, I hope it does. Start with Keiffer, who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. I don’t personally need or want a welfare office or an AIDS clinic in the town I live. I have no use for a Global Health Security Fund or the department of the Food and Drug Administration that prints misleading labels and downplays the GMO crisis.
The following idea, yoo-hoo Mr. Trump advisor who is reading this blog, is not mine but I liked it when I first heard of it. When the tax department does the returns, they go through the deductions page and count the total of taxpayers who use each given deduction. If 15% or more do not use it, the deduction is cancelled. No, you don’t have to change the law. You don’t print the line on the subsequent years tax forms. Just leave it blank.
[Author's note: I just got word now that 14 hours ago, after this blog was written, Trump gave notice to a bunch of left-acting people who are not so good at doing what they are told by the electorate.]
The big answer, however, is the flat 10% sales tax on everything except food, rent, and books. The much maligned flat tax that people with big mouths hate so much. They actually fear it, for it shakes the rotten system to the core. All of them have crazy theories that it hurts the poor more than the rich, as if all other brands of taxation aren’t just as bad. The government should not be keeping track of what private citizens earn anyway.
“Einstein developed a theory about space,
and it was about time, too.”
This brought up the topic of making money after retirement (see addendum, JZ injures his back). Do you know what this picture is? It’s a one ounce ceramic “gold mold”. I consider that as an active hobby, whether it is music, hawking junk on eBay, or chasing gold down the river. It sounds cavalier but I’m dead serious about finding something. Another Jimbos? Who’d think I’d ever miss that joint? Because I don’t—I miss the money. I mentioned looking at gold dredging and now I’ll never hear the end of it. On the other hand, if JZ wants to wade out into the creek with a vacuum pipe, I’ll sit back on shore and grill up some grub. Still, you don’t mess with back pain. It’s always serious.
This convo gave me pause to mull over my own options. Of course, I did so with an extra cup of tea in peace and quiet. One should always retain the capacity to make money somehow. I’ve got no shortage of ideas on that, but maybe I should take a new inventory of my alternatives in my new situation. I have no personal objections to looking for gold. It’s just that I would do most of my looking at the library.
Meanwhile, I’ll tell you what. I’ll take another look at gold dredge. It won’t be just the labor, but the whole process chain. If you had some raw gold right now, you likely would have no idea where to sell it or even get an idea of what it was worth. Refining it requires a kiln and dangerous flux chemicals. I’ve never done it, all I said is I understand the process. It’s all dandy to vacuum up the gold, but show me a prospector who knows what the stoichiometric point is.
Laughing? Good, I did something normally classified as plain dumb tonight. Regardless of life and limb, I took the Rebel out after dark and went down the freeway at 75mph. Let shrinks read theory into that, but I just wanted to be free again, insomuch as that is still possible. After around ten miles, I came to my senses. There was light traffic, but I needed the thrill of the road again. Now that the Rebel has been upgraded a bit, that highway keeps beckoning. Any motorcycle rider can tell you.
ADDENDUM
JZ has thrown his back out and can’t work. No details, but he was sufficiently worried to call about it, so something is going on. Normally, we do not discuss income but this time around, we had occasion to talk about lack of it. He’s worried, I’m not. My point of view is that we both have places to stay from which we cannot be budged. Once you’ve got that, life’s other problems become easy. I think what’s happening is he’s got the same jolt as most people about to retire. They all ask where will the money come from?
Myself, I tackled that problem nearly 13 years ago. And when I turn 65, I’ll have something most people never heard of: years of experience being retired. At the same time, each person’s situation is unique, so I don’t think anybody will listen to my advice. Most people know the system soaks you because you have to have a car and a place to live, but they don’t realize the extent to which the system soaks you because you have to have a job. Your cost of living drops by a third when you get rid of the job, folks. Haven’t you ever wondered why welfare people live so comfortably on handouts? They got everything you got.
The next step is always when people realize not that they can’t retire, but that they can’t retire and keep the same lifestyle. I’ve seen it even in those who lead monotonous and meaningless lives. They know they are addicted to cable TV but sincerely can’t do a thing about it. Tell ‘em, Ken. As time goes by, I’m beginning to less and less believe these people who keep on working past retirement claiming they want to. Something funny is going on with that. Exception? People who run their own business.
I told JZ to cheer up. I can understand people may have a real fear of becoming homeless, but that cannot, under ordinary circumstances, happen to anyone who owns his place outright. Once you’ve got that roof over your head, ask yourself—have you ever seriously heard of anybody starving to death in this country? There you go, this is America, if you have food and shelter, it establishes you and the rest will follow.
Last Laugh
Yeeee-hawwww!
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