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Yesteryear

Thursday, April 13, 2017

April 13, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: April 13, 2016, don’t you believe it.
Five years ago today: April 13, 2012, “school is cheap” examples.
Nine years ago today: April 13, 2008, this was paradise.
Random years ago today: April 13, 2007, nobody won.

           How about some general information presented as light reading? Okay, the matchbook covers from last day are nearly worthless to collectors. Head’s up, because this is also your trivia. The era of matchbook collecting was considered over in 1962 by most collectors. That’s the year the government dictated that the striking surface must be moved from the front of the book to the back, thus eliminating the need for the “Close cover before striking” warning. Matchbooks are no longer used for advertising, which is the feature that made them collectable.
           The addresses and print on the cover was special order, but not the artwork on the back. That included everything from pin-up girls, beer labels, to war-time slogans. These were being ordered in quantities of 10 million at a time by 1900. So scratch the artwork as rare. I saw all the matchbook art you’d want on eBay for $1.99 each. No, I’m not going to go back and delete or change the $800 price tag we first thought. This blog does change certain items, but the reason is never just so we’ll look good.

           [Author's note: this picture is really hard to see. It is a picture of the bow end of the boat just below left center.]

           Look at the bright side, you are happy just to read a different topic than the renovation status of my house. I’ll even divert your attention to this picture, taken through a slat in the fence. See the boat, upside down with the pointy end on the bucket. That’s the craft that’s going gold hunting, whether I’m on board or not. Note the clever pun. That’s correct, even if I decide against participation, this boat is going up the Peace River.
           Before I forget, here’s a little more on matchbooks. If you want to make any real money selling them, you’d better have an original Charles Lindberg or a packet from the Titanic. Nobody wants to collect something from Joe’s Diner in Newark, 1948. I found the name for these collectors, they’re called phillumenists. Well, maybe not to their faces. Some collectors remove the staple and matches. This is called “shucking” and lay the covers flat to display all the printed material. I saw some really old matches that had the phone number printed on each individual paper stem. Those are worth something.

Picture of the day.
Marilyn Monroe.
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           What is this object? My camera clipped off one end, but it looks the same as the one he’s holding. His thumb is beside a wing nut that can be used to adjust the width and his other hand is on a handle that swings up. In this case up would be back toward him. The logo is under some rust, so into the sandblaster it goes. It took a while, but we figured out it is a cylinder block carrier. You place it around the block and lift the handle, which compresses the end plates. From there, it works on the same principle as ice tongs.
           Candles. The remelted candles did not work out well, they improperly set up inside the molds. This represents another fine example of progress by omission. Huh? What’s that? I’m describing the process of knowing you are on to something because it doesn’t show up on the Internet. Essentially, to test if you have an idea with some potential for originality, try to find it on the Internet. That is, use the world wide web as a massive bullshit filter that eliminates all the easy stuff. Anything idea that requires some real thinking is probably not on-line. That doesn’t mean it isn’t in a text or library somewhere, but it ain’t on the Internet.
           So, whats not on the Internet about candles? Many little things that can go wrong, that’s what. I was not part of the candle process, but I saw the results. Certain types of wax are incompatible, and beeswax likes to melt and stick to itself best. They also have differing melting temperatures, though I see that as having other potential. I say the molds themselves have to be heated and cooled. Another problem was the wick burning down the middle of the candle into its own tunnel that eventually snuffs itself out. Since none of the candle-making videos I watched mentioned this, I went hunting myself. On the roll of wick material at Agt. R’s place, there is a sticker that says “medium”. I take that to mean there are different wick sizes.
           My immediate conclusion is to twist two wicks together. I’ve had candles from Wal*Mart that had the tunneling problem. I speculated the flame has to be large enough to melt down the sides of the wax so it is always resting in a puddle that covers the entire candle surface. Unless there is an additive or process to prevent this trouble, it might also explain why Wal*Mart always has at least some candles on sale.

One-Liner of the Day:
“I quit changing my password because
it was confusing the hell out of my dog.”

           I have an agreement with both my doctors that they do not give out my telephone number or put it on their databases. It is inside an envelope clipped to my paper file, and these instructions are printed on the outside—so nobody can claim they did it by accident. For 11 years running now, I’ve been complaining that right after I visit their office, I start getting a surge of telemarketing calls and nonsense checking-on-you calls from my health insurance. While both offices denied any possible security breach, they have been repeatedly put on notice. I could not tell which office was the problem. Until today.
           There was a new pharmacist, one of those assholes you know is trouble the moment you lay eyes on the little faggot. So of course, when he asked for my phone number, I said I didn’t have one. The prescription takes twenty minutes, so I waited by the magazine rack and watched him make a single phone call, obviously verifying the prescription. So, I step up to the counter and ther, along the side, was written my private, unlisted home phone number—now I know exactly which office is guilty.

           I called the office and all I got was some dizzy bitch of an office manager lecturing me on her rights and denying all responsibility. She launched into damage control immediately, without any idea of what evidence or circumstances were involved. Hmmm, you know, that is the same office that my insurance has pumped well over a million dollars into their piggy bank. Should I do it? Should I tell my doctor either she goes or I go? But I cannot have someone that evil and conniving having any access to the tiniest amount of my personal information. Should I?
           Next item, this one is also off the record. I’m only telling you because you’ve been nice and this won’t go any further. I had a definite my-fault accounting error last year, but even so, a single error cannot upset my entire arrangement. Should such an error come along, it would be regarded as a probe of some sort. Three independent parties would have to make an identical error. Well, just such an event has occurred. One safeguard here is that I never, never make two identical bank transactions in a sequence. Yet, the bank says I made two back-to-back withdrawals of the same amount last September 7th and I know I didn’t. Could this be my trip to the Smithsonian?

ADDENDUM
           The rest of the day was easy-going. I repaired the cord and oiled the gears on a small rock polisher. You know, I’ve never actually seen on of those in operation. Does it really take weeks to get results? It’s not as noisy as I thought though I don’t know if I’m doing it right. I read you needed special polishing compound and heard some people use ball bearings or BBs. I looked in the drum and saw only some big agates and old marbles. The drum is rubber coated, but the same coating on the drive rod has worn off. Or the rats got it.
           Here’s another photo from the past. This is an oar, but for a much bigger boat than we have. That’s Agt. R again, examining the leather sheath that surrounds the oar pin. Well, used to be leather, it is flaking off. You can see the row of tiny brads that held it in place. These paddles are a good twelve feet long. That’s serious Nantucket-grade. I say we pick up a couple cheap Wal*mart canoe or kayak types.

           Once again, I’m the dude doing 100% of the book research, which streamlines the operation. Careful, though, not everybody always appreciates the work. That isn’t the case here, since I’ve already saved the operation some very costly errors. I have the hurricane lamp on the bench ready to begin making jigs. That won’t happen quickly since I want to drywall that bedroom soon. It is such a treat to walk in there, the silence is not ordinary, it is amazing. That insulated floor is a truly worthwhile extravagance. The whole house never did creak, but it had a hollow sound to footsteps. But not that bedroom. You bet I want the whole house to be like that.
           Toward that end, I cleared out the space in the living room, that beautiful floor has to come up. I curbsided the old TV that was left here and made room to shift the furniture. Should have taken ten minutes, instead it took an hour. The bedroom should be ready for drywall tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean I’ll get around to it that fast. The one thing I didn’t want has happened, which is that I had to start living in the house before the floors were finished. Now everything has to be moved and seven months later, I still have no spare bedroom that I’m proud of.


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