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Yesteryear

Friday, June 30, 2017

June 30, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: June 30, 2016, getting underway.
Five years ago today: June 30, 2012, “tener to baratone barbershop cortected”.
Nine years ago today: June 30, 2008, by coincidence, the old Taurus.
Random years ago today: June 30, 2004, remember Hong Kong?

           I call this the Amtrak Trek. This is the station in Winter Haven, Florida. Notwithstanding the nice canopy of shade from which this photo was taken, see the people hiking down a dirt path to board cars at the far, far end of the train. The train that has pulled hundreds of yards past the station. I’m surprised you can’t see the heat waves as they hump their luggage and small children, why, they must be real suckers for exercise. There is an explanation, but Amtrak is still the culprit.
           You see, the station is located a few hundred feet past an intersection in the city. Being a transfer point, you can see this is rather a large crowd of people for the train, which means boarding takes time. The station was designed back when there were several short trains per day. Nowadays, the one long train either has to pull way past the station, shown here, or the tail end will block that city street. How is that still Amtrak’s fault? Well, it’s not like they don’t know about this and maybe extend the canopy or at least put in a proper path.
           Ah, if you are thinking they could also just reposition the Miami car, nope. They’d just have the opposite problem at other stations. But at least you’re thinking.

           My day off and for a change, I did nothing. Nothing does not include goofing off, so I read a lot. My notes here say time to mention food, so let me tell you a little about gluten-free. Once again, this gluten intolerance is a new condition present only in those who eat genetically modified food. It is stunning to realize in this late day and age people don’t recognize the danger of ingesting poisons. As a substitute for wheat flour, gluten-free products often substitute rice flower. Can’t these people hear the alarm?
           Rice is a grain that soaks up chemicals from the soil to a greater degree than most cereal grains. That soil has become increasingly polluted with pesticides and atmospheric irritants. According to Reader’s Digest, for those who still bother with that used to be great magazine, people eating gluten-free products have something like 70% more arsenic and mercury in their systems. Hmmm, 70% of beef jerky is sold at checkout counters to men under 24. It’s all meaningless statistics, right? Well, that’s what it is to people who don’t understand statistics.

           I also read the charts for the US demographics to 2075. Now is the time to prepare to move your family out. Buy some land in a white country now and your grandchildren will thank you beyond imagination. Note that Canada has been making the same mistake even longer, so we are talking only about countries that will be predominantly white in 2075. Listen here, I’m not saying white is good or better, but I am looking at what happens to states that take on socialistic policies. Like welfare, open immigration, big government, and armed police.
           Back in accounting school, we had to choose a foreign country to study their tax system, and I chose Canada. It was the only course in my life I failed twice. The law didn’t make sense, but I learned a lot about the slide of Canada into a welfare state. If I speak in American terms, just translate, since I don’t know the right Canadian words by heart. The Canadian fall began during the Trudeau administration in the 60s and 70s. By the usual tactic of promising everybody something for nothing, he became head of the Liberal party.

           His original stated aim was to sort-of-quote, “To get into the history books on the backs of the Canadian taxpayer.” To keep liberals in power, you always need people who will vote for liberal policies. More welfare, more handouts, more free stuff at society’s expense, so he made the two classic changes. One, open up the immigration floodgates to countries with no democratic traditions, and two, balloon the size of the civil service.
           People on welfare and on the civic payroll will never vote for less government. Because living off the government is what they do for a living. And, neither will their families. Trudeau showed you need as little as a 42% voting block to edge out the competition—provided you keep them fighting amongst themselves. That, along with fooling people into thinking they even have a choice, is a Canadian specialty. This worked so well that fifty years later his weakling offspring are being elected, piling free houses and free jobs upon immigrants while their own nationals live in constant worry.
           And the USA is taking the same route to third world conditions. Trust me, you don’t want to live in the third world. There isn’t much of a middle class left in America, but credit cards are disguising the fact.

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

           In terms of socialist programs, Canada leads the USA. But the USA is continually bringing in more and more of the same dead-end policies as Canada. Canadian medical is not free and it’s getting harder for the taxpayers who actually pay the bills to get care when they need it. Despite this evident failure, the US is moving toward this type of government program. Their own citizens suffer while the doors are flung open to refugees and terrorists alike. So I would not go to Canada unless collapse here was imminent.
           Where you want to be is some place like New Zealand. Democratic, white, and intending to stay that way. Australia is too iffy. Most of Europe is heading for conflagration. Even isolated places like Iceland have made terrible immigration mistakes. Remind me to look at New Zealand real estate, just to be informed. Anyway, I repeat now is the time to buy. If you wait for the mass exodus you’ll find out how expensive islands can get. Even the New Zealanders will not continue to admit masses of fleeing Americans forever.

           For reasons I don’t have time to explore, the regular 12V automotive headlights, when attached to the scooter electric, never glow fully bright. If I find the cause, I’ll say so here, but at the age of that scooter, I was more interested in finding the solution. I got out the drill press and manufactured a wood and rubber bracket for two of those super-bright turn signal LEDs. I then bolted this arrangement directly into the headlight cavity in addition to the regular bulb.
           Rather than show you the wiring assembly, here is a Vivitar (synonym for blurry photograph) of the new arrangement at night. The apparent brightness of the bulbs is readily seen, compared to the yellowish filament glow of the marker lights. The small light at the bottom is just reflection off the scooter front fender. Tell you what, the way the bulbs are installed is a more interesting photo than the wiring, so I’ll see if I can show you that at a later time.

           Predictably, the headlamp is now plenty bright, but like all cold beams, it doesn’t “throw” the light very far. Not a problem for this vehicle which is strictly good for in-town driving any more. Another matter I did not understand is the warning on the container not to use these as daytime running lights. I’ve long noticed that only turn signal bulbs are stacked LEDs, never headlights themselves. What’s with that?
           Again, ignoring the cause, I went for a cure. I installed an illuminated flip switch on the dash directly off the old headlamp dim bulb leads. This allows me to use the headlight only at night and only when I’m driving. Let’s see how that works out, being the bulbs cost $14 a pair, a trifling amount under what that scooter has saved me. It’s falling apart but I can’t bear to junk my old friend.

Quote of the Day:
“Most men die at 27,
we just bury them at 72.”
~ Unknown.

           As intended, I went through the used car listings for my favorite, a Ford Taurus station wagon. They’ve changed the style toward a bigger and squarer shape which is unlike the distinctive Taurus lines of the last one. The reviews say it is roomier but that was never a setback. The good news is that I’ll have my pick. There are hundreds of late model units on the market, I may even opt for an older than usual year if I can find one with low enough mileage. The ten plus year old models are showing 200,000 and more miles on the odometer, indicating just maybe Ford has learned a thing or two about building cars to last.
           It’s brutal out there in used car land, but once again, I’ll be shopping with cash in a town full of credit junkies. And this time, I will be utilizing one of those mechanic checking services. I have not decided where I’m going to buy this car, it may not be Florida or Texas. Keep an eye on this, I may be able to get a perfectly suitable car to last the rest of my life for under $6,000. Half what I was thinking two months ago.
           Here’s a picture of the chicken I said was too big for the pot. I got it to fit one way or the other. That’s your blog food picture. You can’t see the spuds, carrots and celery, but this combination has been my staple for years since I quit eating beef. You should not be eating steroid-laced American beef. It is banned in 160 countries. It will give you man-boobs.

           With the book, “Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee”, I’ve slowed down by half way. Things get drowsy once the Indians clue in the white man can’t tell them apart. A raid by one tribe can mean retaliation against another, they never seemed to get that coordinated. I know I may sound like I’m picking on the Indians, but it is they who are claiming ‘great nation’ status, in fact, they were barely organized at all. They could have taken lessons from the Girl Scouts, I mean that.
           Their concept of trust ignores past behavior and seems more based on who is the best liar at each pow-wow. Their chiefs are more driven by appearing macho than what we would recognize as leadership. In the face of superior firepower, they are decades later still relying on magic spells. Like chimpanzees, they seem capable of acting as a team only when the prey is in sight. I’m still reading, because I know this is leading up to Custer’s Last Stand.
           As far as keeping the reader interested, this book heavily relies on having completely won you over to the red man’s point of view within the introductory chapters. It must have had tremendous 1970s campus appeal on that count alone. Unless you prefer your history one-sided, this paperback does not get my recommendation. Read it if you like, it does fill in a few blanks. I enjoy the Indian names for some of the white men, Custer being known as “Hard Ass” because he stayed in the saddle so many hours a day. What? The book says “Strong Backside” or something, but it still means “Hard Ass”. Give me a break.

ADDENDUM
           Once more, I was out to check the Friday competition. That’s clearly the big night in Polk County. I’ve begun ducking out late to see who’s playing what. The mother daughter team was at the club and it is sad to see them taking exactly the wrong route. What’s wrong? They are being totally over-influenced by the glut of third rate guitar players. Now, these guitarists are a lot like my old five-piece group. Expert musicians, but absolutely clueless how the recording industry works. But don’t try to tell them that.
           What sort of things would I consider bad guitar-think activities? Heavy investment in home recording gear, selling t-shirts and CDs at stage-side, playing long droning ballads, announcing too many phony requests, posting endless music videos, playing originals, and too many guest stand-ins. They are overdoing that last one, letting these smooth-voiced scruffy-faced millennials take over their third set. Toots, people came there to see you, not listen to that clone. One supposes he is a nice guy, but nice has never been good enough to entertain a whole room. The only people who fail to learn this are these all-too-perfect guitar players, but they consistently fail to learn it. Note that even if he is the nicest guy in the place that doesn’t mean anybody wants to hear him play guitar.
           Mind you this one was flawless, Ray-B you’ve met your guitar match. But don’t worry, his personality was vanilla marshmallow. Either you or I could wipe out his act by merely walking on stage. Folks like myself and Johnny Cash snicker at such perfection because we know the dirty little secret about being an entertainer. What? Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret any more. Okay, if you insist. Play unto the audience, not at them.


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