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Yesteryear

Sunday, July 16, 2017

July 16, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 16, 2016, we tore up the floor.
Five years ago today: July 16, 2012, the famous horsefly indicent.
Nine years ago today: July 16, 2008, the mysterious Megabite . . .
Random years ago today: July 16, 2006, files you would not believe.

           First, the karma. The gas station never did contact me back with the missing amount of money, in this case, the $50 dollar bill. This morning, I went to check prices at Wal*Mart and must have dropped a $20 dollar bill. Thank you kindly, Wal*Mart employee who saw me counting my money and asked me if I was missing any. When I identified the right amount, she had found and returned my $20-dollar bill. Wouldn’t it be nice if all of America was still that way?
           The fun goes on and on, here is a shot of the living room drywall coming down. I’ll try to cool it with the construction photos as long as you understand that means some silly material will likely rise to the top of the blog for the duration. This shot shows the wall box (the two studs close together) that marks the position of the original bedroom wall. This was paneled over and was the situation that caused me to buy this two bedroom for the price of a one bedroom. Nobody remembered this wall had been there. In a day or two, you’ll see 14/2 wire all over the place.

           The replacement wall will be 18” more to the left, roughly where you see the dust blue tarp dust barrier now. That exterior wall, notice no insulation, is the one destined to get a double window. That is mainly cosmetic, to make the building look more balanced from the street. If you just got here, the house sits sideways on the lot, facing the old farmhouse. From the street it makes the building less appealing. The double window in the back worked out so well, let’s do it again.
           The original house was not wired and the living room has that old cloth wrapped wire. It has held up remarkably well, but I’m replacing it as well as taking what wiring I can from under the building up into the interior. There are several runs of old wiring tacked up under the floor joists, in some cases suspended with bent nails. All that will be upgraded.

           This time I’m working smarter. As soon as that drywall is gone, nothing more happens until I get the room completely re-wired. That’s with real switches and twelve to fourteen duplex outlets, plus a dedicated line for the air conditioner. Don’t forget to install the exterior outlets. Based on the bedroom, this work will take almost seven full working days. Here is a photo of a 250-foot coil of 14/2, the wire that’s going into the [new] bedroom soon. I did not know that electrical wire grades have been color-coded since the 1990s. Nobody tells me nuthin’.
           Except, I can’t really work full days, so I regularly take music breaks. This morning I found my four channel microphones. As for the guitar work, the process is the same for me as any other talentless guitar hack. The trick is to keep playing the songs so often they become rote. My decision is should I incorporate these extra microphones into the act from the beginning? I’m confident the guitar part will happen, but that endangers me of becoming just another mediocre six-banger. It’s a risk I need not take, since I have the capability and the gear to make the show unique. Hey, Billie-Bill, I didn’t say I invented the act, I’m only saying I’m the first around here and I’m not copying anybody I know of.

           That reminds me of the opposite of amnesia, where a person thinks they’ve created something that they are remembering. I think it is called cryptomnesia. If there is a link in the last sentence, then I checked it out. I am reminded of the George Harrison tune, “My Sweet Lord”. He was successfully sued for plagiarism by some band called the Chiffons, with their release, “He’s So Fine”. Apparently Harrison paid up, but denied the charge and it was later proven he was in the right. It’s another of those cases in American law where everybody but the defendant fucked up, but they all got away with it.
           This is why I like the aspect of British law that they must prove a motive. No way could these Chiffons have established Harrison went out of his way to imitate them. The very thought that Harrison, worth hundreds of millions, would risk it by copycatting some Motown unknowns is sordid at best. The fact that Harrison did not counter-sue shows what low-lifes Americans can be when they get greedy. Which is a damn often event. But who can blame them when they see politicians, cops, and corporations get away with it every day from the time they learn to work the remote?

Picture of the day.
Lake Baikal
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           That was foolish, I stored the mics badly. I set up the wireless mics and noticed I had forgotten to remove the batteries. Fortunately, there was no damage, but that was still dumb. I’ll get you some pictures. It is a set of four Karaoke microphones that plug into the back of my PA system. Anybody who picks up a microphone can sing along. Okay, so it doesn’t go directly into my PA, it goes through a volume pedal first. You know, just in case. In case Taylor gets fed up with these dorks she’s been dating and decides she wants to do things right. I could easily crank her volume up to nearly half of my own and for her, I’d do it.
           Speaking of batteries, the replacement marine DC cell is on sale for $78.00, so I’m more likely to just pay that than refurbish the one that tipped over. The electrical wiring for the living room is $37 but increases the value of the house by 100 times that, so I’m anxious to proceed. And air conditioner in the bedroom, well, I changed my mind on that. Instead of getting the 6,000 Btu model for a room twice the size, I’ve decided to opt for the cheapest Haier. Why? Because I have not decided on whether to air condition the kitchen and the workshed. The smaller unit, when I replace it later as renovations progress, will make it a lot easier to determine what my needs are by trial and error.

           Here is an information-rich photo of the temp A/C unit. This set me back $120 and it works well when cranked to the limit, which is kind of where I have to leave it overnight. According to the accounting mark-up formula, this unit contains only $4.44 worth of actual parts and labor. The rest is taxes and distribution costs. I mentioned information, this photo shows the cPod, the yard, the batbike and normally would not make the blog. The neighbor is going to spray the entire back yard with herbicide. I don’t care for that term, since I went to school with a pal called Herb.

Quote of the Day:
“The cure for anything is salt water –
sweat, tears, or the sea.”
~ Farmer’s Almanac

           Shopping. I spent $400 but that is peanuts when you consider owning a house. Here’s a photo of the replacement marine cranking battery for the red scooter. It dropped considerably in price so I went for it. Arriving home after dark, I was more concerned with the A/C. Sleepless nights from high and humid heat don’t make for major productivity the following day. Why was I late? I’ll explain. I was up near Winter Haven, so I took the long way home. I was driving the batbike, as you can see from the photo above. That club way out in the countryside has a Sunday jam, and I waltzed in. All the old ladies at the bar took notice of that, sad to say, the compliment was not returned.
           I was further unaware that the house band was not formally organized. It was the usual arrangement, a guitarist who could only play things one way and the rest of the band relegated to trying to follow his less-than-accurate versions. But the bassist was a skinny lady and I chatted her up a bit. Sure, she said, I could use her bass and amp. It was a Fender Precision, far too much furniture for the intended role. I’ve played them before, so I went ahead.

           That was something else. It took a bit to kick the itinerant guitarists off stage, as they could not fully grasp that I was going to play without them, so indoctrinated they are. Don’t misunderstand, if any of them had possessed any talent, I would have incorporated it. But not one of them could comprehend playing something the other guy wanted. Instead, this guy with a fiddle got up and said he could follow anything I played. Like most stage musicians, I was hesitant, but what the heck, it’s a jam.
           Good move. Turns out the guy was semi-pro Virginia fiddle player just down to visit his brother. And heading back next week because he has to mow the grass. Let me tell you, we floored the place. Nobody, including me, was expecting a mini-concert with a bass-fiddle combo. What’s more, he played a perfect “Cayuhoga” style fiddle accompaniment; it would remind you of harmonica riffs. This is high praise from me and he was better than the guitar players. He could basically play rhythm fiddle.
           And we soared. There is only so much can be done with bass and fiddle, and we did it. The place was left gawking—but the situation that counted for nothing because they had no idea what they were hearing. Not even a dollar in the tip jar. Musically, this was a thing of beauty. One of the tunes I played was “These Boots”. He filled in with a mix of major-minor riffs that normally would be clutter, but this particular song has that mix. We had the place fixated alas, but the audience? Let’s just say if there had been a game on TV, we’d have had less fun. Half the room was not sure what they were hearing and later I determined the other half did not realize it was only two musicians up there. Harrumph!

           The initial plan was to pick up supplies from Wal*Mart, but I was driving the batbike. I just had to open the barrels and head out on the old Eagle Lake road. You’ve been warned, one day I might just keep going. Allow me to compare these motorcycles. The red scooter, that is a one-lung delivery van well past its best-before date. The Rebel is like a cheap sports car but a sports car nonetheless. I find it underpowered for a 450cc, but then, the Goldwing 1000 on the batbike is rather lively. Thus, the perception when riding the sidecar makes the heavier machine astonishingly powerful, especially in the upper gear.
           But driving the sidecar, that’s motorcycle luxury. Screw the world, give me the batbike. Last week JZ told his brother how I view the soaking rain as a facet of the journey, to which the brother said it was an adventure he could do without. Isn’t that so typical of the monied class? It’s not as if their version of real-life adventure is anything to write about, at least not that I’ve seen. So there you have the three motorcycles. The putt-putt scooter, the dynamic Rebel, and the posh batbike. You can’t book reservations on excitement, Sam.

ADDENDUM
           Here is a link you might want to follow. This is a camera and you should be paying attention to it. It will change life as we know it. Many of these electronic devices are reaching the working density of their biological counterparts. Except these never blink and if they die, they can be brought back to life.
           And I’ll take this opportunity to remind the reader I am not a fan of country music. However, I am a definite fan of the effect that country music has on an audience. I admit, superficially, it is hard to tell the difference. I may have found the place I can get paid to practice.


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