One year ago today: August 2, 2016, but from a distance.
Five years ago today: August 2, 2012, batbike teething problems.
Nine years ago today: August 2, 2008, a call from Colorado.
Random years ago today: August 2, 2004, JZ and the John Deere.
Look at this mess, I actually got a can open with that thingee. It works, but it mangles the can, shown here. Plus, you get only past half way around when the jagged edges behind your cut begin to menace your knuckles. Is this why all the old cartoon show the hobos only half the can and leave the lid like you see here? This was a no-name brand of chili that I bought special to test this can opener. Yes, I would use it in an emergency, but only when every other method was exhausted.
There I was, listening to NPR and frying up my French toast. Them liberals still don’t seem to realize they lost, but they seem fully aware the steam has been taken out of their sails. They operate differently than intelligent, hard-working people. The news was all about how Trump failed this and that rather than pointing at the people who broke their promise to support him. What got me, however, was the talk of possibly raising the capital gains tax. When I was young and broke, I was against it. I viewed it as a giveaway to the rich, a free ride for people already well-enough off to have the type of investments that produced capital gains.
These days, I’m not for it, I’m just neutral on the point—until they start talking the Obama 35% rate. That is what stifles investment. It is the rich who create jobs, not the poor or the government. When there are no jobs, you and I have to pay for it. In 2013 there were 40 million people on food stamps. It’s not as if that was paid for by capital gains taxes. Actually, it was paid for by the Fed simply printing up the money, and that is why a can of SPAM costs $5 these days.
Once again, we have a run-in with technology. This time the mass flow sensor on Agt. R’s truck. The club advanced the repair to keep the vehicle on the road, but that’s my point. First of all, components such as this sensor should be designed to last five times the projected working life of the vehicle, so problems become vanishingly rare. This might give the impression I am against sensors. Not at all. What I’m against is rigging the system so that when a sensor malfunctions, the vehicle won’t start. Multiply this a hundred times and you begin to see why some countries are banning driverless cars. Who knows what nefarious nonsense the millennials have built into those? Some DC non-elect doesn’t like the cut of your jib and suddenly all your taxis and trains stop running?
Most complicated wristwatch.
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Close enough to noon, I headed out to Port Richie to purchase a laptop. This 75 miles required near two hours because I drove through Lakeland downtown. Then on to I-4 through Tampa, to 275, then north and west on 60 across the bay. That part is a pleasant drive over the causeway. I was there once before when I bought the Rebel in December and again by mistake last week when I bought the microscope. This time, I go a good deal, I’ll describe.
The laptop turned out to be pristine condition, even the battery still holds the full charge. I have the original Windows installation disk and a proper recover disc. It has an 86 gig hard drive, more then enough for me and 99 gigs of RAM. Sometimes in Florida you get a good deal and I would have paid hundreds for this otherwise. Around the only thing missing was the original package it came in. By this time of day, the sky was darkening to the northwest, so I took 574 back home with the computer safely in a back pack under my frog suit.
The plan had been to stop in Ybor City for pie and coffee. No way, I had to outrun that storm, so not even one travel shot for you. I was going to return on Highway 60, but as I crossed 574, I noticed it was a paved over wagon track. The storm had abated so I correctly guessed this was the old road to Plant City. Sure enough I got a tour of little towns like Manga and Seffner, finally deciding to stop for a brewski at the old American. I must have hit ladie’s afternoon and I soon had the place singing along with the juke box.
Do you remember the big bar fight of 2015, with the lady who leaped over the bar between JZ and I? They do. The lady I think owns the place was in and she took a real shine to me, we danced a bit. A few regulars began rolling in the door, most were so taken by the unusual atmosphere that they bought rounds for the house. That essentially meant eight women and me. Can I work a room, or what?
An hour and a half-later, I was back on the road south to Mulberry, then back up to home base. No way I was going through Lakeland again. That city is just not well-laid out and there seems to be no co-ordination of the traffic lights. Unless they’ve timed them backwards, a situation one must always allow for in Florida. Back home, I checked out the Gateway and except for a file containing the New Testament, none of the installed programs had been touched. I had to step through the post-setup procedure to use the word processor. Whence I wrote a letter to dear Marion. And managed to use ‘whence’ in a sentence. All in one day.
“Life’s too short for chess.”
~ Byron
For those who might be wondering, no the bar lady was not my type. Sorry, gals, but loke 90% of men who have a choice, I can be very visually oriented in that department. You have to be slim and pretty, there’s just no two ways about it. When it comes to women in my house, I have one basic conflict resolution mechanism and it involves me still being attracted after a spat. Mind you, she was a nice lady as far as nice lady’s go. But one of the first lessons I learned about myself is I’ll put up with hell from a pretty gal but not otherwise. Hey, millions of years of evolution.
Here’s a picture of the Gateway laptop for you to admire what a deal I got.
ADDENDUM
Next, time for a pep talk with the music crew. These days, that means Agt. R. He’s been diligent, but I also know that around three weeks after you start music, there’s a phase where you wonder what you’ve bitten off. I believe it is caused by the student getting to the phase where he begins to pay attention to the environment rather than total focus on getting the fingers to go where you want. The next phase is where you swear you can never sound as good as the record, so now is where the situation calls for a boost.
The impression many people have is that playing guitar involves exact note-copying of the popular hit. Not so in a duo, record-copying is often the wrong tactic. Actually, you don’t have to be anywhere near as good as you might thing. And you can double that by having a bassist who knows what he’s doing. Some of the most lauded guitar players I know miss this point by a mile. It’s the old distinction I’ve made between listenin’ music and dancin’ music. In a band, the majority of your presentation should be dancin’, or you are not doing the job. People can listen to music in the elevator.
Would you like more detail on that? Sure, you know how I like to talk music, and I know this blog contains a lot of priceless gems in that department. Okay, the idea of the duo as getting the crowd to think there are more than two instruments (voicings) is well known, but not how the percussion is faked. Let’s go over that now. The guitarist is going boom-chick, emulating the bass drum and high-hat/snare combination. The boom part is weak and that is where the bassist normally adds strength by playing a root note. Pleasing to the ear.
This creates the impression of a drummer, the deeper ‘boom’ of the combined bass note and the lighter picked guitar note. Then the ‘chick’ is the guitarist striking the remainder of the strings. The second half of the measure, the bassist normally plays a fifth. The overall sound is pairs of boom-chick-boom-chick, your classic rock and roll sound. And the wise bassist plays the first boom (root) a little louder than the second (fifth) to add to this catchy rhythm. It is uniquely this additive sound you are shooting for. Result, the crowd has the same queues as if there was a drummer present.
There are dozens of other tricks of the trade and you’ve been so nice I’ll tell you one of my secrets. Most stages are hollow underneath, or often the floorboards themselves are old. As long as you are not on a concrete pad, here’s something you didn’t know. Don’t overdo it, but if you get a crowd dancing, even a small group, you don’t tap your toe, but your heel on the floor. This sets up a slight rumble that people sitting down will detect through their feet. They will automatically assume the crowd is going wild or, if you are in Canada, a fight has started.
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