One year ago today: September 25, 2016, yes, the judge was a woman.
Five years ago today: September 25, 2012, made in 1911.
Nine years ago today: September 25, 2008, my non-Zodiac sign.
Random years ago today: September 25, 2010, not Irelance again
I grabbed the Tampa Bay Liberal Rag for the crosswords this morning. Trump called some disrespectful sports stars sons-of-bitches. Apparently the liberals don’t think the president has a right to his own opinion once he gets elected. But Trump does have a mind of his own, so that puts a whole new spin on the libtard mantra that he’s “not my president”. If these athletes don’t appreciate the American system, maybe they should go back to Africa and see how much they get paid over there. I’m serious about that so don’t get on my case just because I’m brave enough to put it in writing. Sport stars contribute nothing of any enduring value to society. There is a time and place for this type of protest.
[Author’s note: here is a photo of the fusebox that shows on-line as belonging to a 1997 Taurus station wagon. This is from the official site. One problem. It does not match the fusebox on the actual car. The one on the car only has three columns of the small fuses. America, where do you even?]
So I invested in a Palm Pilot because the screen is large enough to display the song titles. I don’t really need it for anything else. Once again, because I was raised around computers where ease of use was a consideration, I found the Palm Pilot much too finicky. Not difficult, but finicky. It seems to not work without being in “hotsync” mode, which appears to be nothing more than updating two sets of files with the most recently altered versions. While I suspect I have a bad unit, I can’t figure out why it won’t play off a data card by itself. Who needs to hotsync a bunch of music files?
So you can see what a naïve moron I am, I’ll play with this Palm Pilot. I can get it to the stage where it says “insert memory card with playable songs”. That would be MP3s, so I have and SD disk in there. But the little play screen keeps coming back blank. The manual says the RealOne player is installed in ROM, and it probably is since the play screen comes up. But it cannot see the disk. I finally inserted by camera card, knowing almost every known file type is on there. And what do I get? A message saying “please wait”.
The thing is, this message, and the hotsync as well, they just lock up the unit. To get out of the lock, you have to turn the unit off. It takes a moment to figure out the off button is disabled when there is a card in the slot. This was designed by millennials for millennials. I mean, anybody can eventually get the thing to work, but is this progress? Remember the old saying, the bigger the manual, the poorer the product. With the Palm One, the manual is so massive it is only available on-line.
The saddest part is that I do not know anyone who can help me with this. Everybody my own age has no clue how to operate these devices. And why would they? Very few of them regard the computer or telephone as a toy. And the people half my age were raised around this junk so they don’t know either. They can work the gears without any comprehension of how or why. You know, the same way they drive a car. Yes, we had such people in our day, who would insist what you do next is “obvious”. I used to have several choice items ready to blast back at them. My favorite was to play a short piece of Mozart, hand them the instrument and tell them to play what comes next. It’s obvious.
Moscow.
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Some years ago, I had a bout of the pleurisy. Did I spell that right? The condition where your lungs rub against your rib cage. Talk about pain. That’s where I learned how little the physicians can do to treat it. Basically nothing, so they gave me some knock-out pills. All this did was delay the healing process because without the pain, you get to moving around more than Mother Nature intended. And that is the same situation with a cracked rib. It’s better to tough it out than take the brands of pills they are so keen to prescribe.
Lemme see, yes, I do have some trivia for you. Three items from a book in the Coral Gables bookstore. Is three from one source fair usage? Well, since this is not a blog that focuses on lists of quotes, sure. Trivia. The work “shrek” is Yiddish for monster. Barbie, the doll, has a last name and it is Roberts. The most common age for rock musicians to die is 27. That would include Janice Joplin, though I thought she was 27 for quite a number of years on end. Goes to show you can’t always tell by looking.
I’ve begun reading a new book about an outfit that contracts out military operations to the US government. The concept is they take over brush fire wars where the regular Pentagon types don’t want to get directly involved. You know, the way they’ve been training and supporting dictators since the 1950s, when America owned 73% of the money in the whole world. Back when the whole world owed us money and not the other way around.
If the book proves interesting enough, I’ll do you the report. But so far, other than the concept, it’s a Clancey clone. Everybody has a made-for-movie name and appearance. They have women in the boardroom, the men wear power ties and carry monogrammed attaché cases. What I find unusual is the theme that their pending operation is to take over from the UN, how I randomly picked this book up just as Trump finished telling that very group to clean up their act.
This peacekeeping is only partially effective when it succeeds in keeping some distance between the warring factions. My opinion on that role goes sour at that point. They scatter when the first shot is fired and often take casualties without shooting back. If they are nothing but de facto observers, why is the taxpayer hit with equipping the lot with automatic rifles and fancy armored cars. Sitting there and watching is a job for liberal newspaper reporters, really. We have such an embarrassing surplus of those that nobody cares if a few get captured and shot.
What? Oh, I’m sure the other reporters make a big stink over it, but so what? When they start reporting the news again instead of opinions, then people will start caring again. Meanwhile . . .
“conversation = voices rant on.”
~ your anagram
Here, I thought you needed another view of what Florida storms look like from inside a car northbound on I-75. It’s been a while since I got you any car pictures, so maybe I’m catching up. This picture is associated with my comment last day that the weather reports saying such-and-such a place got X inches of rain. That implies the rain fell in an even layer over the county. As shown here, that is rarely the case.
Yes, my wipers are on full blast. This is the only stretch of I-75 I rode this day. The interior of Florida is a hodge-podge of poorly maintained numbered two-lane highways that go nowhere. This particular part of I-75 is the way most people get past a fifteen mile section of territory between North Fort Myers and Sarasota. In fact, here is a copy of the road map showing this part of the state. In the upper right, you’ll find Arcadia. This town is the crossroads to get into central Florida. As you see, all the other roadways curve to the west to follow the gulf coast.
The point I’m making is that there are no north-south connecting roads for that long empty stretch between Punta Gorda and Sarasota. If you can find the county name, not the city, in light grey color, there is strip of land a quarter the width of Florida with no nothing. This is a large scale map, but it is accurate. To avoid crossing back over the Punta Gorda Bridge in that rainstorm, I drove all the way to exit 206, then backtracked to Arcadia.
You see, in Florida, except for a group of local goofs who don’t have a clue what they are doing, you get the library all to yourself. Hmmm, you know, I’ve still never been to the libraries in most of the towns out that way. Then again, they are a long hour away by motorcycle, but only short hour away by car. That was kind of neat the way I put that. But no, I refuse to publish a book of such stuff and call it poetry.
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