One year ago today: April 2, 2017, the sandblaster, now idle.
Five years ago today: April 2, 2013, but I never plugged it in!
Nine years ago today: April 2, 2009, USS North Carolina.
Random years ago today: April 2, 2005, a surprise upgrade.
I doubt this month will bring many thrills. Here, I hunted you up a photo of the bird feeder before it got the anti-squirrel and other features. (See, if enough people ask, I'll post the picture.) Back to music. Darn rights I review each weekly rehearsal. I’m familiar with how bands go when nobody is keeping score. Band startups are a situation where batches of small conclusions are more efficient than big decisions, did I say that right? I may come off as confident [that I’m right about this guitar player] but actually, I’m sticking my neck out. So if nobody minds, I’d like to keep that exposure as brief as possible while realizing it could mean a year more of work without any promises. As it is going, this band is going to be un-tight for a long, long time as it millimeter by millimeter tightens up on my dime. I watched the videos and deleted them.
The situation comes from thinking because there are so many guitar players out there, you’ll be dealing with a broad spectrum of personalities. Wrong. It is more like dealing with a widespread cult of indoctrinees. The average guitar player arrives pre-programmed. Guitar is the king, bass is easy, other bandmembers are servants and ready to argue the point. There is something inherently wrong with the trade. They are so much a matching set you be careful you don’t go blaming yourself. If you get on stage and they don’t, that’s a good indication all fifty of them are wrong.
Sure, we ought to maybe drop some tunes that are less familiar to the crowd. But we have too much to do with what we’ve already taken on to start making these changes. The business is entertainment, not music, and even an incredibly sloppy band that entertains has a better shot. We certainly entertain, no doubt. My video camera faces the crowd, not the band. April may be a period of regression as we wind up having to take the tunes apart once again. I told her she’d be sorry for not learning basic theory and while that is now coming home to roost, it is really me again picking up the tab. Ha, I just got that. Picking up the tab?
[Author’s note: music on the brain, since 6:00AM y’day morning, I didn’t sleep, didn’t even drop off. I read straight through the detective novel, see addendum. Later I’m going out to check prices on materials. They have doubled in the past year and are still rising. CPI, my eye. Plus, the nig-nogs that busted the truck window walked. Juves. I thought they had boot camp or reform school for reprobates . I released the $200 since making an insurance claim just raises your premiums to the same amount. What a racket.]
Tesla battery factory.
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Brandon, that’s where I wound up. More side roads and the sure sign summer has arrived is afternoon storms and rainbows. My mission was to price a solid core door, the bathroom sinks, and the electrical sub panel. The electrical was worst, mainly due to each manufacturer making the breakers proprietary and further making several different models each, all incompatible with each other. Breakers that should cost $6 are now $20. There were electricians in the aisle and they were grousing, so I know the prices have gone tornado. I still have GFIC breakers from last year I bought for $7 but I’m running out because I’ll need 14 total. They are now $17 each. Next time, I’m going take pictures along with me and go match the components up, maybe tomorrow if I can get any rest.
Home Depot and Lowe’s don’t have the door clips, I think they are called EZ clips. A special order item only. Isn’t that nice, since I’ve long since misplaced that (30-ton) hydraulic pump gift card which still has $40 on it. The happy part is the clips are only $6 a pack. Nor does anyone have wall mount fans. There are some that would work, but they are ceiling mount and around $500 each.
The other alternative is an oversize ceiling fan. The guidebook says a 36” or 40” is recommended for a room around 10 feet along a side. But I’ve seen (in South America) fans in a room of that dimensions with fans that were 72”. They did not have to blast the air. They turned slowly, which is quieter and the fan probably lasts longer. It takes up 2/3 of the ceiling. Yuge. I’ll look into it. Next, I went over the bathroom sinks and counters and I think this will work fine. Two smaller sinks will easily fit in my available space, even if I were to buy two ready made units they have by the boatload. I can see the cabinets are mainly chests of drawers the upper drawers removed to accommodate a sink, so why do they cost just as much? You tell me.
For the finer details of how this works, contact your friendly, cheerful, no drama, no ego Florida guitar player. And find out free of charge what is totally wrong with the music you play and what he can do about it. That, folks, is a big part of why I’m sticking with a guitarist who can’t play the thing much. At least she’s trying instead of arguing.
ADDENDUM
“Pale Horses” finally turns into a decent murder detective story. What kept my interest was the theme that GM food is bad. Starts to move along around half-way when the writer starts focusing on telling a story than in sliding in her feminist agenda. The book still contains too many clichés for more than a reserved recommendation. So I’ll tell you about the GMO part. The companies that modify the food claim they are just accelerating what farmers have always done, that is, selective breeding. The reality is, they are combining genetic material that could never mix in nature. Particularly offensive and dangerous are the mutations that mix plant and animal genetics.
In this plot, the naked mole rat DNA is combined with corn. The animal has anti-cancer genetics that allow it to live ten times longer than closely related mice. I’ve read elsewhere that scientist have identified either a growth accelerant or depressant that accounts for this. “Pale Horses” weaves this into an experimental farm where all the humans and animals who eat the corn die of stomach cancer. There are too many people involved for the cover-up to have been possible in real life. But the author’s familiarity with organized crime and their methods gets eerie at times.
As for the clichés, no imagination needed. The cop is old but keeps in tip-top shape, which he has to since he’s poinking both his conniving ex-wife and our lady detective. The prime suspects are all wealthy socialites they like to give the runaround. He grabs her so hard she “knew she will be bruised”, as she sinks her nails into his back. Gee, sounds like fun. Of course, they get together upon finding out the ex-wife was artificially inseminated. Even the terror people get involved at the last moment by planning to contaminate the food supply.
There is an accurate chapter on genetic engineering. The crudest method is where they blast the host DNA with pellets shot out of a .22 caliber rifle. At least some of the DNA hits the mark. They plant all the seedlings by the thousands and hope to find which are successful. Normally this makes the plant sterile, so the seed has to be repurchased. But not always. And when such seeds can be replanted, the effect wears off in a few generations. Probably because the seed handles it like it would any other type of infection.
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