One year ago today: May 19, 2017, the no-gold trek.
Five years ago today: May 19, 2013, something like 8,000 guns.
Nine years ago today: May 19, 2009, HP = Haunted Printer.
Random years ago today: May 19, 2007, “found innocent”.
Finally, I build that blind, a tall light fence so that my yard cannot be seen from the street on the north side. It might be the only solid oak fence in town. I used up any of the broken pieces of oak from the floor, some of which have been outside now for over two years. It’s a second lease on life, you might say. And I traced the electric lines to find out why that chop saw was giving a shock. I found it. When the saw checked out, I followed the wire back to the main outlet. Dang, a malfunctioning GFIC outlet. I’ve never seen that before.
Here’s the ammo for a Soviet RPG, or rocket propelled grenade. These are different models as the weapon was first designed some 70 years ago. I do not know if these are painted that color in the field, but it would not be a bad idea. You see, the warhead has no safety. It is operated by impact. So don’t drop the thing. I’m going to list you a copy of the Murphy’s Law of the Battlefield. I’ve seen this in many forms, so I can’t quote any specific author.
You are not superman
If it’s stupid and it works, it ain’t stupid.
Don’t be conspicuous, it draws enemy fire.
When in doubt, fire off your entire magazine.
Never share a foxhole with anyone braver than you are.
Never forget your weapon is built by the lowest bidder.
If your attack is going really well, it’s an ambush.
No battle plan survives the first five minutes of action.
Five second grenade fuses burn in three seconds.
Try to look important because the bad guys may be low on ammo.
If you are forward of your position, the artillery will fall short.
The enemy diversion you are ignoring is the main attack.
The important things are always simple.
The simple things are always hard.
The easy route is always mined.
If you are short of everything except enemy, you are in combat.
When you have secured an area, don’t forget to tell the enemy.
Incoming fire has the right of way.
Friendly fire – isn’t.
If the enemy is in range, so are you.
No combat-ready unit ever passed inspection.
Things that must work together can’t be shipped together.
Radios will fail as soon as you desperately need fire support.
Anything you do can get you shot, including nothing.
Tracers work both ways.
Make it tough for the enemy to get in and you can’t get out.
When both sides are convinced they are about to lose, they are both right.
Professional soldiers are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs.
Here’s section of the armor plate off a battlecruiser. Can you imagine being in a cage of that material when a shell hits? It was a blustery day, so I did the paperwork.
One billion dollars.
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Okay, I can't figure why this picture is so popular, so here it is to stay.
By late afternoon, I was ready for a break. I did the rounds, listening to the gossip and poking around. I didn’t stay out late, so don’t expect wild reports of parties till dawn. Actually, I collected the name of a guitar player who left his info at Fubar. Then to Kooters, where the manager died last day, but is still operating, then down to Bartow to the, oh what’s the name of that joint? The “Stable”. As a treat, that all-girl band I was striving toward was there. They have definitely been getting some coaching on both guitar strums and harmonies. It’s a move in the general right direction so I stuck around until quite late.
Sadly, that guy with the guitar-player mentality has teamed up and he is dragging the whole group down to his level. He plays only the beat box, singing a lot of droners. It’s clear he must be doing the daughter, which is a formula for disaster in a music setting. He taps one of those bump boxes to fill in the drums, yet his entire demeanor is monotonous guitar material no matter what he is singing or playing; he detracts from the show. I never could understand why blond women would ever date “dark” men. I mean, are you crazy?
This daughter seems even slower than usual, the smart-phone set. We’ve seen this often when youngsters get exposed to the easy ways of entertainment—why stay in school? She’s pretty enough but no Taylor Swift. Yet I just told you that she has improved on the guitar and it is remarkable. She strums more like a lounge guitarist and in my opinion there is only way that could happen—indoctrination by another guitar player.
My forecast is the whole band will now stay at this new level until they ditch that guy. I don’t much care for the trio format, but it is better than their sound from before. That is, an overall improvement but toward a weaker presentation. Obscure guitar songs. You know, if the gals were marginally better-looking I’d be jealous, since I met my ex at the same age as the younger one. But neither hold a candle to what I had. The guy with the bump box, I call him the bongo player. He’s your basic musical zero, it’s too obvious he’d rather be playing guitar. The audience for the most part ignores the crappy tunes he sings. It was the same old story, the gals would fire up the crowd and then his turn loses them with some mind-numbing guitar rag.
Nonetheless, the daughter has made great strides, something she would have accomplished years before if her mother had listened. Their core song list was a remarkable match to mine when we first met. There must be some reason bongo boy won’t play a bass, which is what that band needs. He is stalling what otherwise has the potential to be a wonder-group. Sadly, it looks like they might now just grow old being another bar band. Yeah, and I’ll grow just as old searching for that situation where my hours of work pay off. So there.
[Author’s note: don’t rule out anything. The mom heard about my guitar player quitting and it is too obvious that the bongo guy is trying to take things over. She won’t stand for that. My guess is the guy isn’t playing a bass because he can’t.]
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