One year ago today: May 21, 2017, excessive bass playing.
Five years ago today: May 21, 2013, on Sony “repair” shops.
Nine years ago today: May 21, 2009, other blogs – an example.
Random years ago today: May 21, 2008, poor little Tat.
Agt. R was over and we went through some ground rules for the hearing tomorrow. This concerns that Motion to Dismiss I filed on his behalf last December. It served its purpose, so I don’t much care if it is overturned, but I don’t want any default judgments against him, if any, just because he isn’t present. I’ll attempt to attend as a moral support. I also coached him on what type of questions he did not have to answer, how to answer questions he didn’t like, and how to avoid letting a lawyer goad him into volunteering information if he is cross-examined. I’m totally out of practice, but here’s what I think.
You may recall we finally demanded they specify exactly what was incomplete and next thing we know, we get foreclosure papers. You can’t do that, it is illegal. We were expecting some type of penalty or counter-offer. I have mixed feelings about the process, you know, where a tax-payer funded program bails out people who borrowed too much money. This is not hypocritical just because a friend of mine is the benefactor. I just feel it should be the bank who lent too much money that takes the hit, rather than the working man.
That will never happen, but then again, who’d have thought he’d get even this far? Still no word from the housing authority. I suspect it’s his bad credit making it dicey to find an underwriter. Hey, that could go two ways. You see, the authority has the option to guarantee payments for a year, with each month being the start of a new year. While he was here I made him pass all the remaining insulation up to me in the attic. Five minutes work that would have taken me an hour.
I placed my ad again for a rhythmist, this time laying it out harshly. I’ve nothing to lose, since I’ve been through the local pool of guitarists and have no intention of allowing them to waste any more of my time. In Florida, start-up bands means amateur bands, which is kind of inane. Only hacks, it would seem, need to start from scratch. I’m hardly in that category but that’s what I can expect. My last guitarist quit because she wasn’t the star, boo-hoo. I don’t want to put up with that kind of crap any more. I included promo pictures from my various groups, since half the county by now knows I’m an entertainer. And it’s the fun half, so that doesn’t say much for the company of the remainder.
Yukon River bloodsuckers.
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As I went to measure some depths in the yard, I discovered a buried row of old concrete blocks where the flower be used to be. It would make a dandy patio, but it is only five feet from the building. I dunno, maybe a chicken coop? So, thinking I’ll use it as a pattern, I took more readings and the blocks are all at different heights. They could not really have been a base for anything unless it was posts that got cut to length. They are in the way of where I wanted my laundry room. That’s another delay, as I don’t know how many are there.
Next, I traced more of the old clothe-wound electric cable through this place and I might as well just bypass it with new wire. It’s in good condition, which is remarkable considering it was only warranted to last 25 years. (I know, who’d want electricity more than 25 years?) It’s the wiring pattern, it’s like the installer was possessed by saving every inch of wire he could. The cables have no slack. I also found some pretty rotten wood but easy to reinforce.
I had a lot of moving around today and I found myself amazingly light on my feet. Naturally as soon as I got in the door, I’m on the scale. Yep, I dropped some weight, but glance at this chart. It shows a typical pattern. Lots of loss in the first while from water, then a slowing down for week after week. I swear, my system knows how to fight back. Notice the end of the line, that bump in weight. This is the ten-day stretch where I ate anything like a daily meal. This, gang, is how hair-trigger my situation is with dieting. On 1200 calories per day those ten days, I gained five pounds and kept it on until I reverted to my usual 800 per day. I suppose there is an explanation. I have not really had a full meal since November 30, 2017—and I had already been restricting my diet for years prior.
This is something I’ve tried to understand. I have the diet pills again, they curb appetite only but without them you can get so ravishingly hungry you cannot sleep at night. It’s been well over ten years since I ditched HFCS, beef, GMOs, and known junk foods. I allow myself one peanut butter sandwich every four months. No ice cream, eggs, chocolate, sugar, cake, and minimal bread and pasta. Any worse and it will become a quality of life issue. There are regular days like today where my total calories are around 350. That’s a coffee, an apple, and a bowl of cereal.
None of my newer clothes fit any more. Still, I’m not dumb enough to go shopping. This is the third time I’ve gone this route and other than grim determination, nothing sets this time apart other than my resolve not to enter old age being overweight. That’s correct folks, this journal has been around since 1979 and that’s plenty of time for anyone to grow old. The last year I can say I had things all my own way was around 1975. That’s when the country fell into this welfare, entitlement, tax the middle class, don’t dare protest mode. By 1985, the databases were turned against the masses. By 1995 they began losing their privacy, by 2005 they were actively giving it away. And 2015 was past the point of no return.
For the first time in American history, the generation about to take over is worse instead of better than what went before. In this case, far worse. Their youthful enthusiasm has been misdirected toward “issues” instead of solutions. Education has become a tool of the system and the system is corrupt. It doesn’t matter what you think and know, you must give the “correct” answer or fail. Until now, each generation brought new hope and promise to the table. This time, they are brainwashed and woefully ill-equipped to make the bleak decisions necessary in a survival situation. And that is what America is in right now. Like Reagan said, America is the last hope for the world, and once that’s gone . . .
ADDENDUM
Bureaucracy is strange, it gets efficient by becoming ever more sluggish. I needed a document this morning that was not available on-line. I found out why. Although it makes no difference, the issuing office demands to know the true owner of any company, trust, or organization that does not already list the owner’s name. Of course, my system is specifically designed to prevent that kind of snooping. They won’t say what they want it for, so I don’t give it. Shall we say, I acquired the form a half hour later by other means. And were they pissed off. Those people are strange, they look for any sign of resistance and go ballistic over it.
Basically, they want to know what is inside your house. That tips us off they don’t already have it on file, so don’t volunteer it. My land document says two bedroom. I want it left as that, despite other documents stating one bedroom. Which is it? None of their business. But I’ve been paying taxes and fees based on one bedroom and I’m okay with that. As far as I know the amounts are the same, so there is some ulterior motive at play.
It’s no secret this building is registered to a trust, which is a legal person. The very purpose of these maneuvers is to prevent or at least minimize the spread and scope of personal information in the hands of discompassionate strangers. The local inspector has a filthy reputation for playing favorites and targeting white males. You think I want him knowing my name if I have any say in the matter? They are as determined to learn the identity of the owner as much as I am bound to protect that information. Now, part of the purchase of this property was to find out first hand how to get around the rules, so they are just teaching their own adversaries. Well, I’m hardly their friend. I’m not handing out private information over a permit to paint a fence when there exists no requirement to paint in the first place.
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