May 30, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 30, 2017, on wood stoves.
Five years ago today: May 30, 2013, still got that drill press.
Nine years ago today: May 30, 2009, sneaky – a bass capo.
Random years ago today: May 30, 2016, the singing brakeman.

           A wasted day, but at least it eliminates another loser guitar player from my list. And it is quite a list, this past year there are 21 on it. The problem was, the phone numbers of the last two got mixed up. This made it top story of the day, so here’s how it happened. Two days ago I scheduled the audition. When I got out to the area indicated by mapquest, there was a blinding storm (Alfredo) but I found the right road. Driving down in, the house numbers ended at 343. It was a loop road, I circled it three times, leaving three messages. Finally, the guy I was calling in error got back to me. I immediately called the correct number and all I got was attitude. Anyway, here is datestamped proof I even checked the country side roads trying to find the place.

           I explained what happened, that I was only a few miles away, and could continue, but he kept dwelling on how one phone call would have cleared things up. This, a moment after I’d explained I had the wrong number. I’m thinking the guy must be retarded. So I reminded him that I only said I would call if I got lost and I had tried three times. Nope, he fixated on how one phone call was all it took. That’s when I said if he knew something had gone wrong, why didn’t he make that call to me? Turns out he doesn’t have that kind of brain power.

           But he had attitude aplenty. He was the guitar player, people call him, not the other way around. He changed tack to say his house number was on the mailbox. And on about how he’s been waiting an hour—as if I had not wasted an hour driving around and a 58 mile round trip to boot. That’s when I told him I had videoed the mailboxes but he didn’t want none of that. I said fine, if that’s as accommodating as you can be over an ordinary mix-up, you wouldn’t last five minutes in my band. Actually, I knew he was a dullard the first time we talked on the phone, but I give everybody a fair chance.
           He’s the twerp who wanted to play the old folk’s homes, which got me thinking what a fun way to spend a Friday night. I told him fine, but I preferred a crowd that could handle a full evening of dancing. Went right over his pin-head. He’s proof that all guitar players will try to drag a band down to their level. They see it as up, but it’s down, like toward you-know-where. On the drive home, I got to thinking that possibly there are two roads with the same name, not an unknown in Florida. But again, you’re wrong if you think duds like that would mention such a detail to strangers looking for his address. Then it hit me, once more, he doesn’t possess the IQ to operate at that level.
           He was a loser from the word go. That’s also the guy who said he lived in Lake Wales, but lives 8 miles on the other side of Lake Wales. I only thought it was two different people because of the phone number mixup. Nope, same deadbeat all the way.

Picture of the day.
Valparaiso.
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           There’s no place to go for coffee once the Dunkin closes. The franchises went through small town America and wiped out all the mom & pops, just like with the lumber yards and groceries. The tradeoff is these coffee spots rarely gear their hours to match local conditions. There is actually another place, but it is a converted Denny’s and renovated to one big room. It’s like drinking coffee in an empty gymnasium, which is okay, except they do the California marketing trip on you. Even if you told them you only want coffee and you are working the crossword, they will interrupt you every few minutes to see if you’ve changed your mind. It isn’t worth it to even smile back at such people.

           And after the episode with the guitar player, I’d had enough. I went home and watched some episodes of “My Name Is Earl”, which I did not know was a television series. Seriously. But watching it in a planned manner with no commercials is the opposite of being a couch potato. I should have started work on the bathroom exhaust fan. Instead, I had about enough energy to watch a crappy DVD movie called “Category 7”. This month’s winner of the so-bad-it’s-good citation.
           The photo repeat? That’s Snookie from the famous tune “Alaine & Snookie”. He’s become a fixture in some of the video credits.

           Agt. R is leaving for Texas for a week. That puts me in charge, but since I designed the system, that’s no effort. I’m still dumbfounded by the report that his bank manager has so strongly complimented his savings program. I can’t give details except once more, it is the account I tell everyone who begins that they must intend to die with it still in the bank. My role in this was minor, pointing the direction. The difference is that the advice finally came from a source that he knew had done it. Anybody can talk. Let me bring that account up on screen. Hang on.
           Wow. Yep, that’s impressive. All I can say is he has more money in the bank than you do. On the way back from what is already known as “GuitarZureck” (loosely meaning ‘guitar round trip’), I saw an orange concession wagon on the roadside, probably for sale. I wonder if that is the one that was mentioned last week. If so, we won’t be getting that for a cool thousand. It’s an enclosed wagon equipped with bins for chili and fries, I think. Hey, it was a rainstorm.

Last Laugh

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