One year ago today: August 3, 2017, Ray-B is on that boat, somewhere.
Five years ago today: August 3, 2013, Curiosity reaches Mars.
Nine years ago today: August 3, 2009, country, just not covers.
Random years ago today: August 3, 2006, $195, woo-hooo!
Ah, my day off. So I can eat anything I want (limited quantities) and write on random topics. The food first, it was cranberry raisin pancake day. With molasses, not the maple syrup shown here. The banana is for scale. Don’t ask which scale. I was reading technical material, so blog rules say I at least have to attempt to describe it. Don’t worry, I’m usually fairly good at this. Most of us are familiar with how a digital sensor works, it samples something variable and reports that reading back, usually on a scale of between 1 and 1,024. This is a fine enough increment that most people would not notice small errors.
Let’s look at a useless sensor that has a resolution of only 2, instead of 1,024 (which is 210). There are four possibilities; they are 00, 01, 10, and 11. This is called “natural binary” When if comes to sensors, there is the digital option to have each of those four readings either count or operate a switch. I’m interested in the switch, but for simplicity, look at the counting because the same predicament occurs. As you count, there are situations where to record a single transition, more than one binary digit has to change. For example, from 01 to 10, both the “zeros column” and the “ones column” change, same with 11 going back to 00. Mechanically this is problematical, those who study this will recognize it by the term “polystrophic”.
Today, I’m off to Winter Haven to pick up supplies. It turns out although the burner rings are still carried in the Harbor Freight warehouse inventory (a house system called Chameleon, an easy hack), they are no longer available at any store within 150 miles, the maximum I would consider an efficient motorcycle trip. (Don’t say nuttin’, that calculation is still in my system, I can dream, can’t I?) This would be a beautiful camp stove burner, if I can find it.
The picture shows the burners are ideally placed, but it has the third burner in the middle which would be correctly positioned to steam the buns. Alas, it is not sold even as a clearance item. And the picture is too low resolution to blow up to read the brand name. I’m shopping by showing people the photo, so I might get lucky.
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Until today, I thought that optical wheels used Gray code, as shown in this scan. But when I took the pattern apart properly and reproduced it as linear, it wasn’t. The wheels are used as counting devices as they spin, I’ve never used one. I used a spreadsheet to reproduce the pattern linearly and this shows below that it is ordinary binary code. You can read it, can you not? Nope? Well, then maybe you’ve got the wrong blog. For the others, your homework is to devise a similar linear printout that uses Gray code.
The rules are simple. Devise a code that counts (incremental integers only) that as you move left to right through the table, where only one cell changes color for each transition, and each pattern must be unique. The white rectangles represent 0 and the indigo cells represent 1. Hint, you can expand on the pattern given in this morning’s material.
I got myself to the Winter Haven library just to cool down in their super A/C. Across the hallway is that great, but expensive, coffee shop. Robert’s or some name like that. Coffee and a cookie sets you back five bucks. So I’m checking the “Today & Tonight”, the local events paper, for whose playing where. I’ll get you more info on that tomorrow, but as band manager, I make it my business. The coffee shop is mostly empty, this is Polk County and this is a Friday. But the décor is great and this reporter type guy brings in this guitar player type guy, and conducts an interview. No pic, the place is small.
They had the mics with the pop filters and a soundboard on a laptop. I was too far back to hear everything but the young female staff was enthralled. What I did hear amused me. The interviewee had guitar-brain so bad he didn’t know it. It got me thinking if I was in a situation where the music was dominated by bass players, how would I react? Probably the same. Between us there would be the unspoken conclusion that our lives would be easier if we all played the same material. Then the clubs would only think they had a choice. The music would suffer, but so what? You’d never have to learn anything new; you could play every gig by rote.
The reporter was also conditioned to ask only questions that suggested an answer centered on guitar playing. If it was me, I would have asked the musician to define exactly what he saw as the guitar players role in a band. Even this lackluster dude with a dud personality would have definitely used termw like leader, boss, and a constant stream of referrals to his guidance and tutelage and how he single-handedly brought his musical underlings into line so he could deliver his musical message to the world. He was adamant on the point that only guitarists have musical aspirations. People who play inferior instruments should get off their horses and do what they are told.
That’s where the comparison ends. In a world of bassists, I would never consider myself the kingpin. In a duo, I’m 50%, in a trio 33%, and so on. Note, however, that I am referring to the operation of the band, not stage performing. Once on stage, there are few rules. But some of them are that you cannot overplay, underplay, riff off, play too loud, or be the least ostentatious. (Much the same protocol as attending the mayor’s ball.) There is a strong and self-limiting behavior code that good stage people naturally adhere to. You must stay within the parameters of teamwork, but other than that you can and should put on the most fantastic show that you can. And, um, having said that, I would point out that stage presence is a separate skill and there are people out there who can steal your show simply by sitting in the front row. Or by calling bingo two blocks up the road.
How I would have loved to got that guitar player in my venue. I would have walked all over him without taking a step. That, and I really wanted to use the word ‘enthralled’ in a sentence.
ADDENDUM
I still had to do the chasing around, and one item received was a notice from the bad guys that the lis pendens on his house was removed. Lis pendens is a notice attached to a piece of property down at the title office that tells a prospective buyer that some funny legal matters are going on. It’s a practical thing. The tough part is that our success so far has been primarily due to filing a lot of paperwork in a situation where the foreclosure outfit assumed nobody would fight back. They were dead wrong in this case, and my next guess is they don’t like it.
They are required by law to reinstate the mortgage, but that is not how they make their money. Their claim to filing the foreclosure is based on their statement that they did “everything possible” to collect the back payments. The reality is they did nothing except send demands for the full balance due. By now, they have surely figured out that we know that. They have one remaining option to break even, which is to tack a fortune in legal fees as a lien on the mortgage. And that amounts to picking a fight. A fight with people who have already bested them in round one.
Then later, I met Rickle, the guy I’m considering as the hotdog backup man. He’s got food service experience and never stands around doing nothing. So we walked into the old club and what do we see? This gal in skin tight burgundy jeans and stillettos. Picking our jaws off the floor, we sat in the back to go over a few charts on my tablet. She comes in with her boyfriend, a sawed-off fat boy from some local mill or mine. I have not seen such fantastic bank shots since last time my ex-wife leaned over a pool table. It was a one in a hundred thousand body, the first one I’ve seen in a woman in parts. Not a gram of fat and no VPL. (Visible panty lines.)
No foundation garments, nor did she need any. She made my eyes water. And me with a computer instead of my bass. She didn’t even know I was alive. Age? None of your business, but perfect for me. Although a lot of other women who don’t mind their own business would disagree.
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