October 1, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 1, 2017, $120k in today's money.
Five years ago today: October 1, 2013, kitchee-boo-boo.
Nine years ago today: October 1, 2009, a smidgeon.
Random years ago today: October 1, 2004, last official
"hand-written blog".

           It’s a Florida thing. A few weeks ago I decided to wait until the 1st to buy that router bushing. That’s the one where you have to buy the whole $20 set to get the single 1/2” pin. It’s the only one anybody really uses, but they won’t sell you just that pin. Sure enough, when I got to the store noon, the display had been taken down and nobody knew where the stock was. It’s part of the overall decline in America since the 1980s. You can’t control a country if it has a large and influential middle class who are a large enough majority to insist on good service and good quality.

           And the bad guys won due to apathy. The middle class is no longer the largest group. Between the immigrants, civil service, and 33 million on welfare, the American dream is gone for most people. Take a look at this photo. It’s the neighbor’s new tractor I told you about. But this is not a closeup, the photo was taken from half a block away. I fired up my old camera binoculars so you may see a few pics like this. It’s my old Sharper Image 10x25 unit that eats batteries. I dug it out and it works fine.

           Starting later today or tomorrow, I’m shutting down operations on the hotdog cart until my electrical is fixed and my trees are trimmed. Sorry, I’ve been putting things off to get this business going and other people can’t be bothered to answer their door or answer their phone. All I know is if somebody came along to set me up in a business, my priorities would change on the spot. But let’s hear some good news. I was over in Winter Haven to get propane and there’s a tall, willowy blonde working that desk. And she gave me the look. I hinted I was interested back, but at that moment George came out of the store and stood between her and me. That killed it.
           Then, when I went to pay another bill, the classy lady over there asked exactly how much weight have I lost. Gulp, she must have looked. Up to now, I didn’t think she knew I was alive. As well, now the manager at Dunkin gives me free coffee time to time. That’s more than convenient over this last week, as my shoulder condition was slow in healing up, and that was one of the few comfortable spots I could spend an hour or two per day.

           I’ve rewritten the bass line to match the version by Amii Stewart, noting that it has changed key from E to A. That makes all the meticulous double stops I worked out for the original version quite useless. I learn the bass line first, so didn’t notice until late in the game that I could not sing it in that key either. I normally practice nearly two hours daily, but these arrangements often have me up past midnight.

Picture of the day.
Tree house, 1910 style.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Time to get me a real doorbell. Maybe when I tackle the electrical tomorrow, but the fact is I’ve had no service in the new bedroom for seven weeks waiting for my pal to get ahold of the electrician who’ll do the hard part. The electrical goes slow and I don’t like to even start unless I can put in a six hour day. Thanks to the food cart, that hasn’t happened in close to two months. I also bought a book on specialty windows, which is what my single hung wood units are considered these days. I fixed them all, but sought to learn how to repair spots where the actual wood needs replacing. These windows have at least eighteen different parts, some of which I may have to mill myself.

           Lucky you, here’s another picture of another tractor. This is the one that wins all the awards, a perfectly restored John Deere. I’ll tell you who isn’t going to win any prizes. FLIP insurance, the people that sell hotdog car coverage. I finally called them and said either establish my policy or send my money back today. They confirmed by e-mail and I noticed the series of symbols and attachments at the bottom. All their policies are put on-line, and they are linked to Twitter, Facebook, and three other “social media” outfits. That is correct, the slopeheads at FLIP actually link people’s private insurance information to the largest-scale thieves in history. There’s stupid, and then there is goof-stupid. However, we already know about the wired-in generation, so the only personal information that appears on the policy is Agt. R’s name, which he has agreed to. For the archives, under my tutelage, he has gone from one of the lowest credit scores possible to the bank begging him to get a credit card. Not on my watch.
           What he should be caring about is the next two weeks. That’s how long I think it will take me to finish the electrical problem and the spare bedroom. I have company coming, and others need a little time to get some unpaid work of their own done while I’m working on my house and yard. It seems other people have time for it, while if it was me, I’d be plowing ahead 18 hours a day at the new business and planning to get some sleep maybe next year. It’s time to admit that 90% of the people I’ve ever met in Florida have been late on every payment, missed every deadline, and broken every promise.*

ADDENDUM
           More trivia. According to studies of radio transmissions, although humans can hear from 300 Hz to 20,000 Hz, they normally speak in the 300 Hz to 3,000 Hz range. They can make the most powerful sounds between 200 Hz and 600 Hz, like Tarzan. That is correct; humans can make noise at a lower range than most others can hear it. But, if you want to be understood over the radio, the best frequency is “a male voice within an octave centered on 2,000 Hz”.
           According to my oscilloscope, guess what? Maybe coincidence, since I don’t talk over the radio but I use a microphone a lot.

Last Laugh

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