One year ago today: October 22, 2017, I miss my hobby.
Five years ago today: October 22, 2013, in traveling trim.
Nine years ago today: October 22, 2009, near the Orinoco.
Random years ago today: October 22, 2006, a transcript?
Instead of leaving early, I had to stick around and do laundry. You see, the city decided this morning was the time to pave my street. It was nice of them to block me out while they did a good job, even though it didn’t need paving. Having the hampers in the car, I drove on to the laundromat where I was trapped for 90 minutes listening to mainstream media going on about the caravan. How America’s strength came through diversification. . Bull donkey. America is already over diversified. Before diversification, you didn’t have to lock your car, your bike, your garage, or your house. Here’s the Lake Placid underpass, welcoming you to the only decent coffee for 32 miles around. I’m in Miami.
You were supposed to conclude that the Americans could learn something from the Italians. I ask, like what? You got the American way and the Italian way and I say leave them separate. Which is better? I don’t know but tell you what. Put it to the test. Take 1,000 people from other countries and put them in a room. A show of hands will do. Ask how many of those people would like to become Italians and how many would like to become Americans. The media would never allow it to happen, but there is your answer. The only people who want more ethnics are other ethnics. Time to shut down the borders permanently. Give the rest of the world a chance to show their stuff. You cannot legislate instinct.
And how about that arms treatyTrump wants to cancel? The fact is the other parties never did keep their promises. They have wholesale been spying, bribing, hacking, anything they can do to get their mitts on American weapons technology. And they’ve been wholesale copying it at a frantic pace. In a little admitted aspect of these weapons, they are offensive, not defensive. It’s doubtful any nation, peaceful or otherwise, ever planned to fight a war on their own soil, other than maybe a day’s march within their own borders. The big nations of today are totally aware the next big war will be for domination of the globe and they are preparing. The last thing they want is American regaining any technological lead.
Don’t listen to the goofs who say America could have conquered the world back in 1945 if they’d decided to keep on going. What really happened is a tiny minority of Americans in power at the time realized we had enough money to take over the world financially. Why destroy it in a war when it was there to be bought? Hey, it almost worked. Oh, and that minority is still here and we don’t like them any more than you do, but we are kind of stuck with them.
The reason that tiny minority is still in America is because hell doesn't want them either. I have not named names.
Martin Hotel, Winnemucca.
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This should read a wee smoother than my usual travel posts, since I got that el-cheapo tape recorder working with the internal battery. Smoother in the sense of things in the order they happened instead of the order I recall them. But some things may get repeated. It takes a few hours each time now to relearn all my bad driving habits. You have to do this in Miami or be late. Today I stopped for a five minute coffee in Clewiston, and it took 27 minutes. They were doing some renovations. A real American would have put up a sign saying expect delays. Instead, they pulled that con that the longer they make you wait in line, the more you’ll wait or waste the time already invested.
If today goes as planned, you’ll escape hearing about renovations and enjoy a nice trip to Miami. To keep it nice, I’ve scheduled to miss rush hour. We haven’t been in Miami since August. I’ve acquired a copy of a 2009 luxury hotel guide. Seen here is the Thanda, in South Africa. Thanda is Zulu for “love” and is supposed to embrace love for nature and dear ones. Really? In conjunction with my lecture on poverty last day, I thought I’d look closer at this hotel. It’s on a 6,800 hectare (wha?) spread that’s part of a safari package. It consists of four tents and nine villas. Heck, I would not invest in any permanent structures there either.
Not far behind is my loathing for the jet set. The only experience I have with that circuit is hotels in Hawaii during the 1980s. That may not have been the best classroom, but they are definitely a group of superbly mannered liberals, leastwise face-to-face in public. It was amazing to watch them outdo each other with kindness of the highest superficial order. The type who go on become diplomats and, later in life, cause world wars or commit whole-family murder suicides.
I can confirm that the only business that goes on in these hotels is monkey business. If these touted managerial types were capable of even minor decision-making, I would probably have seen some evidence over the years. If there was one conduct that stands out, it is the way these characters chase women. My opinion is that is the one realm where most men will put their best forward. And I think, my god, these are humanity’s finest? Most of them can’t even dance. But what sticks in my craw is how these sort use memorized pick-up lines. You know how that irks me even to be near such people; my brothers can corroborate.
Their female companions were exactly that. While all the big hotels advertise family rates and activities, it was vanishingly rare to see a family together in such a setting. The more common sight is the middle-aged couple with their daughters along because they dared not leave them home alone. The hotels have a definite non-cerebral atmosphere. You know, tennis courts, gymnasium, spa. But if you wanted a dictionary or an atlas, they’d have to send a boy to go find one. When I win the pseudo-billion tonight, let’s see if I develop any urges to travel to hotels so I can overpay for jewelry, perfume, and wristwatches rated to fifty fathoms.
And golf. Watch for any signs I get an overnight addiction to golf. Golf is a simple-minded child’s game that some never grow out of. Could be even having my shots leaves me in danger of becoming, what? A golf-ist? A golf-enter? A golf-itian? If so, poison me. Let it be said if I was boring, at least I never embraced the pursuit of boredom.
ADDENDUM
JZ and I get this brilliant idea that Tuesdays are a good pickup day. Yes, if you are under 30. I agreed, but only if we go some place civilized. That would exclude Hooters and stripper bars, so wanted to go to the Western Tavern, which is nothing Western. Just a bunch of millennial waiters with topknots who want to be tipped $3 on every beer because they are people, too. We stayed there an hour until the Karaoke started, but the goof running the show would not let me sign up, even when the staff told him they wanted to hear me. Well, screw that crap, I wanted to go to the Tifrantic anyway, they sometimes have Miami U women hanging out there. I find out about this time the reason JZ went to the Western is because they have free parking. I know, it is hard to figure out, considering he is worth a half-million and I was buying.
So we got to the Tifrantic and it was okay, since they have finally started making a product that actually tastes like beer. And a few okay-looking women for a nothing night. The point is that pub often has top-notch entertainment, and tonight there was a five piece "studio" band. That is my term for younger bands that play older music to a tee. It's another Guitar Center special called "band lessons". Not the same band lessons I give, but a facsimile based on teaching a band to memorize songs. Like their guitar lessons. And this band was good.
An hour later this babe gets on stage and they play "Lonely Lonely Time" by Led Zep. Her voice was made for that music. I turned to look and I saw perfection. There she was, blonde, blue, 24, and in the spotlight. Totally my type. They went on to play half a set of Led Zep and I was enthralled. They took a break at which time I noticed she sat at a table with three couples and she appeared to be alone. After a bit, the band once more got up without her, and she was still alone at the table, looking a mite uncomfy with these married couples. Me, to the rescue.
I complimented her vocals and asked if she's ever danced with a pro. No, she had not. But she lit right up. Now you listen. I'm describing, not bragging. I have no way of knowing if it was me or her recognizing a chance to break the boredom.
Over the many years I've danced professionally (ballroom Silver level) and I've learned women follow a hand lead best, which means I led her into a West Coast Swing, you would recognize the basic movements as the jive. What can I say, I made her look like a dream and she was awe-struck. Not me, I think, but because she underestimated what I mean by pro. So I played it right up, twirling and spinning her at the audience. After a minute, if the catch on, and she did, I began positioning her toward her friends and the band. What a show that was, they were all holding smart phones and uploading the exhibition.
Shall we say her flabber was gasted, I had to whisper to her several times to smile and stop looking at me. She was being shown off, but she knew what was happening and wanted to watch me. No, you can do that any other time. Just not now, I was right up close and saw her complection was flawless (minimal makeup, small pores, the blonde red hair was lightened, but natural). Numerous times I had my hands on her waist and hips and round her shoulders. No foundation garments, no fat, not one ounce, and firm like my ex. Even ten years ago, I would never have let her go. But to hit on her in public, it would have killed the moment. I could not do it. I had nothing to lose by inviting her back to our table, but I could not do it.
If the video goes viral and you see a total babe with her great-grandfather tearing up the tiles, that was me. Sure, that was also her, but her you could expect to be there.
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