September 30, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: September 30, 2017, bloviating.
Five years ago today: September 30, 2013, only two, hmmm. . . .
Nine years ago today: September 30, 2009, because I have no peers.
Random years ago today: September 30, 2007, single issue candidate.

           I closed the hotdog books for the month, it took all morning. Since you don’t want to hear about that, well, now hold on. You just might, because this is desert island accounting. Most books you see don’t do it that way, they are more concerned with elements like minimizing taxation. My books count every bean and bullet required to conduct the business. Otherwise, it conveys a false impression of the true costs. Let me think of an example. Ah, years ago, I used to be amazed by rich kids who said that going to university didn’t really cost that much. They paid the same fees as I did and it was killing me.

           When I returned to college in my early 30s, I got my answer. You see, many of them were still living at home. And that was the key, the factor that distorted their thinking. I guess when you live for free within commuting distance of the school, and meals are home-cooked, it doesn’t cost that much. And if I had a parking garage, all the tools and spare parts, and a mentor to avoid the mistakes, this hotdog venture would be cheap, too. Today was another dress rehearsal involving a cookout.

           Here is your grainy pic of the cart in stripped down working conditions. No umbrella, just the boiling pan and grill in operation. It really does take a half hour to heat the water to cooking temperature, so I’m looking at some way to pre-heat two gallons. Smart move, this extra trial for the practice run revealed a severe problem. I have a video of it; you get the verbal version. Everything is more streamlined, but as I went to light the grill, it would not stay burning. Every valve and connection was triple-checked by me, but I crawled over the entire gas lines again, then had Agt. R follow with another. Now if I said it was the last thing we checked, that would cause a few smiles, because you don’t keep checking after you find the problem, right?
           Literally, it was the last thing. I finally disconnected each section of hose and piping until I got right up to the inlet port on the bottom of the grill itself. These are factory assembled permanent parts. Stand by, let me see if I can get you a still from the video. There you go. This is the gas line connection to the burners and you can see the various fittings needed to make the link. Screw engineers who make five and six different sizes of pipe fittings. It’s understandable why I left this piece until last, but the process of elimination led to it.

           I finally removed the entire assembly from the grill, which onlookers thought was mighty risky. Most have learned you don’t take apart factory builds, but they don’t know from robots. Aha, the inside nipple was blocked by crud. By this time, I had the grill completely off the cart and lying sideways on the lawn. That was the clincher. The last person had not put it sideways, they sat in on the dirt and this let the nozzle part dig into the topography. Argh, to make the anguish worse, both of us had previously seen the part, but it looked like it was supposed to be that way. You see, the dirt had dried to the exact color of the copper.
           After an outpouring of sincerely applied Anglo-Saxon adjectives, the part was cleaned and back in operation. The gas jets were noticeably better but let me say, we were very lucky the thing even worked before as well as it did. I had brought over $23 of pork chops, drumsticks, potatoes, thighs, and spices. We are not permitted to sell these items, but cooking them is fine. This part Agt. R has done before where I kind of apprentice what I can. He has not been on any kind of diet ever, so by his standards I apply far too much spice. Yeah, well after the first five years of post-coronary health diets and my spice quota is necessary to even taste the flavor.

           He then proceeded to slather butter and sour cream on his russet. I had a boiled onion. The Koch saga, “Sons of Wichita”, has finally pulled out of the history lesson and is now focused on their politics since 2009 (this book was published in 2014). As with most Libertarians who try too hard, they go to political extremes. I’m very middle-ground, since Libertarian philosophy says all should be voluntary, ergo, I think that trying to impose the system goes against its own credo. I believe political behavior and religion are concepts best spread solely by quiet good example. Henceforth, I find that while I disagree with their methods, I agree with many of the Koch’s basic principles.
           For example, I think that every new federal employee hired is a power grab that lessens your personal freedoms. The capitalist system is broken, not because it is inherently flawed, but because it has been distorted by left-wing welfare advocates. Welfare has become not so much a charitable mission as a way to buy votes by creating an underclass of recipients. I’m disgusted by the way so many people are apathetic when politicians use the environmental and tax laws to stifle opposition. The government is hardly blameless in all this. When I need fourteen approvals to open a hotdog stand, I can’t imagine the hell that happens to big business. These fourteen approvals have a few things in common, like they are strangers who themselves do not have the brain thrust to run a small business.

           I can further assent with the Koch’s belief that you keep a low profile. Let others do the dirty work or anything that draws attention. The Kochs stay low, which is a good account of why most people never heard of them. To me, however, Libertarianism is not the party faction its opponents make it out to be, but a guideline to fixing the more serious abuses mainly by making participation an individual decision. The criticism of this stance always involves applying it to extremes, which is unfair. One example is the concept that if a burglar ties you up, you should not try to untie yourself because the rope doesn’t belong to you. But such thinking is in the realm of lunacy, which I definitely do not promote.
           Let me say that I’ve read and been impressed by articles in magazines that I did not know were funded largely by the Kochs. I thought the Cato Institute was an official watchdog of the economy, though where I got that from is lost in the past. The articles are well-balanced, yet I don’t find the same in people who do not defend personal freedoms. It takes intelligence, not activism, to grasp the real concepts of being libertarian, so don’t expect a lot of support from enablers and entitle-ists.

Picture of the day.
Five sold so far . . .
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           It was getting dark by the time we got all the food cooked. I had also arranged a test to see how much water could be boiled on all of our collective kitchen ranges and camp stoves on short notice. Eighteen gallons. It was a controlled test, meaning time to 165°F, time to boiling, and the temperature drop when two large potatoes were dropped into each two gallons of hot water. The tests were successful, in the sense I had to ensure that the amount of food added did not drop the water temperature below that critical 165°F. I estimate in a banquet style situation we could produce enough food at once to feed a group of thirty, and that might get better.

           It’s major practice, but now I have an army of leftover food. Ha, Agt. R had never seen anyone eat a boiled onion before. A whole onion with salt or even sugar. It is not bitter after cooking and I never paused to think anyone would consider it other than just another vegetable. You boil it in chicken boullion. Or is that buillon? Anyway, the cubes in the jar. It was after dark when we finished the last batch, mostly chicken. Food tastes better outdoors anyway, so I actually finished the first pork chop I’ve eaten this year I think.

           I gave the short speech. Just think, gang, this is your first meal entirely on Uncle Sam. What? No, lad, even prisoners in jail don’t get it free. In this instance, even the gas to the grocery and back is written off. We’ve scrounged up six 20 lb propane tanks, which I will go fill tomorrow. This may seem excessive, but I do not permit fuel shortages, another robot thing. And we took a minute to go over the September books. The net loss was $1,254 for the period, the largest yet. But early losses with this accounting style are not unusual. For example, $375 of it was PPA, or prior period adjustments. He didn’t get his mileage logs in on time. And don’t look in the back of my station wagon these days. Chock full of music gear, hotdog accessories, and lumber pieces.

           Here’s today’s last picture before it got too dark. Drumsticks on the grill. There’s something about the grill that neither of us like. It’s the regulation brand, but the slats are too far apart. I’ll see if there isn’t something available that works and looks nicer. No problem here, however, I’m allowed all the boiled or baked chicken I want. I took home 28 drumsticks. Yep, Agt. R’s dogs are getting fat.

           Music. Composing was always a struggle for me, but I’ve written and recorded most of the music used in my home videos. All PG-13, too, by the way. I feel I have to say that a lot because face it, this blog is bound for glory and there are a lot of creeps out there. I see the Europeans are dead serious on this copyright matter. They intend to enforce a century-old system on a new medium and they are lying about the pressure coming from artists. The coercion is from the recording and distribution industries. In most cases the artist is already dead. But now I need more soundtracks and thought to pick up some instrument that is unusual, quick to learn, and has an easily blended sound. Which led me to the Omnichord.
           It’s billed as an electronic autoharp. It’s been around a long time, but it looks like some kind of plastic toy. The used units are going for $350. So I took a look at a real autoharp and watched videos of what I think were the more advanced playing techniques. It’s a pity they don’t make one that plays bass. It was with some interest I watched the style of the few pros out there. Maybelle Carter had one style, so does the Irish guy. Most players cradle it, but June Carter plays it on her lap. I even saw a mechanical model from 1880 that worked by moving the dampers “sideways” as well as up and down. (It was a flop.)

           A quick search shows there are used units for sale in the $50 range. Careful, some seem to have as few as five buttons, the best brands sport thirty-two. I’m not big on major 7ths and augmented chords, so I may settle for something in between. And to those who still don’t know their circle of fifths, that’s how the keypads are arranged. Check in a bit, it could be a five-minute instrument that fits the part.

ADDENDUM
           That smart battery charger I invested in isn’t so smart. First, you have to load it up with only the same kind of batteries each cycle. It has eight ports. Each port is supposed to have a way to measure the individual cell for optimum charging, and to shut down when done. The sensors are advertised to be so sensitive that they can recharge chemical batteries. Now, here’s the reality. The batteries do charge at different rates, but often they can show as totally recharged and are not. I mean, they are charged, but not totally.
           You see, I often habitually turn the charger off to remove the batteries shown as complete. But if you turn the unit back on, these same batteries continue charging even more. I’ll get used to it. You probably don’t like the grainy picture you’re getting lately, but that is what digital cameras do when the batteries run down.

Last Laugh

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