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Yesteryear

Thursday, November 22, 2018

November 22, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: xxxx, 2017, WIP
Five years ago today: xxxx, 2013, WIP
Nine years ago today: xxxx, 2009, WIP
Random years ago today: xxxx, xxxx, WIP

           This Jarte is getting my goat. It has too many quirks that need fixing. Another complete document disappeared over some typo I have not spotted yet. This time it was a critical passage. I'm leaving Jarte because of it. You don't put crap like that even on the market.

           Getting down to business, this morning was a fateful day, one that determines my overall satisfaction level for life. That's why I grabbed a downtime coffee, not that it is easy to find anything open in Nashville on a Thanksgiving. I was the only patron and the staff fronted me the coffee and a chicken wrap on on the house. Why did that Yankee guitar player choose today to get motivated?
           It's the same old, the guitar player wants to join a full concert-ready band that showcases himself. First, he rejects my plan for a bass/acoustic duo. Then I sit back and wait. Soon, I'll get a re-contact. I know what else the guy is going to find in Polk County. First, you get some insistence on his song list, but I prefer a guitarist who has been through the sausage machine. They have to adopt the position that any band is better than no band. If not, they can hold out, just sitting there adding five-year patches to their lives, dreaming on. Ask Bradford.


           This random photo of the highway sign is all you get today. Think of it as symbolic of something. Or other.

Picture of the day.
Baldwin locomotive works.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           It is plain too cold for me, but we've been invited to a vegan Thanksgiving up some valley. For the amount of time I've spent in Nashville, this is moving pretty fast. It was a forty minute trip away and we ran into detours and such. This was an unexpected feast. The herbivoroous hosts had a complete salad and fruit spread that was iimpressive to look at, even finer to eat. Rate it the largest meal I've had in a year. And no guilt, they are as GMO wary and adverse as me. What was not expected is they had recently acquired a set of drums and converted a bedroom into a music room. The chef has a Farsi name that I can't pronounce but one look at the food tells you about the generally better nutrition of the middle eastern diet. Let nothing I say about music take away the fact that the meal was the highlight.
           Within the hour of finish up, the music began. Do not let my naturally competitive nature around music present the following as a contest. It was not. Picture this, a large room ful of New Age instruments. Tibetian bowls, Turkish cymbals, wood xylophones, and African pinch-waist drums. Enter my companion and I with over 96 years of combined musical experience and a show that never outdates. Talk about a sync, as I find out they had regarded bass as superflous to that point. I'd say the talent levels covered about the whole spectrum. The solo instruments were tenor sax, acoustic electric, drums, keyboards, and of course bass. I would say the key was Am, but more accurately it was Am and nothing else. It's an easy play because on a piano, most any white key you hit will sound right.

           It was 13 or so minutes of pure garage band jamming, something I've not done since I was maybe 18. That was around the age I learned to focus on quality and fewer songs. It came back to me. My long term blog readers may remember as far back as 1987 when my singer and I were stranded on stage by a no-show guitarist. How I played the bass line solo and hummed the key note. Had to hum, could not sing back then. She caught on and we did forty minutes as a bass-vocal solo until the band showed up. This bass solo and I are a mature and independently derived concept. Not cooked up last week, to put it another way.

ADDENDUM
           This Jarte word processor is starting to irk me. It has a mode where you speed type and the entire document disappears. Even if you have auto-backup set, it is gone. And if you try to exit without saving, you'll find the original work is also gone. So are the auto-backup copies. Once again, it is not that these things happen, but that there are people stupid enough that theses things still can. I have a theory about programming language. I do not know if this Jarte is programmed in OOPS (omeobject-oriented programming) but I'll bet it is in C+ or some derivative. My theory is that i MicroSocft had not been allowed to establish C+ as a major code, that all computer software glitches would have been solved by 1990. Name me the glitch, and I'll tell you how C+ programmers are still causing it.
           The worst features of C+ programmers? They never learned the proper methods of what had already been solved. You get idiotic conditions like that false display that the battery is charged when you plug it in, or no hourglass or screenlock when the system has accumulated a keypress. That's where you press enter and nothing happens to you press it five more times and multiple windows open. That is pure millennial genius, kindergarten bugs like that. And the unsound structure makes it hard to repair. Worse, C+ code is often modularized in a bad way, so when it is keycopied, the errors follow until idiotic functions become standard. Like my cell phone that requires 9 keypresses to use the speed dial feature.
           Then an educated or experienced person tries to use the gadget and can't get it to work. He has not been numbskulled down to millennial level and the millennials think he is out out of touch with the world.

           [Author's note: this type of error first made users lives more complicated when IBM got into the personal computer market. They tried to apply bureaucratically derived mainframe principles to home units. That's where you get those searches that don't display results as they progress, but make you sit and wait until the entire drive memory is processed. It's not so much these mistakes that's scary, but that they indicate deeply flawed thinking.]

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