One year ago today: May 9, 2018, 69th anniverary of 'the pill'.
Five years ago today: May 9, 2014, GMO Wars.
Nine years ago today: May 9, 2010, free T-shirts!
Random years ago today: May 9, 2012, 91F out there.
Here, look at some more yard pictures for today. I have more backbone plants from Charla, see picture, now that we know they will take. They are slated for the front yard, near the mailbox. Actually, there are a lot of more intense goings-on these days, but not bloggable. Sorry. And maybe some photos of the front bedroom. I should be moving furniture in there by the weekend. No, it is not tickety-boo ready, but embodies most of the finishing and trim to the extent I’ve learned since 2016. In a couple weeks, it’s the 3rd anniversary I bought this place. (I did not physically move in for many more months.) And I’ll likely be spending the anniversary in Tennessee.
This next photo shows why, in Florida, you shell out the extra bucks to get fiberglass handles. This pick-axe was bought back at the trailer court and used a few times. Since then, it sat inside a shed and should have been in like-new condition. This morning, it broke on the fifth swing. The wood rotted, it must be, for I’m not getting any tougher. I took a breather and cooked eight pounds of chicken.
I contacted the new guy and here’s the non-musical side of why I’m not going to ask a lot of questions as to why he isn’t playing already. He’s got a day job. This provides an inestimable motive in my favor (but raises other concerns). That makes it ‘work’ versus ‘play’. No hourly wage can compete with a tip jar, and who is the tip-master? Who’s the bassist who has been fired for making too much in tips? When he answered the phone on a break, I knew this guy is going to be one inspired individual when he hears our sound. Will he follow through? (Last day I had no bass, he was responding to only the effect of my harmonies. He is unaware I can do this while playing real bass.) That I met this guy through Brad is in itself a danger signal.
This combination, however subtle to the outsiders, is something I hold in colossal regard. It’s an established progression for me—slap something together asap and get that guy making money, enough of it that he starts to depend on it. He knows Brad, so he’ll be getting a lot of advice on what to play, but good old Brad cannot for the life of him operate a band. The new guy and I talked money a bit, and I was able to impart that he was not taking any chances, that is, if he did the homework, I guarantee he will be playing out soon. As far as I know, since arriving in Florida, I am the only musician who can guarantee a damn thing. It’s me taking the chance on him, but he grasped the concept as positively as most guitarists reject it. So return this evening, I think we are getting together for a jam or something.
So, are you still with me? The guy is a working man, making him lean and hungry for extra money, but likely too tuckered by day’s end to put together any group, much less his dream band. He already played enough tunes I heard to get him on stage, the only hesitancy is to make sure he doesn’t try to warp the band into something else. I’m ready for that but not anxious, since he has not yet heard how my bass lines are absolutely geared to combine with what he already strums. And I have learned to fill in the blanks of what they can’t do while strumming. Thusforth, I’ve never had any real issue with guitarists quitting on me for other bass players. Very rare.
Chinese spice factory.
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Lucky you, here is the progress on the secondary bird feeder. Don’t look to close. The stump is actually upside down and the branch is bolted and glued in place. It took some doing to get the natural look. It stays like this for a while, since this camphor wood dulls chainsaw blades and I haven’t invested in a sharpener yet. I wouldn’t have patience to do it by hand and the powered models seem flimsy. Anyway, this branch gives a new meaning to “artificial limb”. This feeder is designed to temp the larger birds away from the cardinal food. The spectacular bluejay is the tamest and his plumage has dulled. I never got a photo, but he was spectacular. Now, he’s back to more pastel shades, he even looks dusty.
Something else that isn’t helping the liberals is their criticism of trade barriers. Their spokespeople seem to have no grasp on economic theory, making fools of themselves by quoting the wrong principles. Chinese products are about to take a giant price leap. It’s been these cheap imports that have given the illusion of low inflation the past twenty years. The dollar stores and Wal*Mart will survive but not as we know them. And the ripple effect will run through the marketplace within the week. A lot of people are in for a shock. But none so much as the Democrats next election. It is disgustingly obvious they are not opposing the trade sanctions since they don’t understand them. They are opposing Trump regardless of any effect on the nation.
ADDENDUM
Put a hold on the new guitar guy. Brad, of the go-nowhere Thursday jam got to him first. I’ve got some time so let me describe how some of these pieces fit together. Brad is a 33-year-old teenager with a day job as a draftsman, but is convinced if he applied himself to music he’d be rich and famous as of last week. Everything I’m about to say, you’ve heard about guitar players before. I’m just describing Brad’s version.
I’m expecting a call from Mike so I answer the phone at 7:00PM. It’s Brad, inviting me to his jam, except with Brad, it really isn’t an invitation. Because if you don’t want to attend you are egotistical, set in your ways, a loser, don’t want to learn anything, and are going nowhere because you are all about money and you don’t “have the music in you”. Brad is one of the sort who is so egotistical, he thinks everybody who doesn’t agree with him is the one who is egotistical.
I explained I was expecting to hear from Mike to audition for a duo. Instead I got treated to one of Brad’s tirades. How I had better get in on his jams because I don’t have a band. Neither does Brad, but he doesn’t see any parallel. I listened to his insults because I wanted information and I have some. Like I figured, Mike is already in a band. I guess he just forgot to mention it during the two hours we were talking and singing on Tuesday. Says Brad, the “only way” Mike will be in a band with me is with Brad playing lead. Aha, we might have known.
[Author’s note: this creates a standstill. Once Brad’s intentions were revealed, it means that the two of them have already tried out and it didn’t work—else he would not have introduced me. Brad can’t sing, and as far as I know cannot play any covers on bass except a few well-worn guitar licks. All Mike played last evening were covers and he glommed on to our harmonies fast. That planted the idea that even if I’m a mediocre bassist, those harmonies alone distance us from the local pack.
I’ll wait this one out. Nothing is happening over there and Mike knows how quickly we would be out gigging. A couple weeks at most. Brad goes on about not playing for money, but that might be because he can’t. By his age I was owner (that’s the correct word) of my third band, “Not Half Bad”. I worked full time yet we were together for years, averaging $130 per member per gig, averaging slightly over five gigs per month. I had already learned a lesson Brad has yet to comprehend—that by his age, he’s no overnight success. At 33, if I had become famous, luck would have been the principle element. Failing that, I began a long slow climb to where I am today. Old, but experienced.
One thing Brad and I share: at his age I would not have listened to any old guy who wasn’t rich and famous, either. Nor would I have played in a country band. But unlike Brad, by that age, I’d been playing on stage for 21 years.]
Brad continues that a duo is not a band. A band has five pieces, because Brad says so. And Mike, who I just met the once and we got along fine, now has the exact same opinion of me as Brad, word for word, because Brad says so. I said I don’t want to jam and it is the wrong atmosphere to try out what sound just Mike and I have. Well, Brad says, I don’t want to learn anything. This is one of his themes, that his jams are learning sessions. Far from it, they plod along at a very basic music level.
I didn’t have the heart to tell Brad according to what he just said, a trio isn’t a band either. So, he’s been working on Mike, but if Mike has any common sense, he’ll go along. When he’s fed up with jamming and wants to create a duo. This usually happens when the other band isn’t making any money. Trust me, a big band in this area is making zilch per member. How many times I’ve walked past the stage and glanced into the tip jar of a big band and seen nothing. Brad forgets the videos he’s seen of me in big bands and thinks it’s something I’ve never done—and can’t do without his jams.
Brad’s has had years to refine his arguments about jamming. He seems unaware that one day he will grow out of it as well. But for now, it’s like if I don’t want to play gospel or free dog shows any more, it can only be because I hate Jesus and pets. Brad thinks he’s better than ever, he just hasn’t made his big move yet. He has said more times than necessary that he is a better bassist than I am, which is odd because he has never heard me play except to jam to unfamiliar originals. He’s learned his skill cannot be put to the test if he refuses to play covers. And every guitarist who plays originals can easily demonstrate he is, hand’s down and by far, the best man for the job.
As for his rank as a bassist, he plays like a converted guitarist who has been noodling for around five years. But he’s caught up in “styles”, like a guitarist, so he’s never gotten more than adequate on any of them. Finger bass, slap bass, you know, all the crap a guitarist thinks bass is all about. But they can’t play Johnny Cash—who is actually one of the harder bass sounds to capture because he mainly used a stand-up with that 1930s booming sound. In terms of piano music, he plays around a second grade level. I have no idea why he is so adamant that I should be at his jam sessions, or why he seems to seek my approval. I suspect it’s because I’ve actually played in bands and he hasn’t. Much less a successful band (remember my rules, original players still gigging after a year, etc.)
So, I’m calling it a day. I’d rather putter around the house than waste time jamming. I grew out of it by the age of 16 and that’s that. Maybe I’ll go out for a brew and give myself some down time. What do I think? I think Brad, who has always known I want a duo only, set Mike up to see if he could recruit me for a trio. And, the two hours Mike and I harmonized went well enough that he’ll see through Brad’s game and call me anyway. I’ll wager he’s in a band that isn’t making money, so he’ll wise up. After the sound we got singing and I played slap drums, Mike would be coo-coo not to want to hear us as a duo. Hurry up and wait. The call from Nashville could come any time.
