July 11, 2019

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 11, 2018, I never said that.
Five years ago today: July 11, 2014, ‘great rental’ means bad neighborhood.
Nine years ago today: July 11, 2010, two life memberships, anyone?
Random years ago today: July 11, 2008, remember my Internet café?

           Traveling means news, today proves that. The reason is not really travel, but that I’ve got enough going on that when I’m away and return, there’s always lots of changes to report. Top of this day was my reason for going to Miami. My health people are there. And I finally have the official pronouncement that my heart has restored to a level considered normal for my age. I noticed how carefully they worded that and my distrust of averages is well-known. Still that’s welcome. One more check up in November, and there is a hint dropped that I can return to “light duty”. Absolutely no commitment until after that appointment, none.

           Furthermore, my triglycerides have dropped into the safety zone. Shown here are some surreptitious photos of the blood testing that goes on. Normally they take seven vials, so the tests are most comprehensive. Even if some may find the aftermath of a single vial (shown here) as disconcerting, it is top story of the day. Blog rules. This is the clinic that pays me for cholesterol injections and the same place who found other subjects with zero opiods in their systems. This was to take my pay back to the original level, but today got my third payment at the former rate. That’s enough to finally go get a real table saw, something that actually works.

           I don’t know the cause, but traffic was light everywhere this morning, so I got everything done by mid afternoon. Far ahead of schedule, with nothing planned. So I contact all the old gang and told them to show up at the club on Dixie, but not until early this evening. This gave me enough time to tour around check on things. I remain pretty glad I got out of South Florida when I did. The place seems ripe for another recession. The reputation is that the economy is based on tourist dollars. Although that explains the lack of cultural pursuits, the economy around the Atlantic coast is more propped up by rich retirees moving here, then dying.
           That’s the real estate that is doing anything. Condos and retirement communities. The traditional Florida sucker’s paradise. Yes, there is a pool, a tennis court, a club house and all the units have balconies. And I’ll give you $100 for every person you see using them—if you give me $1 for each that is vacant. That, and the drug money. Because the bottom line is again the same as 2007. There are no job available that pay enough for the working class to afford these houses. Once more, prices continue to rise while sale have fallen to record lows.

           I found this odd bit of décor and asked JZ where he got it. His sister makes them as a craft project. A bottle of arranged little clam shells with the exterior treatment, but this array of flashing lights inside. Once I figured out the batteries are hidden in the cork, I made arrangements to see some more tomorrow.

           We got to talking real estate but it looks like once again I’m on my own. Am I the only one left standing who is capable of even making a plan that does not involve borrowing money? I’m aware of the fortunes made in real estate, but every time I traced a success story back to the first house, there was a common factor. When they started, they had enough access to cash that they could quickly pay down their original mortgage to the stage where the monthly equity portion was substantial. For most people that does not happen until the 24th year of a 30 year mortgage. I would point out that TVM (Time Value of Money) is a third year or higher college course and I achieved 100% on that course.
           I’ve attended many a seminar and meeting from people who say they made it big, and often, I’ve pointed to the exact months or periods in which they applied significant extra payments on their principle. I have bluntly asked every one of them that I could where they got this extra money. I have never received a decent reply. The usual reply, however, is that it was none of my business. Hold on, yes it is, because they are pitching a get-rich scheme to others who don’t get any free money. Ever.

Picture of the day.
Williamstown Botanical Garden gate.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Raimen noodles. If you don’t know them you have not been to college in this country. Everybody eats them but few will say they like them. A high-sodium food, artificially flavored. JZ won’t touch the stuff, but what is this carton of it doing in his apartment. The story is, they really did fall off a truck. The truck kept going, and I told you JZ is a scrounge. He stopped and picked up the package, hoping it would be something nice. He doesn’t tell me any of this, so I help myself.

           Of all the varieties, the shrimp flavor is the most awful. But if you find enough spices in the cupboard, you can make do. He’s been to university, but I guess they don’t serve this at the Princeton student cafeteria. He assures me the four-gang plate covers for my computer wall are readily available and that I just had to look a little bit more.

           This brought it to mango time. I don’t even really like looking at mangoes. He’s got one of those forty-foot pickers and knows where the best trees are. It seems there is one tree that grows four variations of the fruit. He has some deal with the owner that whatever he picks he keeps half. So that got rid of him most of the afternoon while found a good book and made like siesta.
           You know how in Texas you see coyotes on the side of the road? Here is Florida’s answer to that. Lookie here, Larry the Lizard, or maybe his fraternal twin. Smile, he’s about the best looking thing you will ever see on a Florida roadside. That includes the women, because Larry’s wrinkles aren’t nearly so deep. I am handling the Miami traffic by cranking the A/C full blast and listening to audio tapes. What? Well, because there has not been a decent radio station in South Florida since the turn of the century, that’s why. It’s all Latino crap or Haitian monkey-talk. Actually, there are a few good stations, but they are kept short range by the Feds, who license more powerful foreign language stations on the same frequencies.

           I’m finishing “Burglars Can’t Be Choosers”, a murder mystery, written for audio tape. These tend to be corny because normally one speaker plays all the characters and the majority of tapes have that 1930’s radio sound, including a lot of the attempted humor. “I found the back staircase. It was right where I’d left it.” The inclusion of sex episodes shows they are post 1962 productions. We all know that was the year sex was invented in Deming, NM. Our hero, besides being irresistible to rich or pretty women, is brimming with homespun clips. Does that make him a homespinner? His title is Bernie Roddenbarr, occupation burglar, and here’s a free sample: “Women tend to have highly adaptable moral standards.” (When it comes to themselves, I wholly agree.)

           These tapes are not everybody’s cup of tea, and after around 1995, everything dumbs down. Earlier works were regular book stories narrated on tape, but these latter productions seem purpose-written for tape and don’t do such a hot job of it. It goes without much thought that tape can’t present anything visual, but it strains the plot to purposely include overworked lines of bland script. Bernie is not bad with it, but most of it is garbage. Bernie might say things like, “His hair looked like his barber cut it strand by strand.” Since you will never listen to this tape, the real killer was a dirty cop. What do you mean you need more to go on than that? There are honest cops. I’m certain of it.

ADDENDUM
           This photo means little to most people, a car window snap. Right up there with pictures of airplane wings. But this one tells a story. Those new over-ramp things they built along Tamiami Trail (Tampa Miami Trail) have had, ecologically speaking, and instant change to the region. Like Lake Okeechobee, the only views are from these vantage points but stopping is not allowed. The project was to elevate sections of the Everglades to allow the original watercourse to resume. I’ll explain, although I’ve done this before somewhere in this blog.

           The trail was laid down across what was considered useless swamp a century ago. The elevated roadway sliced across south Florida’s Sea of Grass. The water moves so slowly you cannot see it. The road acted like a levee, cutting off the flow to the south. That area became an arid moonscape, a singularly desolate tract of land, you might say. The native flora and fauna moved away or dried up. There are now two small elevated sections, both on the outskirts of Miami. But the change in a couple years is stunning. This is the only picture of dozens I took with anything to give the impression of size and wilderness because I think that is some kind of weather or rebroadcasting station just visible over the railing. The railing which I am sure is designed to block what little view of the landscape would otherwise be available.

           Only around half the old gang showed up for the mini-reunion. Actually, for Miami that’s a fairly good turnout, once you allow for the ones that habitually paint themselves into corners. Us walking in there is like, well, let’s use the word conspicuous. The regulars think it livens the place up and I can see it. We don’t even play the same tunes on the juke box, in this case I slammed $20 in there and played every tune I could find on the Nashville band’s song list. You know, to give Trent and JZ an idea of where I’m heading with that.
           The meeting, in this instance synonymous with happy hour, got everybody caught up intermingled with much discussion of pretty women, of whom none were present. There was one who came in, immediately sat with some regulars, but after a few minutes spent the rest of the time staring at us. Talk about Captain Obvious. The only thing she didn’t do was drool. This is what happens to women who think all men are alike. The biggest event is Trent has announced he’s moving end of this month. To Jacksonville. A complete surprise, nobody expected that. His new home business is doing fantastic so we supposed that made for sticking around.

           However, it is a home business and part of that advantage is mobility. If a home business ties you down, is it a real business or just a replacement for a job? Aha, good question. Now, the best part is he’ll be in southeast Jacksonville, which is next door to JZ and my old stomping grounds in St. Augustine. That was a way point getting out of Florida when I lived at the trailer court, but not so much now. We’ll have to see how this changes things, but everything is getting spread far and wide. Except JZ, who seems eternally tied to his situation in Miami, and we can’t be sure any longer if that is going to remain such a great thing. He’s there, but so are the bad influences.
           I’ve sent out the warnings before, there are zero real attractions in that town for anyone above the level of eat, drink, screw, sleep. No, I’m not kidding. And even then, those activities are designed to separate you from your dollar, unless you fight back, which is semi-illegal. It’s a vicious circle. Unless you know what you are doing, stay away from Miami, a warning you don’t need if you do know what you are doing. Unless you go there to spend a lot of hard cash, the place is kind of a stinking rat-hole. Across the bay, you get Miami Beach, a totally different city, where a different set of rules apply. Except for the money part, that never changes.

Last Laugh