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Yesteryear

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

August 28, 2019

Yesteryear
One year ago today: August 28, 2018, 46 years of freedom.
Five years ago today: August 28, 2014, impoysny?
Nine years ago today: August 28, 2010, fired my broker.
Random years ago today: August 28, 2015, the NYT says so.

           It’s official. I’ve been bumped. Just like I bumped the last guy, the same happened to me without ever making a full gig, not even a full set. The wee glint of good news is that I’ve been invited to the dress rehearsal and gig. They need a harmony singer worse than a bassist, that’s show biz. However, they want to video the gig and feature the new gal singer. There is apparently another singer and now a rhythm player. That’s a pretty big band for the venues around here. They also talk a lot about the Grand Ole Opry, as if it is some musical wonderland. To me, it’s just another concert hall. Some of the bandsd there last year were not all that impressive. Maybe the place looks good on a musical resume. Dunno, I’ve never had one.
           Damn Sony and MicroSoft. Another batch of pictures disappeared. They went through the transfer motions, but the files evaporated. And none of the standard recovery software works on Sony formats. I built the frame for the turtle run, using half-lap joints. The first in my life. It’s done except for the wire, which I left behind in Florida. Here’s the only surviving picture, it’s the basic fram3 with the corners being glued and squared. Imagine some excellent shots of the dogs watching me work. And this picture of the turtle box frame is so bad I think I should have left the Snookie "picture delayed" marker.

           Now I’ve done it. The turtle doesn’t like his regular food now. That is a pellet-like veggie substance but now that he’s had wild blueberries, you know. And he’s picky. When given a selection, he will go pick out what he wants for each course. Then he’ll come back in a couple hours. Didn’t I room with this guy in college? Watch the portions as well. If you give him six sunflower seeds, he’ll eat them. But more, and he ignores them entirely.
T           aking a break, I went over some maps and schematics (on-line) of the area around the Golan between Israel and Syria. By military standards, it is the bigger threat but Israel seems to have their number and leave the area to holding forces until they will elsewhere. Then it’s back to deal the Syrians another lesson and the Syrians never seem to learn. They keep attacking with overwhelming forces time and again. Then Israel strikes back at their infrastructure, and the whole process starts over again. It says here the Israeli Air Force has 3,500 airplanes and 35,000 personnel. A hundred per airplane.
           Sounds to me like the Abrams tank. The claims are all about how effective the weapon is, but the reality is that success is due to a huge and expensive support staff. That’s who the Arabs need to knock out instead of frontal attacks with blunt instruments. If it takes the enemy 100 men to operate an airplane or a tank, those people are a far softer target plus when they get that top-heavy, it only takes a minor disruption to crash the whole system. Even forcing them to disperse can often cause deadlock. Them Syrians a very slow to catch on. Sure, picking off Shimon when he goes to take a leak is easier said than done, but nothing else Damascus has tried even got them over the Jordan.

Picture of the day.
Tattoo practice face.
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           Who remembers my little Eclipse MP3 player, the one that got all the bad reviews? I did what others often fail to even try. I stepped through every menu and every item. It actually does it all except pick up FM without an antenna. Slide shows, video, voice recording. But it is a single layer display, which experience tells me worries the hell out of stupid people. I know dolts who can’t think three layers deep who have fifteen layers of folders. The Eclipse displays a folder as just another file, once you figure that out you can navigate, though not very efficiently.
           Here’s the long-awaited frame for JeePee’s outdoor cage. It gives him 15 square feet of Tennessee to romp about to his three-chambered heart’s content. I built if before discovering three feet is not a standard hardware cloth width (that’s the technical name for wire mesh). The boys gave me all the moral support I needed on this beautiful summer day. I may still be learning box-building, but that frame is much stronger than it looks, yet light enough for the Reb to move with one hand. It’s only half done. Tomorrow, the guys will help me decide on what to call it. Leading contenders: JeePeeWorld and Turtle-O-Rama. I’m telling ya, pet-sitting Level 99.

           On-line turtle advice is a merry-go-round. Some say a wire mesh is a great open air environment, others say it stresses the turtle because it can see through the mesh and constantly try to escape. California publishes a list of plants poisonous to turtles, but it is harder to read than the menus of an Eclipse. What the hell is stage two toxicity? And should anyone believe a state that puts warning labels on bubble gum? I’m going to make a wire mesh cage and let JeePee decide for himself if he likes it. I mean, the guy can see through the aquarium and spends is waking hours trying to get out, but if you let him out, he heads for the corner of the kitchen and goes to sleep under anything he can find.
           Here’s my temporary work area. Under that tarp is my chop saw, which speeds projects up by four times (at least) and three outlets on a power strip. The first thing the dog did was mark the tarp, brazen or what. The wood is just to keep it down in the breeze. See the little lamb sawhorses? One thing I’m learning is that power equipment needs constant calibration. Without it, no amount of carefulness gets the cuts and corners square. Should we not be in the self-calibration era by now? With machines, I mean, for some people can’t be set straight no matter what. Has anyone besides me noticed the more something is wrong with most people, the more they can’t leave other people alone?

Last Laugh