One year ago today: September 25, 2018, that bar hussy look.
Five years ago today: September 25, 2014, Congress is computer illiterate.
Nine years ago today: September 25, 2010, no quality control.
Random years ago today: September 25, 2008, I made that sign.
This was in the Wal*mart parking lot. It’s not the Ranchero car-truck hybrid I would have bought when I was young, but close. This is an El Camino, 1968. I never did like pickup trucks except for work. There must be some pickup truck cowboy mentality because they never stop making a vehicle that sells well. And they quit making these just when I was about to buy. American car companies are lulu that way. Nowadays they seem to build what they can afford to pay the unions.
The car today is one owner, but it is not in original condition. It’s heavily restored and carries a $15,900 price tag. These cars were two-door beauties, they drove solid and there were even campers for sale. The flat deck carried full sheets of plywood with the tailgate up. The restoral is professional. The engine is, I think, a 307 gas-guzzler.
I picked up a load of supplies, including some of the concrete blocks intended to form the floor of the back shed area. It’s heavy lifting but I proudly managed just fine. While working to Boss Hogg, I get a kick out of how many people phone the wrong number to make requests. This has had me thinking for some time now about a sort of concept. Once more, I’m not saying I invented it, just that the idea is independent. For all I know, there may be such things, or this idea has tried and failed.
What happens is people call in a request, and you just know the station won’t play it for at least an hour. Keeps them tuned in, but it is kind of unfair, since the moment can be long gone when their turn rolls around. So my idea was something I call juke box radio. Instead of being financed by the advertisers, a big chunk of the money would be from people who pay for their requests to be played the next available moment.
The way the on-line stations work isn’t sufficient. But they do have that neat ribbon that announces the tunes coming up next. Around a third of their time is DJ chatter, while my idea would be mostly music, which should be the major draw because advertising would be minimal. Prime time, you send me $20 and I’ll play your tune when you want. No bumping, but first come first serve. Except between 7:00PM and 8:00PM. Then it’s like Florida auction time, where you only think it is an auction.
Pricing is totally supply and demand. So basically those people with the money will get to hear their music, not the music some DJ thinks they should listen to. The details would have to be worked out. On the way back from the lumber yard, I stopped at the Thrift. Because I stayed home y’day waiting for JZ to show, I missed a like-new Kenmore washer for $30. It’s getting harder to get bargains with that new guy in the way. Now, there’s illogicality for you. He changed things by watching me and now can’t understand why I don’t let him watch me. Example, the hinges from the curb pile. That’s the stuff they throw away.
He’s seen how I take the handles and hinges. So now he takes them first, bags them, and sells them. Some might call that learning, but it is also the reason I no longer let him watch what I do. This goes back with me a long, long ways. Sure, he learned, but he learned the wrong thing. He should have learned to find his own sources instead of taking away one of mine. He’s aware that I now ask the other staff what days he won’t be there. I just giving him a chance to snoop on somebody else. And did I get some fancy latches today.
I was over to visit Agt. R. this morning. Somebody gave him a lawn tractor if he could make it run. We got it turning over and flooding, so the only problem might be the spark plug wire. Otherwise, the thing looks pretty new. I could use some help with that joist, but he is too unreliable to schedule anything. That happens so often in this day and age I wonder if it isn’t a subliminal defense mechanism. If you can’t meet deadlines, you can’t be expected to lend anyone a hand.
The plumbing is going to get a little hackneyed because of the way I intend to avoid tapping into the old iron piping. I did that before and it is too expensive and time consuming, I ran stubs past where plumbers put elbows, so I can add on to that easily. When done, the water will run “backwards” though the tubes. I’m learning.
Cuidad Bolivar.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
Let’s talk a little about culture. Good and bad, peaceful and violent, but very indirectly. So you can draw associations where there might not be any. The sub-topic is annual rituals. You’ve got the Blessing of the Pets and the Running of the Bulls. Well, as a nearby photo reveals, we now have the Cleaning of the Fans. Most people won’t understand this peaceful custom this until they witness the unconcerned exploits of the nearby chickens. The ceremony begins before dawn with coffee and toast, then a quick disassembly in the twilight. The screens are removed and pressure sprayed to a neo-Wal*mart gleam. Then, the anti-climatic wiping of the blades.
When things are satisfactorily reassembled and the clucking ceases, or at least abates somewhat, the fans are taken indoors and placed in a conspicuous location of each room. This signals the end of the celebration, often with rice and tea, then a siesta. Dear Washington Post Editor-in-Chief, this is an example of the non-violent traditions that you should be reporting on.
Foreign customs may be older, but no wiser. Have you seen that sucky news report that the missiles which took out that Afghan terrorist wedding also killed 30 “civilians”? Let me tell you something about “civilians”. Don’t suppose they don’t know who they were associating with. Be it terrorists, or Mexican drug lords, when you go to their weddings and parties and churches, that is supporting them, you imbeciles. My brother is a criminal and I have not spoken to him in fifty years--and he is only a car thief. Those who think they can socialize with mass murderers and claim innocent status have rocks in their head. And, increasingly as drones take over the “work that Americans won’t do”, they get missiles up their civilian asses as well. Half the problem with the third world is their fucked up sense of “family”.
Read my lips. Hang out with criminals of any stripe, and you are fair game. Maybe when criminals learn they can’t hide behind family, they may reform. If you want to hang with active offenders, that is your business, but don’t be expecting sympathy from the very people your relatives are killing. I’ve seen what they call “culture” in a lot of these places. They create a system where family is the only thing they can count on, despite how a couple of millennia prove this is a bad arrangement. It creates the classes that create conflicts that create revolutions, and the next family takes over. Family based on tribal instinct has been nothing but insanity since time began. It works in the jungle but not at the national level. Ask the Chinese.
Here is the old joist, or what is left of it. It is dry and brittle now, after I killed the termites and sealed the water leak. As you can tell, I was listening to Tampa radio again, which morally is about in the same condition as this piece of lumber. The new joist is already under the building now, it has to be positioned, marked, taken partially out again, cut, and replaced. I learned two years ago not to trust measuring these things. Mark it and cut it. Tampa says the city of LA is designating up to a quarter of its area to no-homeless zones. The blubbering can be heard east of the Rockies. Where are we going to live, they’re screaming. Arizona, I say. Lots of remote areas where, if you grow your own food and kiss cable TV goodbye, a welfare check makes for a handsome living. There’s no law says the homeless have to congregate in cities.
Seriously, I’m on the side of the guy who stayed in school, got a job, and bought a house. The last thing he needs is to come home from his job-for-life and find derelicts camped out on his sidewalk. Look how bad it got in Seattle when the liberals practically invited the bums in. Have I no compassion? Yes, but there is very little excuse to be a bum in America. Very little. The tiniest show of initiative will get you off the streets. Now with the deportations, there is a job for anyone who wants to work. Yes, I’m well aware of the difference between working to get ahead and working to stay alive. It took half my lifetime to cross that line.
Am I the only one who notices most of these people who march in parades about global warming and slavery and equality when they should be at work, well, they have that distinct homeless look about them. It’s probably just my imagination.Have you seen that sucky news report that the missiles which took out that Afghan terrorist wedding also killed 30 “civilians”? Let me tell you something about “civilians”. Don’t try to tell me they don’t know who they were associating with. Be it terrorists, or Mexican drug lords, when you go to their weddings and parties and churches, that is supporting them. My brother is a criminal and I have not spoken to him in fifty years, and he is only a car thief. Those who think they can socialize with criminal and murderers and claim innocent status have rocks in their head. And, increasingly as drones take over the “work that Americans won’t do”, missiles up their ass. Half the problem with the third world is their fucked up sense of “family”.
Read my lips. Hang out with criminals of any stripe, and you are fair game. Maybe when criminals learn they can’t hide behind family, they may reform. If you want to hang with active offenders, that is your business, but don’t be expecting sympathy from the very people your relatives are killing. I’ve seen what they call “culture” in a lot of these places. They create a system where family is the only thing they can count on, despite how a couple of millennia prove this is a bad arrangement. It creates the classes that create conflicts that create revolutions, and the next family takes over. Family based on tribal instinct has been nothing but insanity since time began. It works in the jungle but not at the national level. Ask the Chinese.
As you can tell, I was listening to Tampa radio again. The joist is under the building now, it has to be positioned, marked, taken partially out again, cut, and replaced. I learned two years ago not to trust measuring these things. Mark it and cut it. Tampa says the city of LA is designating up to a quarter of its area to no-homeless zones. The blubbering can be heard east of the Rockies. Where are we going to live, they’re screaming. Arizona, I say. Lots of remote areas where, if you grow your own food and kiss cable TV goodbye, a welfare check makes for a handsome living. There’s no law says the homeless have to congregate in cities.
Seriously, I’m on the side of the guy who stayed in school, got a job, and bought a house. The last thing he needs is to come home from his job-for-life and find derelicts camped out on his sidewalk. Look how bad it got in Seattle when the liberals practically invited the bums in. Have I no compassion? Yes, but there is very little excuse to be a bum in America. Very little. The tiniest show of initiative will get you off the streets. Now with the deportations, there is a job for anyone who wants to work. Yes, I’m well aware of the difference between working to get ahead and working to stay alive. It took half my lifetime to cross that line.
