One year ago today: October 10, 2018, a terrible pun.
Five years ago today: October 10, 2014, women this big.
Nine years ago today: October 10, 2010, bar charge, my eye.
Random years ago today: October 10, 2011, I built this.
Sometimes I think 2019 is my year of destiny. Except it’s almost over, so if destiny is out there, time to quit dawdling. Not just for me, you see, last time in Nashville I had a mix-up while I was away. It turns out in a surprise move, my house-sitter relocated over a weekend. After 31 years in the same location, I kind of gave her a sense of permanence. Instead, she up and sold to the city who have needed that property for a long time to fix that crooked old intersection. A quick quarter million to a ready buyer with deep pockets, not bad for a phone call.
As for this picture, I may have finally defeated that copyright measure that makes screen captures display a blank green rectangle. I can’t be certain until I try more disks, but if I’ve got it, you can partially thank good old Win XP without the “upgrades”. It’s a DVD player setting that most people would not normally use, but by turning it on and back off while in slow motion, you get acceptable stills like this. No doubt there are apps to do this already—but who would use an app that records the user evading copyright? Surely nobody could be that stupid. What? Then again, October 10, is World Mental Health day and still no word on Glen or Ken.
[Author’s note: some years ago I was surprised when a disk I had played on a different computer picked up at the resume spot on a new computer. It happened again on this computer with a DVD that didn’t come out until 2010. So, I guess it is not all that uncommon an experience. No, this computer has never been connected to the Internet. And it contains only trusted content installed by me personally. Still, what a weird coincidence.]
Next, I dropped into the Thrift and while I have not unpacked it yet, I think I just scored a brand new 52” ceiling fan for $10. It’s in the original package that looks opened and taped shut. I asked the lady if all the parts were there and she said yes. This is rare in Florida, where they’ll dodge by saying the parts were there last time they looked. It looks like an old one but new in the box. Brass parts and real wooden blades. Then at the hardware store the electrical boxes I need for the computer wall, normally $2.98 each, were on sale for 55¢. Maybe I should have spent the day shopping.
It seems the law office over my motorcycle injury wants me to see a specialist 85 miles from here. This could mean there is significantly more at stake, considering what I was willing to settle for. I’ve never published any meaningful figure on that, but just say it covers the fact that to play bass the rest of my life, I have a choice. Play with pain or risk losing the tiny edge I have now. I ran when the last doctor even mentioned surgery. Is this clear? Good, because the decision isn’t.
German military shoelaces.
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Here’s a sight a week overdue. This is the new simplified plumbing arrangement, with proper 90° curves. All the lumber is new and there will be some [additional] reinforcing ribs in the space shown, with a trap door to get at the drains should that ever be necessary. Everything worked right first time except I have not tested the sink drains. I want to put some layers of urethane over the countertop before I put the sinks back. Just you look at that neat and trim new piping.
It was late afternoon when a chirp caught my attention. I saw the red cardinal again. But not at the feeder and that is what I’m aiming for. This would be a good opportunity to use that disk burner if I can find the right interface cable. A bird monitor. I feed ‘em, so why not film ‘em? Looking for a provider that doesn’t want my life history on file, I see the city has run in a fiber optic cable two blocks from here. The literature says it is for business customers, but ain’t no businesses around a half mile from here.
Time to run in a real doorbell. Somebody I really wanted to visit came to the door and I didn’t hear them knocking. And a new phone, dammit, Trent was through here last Friday and I missed the call. Probably I was under the house, but not the point. I need that room ready so people can crash. A large incentive on this location is that it is half-way to just about everywhere in Florida. It’s the logical place to visit and crash, and once this bathroom is done, everything important will work like it should. Might be a while before it looks pretty, but functional is usable as far as this cowboy is concerned.
Last, I’ve learned that the 20 amp service that most of this place is now wired for is hard on filament bulbs. It took a while to spot the link. I have a big carton of old filament bulbs bought before the mandated mercury bulbs. They last 1.6 years in the 15 amp part of the house, but only 7 – 8 months in the 20 amp sockets. There could be other factors, this is just the obvious cause & effect. For example, the 15 amp service is in the areas of the house that are always naturally cooler.
In all, I’d call this the most successful day since I got back. I made only one wrong cut and that’s because I decided to stop thinking for a moment. Other than that, the day proceeded without a hitch. I saw a video of a guy building a complete pine kitchen counter from 2”x4”s and tools that I already have in the shed. After seeing the price on marble, such a project may be within my capabilities now. He sliced them into 3/4” wide strips and glued them back together. It was like a big butcher block, which would suit my kitchen nicely. Kind of in keeping with the linoleum. Did they ever catch the guy who invented that stuff?
ADDENDUM
Great, insomnia. I don’t suffer from it, that much because I use the time to write personal letters. Even Hersh, my old pal, who except for RofR’s brother, is my oldest acquaintance still in regular contact gets fan mail. That means he is on my mailing list. The guy is rare in that he did once send me a letter. He still does not own a computer. Let me do the math, I met him as a school chum of RofR and that was, hmmmm, September of 1982. Forty-seven years ago. Yep, that was one of the toughest stretches of my life. They say you can become anything you want. That does not apply to the destitute, who must take the highest paying job within walking distance, even if they hate the works. Those were days you never want to see again.
For break time, I watched a 2010 movie called “Flipped”. It’s a 1950s coming of age nostalgia with some hints of reality. Considering it was the pampered generation that became the Boomers. It was dealt with the problems of the day such as were permissible to have, like a brother in an institution. The teens still had to pretend there was no such thing as sex and the nastiest thing at school was getting caught chewing gum. One accuracy was that college degree to get a job. Without getting into the reasons, the education system was better because there was no Common Core. Each community taught what was thought best, so there was an incredible spectrum of graduates.
But you still needed the college degree. Not for the job, but to even get an interview. Most jobs did not require a degree. The business community kind of closed ranks and used the degree requirement to shut out the undesirables whose family didn’t have the money for education. There was a lot more stigma toward poor kids, especially the one dumb enough to have picked such substandard parents. It was the degree that counted, this is the era I’ve told you about where people regularly got into high paying positions that had nothing to do with their training. You got the degree; you got the job. Without the degree, no matter how skillful you may be at what was required, go get a shovel.
The system oddly worked better than what came before or after. As I mentioned on the phone company, they felt the nonsense one had to put up with to get through college was a prime qualification that one could put up with the phone company for life. Like I said, it worked, although you wound up with a workforce of magnificent idiots. In case anybody is curious, the liberal leftists were a strong presence on campus in those days, but they had only taken over the soft faculties, like education, social working, psychology, anything field was difficult to measure.
The impetus to indoctrinate the students was just as strong. The lefties had a strong grip on the counseling services to the point where nobody with a triple digit IQ trusted them. I believe that situation is still present today, in spades. It was the same in the lecture hall then as it is in society today. Nobody changed their true colors or prejudices, but they all learned how to put on a public face. The ultimate terror was being accused of being a bigot, which later morphed into the word “racist”. People simply learned what to parrot back on any given issue. There were backlashes long before Trump arrived. His best campaign move was pointing out how the left had gone too far. Any millennial who studies history has a lot to gain.
The most hilarious scene of “Flipped” was the basketboy auction. TMOR, that’s where the boys of the school bring a picnic basket full of goodies. The girls bid on the boys to share for lunch and, we presume, the company. Proceeds to the sports team, like the jocks didn’t have enough money already. In reality, Sheilah bid on Danny in the first round, think Barbie & Ken and the rest was baloney, not always a metaphor. The laugh was the movie girls bidding $5, $10, & $15. The writer’s had not done their homework. Nobody back then had that kind of money, except Sheilah, the banker’s daughter. The top bid was $50, roughly a year’s income for me ten years later. The winning bid for me was 63¢.
I can remember the price tag but not the name of the gal. Caroline? We had lunch, that was the only time we ever really talked. The one thing it taught me was that I could never really date women I did not find physically attractive—as a starting point. Friends, sure, I’ve had others but unless they were sexy-pretty, it was always a no-go for me. Certainly, we were all bombarded with that “personality” shit that resulted in a 66% divorce rate, but it never fooled me. The only thing holding me back in those days was lack of a private place. Not a bad lesson to learn for 63¢. If I never said, by age 28 I was the only person in my graduating class that was not divorced twice. (We are talking only 12 people here, but on the other hand, I scored many more times than all the other guys put together. I played in a band, see.)
