One year ago today: October 21, 2018, my first hotdog experience.
Five years ago today: October 21, 2014, I was censored by Google.
Nine years ago today: October 21, 2010, Google and paid search results.
Random years ago today: October 21, 2013, in traveling trim.
Hospitals are still not posting their prices, something you’d think they would do voluntarily before it’s required. Just you watch, they will begin charging identical prices. That’s what annual medical “conventions” are all about—to find out what others are getting away with. This came about when Alaine sent me a pic from 15 years ago, just before my second attack. I had color in my hair and beard and those handsome-yet-boyish good looks. That de-escalated quickly.
The coffeeshop crowd was cantankerous this morning, has something happened I have not heard yet? The talk was that this is a Christian nation, that we don’t mind other religions coming here—until they start using the government to dick around with our laws. I guess that is true. It is the government, not the people, who are after the minority voting blocs. I was eavesdropping because a couple of joke-tard local liberals were there, including the pharmacist. He’s one of those reprehensible “the public has a right to know” advocates. It was amusing to watch how he could not believe he was shunted aside on every issue, as if people had no right to disapprove of him.
So what is up? I read that deportations have slacked off to 850 a day. C’mon, Don. Minimum 8,500 per day. Back where they come from, starting with the welfare cases. Even if they are here in transition, going on welfare is stealing from the public purse. The liberal media refuses to report on the border wall, so that would not be the news. Crime is falling but that is hardly something the NYT will put on the front page. Army generals are complaining, showing they have trouble grasping that even they have to follow orders. I give up. I have work to do here, but remember, while I support a volunteer army, I do not support career officers or military families.
Hyundai.
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Progress report. It wasn’t much of a day, but I did get in three hours. All gronk work so I’ll spare you the pictures. Instead, here is the metal plate on the mystery roller. A metal shop in the Ruhr Valley, probably. I still have to record the work done today. I had the water and electric working, but not exactly finished last time. I ran in a lot of the finished lines, in this case the hot water and the electric for the washer. That was fun.
I’m also getting closer to a permanent floor in these bathroom and west side of the bedroom. I’d left the panels temporary back in 2016 to get at these repairs. Smart move. Now I can work from either side. This was fussy small work that got put off until today. We are getting there. I’d love the point where the main parts are finished and I can spend time on my newfound hobby of yard work. I managed to pick up that router table for just $35. It looks barely use, missing only the stand and the mitre slide. Good deal, too. It’s got the bigger 2HP motor. These normally run close to $200.
He’ll be home on the weekend, so I’ll drop by to visit. I want to run the car through the paces with that radiator repair before I set out for Tennessee. The 400 mile round trip to Miami should reveal any serious problems. I also fired off letters to JZ and Marion, and called my executor for a half-hour. The attorneys always ask on my anniversary if I want to change my trust. No, I did it right the first time. But I have a distinct feeling things are about to change. As soon as you own property, you are worth something that the world can discover. And trusts like mine have been getting an undue amount of attention lately. You can discover them, but any real details are with the lawyers and like me, they ain’t talkin’.
ADDENDUM
I’m still watching “Touristas”, I think it is about Brazilian gangs who harvest body parts. The movie certainly does show some interesting body parts and now I miss Venezuela. I have not been there in almost twenty years and the DC has turned it into a dangerous place, at least around Caracas. The movie accurately portrays the South American party atmosphere, it is much more relaxed and to the point. But never forget how highly they value human life—exclusively their own.
The other truthful aspect is my warning to men. Get instantly suspicious when sexy women give you the come on. Trust me, you are not enough of a prize. Do what you need to but dammit, keep your guard up. Take it from a man who still has all his body parts. If there is one obvious tip-off, beware of foreign women with perfect teeth. She didn’t pay for them in pesos. And if you go to an American style dance, bar, or disco in any country that’s south of Texas on the map, presume everybody is a drug user. The few times you are wrong will at least give you ia good defensive posture. Like I say, in Miami, fun is no longer pleasure-based, it is money-based. So much for cultural assimilation.
A further warning to all tourists. Beware of foreigners who speak English with a heavy accent. I found if they were serious students, that is the first thing they’d work on. Usually they are trying to sell you something. English is not the language to give indirect answers, the old “eetz jost uh leetle farther” type nonsense. They know perfectly well when they are up to this. In the movie, the tourists go cave diving with a local who has the only flashlight. Then again, these are tourists who hand their credit cards to complete strangers at the local nightclubs.
First thing in the morning, I got millenialized. I’m doing a quick shop, meaning I’m rushing, it might rain, and I want to get home. I grab a package of my favorite spread, an avocado-based product. At home I discover a pound has become 15 oz. Sick as it is, one has to admire the effort that went into that package re-design, it would fool 99% of people. It still complies with the labeling laws, but way down in one corner, where one normally places the thumb to pick up the container, the contents have shrunk an ounce. There is a dimple in the bottom and the sides are slightly concave, the lid a little deeper. The front to back length is marginally shorter. Most people would not look because there is no apparent reason to. Even the change is pre-calculated to trivialize any complaints. “Jesus, man, what’s the big deal over an ounce?”
The scary part is the people who pull these cons feel clever, like they’ve gotten away with something or chanced upon an opportunity that all those computer-ignorant Boomers overlooked. More than scary because this is one topic on which millennials and bureaucrats are of the same stripe. Both fail to perceive what happens to society when everybody starts doing the same. How instead of working to get ahead (a.k.a. “the American Way”), day-to-day life degenerates into a constant struggle against one small-scale rip-off or another. To bring in five armloads of groceries, you have to lock and unlock both your car and house door five times each. But enough about Jamaica.
