One year ago today: July 29, 2019, to share the prosperity.
Five years ago today: July 29, 2015, real estate near miss.
Nine years ago today: July 29, 2011, hypcrisy anniversary coincidence.
Random years ago today: July 29, 2014, old music.
Black Wednesday. Let’s take the bad news in order. This morning I was in Winter Haven for two hours. Upon return, the Forex trading account had lost 62%. I said the past three weeks were too good to be true, sorry for whoever did not listen. The account showed a lost of $2,650, right down to the “equity protection level” of 65%. Fortunately, this is demo dollars and proves something important got missed. There is no explanation I know of, so I’ll list what I do know. Top of the list is I saw the suspicious transactions, but was powerless to sell them manually. Let me explain that with an analogy, right after you admire this photo of my newest shed wall. It not only looks from the street like a fence, it actually is. Note proximity to neighbor’s barn roof. Back to money.
I’m sure the stop-loss did not work right. It would have limited the loss on each transaction to 250 pips. I don’t know, maybe it did, but it doesn’t look like it. The other parameters from earlier weeks were not changed, so it was something in the market that I do not yet know how to interpret. And unless I get some answers, Auvoria gets a bad mid-term mark.
Next, my kitchen sink finally plugged up. I’ve got to take the drain pipes right off. This time I have the tools and know what to do. The thing is, although Howie told me the piping to the street has been replaced, I can see interior piping is still the old cast iron. Will it be in as great shape as the bathroom? Iron is also easy to ream out. Trouble comes in threes, so what am I forgetting? Oh, I know, the birdfeeder. The squirrels win another round.
I set the feeder atop a smooth pipe just like the book said. Six feet up, they can’t even jump that high. How did they get the food? I’m not sure, I wasn’t here. Somehow, they are able to get under the feeder and push it up off the pole. The knee-jerk reaction is to fasten the base to the pole, but that makes refilling the feeder into an operation. Time to gear up the old brain, who’s smarter, me or them squirrels? There, I said it.
And I’m not expecting any help from the brain-trust over at Google. I’ve discovered that embedding the HTML tags I want to cut and paste (you’ve seen this along the bottom of many posts, the literal stings that I usually delete after they are done). But the Google changes interpret the tags wrongly, often executing them. Normally, I would simply use the ASCII codes. Problem, when I do that, the tags display right, but won’t operate when pasted. This is so typical of Google, but I also wag the middle finger at the creators of HTML. They seem to have had only the vaguest grasp of how a word processed document is configured, although they were certainly using one to create the tags.
This is a prime example of millennial-think. Somebody rushes a feeble product to market, the millies get caught up in the hype, and an unsuitable creation becomes standard. You bet it is dumb, but it is the brand of dumb that has been institutionalized by the education system. We had the same nonsense of a different era pushed on my own schooling, with two major closely related differences. Back then, the average white male had the balls to shrug it all off and being a non-conformist didn’t flag you as Nazi, Islamophobic, racist, or homophobic.
That second concept is important, methinks, because there was no Internet for the smart-mouths to hide behind. Any left-winger who pulled the stunts you see today would, back then, have merited a fast punch in the mouth. Our schooling contained a lot of indoctrination, you took it in, but stood back while the dumb-asses in the class fell for it. Back then, you didn’t have to wait very long for that bunch to get what they had coming. These days, the Internet has given losers a very loud voice, though it can never drown out their stupidity.
Napoleon’s birth house.
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What I said this morning brings up a tale from the trailer court. Most of my adult life, I worked in unions (smart move). This means a structured work environment where competence means less than seniority. The place was full of leftist kooks, because hey, worker’s rights are basic to unions. You can imagine it did not take long for that rabble to spot, that although I was in concordance with the rulebook and paid my dues on time, there were intractable differences. Want to go over a few? Sure, I’m game. But first, you want an interior picture of the new wall. Here you go.
What of it? Well, I worked there long enough to see the outcome of those left-leaning mindsets. I saw the staggering difference between liberal in public, redneck in private. Maybe it was easier for me to spot due to my own upbringing? What comes next might seem vaguely familiar to Trump fans. I was shunned by Joan and her following, the worst of the libtards—but they could never quite figure why it made no difference. Oh, I heard the gossip, particularly centering on how young my girlfriend looked. (She still does.) There were a lot worse rumors, but after a while, nobody believed anything coming from that direction. See, Mr. Trump, it’s been done.
And that is why I can anticipate a strange set of circumstances that could come into play in today’s politics. Quite often I would pull a shift with some of my detractors, and they would run into predictable problems that their collective skills could not surmount. This put them in a quandary, do they ask me for help? Let me tell you the clever, some say sneaky, way I dealt with that. Mr. Trump, take notes. Sooner or later one of them would have to kowtow, especially back then on computer matters, as I was at the time the only computer literate in the company. I did the opposite of what is expected.
I discretely gave help, often explaining the procedure that worked, gave any helpful guidance I could muster, and never, never, never made any mention or scene of it. It was not long before my sworn critics knew they could get help from me. Howzat for turning the tables? It fit well with their two-faced public and private selves, and I was never hounded by anyone but Joan, herself. For the record, everyone in the department eventually approached me except Joan. No, although she was every bit as ugly, she did not look anything like Nancy Pelosi. BWAAAAAAA-ha-ha-ha.
[Author's note: today's anniversary coincidence is exactly 9 years ago, I mentioned the same topic of liberal hypocrisy. Democrat in public, Republican in private.]
