One year ago today: November 26, 2019, real ID, my eye.
Five years ago today: November 26, 2015, I use 164 commands.
Nine years ago today: November 26, 2011, soundproof as well?
Random years ago today: November 26, 2012, one circuit per board.
We cooked that turkey, or to be more exact, JZ is the cook. I buy, it he cooks hit. Now we have five times the turkey we need. It was Texas breakfast, grits & turkey. On such a day, we decided to walk around the park, do a little girl-watching, enjoy the rare south Miami peace and quiet. It’s a COVID thing and we discovered the Metromover (elevated railway) was free. Since it is over-airconditioned, I suggested there would be more to see downtown, where Bayview, oddly, is never closed.
There was the traditional Xmas tree. It was mild enough, you don’t really take the Metromover there. You switch to the mini-rail thing, the rubber-tired people cars that circle downtown with elevators that smell of pee. Here is the view of the Ferris wheel, it was not in operation. Duh, maybe the cars are not six feet apart. I found the whole mall too unfriendly, the few surviving stalls were lean and hungry. Just the wrong atmosphere for a Thanksgiving stroll. The atmosphere was too millennial for my tastes. Ask them what time it is and they have to Google it. Besides, they are there so sell, not answer questions. Sad when it gets to that stage.
Here’s the view from the Metromover window. One of the rare photos of Dixie Highway with the traffic moving faster than the train. The condos in the background are on the southwest outskirts of Miami downtown. Commuterwise, this corridor could aptly be named the “Impossible Mile”.
Eyeglass lens-making.
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By now we’ve had some five turkey meals. That includes all the stuffing with cashews and mashed potatoes made from the broth. This was the alternative to visiting with family, which was considered but instead we opted to go carousing. Here’s your weird photo of the day. The Metromover doesn’t always go through the best parts of town, and here is one of the stations near the University. This is the best photo I could get of the roof of the station depot, alongside of which there is a bicycle rack. You may have to look closely.
Here’s the situation. The radical left and the big media bums have gone all out to convince the populace that each accusation of voter fraud is insignificant, a patchwork of isolated loners of no consequence. They called it 2nd and 3rd rate, then tried to sweep it under the carpet and switch to their favorite smokescreen, COVID outbreaks. Nobody notices that they’ve quit stating Trump is directly to blame for the any deaths and dropped the adjective “unfounded”. Do you know how many people in California under the age of 18 have died from COVID-related causes? Two. That’s COVID-related, not necessarily COVID itself.
What appears to be happening is, due to massive public outcry, the Pennsylvania legislature has granted hearings some witnesses. This government body normally isolates itself from the election procedure itself, and for that matter, most procedures. They don’t like getting their hands dirty. Instead they sit back and rule on results. Not this time. It did not take very many witnesses to convince them fraud had occurred on a massive scale. Fake broken pipes, 47 missing flash drives, batches of 100,000 Biden votes, ballots with computer printed watermarks, and unrequested mail-in ballots by the garbage-can load.
Remember, if Trump gets elected, I win a free bottle of Budweiser. So I’m keeping an eye on any developments. I will use that refreshment to toast the demise of the corrupt liberal left, since only by collusion could the same voting scams occur simultaneously in so many separate states. One laugh I got was when they asked for any receipts or work orders for the repair of claimed broken water pipe, the result was stunned silence. Duh, they never received instructions on what to say if that question got asked.
ADDENDUM
Deciding it was a good night to pub, we made the pilgrimage to the “Last Chance Saloon”. This is that dive of a nothing bar on the county line just before getting on the causeway to Key Largo. It’s more of a tradition than a choice in the sense that place is open every holiday, or at least since the day we first found it for that very reason. It’s a forty minute drive out past Homestead, so fasten your seat belts.
As usual, the place was dead, although JZ got himself into a pool tournament with the only other two players in the place. One claimed he was the pilot of that Piper Cub that had thrown out the marijuana bales twenty years ago that the kids found on the beach later. Hey, it’s good story. He also added that one guy on the airplane had also fallen out but landed in the water. The few late-nighters that wondered in soon left to go to “Sam’s”, a place we’d never heard of. What the heck?
We got over to Sam’s, it was a Mexican pub, as opposed to a Cuban joint. TMOR, Cubans are the most racist of Latinos, they consider themselves the topmost layer of all Central and South American ethnics, and when Americanized, better than the whites who provide them the right to think so, free of charge. The club was typical, with one twist. It was also full of fancy-dressed women who were obviously weary of whatever famiy function they were just at and headed over for a few. In groups of two and three, they filled about half the room. This instantly translate JZ & I into easily the most eligible bachelors present.
Three times women offered to buy us drinks. I politely declined. Why? I can answer that, it’s a old Venezuelan trick. They know the barmaid. She buys us a drink, waves, the barmaid nods, then the buyer splits. The barmaid comes over saying she had bought us her “last round” and here is her $80 tab. Pay up. I’ll quit here since with two computers writing the same post, I can’t coordinate the files. But I will say these women would have said less about male anatomy and its functions if they had guessed both JZ & I spoke Spanish.
