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Yesteryear

Tuesday, February 2, 2021

February 2, 2021

Yesteryear
One year ago today: February 2 2020, inherently crooked.
Five years ago today: February 2 2016, no anonymous planting allowed.
Nine years ago today: February 2 2012, a kit with no manual.
Random years ago today: February 2 , 2005, Let me lecture.

           Four hour morning practice session. I’m learning some of my least-liked music and I have a definition on that. There are many definitions, this is one. It’s the type of bass line that guitar players play, the line that changes slightly during each iteration. Not because it is kewl, but because guitar players can’t, for the most part, play a solid repeating pattern without screwing around with it. So you get what they think are dynamite bass lines that are really simple guitar patterns (usually the pentatonic scale) that are more trouble to learn than they are worth.
           And today’s dippy tune is “Sultans Of Swing”. I disliked it from the word go, so have never played it before in my life. Followed closely by “Rocky Mountain Way”. I usually read any tabs I can find first and it is bizarre how many on-line types get these time-tested classics wrong. I’ve taken pity on the feral cat living in the shed and am building an insulated house lined with old towels to make it windproof. The on-line videos are some of the worst low-effort millennial postings imaginable. Read my lips, if you are a left-handed, mouth-breathing, queer-looking, slow-talking mumbler with a lisp, please don’t post how-to videos. PLEASE.

           That pegboard I picked up for 70% off is now hung in the workshed. I’m the type that often has to go looking for tools and pegboard is the only thing that cuts that wasted time in half. Talk about another round of gimp-tard how to videos, look for on-line help on this chore. The bottom rung are the millie types that have no audio. They record themselves at double-speed with zero commentary or instructions, so you are supposed to read their minds. Even that’s not dork enough for that bunch, oh no. They have to blast some pseudo-disco rap so you can be awed by their taste in tribal mantras.
           Look, we had the crowd that never got laid in my day, too. You’d think with all the self-help material available these days, this bunch would learn what doesn’t work. I propose the reason they don’t know that “male fashion” doesn’t really get the babes is because they pull the tie straps on their top-knots just a little too tight. It tugs on their already week head muscles and causes male brain dysfunction. But the symptoms are so often confused with them being Democrats that there is no foundation to endlessly study the problem and announce breakthroughs on PBS for the next forty years.

Picture of the day.
Greenfield cheese factory, S. Dakota.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           That pallet that’s been taking up space in the backyard is gone. But now we have a little cat house. I’m not sure where to locate it, but the design blocks the northwest wind, which can get cold overnight and the door should probably face south. The roof is double waterproof and the floor is lined with one of those, what do you call it? Those things you are supposed to put on your lap to for a temporary desk. Flat on one side, with a kind of bean bag on the bottom.
           It’s repurposed here, upside down of course, as the cat bed.. Cats can be pernickety so there’s no guarantee it is a cat that will move in. I ran out of wood for the roof, so I’ll finish it tomorrow. I moved a lot of lumber around and cleaned out the canopy area, moving the old Chinese scooter out and putting the Yamaha in. The carb valve or float or something is studk and I haven’t had the inclination in this weather to fix it in a hurry. In another month it will be warm enough to get motivated. Besides, maybe I like driving my fancy minivan, the newness to me has not worn off yet.

           The neighbor has been absent a few days and it’s been cold. It wasn’t the weather, he’s been in the hospital and he looks terribly gaunt. He’s got around ten years at least on me and never did strike me as in great shape. Wish him well. And now let’s look at silver. I know first hand the market has been manipulated for years and would continue so except that the Redditors have spotted it. I recall the last time there was no silver to be purchased. I was in Savannah. There’s been a shortage for some time now.
           Gold is out of most people’s reach, it’s silver that provides the volatility. I’ve long forgotten the intricacies of the market as learned ten years ago, but silver just gained 10% in one day as GameStop seems to have run its course. But some say silver is just a trap to divert small traders away from the short-sellers and into a realm where they are far more easily controlled. Coin dealers, the usual source, have reported being sold out since Monday morning. So, even if it is a trap, if it forces prices up, I’m okay.            Bundle up. It looks like cool weather for another couple of weeks. We are getting our share of windstorms. At least the cat will be comfy, I read the stats on how big a space a cat can keep warm with its own body temp and designed the interior to work out to that volume.

ADDENDUM
           NASA, which likes to create its own problems for show, is back for another shot at Mars. This lander is bigger, but more complicated as well. They’ve targeted what looks like a dry riverbed, looking for signs of life. Much as I hope they find it, I’ve never understood what the policy is if they do. The chosen site is not ideal rover terrain, full of outcroppings and blind alleys. This is offset by better navigational awareness by onboard sensors. My prediction is they will again find something for the tabloids to argue about. And they will name it with words difficult to pronounce in English.
           And what’s this? New Zealand, which is otherwise full of okay people, have decided to place limits on cow farts. Just think, the world’s first country full of sheeple in masks, locked in their houses, and eating lab-grown plasma. And all this by 2032 accomplished by do-gooders without the benefit of any higher education. Isn’t it laughable how democracies can police every last one of their law-abiding citizens, but can’t round up that tiny contingent of bicycle thieves in near every city center. Off the topic, but there’s a picture of the interior of the cat house before the lining’s installed. Back to our story.

           America is no better. Welfare fraud is illegal, but when is the last time you heard of a cop busting a cheater? They don’t, that’s why. No fun, no money, no press. Instead, each state has an “agency” which accepts reports of fraud. But wait until you see what’s involved. The agencies will not accept a report and investigate. Instead they demand you give them tons of information that you would not have on a welfare cheater if it was your own mother.
           Like New York State. If you want to report welfare fraud there, you’d better be a private eye. Suppose that neighbor you hate for letting his dog bark all night is seen running a booth at the flea market. The state will not investigate unless you report among other things, the person’s social security number, phone number, birth date, and a detailed report of the alleged crime. I thought that was their job, but no. However, there are no rewards for turning in welfare cheats, so why expose yourself to scrutiny for making reports? There are some states that, while assuring whistleblowers they will remain anonymous, still will not act without your name and contact information on file—and you could be called as a witness, which blows any cover.

           My position is simple. Everybody who gets free money from the government should have their name, address, and picture at the post office, with a detailed account of how much they get for whom and why, plus a phone number to report any fraudulent activity with a huge reward for convictions. So yes, I do believe in welfare—but that it should be the job of the churches to deal with it.

Last Laugh