One year ago today: May 7, 2021, how time works.
Five years ago today: May 7, 2017, no roadsigns.
Nine years ago today: May 7, 2013, on drones & warfare.
Random years ago today: May 7, 2007, at the Titanic.
Watch the Paris Bonfire as a second electric bus spontaneously catches fire. The batteries are on the roof of the vehicle. And something you have not seen in a while, work in the big shed. Here are two sets of 1x4”s being glued up into a wide plank. They are destined for more shelves. This is $4 worth of lumber as against the $38 for a sheet of storebought. I can’t count from this picture but there are 16 clamps holding this together, including secondary clamps to keep the pieces from curling.
The mood is Biden got money from the oil companies and now they want it back with interest. And if America buys oil from overseas, the companies don’t have to pay American tax on it. Another big food distributing plant, this time the Wal*Mart in Indianapolis, goes up in flames. I’m not building shelves near fast enough for this.
Really late last evening, I went to the old club for a nightcap. The guitar player was worse than myself, but he was working the room. We talked just a bit and sure enough, he is part of a larger group from Auburndale, soloing when they can’t get big gigs. This rates the blog because the Bradster walked in around the same time. He would certainly hear the music and know this is precisely what he disagreed was important just s few short years ago. Here was a mediocre player, but he was out there, making money, keeping people happy, and playing guitar the same way I could not get the Bradster to even try.
As I plan my late spring trip, I see I’ve been through Eufala, Alabama, by motorcycle, then onward west. It says here the city has over 700 buildings in the historical register. One of them is Fendall Hall, admission just $7. Careful, this is millennial America and it’s always somebody else’s job to say if the place is closed due to COVID. But, for seven buck, somebody remind me of that if I head out that way. The other way is a stop in Savannah, where I’ve not been in 9 years. Long years.
Clearwater Lake, Montana.
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I’m feeding the feral cats. Howie got his daughter and kids some fancy vacation hotel package and is gone until Monday. Fortunately, I am the pet sitter extraordinaire and they will be spoiled by the time he gets back. I’m soaked but by the time I get inside, the sun is out. Today won’t make up it’s mind, ooooh, that was another thunderclap. Make up you mind, weatherman. The only extra photo is this now-tamed oregano. Remember it was all stringy and overgrown?
I’ll tell you what I think is a crock. The portrayal of every woman that Epstein porked as a victim of rape, and worse, child rape. A representative example is that Juliette Bryant, who he picked up in South Africa. First and foremost, she was not a child, she was 20 when they met. A close second is that she was a model and therefore cannot claim to me anyway, that she was unknowledgeable about the role sex plays in that profession. She gives carefully rehearsed interviews that she didn’t know what was going on, but the actual events she describes are much the same as any gal who gets drunk at a frat party. They get groped, they get propositioned, they have to push away the worst of the lot, who are undoubtedly very persistent.
Their stories are the same, it’s what they have in common that gets me suspicious. They all were the ones who did not speak up until they had outlived their usefulness. None of the amounted to anything. They all fell for lines that should not fool a twelve-year old. And all of them had plenty of opportunities to walk away. Except while actually on the island or maybe an airplane or yacht, Bryant could simply have melted into the crowds any time she wanted. None of them called the police, or said a thing until it became attention-getting to do so.
Oh, I know there are limitless differences in detail, but I’m pointing out a larger pattern that is far from random. When you are twenty and somebody offers you fame and fortune for just taking a little airplane ride, you simply have to know something is going on. Sure, they were then coerced and manipulated, but don’t hand me the line that they had no clues about the details. They may not have known what they were getting into, but they certainly knew what they were doing.
I don’t like Epstein, I consider all such people to be low-order thugs who have to pay for everything. And when they get money, they think they really can buy everything they want and begin to act like he did. Such men need an accomplice because if money doesn’t work right away, they don’t have what it takes to get women themselves. You get that element at every strip club, dive bar, and country club. But that does not make them child molesters. I’ve seen two claims, both unsupported, that Epstein took up with women under 16. And, I dare say, if you say 16 year olds are too young for sex, you are living in a parallel universe. Even then, it is the parent’s responsibility, not the State’s—or yours.
There’s a cold front in the Gulf keeping the evenings cool so I put in four hours. Easy stuff, some panels in the shed, glued up some wood, fixed a door handle, hoed the weeds, and installed some cleats on my battery charger, which goes north with me again. I never understood why those gadgets are so sensitive to weather and moisture. I have to keep mine inside and boxed or they rust up just setting on a shelf for a while. I still do my shoulder exercises but I’m as limber as I’ll ever be.
There’s a tutorial on-line that says electrical tape is called that because it conducts electricity. This is how the Internet makes everybody an expert—they can’t be held responsible for dangerous information like that. So I figured I would look for a decent, factual set of instructions how to use this tape. Nothing, not one video. It must be one of those things you just supposed to know.
