September 21, 2022

Yesteryear
One year ago today: September 21, 2021, Australia gave up.
Five years ago today: September 21, 2017, $952 minimum.
Nine years ago today: September 21, 2013, no puppet show.
Random years ago today: September 21, 2006, the card index failed.

           If you want idle reading, this is your day. I woke up, staggered in the usual morning fog, and stubbed my little toe on the corner of the sofa. Maybe I didn’t say how bad this was. I’m out of commission. Let’s spend some time watching the world. Good morning except to the insurance companies. They report a 40% increase in deaths of 18-49 year-olds from “unexplained causes”. They won’t say jabbed, so they are in on it. Is it 5:30AM? Yep, but why is it so bright outside? These millennial calendars are not help, they don’t show the Moon phases. Makes sense, since they live in basements.

           Y’know, now that I have a variety of birdfeeders where they can be constantly watched by anyone in the room, the more I find the designs are bad. The feeders seem designed for convenience in many ways. Plus, the seed that lies near the bottom can get wet and soggy. With zero engineering training, I may have to think this through before any ideas crop up. I’ve already speculated a big wire cage which blocks any entry to animals above a certain size. I have to idea on how such a thing would be built or if the birds would like it. Another option is instead of attracting birds to repel the pests. Late y’day a squirrel scared Mrs. Downey, who flew against my window pane. She’s fine.
           You get some extra reading because I’ve got a touch of daytime insomnia. It’s hard to tell but if I skip a nap, that’s something. Here is the relocated thermometer, exposed to the elements so we’ll see how long it lasts. It is exactly 80ºF in the half-shade of the bird garden. There will be another photo nearby showing the dirt sifter and a sample of the extra fine soil that seems to grow everything everwhere in this part of the world. Except nice looking plants in my yard.
           Plus two plant pots waiting for probably avocados. To the right, you see I found the missing wire cloth. It was stowed edge on, so I could look right at it and not recognize the shape. I’ve always been like that.

           From several blurry photos, I’ve calculated the SJA, or “squirrel jumping angle”. They are dreadful at jumping horizontally. They must descend on the birdfeeders from higher up, which is blocked by the Chinese hat. They can’t hop very high and the feeders are six or seven feet off the ground. Thus, they are using a combination attack. They take a run at something just high enough that momentum lets them catch the bottom of the feeder. I wonder if a spiked “collar” around the nearby poles will stop squirrels?

           Let me check. It is still below 80ºF with 10% chance of rain. Let me get out there, although I am missing my small roll of wire cloth. That’s another thing I put aside for safekeeping so I would not lose it. I had the windows open this perfect day and the shed radio was on a talk show. I’m aware it always comes across and jealousy and envy, but I am still waiting after fifty years to learn of a single example of any truly poor person who worked his way to the top. It’s both the American dream and the American myth. The myth is that these people are smarter, work harder, or manage money better, none of which is true. I’m listening only to hear if they themselves can find an example because I know there aren’t any.

           Here’s a link to a video that tells it right. If you don’t have time, Gates’ mother got him the IBM contract, Musk’s parents owned an emeral mine, Bezos’ parents “loaned” him $250,000, and Zuckerberg got a grant from the CIA. In a sense, I identify with Warren Buffet in what he did to get ahead at an early age. We had a lot in common, except he kept and reinvested his profits. My father stole mine. That’s why jealousy and envy are hardly the adjectives for me. Like Buffet, I learned plenty from my father, and there are a dozen other similarities.
           I learned when you have money, keep it secret, for example. I learned we all have around the same amount of luck. I learned government handouts come with conditions and it is best to lie in wait and then pounce on opportunity. Another housing bubble is pending, this time I will be at least partially ready. But, without that emerald mine, I’m hardly equipped to take on everything that comes along just to see which one works best.

Picture of the day.
Award-winning English street.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Hours later I’m wide awake, so I hauled out the microscope and painstakingly went through every menu until I found a command intended to stow pictures on an SD card. By emulating card, I was able to transfer pictures from the microscope and here’s some results. First pic has a story. I thought I had a biting and under my neck band. I finally squeezed it and it would not die. If you look at the top panel, to the naked eye, it seemed a dark insect with a bright eye spot. Fortunately, the scope has an overhead light and this illumination shows nothing but an ordinary quartzy grain of sand with a speck.

           Sure enough, it is insomnia because it’s mid afternoon, I’m dead tired and wide awake. If you refer back to this morning’s pic of the yard dirt, you can see the orange Homer bucket, indicating I make up to five gallons of this soil at a time. This burns a thousand calories, as the best soil has to be dug from around sinewy tree roots on the north side of the house by rake, hoe, and shovel. Suffice to say I don’t do it every day.

           The sheet of plywood responded to weight and straightened out enough to use as a plant stand in full sun. Shown next are some of the pots labeled fr long-term germination, such as the avocados. We now know it can be up to five months to get a sprig. Note some already have anti-squirrel screens. You can’t hardly take your eyes off them critters. I even tried watching a documentary on why so many older prop plains had three bladed propellers rather than four. I wasn’t curious, the pop-up would not go away so I clicked.
           Turns out the reason is engine efficiency. Unlike a gas pedal, airplanes have a type of harmonic the pilot can sense at each speed. It’s better to let him set the engine at a constant speed and vary the pitch of the propeller. This design means a set of planetary gears at the base of the hub. Naturally, it must be very strong. Well, if look at several models, you’ll see three gears fit the best. Adding a fourth blade and there are crowding problems. On a big plane, you just make the hub bigger and heavier, but by wartime 1944 the Luftwaffe was not keen on letting you do that on your fighter planes.

           Biden is trying to deny he said the pandemic is over. He said it, but is saying he didn’t mean it because he was at a car show. A Democrat who deliberately ran over a teenage Republican was let out of jail without charges. The California governor says people are fleeing the state because it is Trump’s fault. I bumped into Wilford at the shopping mart, he’s six weeks into the nursing course and reports a third of the class has already dropped out. I assured him that is the weeding out process of all medically-related courses. Same with law, they pile it on early to see who has the right mind-set. It has nothing to do with being intelligent.

           FireFox published their latest five biggest regrets about dying. They word things that way for attention, what they mean is the five biggest laments of old age. I read through them to compare with my situation. Here is what they say.

1. I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
2. I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.
3. I wish I’d stayed in touch with my friends.
4. I wish I’d been myself instead of what others expected.
5. I wish I’d allowed myself to be happier.

           Hmmm, not much for me to go on there. I guess I work hard when I want to, and for expressing my feelings, nothing beats a blog. You already know I write 150+ letters per year and 4,600 e-mails in between. And except for may one or two people plus Taylor Swift, you have to be nuts to think I care what others expect—unless they pay me, that is. So what does that leave? Number 5 could I be happier?
           Yes. That I can confirm. I could be happier if they outlawed telemarketing, property taxes, immigration, and people who post animations on youTube. They could disband the DMV and kick snot-swallowers out of the public libraries. Every food establishment that serves sandwiches or pastries should be compelled to sell coffee as well. Lumber stores ought to all have the same layout and outlaw all hotel and rental car pricing schemes. Okay, I’ll take Number 5, for $1,000, Bob.

ADDENDUM
           The traffic board is pushing for breathalyzers in new cars, so instead of a designated driver, there will be a designated blower and 30,000 new jokes. How about the civil rights groups who want reality shows canceled because live footage shows most criminals are black. The best has to be that hipster who complained his picture was used in an article that claimed all hipsters look alike. A quick check showed he mistook his own identity, duh.

           Australia announces it will begin rating on-line content. They package it as protection, of course, but the fact is every transmission will be scanned and analyzed. The “sex industry” is very concerned, says their spokesperson, Gala Vanting. The “score” of each posting is to be displayed but face it, the real agenda is to bypass personal privacy and establish a digital finger-print database. It was interesting to hear arguments on-line about whether game wardens should be allowed to search private land without a warrant. My instinct is an automatic no. Freedom begins with the presumption of innocence and that include no searches without just cause, written and in advance whenever possible. Otherwise the game warden is just another trespasser.

Last Laugh