December 31, 2022

Yesteryear
One year ago today: December 31, 2021, somewhat retarded.
Two years ago today: December 31, 2020, a slimy tactic.
Three years ago today: December 31, 2019, new term, “fake news”.
Four years ago today: December 31, 2018, a rare hangover.
Five years ago today: December 31, 2017, a thing of beauty

Six years ago today: December 31, 2016,by distance run.
Seven years ago today: December 31, 2015, grits
Eight years ago today: December 31, 2014, nothing, anywhere..
Nine years ago today: December 31, 2013, my first real IC chip.
Ten years ago today: December 31, 2012, generally smaller rooms.

Eleven years ago today: December 31, 2011, a bumpkin besides.
Twelve years ago today: December 31, 2010, early 5V studies.
Thirteen years ago today: December 31, 2009, fewer resolutions, more tough decisions.
Fourteen years ago today: December 31, 2008, random busybodies.
Fifteen years ago today: December 31, 2007, half empty..

Sixteen years ago today: December 31, 2006, before it was a casino.
Nineteen years ago today: December 31, 2003, no gumption.

           I had to do some thinking over posting the picture below, it’s pee. But, it is the top story of the day. The medical clinic wants to see me back, sure enough. The good news is they do want to see me for nothing. I’ll probably repeat this comment on the test—my results came back so clean they thought the machine wasn’t working. Ha! If that ain’t news at my age, this blog is my uncle. You’ve heard of lounge lizards? Here is a lizard lounger. Most of my New Year’s celebrations before Florida were in lounges. Then I discovered Florida has very few lounges. The reason? Cruise ships. The connection here is you can’t get a New Year’s gig on the ships without connections. Since I left Hollywood, I don’t even know anybody who knows anybody. And I'm home instead of playing a lounge tonight, the musician's holy grail.

           Last day to play bass this year. I’m not getting up this morning, so let’s peek at what’s new. Reading a sample of realistic “text” generated by an A.I. chat-bot leaves me appalled at how little it takes to fool most people. Babara Walters (real name Wasserman or something) has died, her most famous video is the one where the victim says the only person who didn’t touch him was Michael Jackson. I’m still at odds with the term “sex worker”, it tries to normalize prostitution as just another job. Let me get this straight, Ft. Meyers wants me to contribute to a fund so millionaires can repair their yachts after Hurricane Ian.
           My least exciting New Year’s Eve yet, I’m already in a bit of a slump, so when I went back to snooze this morning, I didn’t come around until 4:00PM to the sound of fireworks. So today you get a make-up post. For example, I’m reading a crime book named, “Butcher’s Moon”. About two criminals back when they were dedicated professionals, a tiny core of tough guys who knew each other and did all their homework. Not like today, a million grinning ignorant shit-heads who, like flies a few get lucky.
           The year in reflection, maybe I’ll go downtown. I’ve spent maybe 20 of my New Year’s quiet at home, I never did like the organized big parties. Too many plastic people who show up once a year. I’ve not played a decent New Year’s gig either, since I got to Florida. Bars, trailer parks, they’re okay, but once a year at least should be an upscale gig. The trouble in Polk is there are no such places, really. And if you want upscale, it has a different connotation in dumps like Tampa and Orlando. Aren’t I a cheerful type today?
           I think the joke of the decade has already been realized. It jokester has to be the guy who told NPR that the capital of the Ukraine was pronounced “KEEVE”. And being NPR, rather than admit they were duped, continues to piss their pants on that one. Home affordability, there’s a weird index for you, is down 30.1% over the year, and don’t forget real estate is a Ponzi scheme. The Webb telescope seems to have faded from the news, despite finding huge galaxies that aren’t supposed to be there because that makes them older than the Big Bang. (Note, the Big Bang is only a theory used to describe and predict,) The explanation is these galaxies are simply bigger than they are supposed to be, but I’m not convinced.

Picture of the day.
3D printed model railway bridge.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           This has to be the year of Chooks. That’s the big dog here, except for your’s truly of course. He’s a resue and had been chained up since puppyhood. Intended to be a fighting dog, he never had that spirit in him, so they left him chained up. He was very slow to adapt, but now seems to understand he’s hit the jackpot. Sleeps on flannel blankets inside a house full of entertainers, up to four walkies per day and real chicken with bones when the boss isn’t looking. He proved quite difficult to break of his lunging habits but has now settled down. They work their way into your heart.

           Shown here is 3/8ths of the family. Missing are two cats and a turtle and the guy behind the camera. Little Sammy is shown being cradled as he sometimes struggles keep up with the big dog. But no problem with me, my hip still hurts from the fall in August and I like a bit of a rest every few hundred yards. Before I forget, Chooks has a hip injury as well, but we’ve discovered he will run full blast if the Reb gets too far ahead. This has modified into two runs totally around a half-block. That tires him and provides that vital activity neither of us can manage. The command I’ve trained him is “Sprint!”. He won’t run to me yet.
           Other news items. The media has clamped down on all news of the California party that won the largest Powerball in history (over $2 billion). We are witnessing the rise of pseudo-A.I., code that poses as artificial intelligence but I warn is true A.I. Rather, it mimics A.I. and most people cannot tell the difference—and they will surely suffer as P.A.I. (as I dub it) is already being put to the worst possible uses. The US diabetes association predicts a huge rise in cases as the gastrozombie generation ages. You spend your youth eating GMOs and this happens. (Most of my tests last day were preventative and diabetes was often mentioned. I don’t have it but they are testing everybody they can.)

           Yep, I missed it. I nodded off at the desk and got an incoming from a mouth-breather at 1:32AM in 2023. Here I am, retired, unmarried, and at the earliest age for me that a psychic has predicted I would die. Didn’t I tell you about that when I was back in my twenties? I used to asked palm readers this question, when will I die. Ah, of course not, the journal was hand-written back then. It does not look as if most of that material will be key-entered by me. This is not an unusual pattern in an assertive, self-thinking personality. And I don’t mean it as a trait shared by all, just different in how they go about it. Most everyone who can has kicked a ball in the yard and eventually quit. But very few quit entering a hand-written journal of any magnitude.

           I enter the first “unplanned” era of my adult life. Any previous projects will just carry over, what I mean is there is no real strategy to take on anything new. Whatever was before may likely continue, or more like spill over. My trips to Tennessee are already three times over what was expected, you know I’ve made that trip something like 16 times, possibly 20. My only need to go to Miami is now once every six months. Wait, there is something. Due to the Reb, I have an investment that continues for 84 months. Yet, even that was conceived long ago under very rare circumstances. She’s the only one to be trusted with real money.
           Planning means long-term strategy, not my intentions tomorrow to clean the shed, sweep the laundry deck, and tidy up the bedroom after three months of being too lazy to take stuff back out to the shed. It’s a circular enigma. Can’t fix the roof when it’s raining, don’t have to when it’s not.

ADDENDUM

           Everything woke turns to shit. The Left succeeded in getting Trump’s tax returns and found nothing. But in the process, created a hornet’s nest. It means the same process can be used to get their own tax returns, something they seem to have never thought about. This could be fun as they are known crooks who got into politics to steal. And way down here is the picture of the successful sample, which caused some speculation in my circles. You see, we are not just unjabbed, we are anti-jab. So the term for non-jabbed has become “purebloods”.

           Well, you see, if clean blood makes you Mr. Pureblood, what does clean pee make me? Friends like mine are the reason you get a thick hide around here. It’s the reason they make good coffee, good books, and wee cabins way out in the middle of Florida.

Last Laugh