April 17, 2023

Yesteryear
One year ago today: April 17, 2022, me want peaches.
Five years ago today: April 17, 2018, there when I leave.
Nine years ago today: April 17, 2014, a formidably guarded secret.
Random years ago today: April 17, 2008, $4,885 while I was unionized!

           Say hello to another generation of raccoons. Bam! Last night they knocked over my nice new sheets of plywood, which were leaning against the birdfeeder pylon. It’s a set of nearly grown twins, newcomers as they have not yet learned under this house is not a great idea due to regular insect spraying. That reminds me, I’ve found a spray that seems to knock out 100% of the roaches, a Florida plague, but I’m not recommending anything like that unless I know for sure. Birds are messy eaters and the raccoons have found the spots under the feeders. Nor are they afraid of flashlight beams.

           No activity this morning, summer rains since at least 5:30AM, when I opted for cubed chicken and gravy on toast. It’s a thorough soaking after a parched two months, the orchard people must be breathing easier. A good day to work in the shed as the temperature is down to 70°F. The alternative is to stay inside here and drink coffee in complete comfort. Let’s see who wins out.

           It’s still dark, so I watched a documentary on the war in the Pacific. How American pilots by 1943 looked forward to fighting Zeros. The American airplanes were so superior by then it was hardly a fight. It’s embarrassing to listen to these old heroes talk about how their flight of 90 Hellcats was attached by a “swarm” of five Jap airplanes. At first light, I stepped outside to fill the birdfeeders and promptly got two shoesfull of water. The city is up the street clearing the drains. We are in for a fun day. Well, except for that nog burglar who stole a camera that transmitted the entire deed right back to him standing by his kitchen table. His day will be less enjoyable.

           My filters also pick up advantageous investments and I’m seeing an upsurge of 4% and higher CD rates. This indicates brakes being applied, as savings takes money out of circulation. I’m comparing rates. Caltier is supposed to pay a quarterly distribution and state that in their literature. I don’t understand because I’ve been there a full quarter and nothing but tiny monthly issues—but this is what I’m watching so closely for.

           Caltier now owns 2,170 rental units, plus a partnership interest in 3,900 more. The returns are thus disappointing so far, less than a tenth of projections. But the fund is obligated to pay out only profits and the real estate market is now out of most people’s reach. That is, up to 63% of Americans who do not own a home never will unless prices plummet. They won’t because the system is set up so owners can let property sit vacant for a tax credit rather than lower prices. Insert ethnic joke here.
           This is the Grace & Monroe, one of the properties in Richmond, VA that swayed me to invest in Caltier. Originally built as a fire-proof hospital, it was converted around 2005 to a 57 unit apartment walking distance to the local university. It almost immediately filled up, producing 10% higher income than projected. In terms of square footage, I own 57 square feet of this building, ha-ha. Why the pep talk? Because I say by 2030 (if I make it), we are going to grow very fond of making this investment today. Not only will the next generation be renters, this will create a rental shortage. Caltier predicts 3 million units short.

Picture of the day.
Stair dust corners.
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           Every heard of Kenneth City, FL? Me neither. Turns out it is a town swallowed up by St. Petersburg long ago. I keep getting matches on my music site although I specify a max of 15 miles. Kenneth City is 54 miles from here if you know the shortcut. I’ve found that most musicians are passive about contacts, probably for the same reason women don’t strike up with men. Strange, because the surplus of guitar players around these parts is a thing to behold.

           Later in the afternoon an ominous clear sky says winter isn’t quite over. I utilized the cooler weather to get the plywood up on the canopy and mostly fastened down. Mostly, I ran out of the proper screws, my excuse to go downtown tomorrow. That was a workout and Wilford insists the plywood is 3/4" while it is 3/8”. That’s why he is studying medical, ha-ha. Let me run down the afternoon for you and call it a day.

           [Author's note: later, this is just a filler picture, I lost the original. Note seven clamps for one piece of wood. There has to be a better solution to making planks.]

           The tin on the silo roof was incomplete, so I will use the pieces salvaged from the failed solar chimney experiment. What attracted my attention over there was the racket of the animal trap. Sure enough, it is the fiestiest of the squirrels and I finally got him. He’s going for the big car ride to the west end, but only after I poke him with a stick a few times to discourage him finding his way back. I say, Florida is full of food, they have no business inside my buildings.
           Next, you know those pieces of wood with the groove for metal straps? I calculated the size of runner that would just fit into that and produce what I hope is a sliding drawer. If you see a picture, I took it tomorrow. It was a pleasant afternoon, working inside the shed. Planks can be made out of pallet wood, but the joints have gaps. I’m going to set up the planer tool better and see if the joinery can be improved. If not, the table saw will enable me to cut cover pieces. Hey, they are just tool boxes so no big deal if I cheat.

           The nicest birdfeeder is not repairable, meaning another store-bought model for now. I mounted the rain gauge right next to the peach tree, which is showing leaves irregularly. In the past, all the leaves sprouted at once. Any difference is noted as I would eventually like some peaches out of this deal. The stray doggie has disappeared. The woodpeckers are nearly tame was far as me working in the yard. I wrote four letters, including a pep talk to JZ about investing on his own.
           Here is a successful experiment. These are the five ancient pinball bulbs salvaged from the white shed. They share a rather unique characteristic. See the close up of the arced filament. All five measure exactly 1,621 ohms. They react with exact brightness from 3 to 12 volts, earning them a spot in my hobby as safety resistors where you might otherwise see a pilot light. How many LEDs I’ve burned touching the wrong side of the resistor. These bulbs are available everywhere for flashlights, but not at such exact resistance.

ADDENDUM
           Reading and watching a few documentaries on the economy, I would repeat my contention that being poor is largely due to attitude. If you had a paper route and a brain, you would not be very old before you realized a couple of things. One is that you will never get rich by working hard, and two, that there is something out there that is stopping you from getting rich. It is barefaced, you know damn well you are not as well off as you should be compared to those that do not work.
           At eight years old, the obvious culprit is one’s parents, but by twelve, you instinctively know the situation is somewhat more complicated. At that age I sort of realized there was a large social component to being poor and staying poor. I have a few moments, so I’ll tell you what I’d figured out—pointing out that I was just a kid and did not know why these things were so.

           People will try to stop you from getting ahead. Even those with no interest in the matter will interfere. This often takes the form of demanding a share of the resources or results. Even that is complex, because other peers have long-since figured out it is easier to demand a share during the buildup than to get anything once a project is complete. That’s because a finished project carries with it the element of accomplishment and peasants cannot stand that amongst their own kind. They’ve also learned demanding a share of a complete system often means destroying that system. Laugh if you want, these were very real factors when I was twelve.
           It also explained why they did nothing but paid so much attention to everything you did. Like most ambitious people, I only wanted to be left alone and for that matter, could not be compelled to “co-operate” except by force. Now I realize they also wanted to be left alone—left alone to fail. They honestly figured it was you that was not leaving them alone. You bastard, you’re making them look bad. Remember the Dwayne Rarick story.
           Every kid with a paper route, even if he disagrees, knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Last Laugh