One year ago today: May 18, 2022, no matter what.
Five years ago today: May 18, 2018, at the museum.
Nine years ago today: May 18, 2014, bangs to the eyebrows.
Random years ago today: May 18, 2005, some kind of transcript?
What a great day to start cleaning up around here. Two weeks of projects in the yard, from the laundry canopy to the new north work area left everything much a shambles. I used up all my spare lumber fixing the fence and making that shelter. I left the cabin doors open for the breeze and now there are leaves and such to sweep up. Tennessee might have to wait, I was surprised no calls yet. Anyway, let’s get to it as we always find surprises in the boxes and such.
Yes, the fishing around was productive. I found that shelf I fixed for Agt. R who never came back for it. So it is now holding a lot of my electronics parts. Remember that brand new Canon AIO (All In One) I got for $10 (around $180 retail) but it was missing the prop for the paper feed? I found one for a different model and it fits. That’s a bingo. I finally dismantled that HF (Harbor Freight) pancake compressor that didn’t last three years and salvaged the parts. The plan is to connect it as a holding tank at the far end of the compressor line, which is almost sixty feet from where the compressor now sits. I may go shopping later just for that and possible a cold beer.
Salvaged from the 2015 fan that cratered, here is an 8 microfarad AC capacitor. How do those work? Let’s find out. They don’t. There must be a diode or something I miss the old Hacktronics. It’s been years since I contacted them, maybe time to try again? This is the outfit that was interested in Science Fair kits that went belly-up just as I perfected my ROM board. It was a winner because it could be assigned to three two-student teams. You remember, the keyboard that would display digits 0 – 9.
He’s fat enough that when he leans on one of the small bird perches, it throws the mechanism off to one side, jamming it against the see cage. Now it won’t slide down and as long as he’s on the perch, he’s eating darn good. Yeah, well each day his feast gets a wee closer to the end. Not that he gets that much seed with this method, but that any success means he’ll stay at it, possibly getting more. Sorry, varmint, my seed budget is $20 per month and it is for feathered friends.
It’s just rumor, but I’ve heard a guy who hated my guts has died. He had one of those weird-ass names and I never knew the guy, he was five years younger. He was a better carpenter’s helper than me, after all his father had a fully-equipped shop. But he could not get the girls and I could, so he hated me. So what, I had two brothers the same way, anyhow, the reason I even knew the guy was he was a student in my father’s home room years after I was away at university. I still wrote home asking for the money. Yes, I’ve always been a writer, but listen to this tale from the trailer court.
It turns out my father used to read my letters to the class. Now, I’ve described how my family was always on the lookout for any excuse to not pay their bills, so you always had to start every conversation asking how they were and listen to the bullshit. So it was with the letters, because every letter always ended with a polite paragraph about the money that was promised. Well, it turns out father always conveniently left that paragraph out of the readings. Anyway, I got a note that “Eugene” had passed away due to liver complications from 45 years of binge drinking. Give me another week and I’ll forget about that clueless dork all over again.
Bryne says he want to hit me, I can explain. I found a video that was so bad, it was good. It’s about a guy who spent 15 years studying anteaters. I warned everybody it was the worst yet, ha, but looks like some people watched it anyway. Dumb-asses.
Bolivian blanket shop.
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Here’s the holding tank for the air, dismantled and cleaned. I double-checked the main compressor and it is governed already, at 110 psi. For clarity, this tank is destined to be at the far end of the line, where it reaches out to the end of the driveway. It is solely to help keep the air line equalized over the length. That is, there is no valve to stop the pressure flowing backward if the line side drops lower. A big wind picked up just after 3:30PM, so I began wrapping things up. We are going to get walloped any time now, don’t you go believing the weather report. Overnight my gauge said a half-inch fell but instinct tells me that is nothing.
As the wind picked up, I studied the pressure cut-off valve from the compressor. It is a simple plunger held in place with a spring. Calibrated to push a tiny piston until at 100 psi, it makes contact with an ordinary micro-switch. I set it aside, as I wanted to duplicate a test from the early robot club days. A magnet through a coil, producing enough electricity to light a diode. And I could not get it to work. No pictures, it’s a simple circuit with a wire coil and a magnet near one end. As the magnet spins, it should produce alternating current.
In theory, since the diode is directional, it should pick out the forward current and ignore the reverse. No dice, I have several theories. The diode is flashing, but too weakly. Or too slow. Or the signal cancels itself before the diode can react. It may not like the orientation of the magnet or type of magnet, or angle of the spin. I don’t own any bar magnets to know where such things can even be purchased nowadays.
I drove to the club and who should I meet but Bradford. There has been, he informs me, a change of plans. Rather than him playing rhythm, Bradford is now a singer. Bradford. Who will play rhythm? Why, good old Wilford. Yes, our Wilford, who does not have the time to practice because of his courses at the medical college. Do you have any idea what studying is like forty hours a week. Unless, you see, there is no more study. This is third-hand, but that does not make it gossip. Wilford is no longer studying. He failed a random drug test.
I’m too wise to reject any possibility in Polk County. But alcohol was definitely involved. Again, this is not gossip any more because I go the news tenth-hand at a bar. My mind pieces this together and I see how the whole thing progressed. Let’s kind of ride this one out. I told them just hand me a song list. I imagine that list is going to be very short. On the other hand, imagine them getting on stage with me and trying to get away that.
ADDENDUM
YouTube is launching new 30-second undeletable commercials. But, where there is software, there is anti-software. Montana bans TikTok, let’s see how far they get. Working the theory that every data breach you hear about represents a thousand you did not, I see another company is using the same phraseology. I put in an e-mail address I know has never been compromised to see what came up. Ha, the idiot software assumed I was “caught up” and listed the usuals – Facebook, Exploit, DropBox, MySpace. All came back as blank colored rectangles. Tough luck, “Been Pwned”.
Still insisting you have nothing to hide? Those police cameras covering the coronation protesters have been turned on crowds entering music concerts. Using facial recognition, each person identified is traced to a ticket purchase bearing the buyer’s personal data. Don’t look at me, I pay cash. To you people stupid enough to get caught like this, a foily hat can’t save you now.
The Budweiser people have also decided queerism isn’t the path to America’s heart. I don’t know if they bowed to demands to fire every employee even remotely connected to the fag commercials, but the latest is that they have aired two White men with two White women at a country concert. I wonder if that will be enough, personally, I do not think so. Beer or not, they stepped over the line.
