One year ago today: July 31, 2022, she took the chair.
Five years ago today: July 31, 2018, guitarist waffler.
Nine years ago today: July 31, 2014, the place is huge.
Random years ago today: July 31, 2015, Hitler was actually soft-spoken.
America awakes treated to bizarre explanation of why Biden’s dog is biting the security people. The dog, named “Commander” suffers from “flares of impatience” just like the President, said the official spokesgenderthing. That was JZ on the phone, he says he’s found some parts I need at the auto wreckers. That’s JZ, he should start the H&C Repair Shop. When I told him the license plate light covers are rusted in, he says he can get them off with a hammer and chisel. That is how it sometimes goes. The KIA lamps are on the tailgate. To make sure the alarm does not come on while driving, you have to give the gate a hefty slam to get it fully closed.
JZ figures I should show up on Thursday or Friday. I’d rather leave weekends free with these two guitar players in the picture. They both know I can deal with surprise gigs and especially Frets needs the money. There’s a small bit of cash left this month so I could go or stay, how about we flip a coin later today? My Internet is acting up again. Is it Boost, my computer, or the CoolPad? We’re off to the library again, pencil that in for around noon. I was up too early and those headlights last day were a gallon of peach tea.
Here’s the book with the pages sawn right out. They are easier to handle in this form, maybe I’ll dunk them in glue and use them. You can see the stump of the spline where I cut the whole batch right out. Either way, this is one project that is not going to fly unless I find some far better and faster means of production.
JZ called, the eye machine people are ready but wait for the appointment. I’ll plan to stay a few days but you can’t make me like Miami. I need a new computer, it seems. All my software is 386 and works just fine, like electronics, there has been nothing new in computers or software in decades, so running out to buy anything new is for the idiot class. The ones who are convinced that eighty years ago, there came along a generation of “Boomers” whose sole purpose in life was to give away anything they could not steal so that starting in 2015, their great-grandchildren could not get jobs, houses, steady weather, or decent haircuts.
Downtown Wichita Falls.
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Double-checking the headlights work right, I decided to go for an afternoon brew. Who do I meet, but Cheryl, who is always great for letting me know what my own reputation is. This is the barmaid who eventually married the rich guy, whom I’ve never met. But he must have been through a lot of what I have, because he goes about business and dealings with people in the same way. Anyway, Cheryl pays attention to everything, so if you want to know how you are doing, have a chat with Cheryl.
She says that I should broaden my horizons and be more accepting of the people who come my way. This is odd in the way that she knows many of the musicians I’ve had to reject over the years. There are standards you cannot go below and facts you cannot change. The good news is that musically I’m viewed as “incredibly talented” on the bass. I won’t argue with that, except to say what most would in my circumstances—that it isn’t talent, but hard work. One reason I’d stopped in was to go over the song list the Prez sent. It’s a full generation older than my earliest recollections. Most musicians necessarily grew up listening to the music of that came before them. So, while I’m Beatles era, he is Johnny Horton and Hank Sr. I know all this music. It seemed elusive mainly because I did not recognize many of them by title. Here, you try a couple. “Red Bandana” and “Lonesome Fugitive”. Giving many of his tunes a full listen, I knew the good parts and often just the chorus. He lists “The Breeze”, which I have to hear. I know that song inside out.
The fugitive song is Merle, which explains to me why I don’t know it. I always called it the “Down Every Road” song. The bandana so I knew as the “I Can’t Change” song. I’ve not really heard the Prez sing. From what I can hear of Merle now that I’m listening, this could be fine. I wish now he didn’t live so far away. The one that threw me was a Johnny Cash number I’d never even heard of, “I Still Miss Someone”. Pretty simple and not catchy, a five minute learn.
How is the bar working out for the new owner? Good and bad. He’s making money but has had to pump most of it back in. Sounds like my first van. The subdivision makes a difference, but Cheryl reports it is not selling as fast as hoped. The bar plans to put in a golf cart path, a brilliant idea if you ask me. But the talk now is all about a parcel of land to the north of the subdivision. I know the tract and can’t see what makes it a big deal. It’s not that big and a bit too swampy. Nor is it a shortcut to anywhere. Must be some strategic concept I can’t spot.
ADDENDUM
The chef at the Obama spread has washed up on the beach. This is too much, something terribly unfunny is going on. My opinion until further info arrives is the guy was talking when he should have been listening. PeeWee Herman is dead. Cancer. The RSBN people report that Americans real income drop from Biden’s looting the treasury to be $7,400 each per year. Ouch. And NPR is broadcasting direct contradictions to what they were a year ago, hoping their listeners have short memories. There are signs everywhere the radical leftists are getting worried now that Trump has a 40 point lead in every State that matters.
Maybe I’m alone but I just don’t feel sorry for jocks who get killed performing dangerous stunts. It’s routine, par for the course. You bungee jump, parachute, kayak over waterfalls, and climb steep rocks, something is going to eventually go wrong. Climate change obsession may soon be declared a mental disorder. CNN grudgingly admits there is “a possibility” Trump might win in 2024. Proof that Biden was on the phone during some dirty deals has the Left saying he was talking about the weather.
