August 7, 2023

Yesteryear
One year ago today: August 7, 2022, the widow.
Five years ago today: August 7, 2018, keep dialing.
Nine years ago today: August 7, 2014, non-fizzy.
Random years ago today: August 7, 2009, until the tattoos.

           What are we seeing here? Democrats consistently being shouted down by what should be their ardent supporters. The turtle man Mitchell was treated to a crowd chanting, “Retire” and “Ditch Mitch” at rallies in his home state. What’s with all the sob-stories getting through my filters? Especially Twitter and GAB, which should barely appear at all, except for Trump victories. It’s mostly staged tales of somebody buying a vet a sandwich or similar. Folks, I do not feel sorry for anyone who was married 40 years, his wife dies, and he does not know how to make a goddamn sandwich. What’s even funnier is watching the Left realize what they’ve done with this fake Trump trial. In an unrelated implication, see here that rats will eat glove leather. And every indictment is like handing Trump another million votes.

           It’s all backfired, because Trump can begin calling their cronies as witnesses. I hope he starts with the Pence douche. Not over political issues only, but because that dork is so universally detested that it’s a guaranteed shit-show. Watching libtards squirm over glowing coals is the best side-show in the DC circus. That is much more fun than trying to get anything done in Florida in less than half a day. Guess who went shopping? I have a new audio-book but you’ll have to wait for the title. Because I won’t remember it, this is another African disease outbreak where the Nigerian tribes go around shooting each other. How’s a man supposed to keep track?

           It’s the old theme, monkey bites man, man dies, army comes by and kills the whole village. Except one who gets away and as luck would have it, speaks English, owns a camera, and survives the disease. The recurring theme is Americans don’t understand African society. That is nonsense, because if you take away the swimming pools, exercise rooms, libraries, and medical facilities, Africa has the same social structure as any given Federal prison. The least painful option is to regard everybody as a thieving thug who would turn you in for an extra cigarette.

           The oil tanker book has resolved to the 2000-2006 era where the primary force is government regulation. I’ll keep reading in the hopes it will get interesting again. The blistering summer heat is back, so little will move around today unless I crawl out to the shed. It’s air conditioned but don’t let that fool you. No A/C I can afford will ever keep up with directly sunlight on metal siding. As for long-term climate stats, according to various indicators like tree rings, the world was hotter in 1000 A.D.
           The Prez sent an e-mail, he is aware of the distance I traveled. Did I mention that? The actual one-way was over 22 miles, almost double the GPS display. And that switch I showed y’day is something unusual. I believe it may be a toggle A-B rather than a simple on-off. Keep checking back. I’m calling for a siesta right about now. My Internet is acting up still, but there is an link to a new Ernst Zundelfilm I’ll follow once I get service up to speed.

           I just noticed now, but this cactus “hard on” was not there when I left last Tuesday. The stem is a good five feet high and the plant is signaling something. The other two related plants are just sitting there growing as expected. But I’ll be watching them now. Also, I may have found a way to jump-start the avocado seeds. Create a mini-greenhouse. But eventually that has to be removed and I’m just seeing now if the plant will survive the real world.

Picture of the day.
Abandoned Italian tank in Libyan desert.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           I scored some great pallet wood on the way to the post office. Shown here is the before and after. It’s quick work and great exercise. The pallet in the background yielded some reddish-toned wood that I will reserve as a matching set. These are the slats, pretty much cleaned up in no time. The runners are earmarked for the upcoming jointer table. All the sheds have drafts, so there are cobwebs if you don’t keep ahead of them. Today, I put a fresh mothball in each of the boxes. I don’t like surprises opening those after a month or two of storage.

           That was my executor on the phone. The pension plan people are on the warpath again, it seems another bunch of old ladies did not inform them when their husbands died. And the pension checks kept rolling. Well, go after the old ladies and teach them a lesson. Instead, they embark on this massively expensive program of forcing all of us to prove we are alive. Of course, they will get resistance from me because I think most of the information they want is none of their business. One item is that I have a box number specifically so that people like them have no idea where I live. This is 2023 and their understanding of identity theft is infantile. They actually believe that privacy policies work.
           Another annoyance is they figure you spend your time memorizing how they do things. That’s total arrogance in my book. For example, they split the union and pension into different departments and moved into different offices, then quit forwarding mail addressed to each other. It was worse than blackmail what they did to people. Nobody agreed they would devote time in their retirement years memorizing how the pension rules kept changing. I, for one, will never vote to fund a pension “marriage breakdown” service. I could care less about other people’s marital problems and be damned if I’ll pay for it without being forced.
           My executor asked why I read social media. Sort of, you don’t believe any of that stuff and you shouldn’t. Interesting, because I never associated reading the news with any kind of “belief”. You read it because other people are reading it and other people are the cause of almost 100% of the danger you are likely to encounter in the world today.

           Ah, the Reb, who else can get me to talk for an hour. Write, yes, but talk? I told her about the cactus hard on and she swears she does not need a picture to know what I mean. What a sweetheart. Things have changed to the extent we have to keep in touch more than before and our situation is not really set for that. My e-mail and phone are unreliable and she does not check her snail mail regularly. September is going to be a big mix-up unless every plan falls exactly into place. My take is you plan assuming the bureaucracy will eventually try to screw you.
           Think about it. Around one business in five in America is now modeled on “helping” you when things go wrong. In my books, that is evil. It becomes a disincentive to eradicate the root causes of wrong. “A patient cured is a customer lost.” The impetus of the system should be toward eliminating people’s woes, not getting efficient at cashing in on them. One major topic was how all our recent investing has done is keep pace with inflation. I know, I know, at least we are not falling behind, but that’s the wrong way to look at it. You must not remove the rewards due to those willing to take investment risks or the system entirely goes for a dump.

           We are living in a spiral fueled by borrowed money. I saw this happen in my twenties, people who borrowed forced prices up on everybody, including those who did not borrow. The trade-off was the borrowers never became the least self-sufficient. Why learn to grow a carrot or fix a tire when you can put those things on a credit card? If you carry the logic far enough, the person who can peel a potato may someday save himself a thousand dollars by doing so.

           “Falling Down.” It’s a DVD I overlooked because of the terrible jacket design. Not bad at all, it’s about a guy who just wants to go home. Except his home is an ex-wife who calls the cops and he has to walk through an ethnic neighborhood. Everybody gets in his way or pisses him off as a cop begins to figure out the pattern. It’s a long movie, I quit at 2:00AM. It’s interesting to me because every part of the story is entirely believable including his response to the situations he gets into. Just now, he’s telling the old fart at the gold course too bad he’s dying wearing a funny little hat.
           This is a cigar press. Another museum piece, it was used to get the cigars to hold a round shape. I suppose there is a technology behind tobacco products being round. In two months, I’ve quit for twenty years. I got tired of it one day and that was it. I’d planned a celebration long ago but whatever it was, I’ve quit that too. It’s not going out for a steak dinner, since that’s been out as a diet item more than twenty-five years now.

ADDENDUM
           I’ve got that audition tomorrow, so I ran through the material such as I have. I never did care for Merle while fully recognizing his status. Musically, it’s fairly standard but from a bassists view, it is put together funny. It flows when listening but is kind of chopped up when you try to fit the pieces. This happened a lot with older recordings, they just make the music fit what the singer or guitar player was doing that verse. To me, that’s a jazz influence where you don’t much care if something is off key.
           The “Hannibal” DVD was a re-run, I only recall the ending with the monkey-brain scene. It’s still a question how all rogue FBI agents who are suspended have a summer cottage out on the lakeshore to bide their time. A two-story five-bedroom with a private dock and a two-year supply of firewood. All the follow-on “Hannibal” series are a study in low-budget scenery.
           There is a rumor that people are buying or trying to buy islands where they intend to move after the collapse and create a superior species of human being. The brother of the Fried bank criminal tried to buy Naruru. I posted a reply, pointing that about breeding the advanced human species part, they could have just asked Taylor and I.

Last Laugh