One year ago today: February 7, 2023, a new seriies of flaws.
Five years ago today: February 7, 2019, why the book isn’t written.
Nine years ago today: February 7, 2015, their inability to adapt.
Random years ago today: February 7, 2014, the mysterious Mr. Kennedy.
Good morning, let’s do something for adventure today. We are accompanied by a juvenile red downey, he’s new and loves that peanut butter suet. May you have the day this birdie already has, and since adventure doesn’t come knocking, we’ll look for it. Your budget, however, is $20, so you’ll have to make up the rest using your imagination. Put it in the tank and drive for a coffee in Ybor City? Go shopping at Ace Hardware? Invest the $20 and go rake the yard, always a risky adventure with my heart. Get a toaster oven or hotplate to flatten PVC? Or, I have this plan for the heck of it to fill an old non-working floor fan case full of small surplus computer fans. Just to see. I also noticed one of these small fans fell over while I was testing it and it almost floated like a hovercraft.
Worst features? My filter says 50 mile radius of Nashvile and cars show up from Dayton, Ohio, and Charlotte, in the Carolinas. The call-for-price crowd can shove their ads. Multiple splash screens are as irksome as they were in 1995. But worst are the websites that suddenly grab almost 100% CPU usage. I would not care but this is Wilford’s old gaming computer and it slows right down. But that’s another thing, it causes my other software to crawl, especially after looking at anything on youTube. That’s their new counter to ad-blocker. It doesn’t go away on this unit when you close youTube, you have to reboot. I know that likely a problem here, but it should still be illegal to cause modifications to other people’s property.
Finally, the Reb called and we made a plan. My thinking is this is a small claim for the insurance company and our rep is stuck in some cubicle. She just wants this thing off her desk by Friday and I’ll help her do that. There is no word on anything else from Tennessee, nothing has changed except the Reb’s are is healing well. Wait, there is one positive development. The house where the pitbull owner rents is owned by his immediate family. To me that’s a plus and explains his careless behavior, a common symptom of people getting a free ride.
The moths got one of my favorite shirts. If you don’t take care to spray collars extra and your detergent doesn’t get everything spotless, the larvae get the exact spots you perspire most in the Florida heat. Dang, perfectly nice shirt becomes paintware. Anyway, as I was saying about computers, it irks me what they’ve done. The desktop design is now 40 years old, more than enough time to fix all the glitches. Put another way, if something goes wrong these days with your software or opsys, it is because some shit-for-brains put it there.
Near Laramie, I think.
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Middle-aged ladies on welfare who adopt kids fo the money, remember to take the gimped ones who howl and scream to the library. So that others can admire your compassion for the suffering of others. Louder! They are not getting the message. Sit there with a smug look of self-satisfaction, why all these people are looking at you in total admiration of your consideration.
I got out of there soon as I could and went home to test equipment, particularly instrument cables. I trid to fix and XLR jack. Never again. Two hours later it was still a frustrating mess. The pins must be heated to solder temperature, but doing so warps the plastic housing. It’s time for a major house-cleaning, much as I hate to get rid of books. Those stored in the shed have maintly gotten to brittle to donate, so out they go. Some, I keep to make book safes but most hit the dumpster.
The big even today was the jam. Looks like we found some adventure after all. Starting at 8:00PM meant there was an audience. We were on stage around a half-hour when Sandy walked in with a small group. One guy was very focused on what we were playing, he was carrying a small instrument case. Probably expecting some pals of Keith to show up to play some Broadway music and old folk tunes.The guy is sharp, he quickly spots the “inverted” music. He’s a mandolin player and can pick a deadly guitar. Instant synergy, the Prez tells me it is a prize mandolin.
Wouldnt you know it, my camera batteries were dead and I forgot the phone. This was a show to be remembered in Polk. A mini-concert, this guy was plainly not from around here. Best bluegrass show I’ve every played, bordering on unbelievable. If you can imagine my “piano” bass lines and the Prez cranking out the rhythm, turns out this guy is a professional recording artist. He could not praise my bass-playing enough. We spun every tune into a bluegrass special to a mostly unappreciative Wednesday crowd of yokels. Knowing exactly what the Prez would play on guitar as this guy picked, I played twice as many runs and fills so the new guy could go wild on that mandolin. He seized the opportunity. I state without hesitation or exaggeration this was the greatest jam session of my life.
For once, I played to my limit. I used up most of the techniques it took me fifty years to learn and for once, I left that stage musically exhausted. Sandy was impressed so we may see a paying gig out of this yet. I didn’t chat with the guy before they left, he was clearly with a tight group who had their own visiting to do. He said a couple of times he’s never heard bass playing like mine. That’s good enough for me, so let him decide if we repeat the show. Again, I have no need to embellish the facts, this was a top-notch show.
Gab has a segment where people respond to polls. One recently showed a bunch of women from different races and cultures, taking great care to show the White women as droopy and middle-aged. The question was, “What is more important than diversity?” My favorite answers were:
Segregation.ADDENDUM
Thin upper thighs.
White unity.
A well-tuned Ludwig drum set.
Deportation.
A rat’s ass.
Swallowing.
Clean underwear.
Airplane doors.
Allow me to explain why I still use the term “hits” for this blog. Why not “clicks” or “metrics”. Because I do not care to apply advertising-related terms to honest publication. I had this conversation with Elliott, who loves snappy Internet language. He gets metrics and gobbles it up. The difference is fundamental. Very rew people go on-line and specify a search for either his product or his website name. They are searching for the generic term “brake tools” and landing by chance on his page. He calls that chance his metrics. And he loves to compare those to mine.
Ah, some say, that is hypocrisy. For Elliott decries any self-stated positive words to be unacceptable bragging. Well you see, in Elliott’s way of thinking, he isn’t bragging, he is quoting a statistic. It’s not his fault all the statistics he sees are in his favor. They have to be, they are selling him something.
On the other hand, those twho arrive at this blogsite are specifying this unique destination to the exclusion of others. So I get old-fashioned hits. I do have a ratio I used for comparison, an estimate of what a hit is worth. That is one hit is equivalent to 100 “metrics”. That’s my instinct saying one directed link, often repeatedly, to a single site, is the equivalent of 100 searches that land randomly on another. Based on my slowest days of 2023, Elliot ‘s page would have to get 6,200+ “metrics” PER DAY to even touch this blog. Using the same equation, his total metrics in history could not match a single good day around here.
Yet he feels his knowledge of how things work on-line tops mine. Anyway, that’s why I use and prefer the term hits over the millennial jargon.
