March 20, 2024

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 20, 2023, guard dogs, my eye.
Five years ago today: March 20, 2019, reading the litmus.
Nine years ago today: March 20, 2015, pizza is addicting.
Random years ago today: March 20, 2010, why American docs get paid so much.

           It’s confirmed, luxury train rides now cost $28,000 on average. JZ was on the phone first thing, he don’t like trains. He had some good news and I had to discuss the Honda insurance claim. The agent we have has dragged things back to square one, saying we must supply estimates to her satisfaction, which is not going to happen as long as she declares her intentions to never pay more than 75% of it. The van JZ sold to the guy in Texas last year, well, the guy replaced the part and it is still running fine. Will I be that lucky with my van?

           The plan is now to contact the insurance company head office to request this agent be removed from this case. The issue is not, as she says, the “links”, but her statement she will not in any case pay the full amount for which the vehicle was insured. That is matter of business law, not insurance law, meaning she is not protected by direct action. Also, she says any shortfall is our responsibility to recover it from the other insurance company, but I possess a binding contract that says that is her job to collect. Here’s a first, I’m calling music off for another week, JZ says he never thought he’d hear me say that, but I have overload.
           Too many conflicting pressures, oh hell yes, band management has them. In spades. Right now two things concern me. The Prez, who has been attending the Wednesday jams, is back to seeking more rehearsal time. This means something went wrong at the jam, which hardly surprises me. In addition everybody loved the Kooter’s show—but it exhausted me. I was under immense pressue and felt it that evening. Many things went wrong, but the show went on. Did I just say I'd like some music time off? Very funny, read on.

           By 10:00AM, I have tested all possible combinations of pins on the chosen vacuum tube. What a hassle, it ever gets warm. Under the microscope, I can see all the pins are intact. Next, I built a set of super-safe chocks (see photo) and got under the van. Folks, when I had the work done last time, I gave them some extra business by having everything checked. That did not include an oil change. I read the contract, my mistake. Check the fluids did not include adding if they were low. I just drove my van 28,000 miles without an oil change. And it was low. I do not recall them even mentioning the oil, which I change only every 14,000 miles because it is synthetic.

Picture of the day.
McDonalds serves pizza in Orlando.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Next up, they sold me the wrong oil filter. No, it is not a simple matter of exchangint it. I have to put the old filter back on, drive to the shop, wait in line twice, and still make the repair. I asked the guy why they took away the good old oil filter chart that worked. These people have an excuse for everything. It is now 4:30PM and I’’m sapped. But, I have to go downtown to see why my mail isn’t being delivered again. I found time to write an e-mail to Jay to see if he’s interested in rehearising a set. Putting two and two together, if he has been attending the jam, that might why the Prez is eager to practice. It works like this—and I could be wrong.

           That whole Wednesday jam is a dog, the host has not learned one new tune in what, six months now. That would have exhausted even the Prez (playing the same songs every night). If Jay has been there, that makes for two guitarists. And the other guy is as useless as he is terrible. When I say terrible, I don’t mean he can’t play, rather he does not put on a good show. Yet, it’s kind of adding up now. The best way out is to presume if Jay wants in a real band, around here that means teaming up with me.

           Here's a picture I had a devil of a time getting for you. It is the next step in the agave cactus lifecycle. The small but pretty yellow flowers, irresistable to wasps, have withered to the black tangles near the cetner and these green sprouts are emerging. You can see the pale dying stem in the background. It is dry and brittle but still tough like bamboo. Each former cluster of flowers has produced these buds, so I have hundreds of them. Take all you want, in fact while you are at it, how about some papaya? If you are new here, this is the blog that tells you the most exciting events of the day, even if that amounts to blocks of wood. That's why this work is such an eclectic mix, now so large I can no longer recall many of the events.
           Did I say time off? Ha-ha. On the way back I saw the Prez’s truck pulling into town. So I parked and walked into the old club, as it was far too early for the jam. But not for other people to mess up. It seems the Prez was not infomed that the jam host (Keith) had once again pulled a last minute cancellation. I’ve adequately warned my people this Keith is trouble. This time it meant that wasted 44 mile round trip for Prez, but wait, there’s more. We decided not to once again step in and run the show ourselves, as this has proven futile. The crowd does not begin filtering in until past 9:00PM and there is another factor I will mention.
           Money. I’ve never make any pretense that my musical goal includes making money. How much and when is rarely a topic for this blog, but take my word for it. The lady on duty Wednesdays does a rotten job of reporting the jam results back to management. Admittedly, that is not her job, but it would be nice if she were to mention to the owners that the Prez and I have been carrying that show more than half the time. So, let me tell the kind of thing that happens when Keith pulls a no-show. I like that, "No-show Keith", it's a no-show even when he's there. The Prez leaves and I’m about to when Bradford walks in.

           Now Bradford is quick to over-estimate his solo abilities. There, I said it. Anyway, he shows up with two amps, but no microphones, stands, or extra cables. Bradford is in plug-n-play mode and decides he’s going to host a show. This gives us two choices. Sit back and watch the disaster unfold, or zip home and get my PA system. What made up my mind was a young (40-ish) couple walked in with a guitar and some other instrument case. We quickly played all four songs that Bradord knows except his obscure “guitar exercise” type music. The couple wanted to play popular music from their era. Dang, I know them all but Bradford doesn’t.
           Now picture the scenario. This couple heard about the Prez & I, not about Keith and Bradford. And they had driven to the jam from east of Lake Wales. A wasted trip if I stopped playing, since they had only acoustic gear. Once we glommed, they wanted me to keep playing but this sort of shunts Bradford aside. Is this enough drama for you yet? Now you know why I avoid drama in my home life. I get my quota downtown.

           Alack, I was too tired to really enjoy the novelty and I’m thinking this new couple are no random walk-ins. Just a little too polished, a little too seasoned. They tap-danced all over Bradford when he tried to play along, did I mention they brought out a miniature xylophone to play “Margaritaville”? That’s one of my specialty bass tunes and it floored the audience. By now there were 15 people, a crowd for that place on weekdays. The couple is a lady vocalist and her husband, who strums acoustic. So it did not take him long to spot my bass playing was a custom fit for such chording and he was quick to pick up that he could now play all the little extras.
           Bradford was miffed, but since the other guy was calling the tunes, well, Bradford just quit and went and sat down with a grimace. I was drained but the house plied me with free beer. Works every time. I wonder what Bradford will find to complain about this one. I mean, here’s yet another band playing all those songs he doesn’t like. Meanwhile, this couple has me wondering. Best case scenario? They are talent scouts for Taylor’s secret new album. I mean, who carries around a xylophone, huh?

Last Laugh