Search This Blog

Yesteryear

Tuesday, April 23, 2024

April 23, 2024

Yesteryear
One year ago today: April 23, 2023, squirrel or racoon?
Five years ago today: April 23, 2019, chicken pie.
Nine years ago today: April 23, 2015, the Smithsonian budget.
Random years ago today: April 23, 2012, the Icelandic loonie?

           I’m taking the day off. I won’t even set the rat traps, so whatever made that noise in my attic last night gets a 24-hour reprieve. I’m going to drive to the old club in Bartow and write two letters, maybe more. Upon discovering an unopened letter two days past, JZ now gets reverted to my old-style “picture letters”. The Prez I I have agreed to support the Monday show to wee where it leads, but we need that gig. I’ll suggest we begin wearing shirts and ties and I have a set of speakers they can use. The manager knew nothing of great setup, and it was also plain he was not used to getting a lot of help around there. Don’t hesitate a moment to turn this into an opportunity.
           The Reb called over an expensive delay last week. A neighbor received the crucial letter and finally just walked it over today. Makes sense, why would a person up the road attach any importance to a hand-written letter? I mean, they get so damn many of them, what’s one more? What got me was why the mail was delivered it to the wrong address. We’ve all heard XYZers can’t read cursive, we just never thought even the loser post office would hire every mother’s son of them.

           Here’s the birdfeed jar, so far proven rat and squirrel-proof when stored inside the shed. Note the diet is at least somewhat varied. The top is mostly red cardinal feed but the seeds are a favorite, infused with oil squeezed from orange peels. It sure smells nice. But I never could afford to feed squirrels on the scale they appear around here.
           Scrap my plans to work on the silo today, I have some gear to test out for the Kava show. Reality is, there is no cargo door at that club and the equipment has to be lugged through the front door. Thus, I’m going to find all my small gear The plan is the two small speakers donated by Agt. M. They are no longer a matching set and not that much lighter than the Yamahas. I’m doing some deeper planning for if the kava gig turns into something more. Moving the gear has finally gotten the better of me. I can do it if I have to, an ominous sign, for it is no longer just part of the deal. The time is approaching when I’ll have to refuse any gigs that involve stairs or any larger parking lots.

           Mitch sent some photos of a rock show he attended, finding the band very impressive. They must have been good for non-musical Mitch to comment, but my take on such bands has definitely morphed away from what you see here. You cannot have a rack of pedals like that without a guitar player who is socially a total shithead. I wish it was otherwise, but I only said that after twenty years searching for the exception. Now, if I see a scene like this I tell the asshole to get the fuck off my stage and never come back. I know this blog is mostly PG-13, but we don’t want any kids thinking they are the only one who spots this crap for what it is. Is he playing guitar or is he playing pedals?
           None of my kava gig videos turned out well. Again, the camera microphones are over sensitive to bass tones, and my show is around 15% louder on bass than you’d get in most mixes. That’s relative volume, as I’ve never been a loud bass player, but then most recording devices have to strain a bit. The result is every other bass note is a mite distorted, like a singer sounds getting too close to the microphone. I have some clips.

Picture of the day.
Famous Russian single mother.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           I checked the sheds and put screens on the new silo window frame. That was the highlight of the afternoon, folks. A siesta put me out until 6:00PM, may your retirement be the same. The window makes the silo radio easy to hear but it still only picks up Tampa Tard-radio. Joe Biden’s fan club, they are so obviously being paid to root for him but not a word that at his last rally in Tampa not one person showed up. The TV cameras showed eight policemen standing around sidewalk barricades, then giving up and walking across the street to sit on the park benches. An hour later, even that video was taken off the air. Turns out the station thought the video was taken before, not during, the rally.
           The Trump trial continues past the rulings by dozens of reputable law groups pointing out there was no crime. The Left has to stop Trump soon and I think is is already too late, which raises the specter of real violence. The Biden people know if they put Trump in a jail, he will have a Hillary as soon as the jailers can turn off the video cameras. They also know to harm Trump is their own death sentence. Everyone knows they are plotting a Dallas. Myself, I’m going to make an extra pot of tea and finish some more letters.

           Y’know what I wish? That somebody would tell these uneducated millennials that a magnet is an external power source. Every couple years since 2000 we get these gimptard hairlips claiming they’ve invented a perpetual motion machine. You could set your clock by their regular bleating that they’ve discovered free energy, the blimp, a miracle berry in the Amazon, and cars that run on water. It was bad enough when it was just PopSci, but now the Internet? These bastards are never going to quit now.

Last Laugh