One year ago today: September 12, 2023, light work.
Five years ago today: September 12, 2019, in Nahunta.
Nine years ago today: September 12, 2015, their jeweled fingers.
Random years ago today: September 12, 2009, ah, Maxwell House.
This morning, the museum won out, though I doubt I’ll go back. A listless broiler of a day, I’ll report the events, you decide what the high points were. They are harder to come by nowadays. I awoke with a slight back pain and could not find my walking stick (cane), thinking I’ll stop at the Thrift for a fancy wooden one. Only to find it is closed for Bloodmobile day. So I limped all day, with this already putting me in a mood. There are no direct roads to the museum, either fight the traffic or drive out to the county line and double back.
And often to the wrong building, they don’t have signs. You wind up trying three or four doors with signs like “Amateur Radio Club” which you later find out were closed many years ago. The museum map is terrible, more of a schematic. The staff are disoriented and point out the walkpaths in the wrong directions. The sign on the Beuller Building says “Center for Excellence” if you can find it. Once I overcame the logistics, I had a nice tour of the one single indoor hangar, containing around 15 airplane or facsimiles theref. Any millennial worth his RDA of sodium can explain, often with a lisp, that taking down outdated signs is not his job.
These are mostly racing airplanes and stringbags, no slick military models inside. There are a few outside in the heat near another building a quarter mile away, but I’ll pass. Of more immediate interest to me were nose cones, motors, and flight simulators. Some cut-away, some interactive, the best were the monster bomber engines from WWII. Gigantic.
But first, we have some fun. One entity I have zero tolerance or patience with is telemarketers. There should be a nationwide crackdown on these scum, along with whomever enables thing. That includes phone companies, programmers, installers, the whole lot of them. Well, around every six months I get a call from a number in Menlo, California. By now, I recognize the number and can really engage the caller, some totally ignorant Latina.
Each time I get her a little further into the conversation before she clues in, but I know the number she calls from is spoofed, but last call I got her to give me the number of the lady who is giving her this number. This time I got a name, Maria Gutierrez. At this point, it is child’s play for an old phone man like me to get the goods. Seems I have the home phone number of a telemarket scam operator, it’s your “Financial Hardship Loan”. Switching phones, I gave Maria a call from the “Phone Police” and the bitch bought it.
Don’t hand me that crap about she’s just trying to put food on the table. These people annoy millions every year and steal a lot of money. I guess all these years of living in Florida has honed my Spanish accent because I had Maria in a panic. She’s expecting a S.W.A.T. team to surround her house any time in the next three weeks and a fine of “dos cientos cinquenta mil”.
After some deep reckoning on the way the band is progressing, it remains more work than we had bargained for. That is, we both have to play at top skill level all the time and that is impossible. It’s just the way this duo worked out. To meet our own standards, it becomes too demanding. We’ve also reached a cap finding suitable music for our style a lot sooner than I expected. (We are playing more and more non-country because the shoe fits.) Returning to an option we discussed last October, I put out some feelers for a female vocalist.
This is not the idle “chick singer” routine most bands go through. Two items to consider before we even begin: One, I have never had a band with a male vocalist work out long-term. Two, the majority of my bass experience has been in all-girl bands. Most men in a band do not have what it takes to keep a female vocalist focused and motivated, or the ability to factor in the effect of women on other band member than themselves, or the effect on any wives involved. More than once on overnighters, the women had have to crawl in with me to be left alone, though I would not trust myself with Taylor.
I won’t mention most of the predictable hurdles but one unexpected quirk is the woman who has the will to succeed in a band but still needs to be mollycoddled. They are more common than you think, what is widespread is men who can’t or don’t like dealing with it. I’ve put these concerns on the table. Second to arranging music, the Prez and I have a knack for making even mediocre guitarists sound great—often to the extent they think they’ve done it themselves. Remember old Keith? Completely bombed when he tried to solo again after 12 weeks with us.
The versatility and flexibility we can provide and she would not have to front the entire show herself. This entails putting the Prez back on the mandolin, which makes him happy. As for the music, I can already play most chick songs and the Prez can now follow most anything I play. Thus, I’m hoping if we find the right lady, we’ll have her on stage in a matter of hours. One more thing, no replies from Bryne in Texas for more than two weeks now.
Stranded Eurotunnel passengers.
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The museum had almost no military displays, it seems they have competition from a larger outfit on the other side of town. I’ll have to hunt that one down. Some hardware was on exhibit, such as this cockpit of a MiG-21, the famous Foxbat fighter. Alas it was encased and this is the best picture I could get. That is one cramped space, the pilots must have been under 5-foot-9 to have any degree of comfort. They would be sitting ducks nowadays, but several countries still use them, as they can still strafe and deliver ordinance.
What I found great about the museum was motors and engines. It seems the building next door is a mechanics training academy. I spent more time there than in the hangar. I saw engines I had only read about, like the Wasp, the Cyclone, and one I never thought I’d see, an Allison. This is the Brit motor the fitted into a Mustang and produced the best Allied fighter of the war. I did not know the Allison was licensed to the USA for production. Sadly, around twelve of the photos I took did not take, but here is me inspecting the clean lines of the Allison.
What’s this? One of the top viewed items on TikTok is A.I. translated Hitler speeches. Oops, it turns out when a proper translation is done, it blows the Britannica versions out of the water. Seems that German guy did, after all, know exactly what he was talking about. TikTok is being pressured to censor. Ironic.
ADDENDUM
Here’s the more complete story of the dog pound and the change of policy. I really feel they could have handled it some other way. The difference between the SPCA and the Sheriff’s office is the Sheriff has to put the animals down after a while. So there really is no need for luxury that the dogs can’t appreciate. They are kept in kennels with bedding and fed regularly for I believe 60 days. So why can’t you view them without getting your ID on a police file? That is my objection—it is only a matter of time before the police will begin using it for other purposes. Every law that’s enacted, every policeman or civil servant that gets hired means less freedom for you.
What was happening is animal rights activists were recorded the animals and posting the worst on-line. The Sheriff had a rule against cameras but they were just sneaking them in. So the cause of the problem is activists and I don’t like activists. Why? Because if they felt that strongly about things, they should donate their own money and time to improving conditions. But no, they are greedy assholes—they want to compel others to do as they say. That is always the case with activists in the USA and Canada. They want to tell you what to do, preferably with themselves overseeing your behavior.
I visited the SPCA just past noon, but got there during their outdoor time. I looked only at small dogs, some real darlings. The one who glommed onto me was a little three-legged terrier cross, but I have no provisions for a pet. They demand constant attention which I cannot provide and there is a marked increase in venues that do not allow pets of any kind. Last time the Reb & I took the pets to Memphis, it cost us $200 extra for the hotel room.
I repeat, I do not blame the Sheriff for taking measures, but that was the wrong move. Sure, look at people’s ID, identify the troublemakers, it’s easy enough these days to pin anybody down. But to create another file on largely innocent people? That’s a police state and I cannot support it under any theory.
