September 24, 2024

Yesteryear
One year ago today: September 24, 2023, 45 feet up there.
Five years ago today: September 24, 2019, Von, Lee, & Hemmingway.
Nine years ago today: September 24, 2015, not as ripe.
Random years ago today: September 24, 2005, property poor.

           Will today include any adventure? You decide. This morning I stepped out the door to a freshening SSE breeze. So we know whatever it is, she’s likely heading straight this way. Don’t rely on radio reports, they’ll spread panic a week in advance. Three hours is plenty of warning. I’m stocked up and one item to try is this Thai sweet potato soup. New to me, and not long after, I don’t think it will be a staple. It tastes like what it is, yams with chili and lime, a hint of carrots and coconut milk. Not for me, but a vegetarian’s goldmine. The taste is a bit like candy that is not sweet enough. Methinks it might be better using real potatoes.

           Howie was over to update, his mom is well but can no longer answer the phone and such. Like myself, he’s got four days of rations cooking. The storms tend to say on the Gult, where the warm water builds them up. Look on a map, that funnels them toward Tallahassee, which is a form of karma.

           Being downtown, I visited my real estate lady, always a treat. We have so much in common but different priorities. We have an arrangement to share info if I sign up for Lofty. Like myself, there is nobody to ask. Everybody you meet in Florida is some kind of whiz kid who does not want you to know he can’t adjust any computer but his own, or somebody so far behind the times, they’d need ten years of study to get to where they could contribute anything. Same as most people, she is leery of any form of electronic cash that could be cut off by headquarters. That’s why I would not talk to many people about this. She understands my motive is to learn, then, it if works, approach cautiously.

           This is her new (pre-owned) Jaguar. She knows not to buy new, where government taxes and bull-crap regulations add up to $8,000 to the price. Aware of the position of music in my life, she mentioned Derry Downs, a refurbished night club near the library. Never heard of it, but she has been there back when Gram Parsons played there. As she says, it was the 70s and if you had four men in a room, they’d form a band. She informs me they have an open mic once a month and it is my style. You show up, you sign in, you get three songs.

           There’s no time to check into it, this is Festus Tuesday. I’ll talk with the Prez because this is not a paying gig. I honest to goodness don’t have anything else. It is not a case of anybody turning us down, rather nobody is hiring even at rock bottom prices. I have no qualms going there on my own just to see what gives. Nothing else seems to work around this town. But don’t discount that central Florida has a disproportionate impact on the celebrity scene. For instance, next April, some hotshot executive from Tesla is getting married in Alturas. That’s one of the nothing towns we drove through a couple weeks back.
           The wedding is in a community hall that used to be a mansion or something, I must have drove right past it. My point is, Elon himself will likely show up for the ceremony, helicopter and all. The living legend himself. Like I said, disproportionate. And another encouraging sign, this morning my rib cage was again sore, but the pain one of those associated with a cast getting removed. Movement is still below normal. I can feel muscles loosening up, with only a fraction of the internal clicking associated with my exercises. Yes, I kept up the regime, but only on days when I was near the exercise equipment in the shed. If I can just reach for things in the cupboard again, I’ll be happy.

           New Scientist, the web page. I’ve taken it off my daily check list due to its disgusting descent into millennial-grade crapulence. Articles like ways these climate change kooks want to refreeze arctic ice and nonsense about how some unknown in Arkansas has discovered the secret of how the universe began. It’s really gone bad. “Ten things you did not know about Charles Darwin. Number six will blow your mind.”

Picture of the day.
Sinkhole in Turkey.
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           Panic grips the regime, they have lost and they know it. However, the American story is unique in that if they pull a fast one, the people are armed. It’s a scenario that has never been put to the test. As Trump predicted, everything they try now blows up in their faces—and right away these days. No getting away with it until it’s too late.
           This picture is a policy I will discontinue. I don’t know the reason, but some people insist on seeing the tube and request more pictures before buying. This takes time and since my description is the tubes are new in the box, no extra pictures unless they want to pay for them. This tube I’m holding required 12 minutes to process, including marching out to the shed to take it out of inventory—and sometimes they don’t buy anyway.

           The utility bills since March have not been updated. I know there is a balance in my favor of three hundred dollars. It’s to cover for when I’m away. The bill can drop to less than $100 on such months, so I’m covered for three months in advance. Just don’t count on it because they estimate and read the meters randomly but never really admit it. Keeps the locals on their toes. The topic is the bill. It’s designed for people who are perpetually in arrears. Unless your bill is always zero, you cannot directly tell by looking at the bill how much you owe unless there was balance forward from the previous month,            Thus my bill always shows a negative balance, duh. Because it is overpaid, double-duh. The bill contains a field that says Amount Owed if Bill Paid on Due Date. Since my bill is always paid in advance, my Amount Owed should be zero. Instead, this month it shows as -$451, with the curious feature that if you made a payment in advance, it will not record that payment until after that Due Date. So I know my bill last month was around $150, so my actual balance should show, in their terms, -$301.
           I know that’s confusing, but you should see the bill itself. It contains minimum eleven different dollar amount figures, of which only one is your current charges; this number is located fourth from the bottom. I doubt 1% of the locals know how to read their bill. In fact, I highly doubt it. Several times I’ve tried to develop a logical spreadsheet that tracks it standard accounting format. Cannot be done because of that annoying aspect of not recording payments on time. I keep two annual tables, on each with cumulative bills and payments. Then compare the two and keep that balance above $300. Welcome to the New America.

           Later, a Festus episode with no pretty farm gal. One of the earliest from the ages of Matt, Chester, & Kitty. Some old guys a couple cows, those were the days. Buy a couple eggs and start a chicken ranch. I walked home through the back gate in a dead calm with 90% humidity. Don’t make any plans for the weekend. Here’s another chance to compare my day with the day of the people who don’t like me. I dropped in at the old club late, as in after 9:00 PM. Cathy’s cousin was on duty, a gal I’ve found solid to talk to before. The club was empty, so we got to chatting. Fasten your seatbelt.
           She worked for Google for a number of years, then got married and moved to these parts. Like myself, she quickly learned there are not many locals who kept on reading after grade school. She has worked with 3D printers, having designed some walls for a game. Like model castle walls with little turrests and windows. If you can make it build a wall, I cornered her, you can make it print a toothpick holder. This led to the requisite half-hour explanation of how this works. Another hour was needed to go over the logistics, she has only ever used a kit model before and has never teamed with a club that can and will provide the wherewithal to make such things work. Did you follow that? Tomorrow, I shall compose a letter to Agt. M detailing this development.

Last Laugh