February 18, 2025

Yesteryear
One year ago today: February 18, 2024, some transistor facts.
Five years ago today: February 18, 2020, directionless jargon.
Nine years ago today: February 18, 2016, asking Trump a favor.
Random years ago today: February 18, 2014, the Florida Navy.

           The smaller fence pickets have dropped to $1.08, barely over the 97ȼ of years ago, so I picked up 20. One is destined to be chopped as a model tray for the tubes that may be stored longer term. I remind you the cardboard of the original containers did not stand up to being stored even inside a nice shed, it's also nonsense that this climate change lightbulbs last any longer than incandescent. The Thrift is always a good spot to pick the “Biden bulbs” since others don’t like them either. I texted the neighbor a reminder this is Festus Tuesday and drove to the car wash. The $3.25 wash is now $6.00.

           The reason for this box? Because I could sell it for a profit at $4.00. That’s if I retail it myself. Shown here is the design phase, a working model. Thie dimensions are to hold 96 small tubes. The medium and larger tubes are a minority that will just have to fit as best they can. This box is one fence picket, six cuts, and 30 staples. It is fairly standard, with an inside dimension of 12” x 8-1/2”, which I may refine later.
           If I was to build this box, I would make up some jigs and run them off twenty at a time, about the capacity of my work area. I could train somebody to do this in an hour. Maybe not one will ever be sold, but that is not what I’m designing and testing here.

           All this is near Wal*Mart so I picked up ten pounds of chicken quarters, unaware this was all the high point of the day. I was ‘housewife busy” until past 4:00PM so call this a day. Hey, what’s that sexist remark! It has nothing to do with the effort, it means the ordinary chasing around that would not rate a mention if compared to working for a living. Here’s some of what I mean and you can call me names right back after if you want. I mailed the tubes, made coffee, filled the birdfeeders, turned on the birdbath, did some dishes, and so on. I’m even going to be nice and feed the nervy squirrel a salted peanut. Yes, I know about the salt, but if you put two side by side, the squirrel always eats the unsalted last.

           The plan was to take it easy on my back, and so far that’s feeling well. Traffic was slow, giving me time to listen to 45 minutes of our audiobook. It is very descriptive and remarkably accurate. For example, how Alice rides to the jail in the bright moonlight to help deliver Marjorie’s baby was, according to the on-line calendar, a full Moon in 1937. The details of the event were were so graphic I felt like I was the one giving birth. A few bogus parts appear and one is sending the men to go boil water. It’s to get them out of the way and keep them busy, it has no purpose in the birthing process. Except may to clean up afterward.

Picture of the day.
Sammarinese Armed Forces.
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           My back was thinking me, so I stayed put for more study. It’s another balmy afternoon, I squeezed some limes to spice up some colas in the fridge and settled down with a textbook on computer design. The juvenile downey woodpecker is back, so I set the bath timer for a couple hours. No word from our guitar player, which surprises not, so time for a peek at the news. Things are moving fast, though with the deportations, not fast enough. And we have yet to see a single arrest.

           And the critter in the attic was a false alarm. There’s a spot on the exterior where squirrels take a shortcut between trees and it sounds like they are scrambling inside. Fooled me. It was Festus Tuesday, all about him having to deal with an old friend being arrested. Matt was present maybe 45 seconds. It’s still dark early and this is a view of the work shed walking back from the neighbor’s. That’s the window I put in so he could chat, the original design had no portals as I did not know who was what around this town. The strip of light across the top is just where the rafters rest, I supposed I should put some blocks in place.

           Here’s a better look at the finished box. This was designed, cut, and built in less than 20 minutes. There are some slight parts that need better cutting, otherwise is this is the final model intented for storing the most expensive of the vacuum tubes, freeing my silo up for other work like it was intened. Next month sometime is one year since I took on these tubes and I’m happy with the results. But would not have minded making more at it.
These boxes differ from the other containers. They are not just a copy of the cardboard type. They are higher than the soriginals, so when the boxes are stacked, they are resting on each other and not the tubes. There is also a closer match to the size of the shelves in the silo and these eliminate the larger boxes which are tricky to place back into the higher shelves. I’m a bit proud of this project. The logical next step is to figure out what could be done to this box to sell if for $10.

           Remind me to try that 1500 Watt heat gun on this wood. Any ideas? I thought of how they box cookies, where people buy them for the tins they come in. Same with cigar boxes. Toy with the idea. How about something in the box that people pay extra for because it is perceived valuable enough for a nice containter. Just don’t take forever, I’m not getting any younger or healthier. Blog rules say time to mention food, so show up in the morning. I’m making sausages and grits. All the grits you want. Same with coffee.

           It comes out that the airliner that flipped upside down on landing in Canada is an all-female company (Endeavor) full of DEIs and affiliated with Delta. I’m glad I quit flying twenty years ago. Trump has finally fired all Biden-appointed Attorneys, but like many Americans, I thought he already did all that. The Only Fans model (Annie Knight, Australian) that slept with 654 men says she is “ready to settle down”, but can’t find any serious takers. Says the men who want to date her are wankers adding she does not sleep with her “real boyfriends” until the third date, which she adds, has not happened yet.
           There is talk of bringing back mental hospitals. I’m not so sure that is something that taxpayers should be hit with. There is too much evidence that these conditions are hereditary to simply say society at large is responsible for their upkeep. They should be helped, but only by those who want to help. It’s a thorny issue, as I agree only partially. The violent ones must be kept away from society, but not necessarily at society’s expense. Who else would pay for it? The families who produce these offspring comes to mind, or the churches. Anybody but the taxpayer.

Last Laugh