One year ago today: May 20, 2024, backyard rodent-fare.
Five years ago today: May 20, 2020, sign in, no way.
Nine years ago today: May 20, 2016, WIP
Random years ago today: May 20, 2009, Quizno’s, $10, and guitarists.
MicroSoft continues to bleed off coders in favor of A.I. which generates 30% of their code. A Canadian university claims autism is caused by eating processed food. Once more, I declare a study day as the heat index reaches 106°F with 54% humidity. Here is a closer look at an old RAM card. These are scanned at 600 DPI as I have no cameras that can take such photos. I actually have a clue how these things work now, the wiring is definitely sensible to me now. The datasheets still exist for this card and most of the wiring is for memory addressing. No matter how large the memory, only 1 byte is read at time. All the other wiring is overhead.
These are shown on the datasheet as the address bus lines, numbered A0 through A9, for a total of ten. That makes sense, eight lines for the memory bits, and one each for the row and column. All eight cards have identical memory addresses which are all activated at the same time. However, there is a pin on each chip called DQ on the diagram. Only the chip selected by this “multiplexer” is the one that gets read. I found learning about this to be a very satisfying pastime. Each chip has more than one power supply and one ground.
All of the pins are easy to recognize for those who’ve been here a while. Vcc is power, GND is ground, there is a clock and a reset, and your input output. The clock is just there to synch up the data rates, as the ATM software is running whenever it is powered up, it just needs to know how to match speed with your card. There is no money “on” the card, it is nothing but a key that accesses your on-line file.
There is a rumor that Trader Joe’s chicken has been laced with the vaccine mRNA according the to company’s own sources.
Tunguska left no crater.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
The high point of the afternoon was gluing door trim back on to the Hyundai. I drove downtown to mail letters and found an untaken shady spot. I used rubber cement, which ain’t cheap any more, so I had to wait 15 minutes for it to get tacky. I used the time to get the van ready for a trip. If you are reading this, I am on my way to Miami for the day. One necessary was the dick player, which meant moving the Yeti, whence I listened to a few chapters of the dtreasure diving disk.
Having read lots on the Atoche and other wrecks, the plot is interesting. A single coin was found on a beach, which nobody paid much attention to until it got to London. Turns out only 1,000 of these were minted with the King facing left. Symbolically, the money was used to pay bribes and spies, thus a find was a good indicator of sunken treasure. The story marred by the continual sex fantasies of the granddaughter for the accountant. To enjoy the tale, you kind of have to shut out mentions of his sparkling yellow-streaked dragon eyes and how she just knows under his clothes he’s Adonis.
He’s there to audit the recovery out from the English company financing the dive. What keeps me listening to those parts is the guy knows she’s interested but is far too smart to blink first. Ah, this book is influenced by a man who knows women, turning down the ones who don’t rate, regardless of their looks. He spots her slight blushes, choice of words, all the clues that men who only brag about getting women always miss. I like the guy’s style, my guess is she is going to be caught ashore in the storm predict for the weekend. And there will be no place to stay except the cottage leased by the company. Women over thirty are as predictable as men under twenty-five.
Oops, old Brucie Springsteen showed up at the Fried Rock Fest and was told not to get on stage. My theory is his type surround themselves with other leftists and convince themselves they are the world. It works two ways, I avoid musicians who are left wing, they always turn out weird and break up your band. Brucie claimed the country was behind him, showing he’s totally out of touch. Well, that put an end to his glory days.
Don’t let me miss a mini-celebration this Friday. May 23, 1996 was the last I had a “formal” job, the kind where you have an alarm clock and a commute. I’ve worked, but never to just survive, I sacrificed too much to wind up that way. I braved the heat for a half-hour, the back into the cool of the back room.
Elton John is railing against the use of A.I. to train on artist’s musical style. From what I hear on the radio today and “new country”, I think it might be an improvement. There is a reason I’m still playing music that was old when I was twenty.
ADDENDUM
We have that situation where either discoveries or hack are made. I found missing blog posts from May 23, 2016 to May 31, 2016. Except, they will not display directly. If you go to that month, there is a single long blank column. But if you go to June 1 and use the “Older Posts” icon, you can scroll right through them. When I have time, I will take down the posts one by one to find the offending script. I notice long ago if you don’t close a tag in a daily post, it can affect all the posts surrounding it. As said, the importance of these items is that is the week in which I bought this cabin, a pivotal point in my retirement—and one that seems to have permanently sped up my life. I don’t think I was ever destined to just plunk down like the rest.
Later, it turns out this blog recovery could be a task. I’ve been millennialized, in this instance, the blog text got saved in that idiotic and incompatible XML format. Even reformatting the text in DOC does not work. I will have to copy each file, delete the postings, and put them back. There is no assurance this will work.
