One year ago today: September 9, 2024, hype, hype, hype . . .
Five years ago today: September 9, 2020, fake “pecan” tree.
Nine years ago today: September 9, 2016, enough holidaying.
Random years ago today: September 9, 2012, from a safe distance.
Three cups of coffee and I was off to the lumber yard for enough to finish the new work counter. Then over to the Sheriff’s pound to donate some super fancy dog food this month. While not recovered from the situation up north, I will be able to manage two fun-filled events this month. Soon as I get a call of an opening, I’m off to Miami and I finally have a new camcorder. Not the fanciest, but the proliferation of phone cameras makes good hand-helds hard to find. I hit some traffic so I listened to a few more chapter’s of Aubrey’s murder mystery. It’s degenerated into hopeless soap opera, see Addendum.
The fact that all contemporary camcorders and software share this same misfit is an anti-trust issue that should have been addressed long ago. But we live in the Age of Corruption.
And there is that laser cutter, can I afford it. It brings precision that has frustrated me countless times. It’s doubtful I would live long enough to get as good as I’d like. But I can learn to program servo motors to do it for me. Those are the geared motors that I was steering toward with my studies of PWM (pulse width modulation) on the Arduino. If you’re not sure what those are, you have a lot of reading to do. So do I, as I encountered a message that I knew must be in code, but a code that did not make sense. Until I noticed the only single digit was a 0 and there was no 5. Here is the message:
78 0 49 18 14 13 12 0 17 49 0 12 14 0 48 38 0 12 46 13 49 12 38 28
It also defied conventional frequency analysis and has three two-letter words in a row. Then it hit me, the 0 means a space. It is semaphore, a code I do not know. But I know about it. I have not had time to decipher this string, but I figure it is someone tapping out the positions of semaphore flags on a kepad, so I know 78 represents the letter A, and so on. There is an explanation, want to hear it? Okay, when I was a kid there was nobody to practice anything with. I lived in a town of hopelessly lazy people. So I learned the first seven letters A thru G and that left them so far behind, I just moved on.
Devil’s Tramping Ground.
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Aha, we have a cancellation at primary care, but no confirmation. That means a trip to Miami later this week. Does this mean I finally get the door handle on the KIA fixed? I took the afternoon to make the van ready, you never know. JZ is not answering his phone, so I booked ahead to have Agt. M fix the that handle if he can find the parts. It involves him chasing around and finding the part, but he has access to the robot club cash account. I am not spending $355 to have that tiny plastic part replaced at the dealership.
Here is a picture from the future. Yep, I made it to Miami and this is the three corner jigsaw pieces I found at the activity table. I spend this evening puttering and decided this activity was more exciting. This is at the Pinecrest library, where they can leave a puzzle out without have some single-parent cultural diversifiers desconstructing it, nomsayn?
Later, we have confirmed a cancellation, I will be leaving here at 5:30AM tomorrow. In the van, it’s a three hour trip, but quite comfortable. This is to renew my meds, so if I’m out of there early enough, I’m planning to check in on JZ. Which reminds me there is something I’ve wanted to clarify for years. I’ve said how rich kids always have odd quirks, but I doubt I ever said why. My theory differs from the usual “spoiled brat” theory because often these kids have tons more practical exposure to the world than we poor ones. So I look a few layers deep than just presuming they are entitled babies.
You see, they have that massive parental infrastructure that most of us cannot imagine. That means they know exactly how it is supposed to work, while the rest of us lack such experience and make mistakes. Here’s the difference on how rich kids deal differently. Like all teens, they go through the rebellious stage. So did JZ. When poor kids have no support, they too often resort to crime, where the rich kids tend toward what looks like creativity, but in reality they simply have more experience on where to seek opportunities.
For example, I know poor kids and rich kids who stole toilet paper. The poor kids got caught shoplifting, the rich kids never got caught because they would steal it at night from city worksite porta-potties. Creative? Maybe, but now I get to tell you a true incident in JZ’s past, a tale you could only get from the trailer court.
When he was a teen, he ran away and was living at a hostel in a former Miami Beach hotel. If you recall me mentioning the “Fountainbleu”, that’s the place. It was run on a government grant by this Rabbi. To live there, the inmates, I mean guests, had t help with chores. So the Rabbi sends JZ his cleft-palate Canadian pal to pick up supplies in the Rabbi’s personal car. The Rabbi drives the hostel truck to go pick up lumber.
On the way back, JZ gets to a crossroads and the Rabbi, seeing his own car, gets confused and guns the truck. The Canada hairlip guy starts yelling, “He’s going to hit us,” spraying spittle all over JZ, who ducks just in time. The Rabbi totals his truck driving head-on into his own car. Nobody is hurt, but when the cops show up, they discover the Canadian has overstayed his visa for ten years and deport him. This was in the 1970s. You can’t make this stuff up.
ADDENDUM
Islamics in Texas are demanding stores stop selling alcohol, pork, and lottery tickets to comply with Sharia law. That makes more sense than the last minute plot twists in “No One Cares”, the audiobook that really tries to portray neurotic women as normal. Aubrey is 30, not 13, but where ordinary women have boobs and pubes, Aubrey has “private areas” that she is just “beginning to acknowledge”.
Every man in the book is a double-dealer, or at least she takes it that way. Every man who does not live up to her expectations doesn’t seem as tall as before and even his eyes are a paler color. All the women have a past they should be ashamed of, all the men who don’t tell Aubrey about every sordid detail of their pasts are using her. Aubrey is the champion of women who are never accountable for anything. In Aubrey’s world, women don’t get pregnant, they “find out” they are pregnant. Like it is some deep mystery they stumbled across while jogging in their cellophane shorts. I can't help thinking she's up to something because nobody is that air-headed for no reason.
