October 7, 2025

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 7, 2024, why FEMA sucks.
Five years ago today: October 7, 2020, a grouchy start.
Nine years ago today: October 7, 2016, Category Zero.
Random years ago today: October 7, 2010, playing it wrong.

           The majority of American jobs over the past 30 years have been intentionally watered-down to where they can be performed by unskilled labor. Because there was a seemingly unlimited supply of it. I see both sides of the issue. Employees wanting a living wage and employers seeking to minimize costs. There was always a bigger issue—who was maintaining the system while this was going on? It was a shrinking cadre of older, but skilled workers with experience. That source began to dry up around 2010 when they started retiring en masse.

           I spotted this trend in the 1990s, that the new people getting hired did not know their stuff, but salvation was at hand because a then-new device could substitute for lack of education—it was called the computer. I also knew that was a temporary fix, that if the solution was not “in the computer”, these people were lost. There were other factors, but today I see a parallel with A.I. There are no more skilled technicians. They were not needed for the first 20-30 years of the computer revolution, and now the skill set has been lost.

           It’s easy to imagine a lot of Boomers regretting they won’t live long enough to take these “whiz kids” and “computer geniuses” for a ride. Here’s the view of the grey saw, laying on its side. The wing on the left is slated for removal, most fasteners have been soaking in oil overnight The unit has a heavy duty fence, I’ll try to get this tool into place and tested today. We have another hot spell. If I’m successful, the saw will be under the shed overhang. If this works right, I can handily reinforce the roof to avoid exposure to wind-blown rain.

           This is the condition I received the saw, it has been stored inside. Still, it has become a major effort taking most of the morning. I’m pointing at one of several angle brackets added by a previous owner. These may have to be cut away. There are eight of these and they are rusted in place. I have not tried all the options yet, I awoke famished and prepared a big bowl of grits. Topped with onion and turkey gravy.
           Now, I’m sleepy again (which explains why I'm sitting instead of working right now.) The good news is this blog passed another milestone for views. Should I call a publisher or let somebody else deal with that and then sue? (That’s an old joke around here, let somebody steal my material, then take them to court after they’ve don all the hard work.) I mean, in America, suing is easy because it, is full of socially rusted bolts.

           This just in, JZ was in the hospital. He’s released and back home, but the fact he’d check himself in means it was serious. Says he’s fine, but knows that the first time [I recovered] I was also fine, which was 22 years 1 week ago. And JZ would rather starve than tell anybody he was hungry. I think he only phoned me because he knows I visited his sister, Alaine, who I might add is just as gorgeous as ever. They’ve always been the closest in the family and now I know it was a stroke that I blame on the COVID vaccine. He’s the only acquaintance I know who got the jab, although I’ve heard of a few others.

Picture of the day.
Coffee-producing areas, Nepal.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           I’m serious about that saw and it has become the object of today. Here is a sort-of view of the table tilt gears. They worked smooth once the oil had time. Compressed air and a brush got some parts shiny again. I’m not about to click the thing on until it’s as clean as I can get it, the wiring is shielded and looks intact. It’s past noon and break time a week into the shutdown. People may start to figure out how little we need government.

           A radio is connected in the scooter shed. Trump has finally accused the Somalian of immigration fraud. The penalty is deportation. Chicago and Portland seem to have hundreds of people in the streets who don’t seem to need day jobs. A White British gal kidnapped and raped by Muslims threw herself out a second-story window to her death. Terrorist have been arrested for putting bounties on ICE agents. But, I have a saw to fix.

           There’s the innards of the grey saw. Two spiral rods for adjusting the blade. I’m about to see what gives. Can you wait ten minutes? Okay, now you can wait four hours because I’m still trying to get the last five bolts off that saw. I’m saving those wings in case I every need any bulletproof armor. The sort of good news is the bolts were chromed, so the rust was more like tarnish. But the nuts and heads were an admixture of sizes, ranging from 7/16ths to 5/8ths, and not matching pairs. There was even a 17/32nds which I had to cram off with a metric. I finally quit around 5:30PM.
           I checked the motor for resistance and it looks good. But I’m not turning the unit on until it is flat and level. I recall now what one problem was, somebody had turned the saw past the 45° angle and it slipped off the threads. It’s back on now but there’s still something haywire. I’ll get it. The saw is a Sears, an ancient Sears, so the quality is there. If only I can coax it back to life.

           Here is the creepy oil, I guess it’s called Kroil. This can is a ten year supply for me, but there is a manufacturing defect that lets the aerosol pressure die in hall that time. There comes a time in every blogster’s life when a defunct can of oil becomes blogworthy. It could be a consequence of moving to Florida. It’s sad to see, but then it is more information than the cat posts.
           Festus Tuesday gave way to a movie, the Bill Murray show “Quick Change”. I liked it right away because of the portrayal of how idiot mistakes so quick compound themselves. We watched half for now, I opted to get home before the daily downpour and then zipped downtown for some needed supplies. On the return, I saw the club was totally empty, so I stopped in to see the new guy. A few people filtered in, so I asked if he’d like to see an experiment. Sure.

           I played some select tunes on the juke box, and the place livened right up. There was even a babe (playing pool with her husband) that made requests. What a difference, and that is what is lacking in that joint. Atmosphere. The last people would remote the juke box down for country and crank it with the shigga-boogah.
           The poor guy, the new server, was born unable to hear music properly. I’ve never heard of this, but he cannot follow drum beats very well. But he sure spotted the difference, things picked up when there was the right music and slumped soon as I quit plugging in the money. Hey, I get paid to entertain. But, I know the staff gets a certain amount of free credits and he saw the effect.
           How was your Tuesday?

Last Laugh