November 15, 2025

Yesteryear
One year ago today: November 15, 2024, trails are for schmeebs.
Five years ago today: November 15, 2020, trails are for wusses.
Nine years ago today: November 15, 2016, the cost of nothing.
Random years ago today: November 15, 2007, my only bass idol.

           I glanced through older blog postings. Some real gems in there. Two years, 2004, & 2011, have completely gone from my memory. It’s too early for the swap meet so I reviewed 2004. That was the year after my first day in a hospital in my adult life. So there’s the blog to the rescue! On-line was new back then and there was little of the formatting that today makes this the most beautiful blog in the universe. That’s something we can all agree on, anything fancier is overkill and not a real blog, anything simpler lacks content. By now, the astute reader has guessed I have not had my morning coffee.

           What’s this? I’m $13 under budget. Do you think I can find breakfast in Florida for that little? Stick around and find out, the neighbor just started a lawn mower, so I’m playing bass before I drive to Auburndale for the pick up. Enjoy. What’s this, shrinks are seeing enough cases of Trump Derangement Syndrome to consider categorizing it as a separate disorder. This link is a spoof but captures the facts. Here’s another fact. In “nazi” Germany, your mortgage was paid down by 25% for every child you had.

           Later, here’s the new range in the driveway. I got up there at 9:30AM on the button but the guy wasn’t there, just his wife, who knew I was not up to hefting that appliance onto my van. So she texted her daughter, who showed up in a couple minutes. Now, folks, I am not that handy with the compliments, but my metaphorical jaw hit the pavement. Utterly drop-dead movie actress fashion model perfect-bodied gorgeous. My guess is 23 years old, Mexican, and she made your eyes water. Sprayed-on jeans and a cellophane top that would have revealed an ounce of fat if she’s had any. I’m forty years too late.

           And what a sweet disposition, I found my second wind and we got the stove onto the truck, which gave a chance to chat in Spanish. I didn’t dare ask anything that I wanted to, but she can sing and would like to learn guitar. We were close enough that I saw every curve and angle—and that she wore no makeup or foundation garments. Just smooth, unbelievably smooth, they are making them like they used to. Sigh, she was just beginning to react that I was no ordinary gringo when mamasita appeared with the bill of sale. And I was on my way.

           Next stop was the Cozy Oaks, with the customary half-hour lineup. Nope, no $13 breakfast. By the time you got the coffee plus tip, it came to $18. It was close enough to noon that I had the burger, one of the few places I’ll touch beef. I’m home and Howie helped me unload the stove. He’s away for a couple days so I’ll be pet sitting, if I can. No word yet from Tennessee how the Reb is doing.
           There is some idiotic talk that making houses “easier to build” will solve the crisis of 50 million illegals taking up the market. No mention of corporate mass-buying of anything rentable, mentioned by the way, in this blog back in 2014. How places I would designate for a look would all be sold in the morning before I could get there by noon. A solution that has worked before is allowing people to build their own houses. Makes sense to me, I just saved myself at least $100,000, but now let’s give an example of how that is done. The stove.

Picture of the day.
Ottoman train today.
(Lawrence of Arabia attack.)
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Here’s the stove in position inside the kitchen, though I don’t think we’ll be baking pies and muffins soon. Turns out the old wiring still needs a lot of attention. I think the old stove might have been wired for only 30 amps, and the big circuit was for that defunct combo air condiitioner/heater that was on the north window when I moved in. The leaky one that wrecked the window frame. There is some 8 gauge wire in the panel, but it is two wire. I have to lift the floorboards again to see what is under there.

           The reason I want to be sure of that wiring is because that A/C was installed when the fat lady lived here. That means it might have a proper grounding wire, which will save me a half-day’s work. At least the weather is cooperating. If I never said, the software I use to produce these short videos is very bad, Photoscape v3.6. But it wins out because it is consistently and predictably bad.

           It’s most redeeming qualities are it will not update unless you grant permission. So I’ve still got the original version on this computer. I’ve used the “newer” versions and they are millennial crap. The updates do everything from beg for money to disable key features. The app has no memory features for final output, you have to set it from scratch each time you open the program. But some are okay, although the modules don’t mesh and it is very easy for one step to clobber another.
           You may notice the wall behind the video is still torn apart. It stays that way until all the wiring is working to spec. I got the stove in and roughly in position myself before the evening mosquito onslaught. That guitar player from Auburndale is still viewing my profile, which splays across the top you have to text me or leave a number. He’s not getting it and the contact number on his profile is not in service. I gave a look on-line but his name is so common. And with the A.I. searching, it can be very difficult to filter out the triflers and last-chancers. In other news, there are reports the Catholics have been using A.I. chat bots in the confession booths.

ADDENDUM
           What have I done? I just played the whole Cheap Trick tune on one string, using only my pointer finger. This is exactly the sort of gimmicky that aggravates the shit out of guitar players. The effect is, compared to what anybody watching would expect, almost spectacular. Steals the show, so darn rights I’m going to pursue it. Gawd, I can be such a prick sometimes, it is enough to make you wonder where I learned all this show-offing from.
           Once memorized, the pattern repeats most every 31 measures, very rare because it is an odd number. This evening I went over it again, noticing another opening. Most measures are a single note. And where the note changes, it usually splits right in the center. I use a pick. Up-picking is almost taboo on bass because you can never get the notes consistent. Or can you? I perfected this years ago. Why? Because I developed this purposely to showboat. Hear me out, this was not what you think.
           Many, in fact too many, bass “solos” are just the bass player doing what he has been for the whole song. My goal was to make the breaks at least a little flashier. It was later I discovered it can dazzle the right audience. Along comes Cheap Trick where I can combine up-picks and one-string presentations. The one-string rendition is something I learned from Paganini. I confess I’ve only listened to his fastest music and most tunes only once. After a bit, it all sounds like “Devil Went Down To Georgia”.
           Nor am I a fan of all these “ten best bassists” type videos that overwhelm sites like youTube. Their style is pretty much the opposite of mine. I want my bass line to sound like bass lines, not some whacked out string-popping maniac frenzy. I can appreciate the effort that these solos require, but take Tal Wilkenfeld. The major difference between her bass playing and mine is that when she starts soloing, people stop dancing. I have packed dance floors with just my bass playing. Which could you listen to for eternity?

Last Laugh