December 15, 2025

Yesteryear
One year ago today: December 15, 2024, JeePee’s going home.
Five years ago today: December 15, 2020, van shopping.
Nine years ago today: December 15, 2016, my beautiful 450.
Random years ago today: December 15, 1981, too like a factory.

           What’s this, a group complaining about Trump okaying money for A.I. development? They ask, why go to school for 16 years, get into debt, and get your job replaced by A.I.? I got $20 bucks says they didn’t go to trade school to work with their hands. I’ve decided this morning’s activity is to peel eight or nine potatoes while reading any news that gets my attention. What? Peel spuds? Why? I figure it this way, I’m employing some future university grad who will conclude everything except the obvious—some people like to peel potatoes.

           Today’s dish is a modern favorite, instant potatoes. Every self-respecting post-Internet diner can tell you this is how it is done. These are twice-peeled in case there is company, and only three people get this work out of me. The Reb, who is in Tennessee, Taylor, who is busy signing $100,000 checks, and drill sergeants.
           I don’t know any military people but the one job I would hate is being a drill sergeant. So I figure they put up with enough crap that they don’t need spots on their potatoes. One bunch I do not like are the dolts who think potato skins are more nutritious. Such people have something in common. Cheap-ass parents, the bread crust crowd.

           I got motivated and peeled 18 potatoes, then got busy making up a song list that Steve & I can focus on. He’ll be back on board after Xmas, I predict, because that’s the musicians regret period that you’ve missed another season. It’s a harsh reality for those who tend to forget a working band is a living being that needs to be fed. I like puzzles, always have, and here is my score while the spuds were peeling themselves. It helps to realize of those 47 champs, may are addicted to the puzzles, many cheat, and many do little else in their spare time.

           The chill morning targeted my shoulder blades and there is a connection I should have spotted. It is the pain that was present during my first round of steroids and again during therapy with Big Loretta. Exactly the same because it is an imbalanced deep ache on one side you would not mistake for anything else. Am I bound for another round? The therapy barely works, but if I discontinue, the conditions reappear in a day or two. Decisions, decisions.

           Some unverified news says Bob Reiner (Meathead on TV and a woefully hopeless left-winger) was just stabbed to death by his own son. I’ll bet the altercation was all about politics. Later, it turns out his son is bat-guano crazy. Some smart aleck posted on Gab that maybe old Rob should have moved to Canada like he said he would when Trump was elected. Turns out the son was your typical useless spoiled drug addict who never adjusted to not always getting his own way. Reiner himself was an advocate of violence upon others. He wanted to hang Trump's son, so don't look here for empathy.

Picture of the day.
3D Print empanada maker.
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           Steve and I finally got together for a music session. Not a jam or rehearsal, more to stabilize that we are playing the same material. This was delight, because I often show new people how I best play certain standard progressions. As soon as he catches on he can remember all manner of tunes that use the riffs. Even tunes before my time. We have enough material, we just don’t have quite enough mileage. He’s practicing on his own and picking up bad solo habits like dropping chords.

           I had to lug my Tailgater (amp) over, but it’s the only portable I’ve got with the oomph to match an acoustic. It was originally battery powered, that has been replaced, and now it’s stone dead again. Just when I need it. I’ve got a small motorcycle battery in the shed, how ‘bout go looking for that. There may be a picture of our practice in his empty garage. The guy has no wheels, so it’s like a very common situation in the music field, a suspended license. That is nothing these days.
           He’s still weak on choosing music that has interesting parts for others, and I think guitar players never get over the phase of thinking if even one person likes a song, the whole band should learn it. It’s natural. And there is no easy way to demonstrate that another tune would be better. That would be like pulling teeth or getting the Hippie to play a song he didn’t like for the sake of the band. I doubt there is one tune on his entire repertoire that is on my song list today.

           Silver is hovering around $63. Trump has filed that $10 billion lawsuit over their doctored broadcast of his speech. Word is, the British public is cheering. An hour of my evening was just chewed up by an error of my own making, so that makes it a top even today. I have a numbering system for tracking bank deposits, and it includes what should be random. My anti-dormancy deposits, hey, they are the change I empty from my pockets as each month progresses. What are odds of two deposits years apart both being $207.17, both on a December 9? Because it just happened.
           There is probably some explanation, but there is no rhyme nor reason for why these millennial smart phones require more than one keypress to send a voice message. Alas, they’ve been around so long that the stupidity is now entrenched. On my unit, it requires seven keypresses after the phone is on and swiped to record. You cannot fix stupid.

Last Laugh