One year ago today: December 19, 2024, a nice ring.
Five years ago today: December 19, 2020, thanks, Wal*Mart.
Nine years ago today: December 19, 2016, chick magnet.
Random years ago today: December 19, 2007, bad service, high prices.
Gosh, I’ve gotten to know some flaky people over the years, but the further north you go, the condition gets worse. I’ve heard of this and confirm it, the cold must have some sort of mass brain effect on them. My theory is they claim to like cold, but deep down know they are suffering and want others to suffer as well. A thin, but workable theory, see addendum. Another day off and I’m in danger of thinking when I should be working. Last evening I had to read a book on marine propulsion systems to fall asleep. Y’know, it was not that bad, it’s in my old text about oil tanker design.
I tried reading a heralded book on personal privacy, but the first 147 pages were concerned with case history concerning abortion and birth control. My stance is solid: that is a private issue and unless people do something that involves others (such as operating a taxpayer-funded clinic) then it is nobody else’s business. Even then, they may only protest or support the clinic, never the parents. On the other hand, there should be no such thing as welfare, for the same reason—if you can’t feed ‘em, don’t breed ‘em. How redneck can you get? Wait, I can’t be a real redneck because I would not stop you from anything, as long as you pay for it yourself plus face the consequences. Yep, I better find something to do today.
Aha, that was a contact from the clinic, they can see me in a week instead of two. It’s a 400-mile round trip, but it’s not six to eight weeks from now. I’ll stop at the fancy mall they have nearby. I’ll have to leave here at 3:00AM in the morning. Aha, we have a new birdie visitor. It’s the female downey woodpecker. So that is another nesting pair, the best backyard a man could want and good company as well. I’m awaiting a text from Agt. M, see if I can crash there the day before. Motorcycle people, like me, never like driving in the dark.
The backyard thermometer says 80°F, but before I step outside, I pirated Lennon’s “Imagine”. I don’t really find it to be the “most influential’ song of our times, but I agree his statement that the lyrics came “mostly from Yoko”, and that it was recorded in one session. It is not classic Lennon material, it just isn’t. Next, I did some research. I like my nice little laser and what it can do. I was after some pointer on how to etch glass. Why? Because if it can etch glass, why can’t it cut glass. Return later to see what I found.
Later. Of what I viewed, the most no-nonsense advice was to spray the glass with (Rust-o-leum) chalkboard paint. The video etched the glass with 5 watts and I have 10. My goal is not to etch glass, but to see if this can be used to cut glass. I would cut my own slides, for example. Sure enough, when I checked the shed I have no glass to test it on. But I found some chalkboard paint.
Even later, I began watching an old western with Sam Elliott, “The Quick and the Dead”. He can only play one character. This movie, I liked right away, it’s better than his usual. Then, I learned what bagasse is. The dried and shredded stalks of sugarcane once the juice has been squeezed. It is processed into biodegradable articles like “paper plates”. The movie turns out much better than expected, and I see now it isn’t just a copycat title. Excellent acting and Elliott actually shows some real moments. But it’s hard to beat Kate Nail, who eventually became Mrs. Steven Spielberg. After she converted to Judaism, that is. Gals who snag big shots need to get their priorities straight.
Piano key weights.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
Finally, I found a use for those 3-1/2” screws. They can reach through those strapping runners the wide way. That’s partially what you see here, the beginnings of the base for the compressor case. I got in a couple hours before dark brings skeeters, Last day I scored a whole sheet of MDF for $12 off the cull cart, from which I hope to build a small saw table I sent a lot of e-mails for people who would need to know if I don’t make it, that’s actually a calming event. Jim is kept current with the song list and he knows I’m indifferent about ‘Imagine” for stage work I don’t dislike the song, rather I know there are better tunes to play to a party crowd.
That was JZ on the line. We will plan an Xmas visit around the cardiologist schedule. I told you, the guy is a yahoo for not taking it easy. We figure when my appointment is confirmed, I’ll show a day early and plan to stay at least a week. That will throw this blog into disarray as the only access is the Pinecrest Library. And they censor everything because the world needs librarians dictating what you read. I have never replaced my travel tablet because none come with a confirmed word processor.
JZ and I will talk money, he does not keep track of his assets, which are managed for him. Now, you know me, that would just mean time to manage the management. He does not know his net worth, but I can always get it within a narrow range. I’m not just supposing he is too old to learn the skills and he knows I consider his skills at it are below average. I can always tell how far somebody has gotten when they don’t complain about the right things. If he invests anything now, I think he will lose it like the beginner he is in this trade. He knows something has to give.
We have a new round of scare ads with new A.I. scanners able to grab credit card data. They show old couples whose bank accounts have been cleaned out. Hey, if that happened to me, I’d sue the bank. For openers, it is the bank, not me, that created a card that could be hacked. Plus, my money was in the bank for safekeeping and the money was stolen from the bank, not me. They have insurance and can replace it. One of the big bank scams of our time is the “protection” racket they are running and everybody who pay for it is a sucker.
Whatever you think of Trump, he’s learned how to play his adversaries, to beat them at their own games. When it was leaked that Trump would announce war on Venezuela, the MSM jumped on it. They made sure every Democrat worth his salt was glued to the television. Then Trump gets on and treats them to a complete list of all his accomplishments. Pure genius, that one.
A closer look at silver is troubling. It isn’t silver going up but the money going down, the trick is to time things right. If silver shot to $1,000 I would sell a hundred ounces and buy something solid before other prices catch up. Wait, and you lose, as silver will drop back and prices will go up. My background in such matters is limited to a couple of macroeconomics courses I took back in the 90s. I know generally what happens but I don’t know why—and neither does anybody else. I’ve long held the view that we are in a depression as bad as the 30s, but people don’t know it for a simple reason. This time, they have credit cards.
One similarity is evident—most people do not have jobs that pay enough to buy the things they produce or pay for the resources they use. It’s reminiscent of Kuwait in ’82 when a barber demanded gold instead of paper and within 48 hours, it was game over. Don’t take any wooden hundreds.
ADDENDUM
Here is the situation. I want to change my Will, a legal and normal function. I also do not want the whole world to know about it, which is also legal and normal. That’s why I do it all in writing and by US post. The problem is, I want the remote party to believe the check was mailed from where I used to live. Nothing unusual about that at all. It should be a simple matter of contacting an old friend who lives nearby there and asking them to drop the envelope in the mailbox. Sometimes you have to ask what in hell makes some people tick. There is only so many ways you can describe what you want. And yes, all the people involved owe me favors.
Reaady for a test to see if you are smarter than the people I went to school with? I mail you a envelope. Inside is a stamped and addressed letter. Drop it in the mailbox. If you can do that, you passed.
