One year ago today: May 13, 2025, queso zaragoso..
Five years ago today: May 13, 2021, uncomfy buffeting?
Nine years ago today: May 13, 2017, peculiarity in public.
Random years ago today: May 13, 2011, lost syntax error.
I am still in Miami. It’s true I don’t know anybody with a workable computer to post. So wait until I get home. Yep, it is sad how little the generations around me know about the computer as a tool. Those older than me either have no computer or have one they can barely use to get on line to game and check the weather. Those younger are no help either. They have four or five favorite apps but cannot type or spell or use a spreadsheet, yet consider themselves power users because they are on-line 15 hours a day.
We did not go chasing women as planned last evening. I got home and fell asleep. Nine hours later I was home here today, same thing again. Zonked out. I had one appointment and I fasted, which turned out the right plan. Because for all the plans and promised made during my recent stay, my primary care clinic had not received any of the records. More worrisome, what records they had were wrong, showing me checking into the wrong hospital on the wrong day.
The two clinics are only 8 miles apart, so I went up to new place to double-check on a few things, including the return of the LiveVest. It’s a good concept but the reality is I just went the critical 3-1/2 months without it. The plan is to test my heart again and see if I’m still groping along at 35%. That would surprise me, because the way I’ve been feeling, doubling that to 70% would give me super-powers.
Got to love that report of the dude who got himself hired, corrected a software bug that has been bothering him for months, then quit. And besides, few things better demonstrate what thin margin of understanding today’s “coders” have compared to traditional programmers.
Best I can do is round you up some random photos of the last 48 hours. Here’s time at the Pinecrest library, where the staff are anointed by above to keep you from viewing anything they don’t approve. And partially ugly, sluggish librarians do not approve of very much, I must tell you.
Classic ha-ha fence.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
It’s fire season again, which coincides with the Florida rainy season. It takes political genius to have the two coincide every damn year. Here is the view westbound on Griffith last day. There seems little logic to spending millions dousing these fires when a simple annual plowing of the perimeter would contain them.
Often, I use long drives to reminisce and review “cautionary” events, today was an example. Daily life is too interesting to fit this thinking in most of the time. Cautionary means a review of lessons from the past that are advance warning signals that continue to crop up all through the rest of life. Like why, without any planning, there are certain types of people who have never gotten past my gates. That’s why, when I bitch about them, it is generally third-party from a distance. That was always one of my incentives to operate at a surplus—you can reject having to deal with arseholes on a regular basis.
I have published (anonymously of course) my latest version of my theory that libtards have certain traits in common. Not their behavior. You can get an endless stream on that from any social media. I mean the root cause behind why they are so detested and detestable. Wow, talk about backlash—but my theory encloses that behavior by subsumption. While my theory goes back 60 years, thought I did not necessarily have the vocabulary or ammunition to fend off the inescapable reprisals.
Sometimes called the “Fairview Theory”, you know it by essence. It is the explanation of the twisted thinking of liberals, gossips, and most people who hate you for having a good time. It states the instrumental factor these people have in common is two-fold. They must go through their teens without getting any (or if they do, they get into trouble). That’s stage one—no sex back at the real and only time it counts for anything (it can take a while for the socially inept/inert to wrap their heads around that one).
The trouble starts at stage two. They get out of high school into a complex different world where the competition is even worse. They fall to thinking those lost sex times can be recaptured by everything from pick-up lines to career success to forceful measures such as prohibition. But it never works. They never again get the young pretty ones. Ah, but we’ve been over that.
What’s new is my contention that these types never get women under 25 who are not hookers. They know it, the women know it, and the world knows it. So to such people, every woman under 25 automatically becomes a “minor”. So, you can from that piece together what is really bothering such assholes, and why they become such staunch and unwelcome designated drivers. Now, that’s all pretty heavy, especially for the victims, and did I just say ‘subsumption’?
