June 24, 2026

Yesteryear
One year ago today: June 24, 2025 Jugging.
Five years ago today: June 24, 2021, never-ending needs.
Nine years ago today: June 24, 2017, use what looks nice.
Random years ago today: June 24, 2013, 10,000 miles by sidecar.

           The Senate has enacted a law preventing corporate housing purchases, as if the corporations did not see this coming and have a backup plan ready. US forces have killed the top ISIS guy again, that dude has nine lives. And I watched a documentary on “Golden Dome”, the shield that is supposed to protect the USA against a new class of attack, the “non-ballistic threat”. It boils down to the same, using billion-dollar systems to combat thousand-dollar weapons. Back over here, I turn off the cooling in the spare rooms I don’t use at night and the sensor said it got up to 90°F inside at some point before morning.

           This saps all energy, so let’s be happy if I even walk out the door today. The DIY wood hydrometer reaches a maximum [today reached 96F), which I’ll mark, what a neat home-made device. Measuring humidity in angles instead of percentages. I woke up yawning, this is not due to be a super day. I think granny raccoon has taken up residence in the kudzu patch. There are two small coverings I propped up to avoid catching rain water (mosquitoes) and the footie-prints are unmistakeable. She shelters under there at some point. Let me set up the game cam as the time lapse is daylight only.

           A brief afternoon shower brought temperatures back to tolerable, so here is me finalizing some jigs for the newest and tiniest fake box, already tagged the “button box”. All from existing wood and equipment, it’s a handy size and fits nicely in one hand. So no thumb holes. The neighbor was over to get some assistance with his new phone. He’s lost three in the past three weeks and does not know how to pair up speakers and such. While walking over, I got stung. I would have left the wasps alone if they’d returned the favor but a big old granddaddy wasp got me right on the knuckle. Now my right hand is swollen, a condition I never had from insect bites before.

           I know how everyone follows and likes the new inward-looking material of this blog since my little sojourn to Miami and here is a plant pot. The neighbor is proud of this, he has the patience to things to grow. And this sapling, I think it is a mango, grew out the side of the container. Ah, the mystery of life, found an opening, and showed Darwin was right at least part of the time.

           Ricko, and this reinforces what I already think, keeled over in his hallway and landed in the hospital. I did not know he’s got COPD, but he’s the spirit and image of the oldsters that surrounded me in the therapy clinic. I was there long enough to see the patterns in the clientele and which were the good and the less good. Possibly I have another guitarist who does not know what I learned fifty years ago—playing live music requires stamina, and if you don’t think so, you are not doing it right.
           Hey, from my point of view if this compels him to sit down and play guitar all day, so much the better. I’ve no illusions, I know things are never going to get better. No word from the other guitarist, but I’ll bet he lost the slip with my info. (That is part of the plan, by the way.) And of course, the other Kooters band never called because momma don’t like me. She knows when she’s met more than her match.

Picture of the day.
“Dune-bashing” safari.
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           Cutting is easy with the templates. The L’il Texas sign had no such luxury. It was popular enough (412 views) that it gets extra attention. You see, this is 2026 and if you want something to look rustic, you got to put in the time. And nothing is natural about the appearance of this neat old sign. The stake is from an old bedstead and the crosspiece is carefully selected from an older end of plank that stuck out in the rain for a year or two. To get that greyed appearance.

           But most fun was getting that bent nail to look right. (Bent just under the T.) It involved a vise and a hand sledge, you know, I do believe this step took most of a half-hour. You want rustic signage these days? Then best you own a computer and a laser just to make the part that faces the road. I brought in four hours of laser work. Turns out all four faces [of each box regardless of size] have to be etched to get the right look. Relax, I’m baking enough bread pudding for two. Help yourself, there’s half & half in the fridge.
           Trial and lots of error. Thinner nails that would bend didn’t have enough visual and those nails thick enough were so long they had to be introduced to a bolt cutter. Projects like this make me glad I pick up extra coffee most times I’m downtown. And the way that grass in L’il Texas so nicely and geometrically displays. That doesn’t happen by accident, either, sport. Gosh, my place smells like baking pies on a wood stove.

           I’m around halfway through the burn, so here is a closeup of the sign. The letters are individually printed at nearly maximum size, so the small discrepancies nicely add to the less-polished appearance. Normally the software that came with the unit would make it factory crisp.
           The long burns (which would be impractical otherwise) gave me time to look up raccoon habitats. They live in hollow logs and trees and those around here have no vacancies. I found a forestry site that says they take to any tunnel shape if it has and opening at either end. I never had the heart to dismantle the beautiful dwelling I made for JeePee, who I miss so much. I wonder if granny raccoon would take to those if they were modified a bit?

           How about that sharp dude who built his chicken coop to look like a flying saucer. Now he posts pics of when the chickens march up the ramp, looks like they are being abducted. My music effort today is to relearn “Stand By Me”. It sounds easy, but give the bass line another listen. It is played with a distinct touch that stops each note from ringing and the original recording is missing a note—a note that I have a long-standing affinity for because others don’t like to play it. The rest is easy, the whole song is one riff.
           Just now I saw the headline that the Post Office will not be delivering mail-in ballots to states that don’t enforce voter ID. Interesting for a couple reasons. One is that some pink-haired judge will overrule the President—and we shall see who the Post Office obeys. It hints the postal people just might be smartening up. The second reason is the lack of sass from the USPS. They are the very bastion of leftist vote-stealing. The fact that things even got to the executive order stage shows the Democrat party is crumbling from within.
           Here’s a good spot to remind everyone I am not a Trump fan – but I am also a moderate Libertarian (quite different from what you may have been told about that philosophy). As such I believe that all participation should be voluntary, that nobody has the right to compel others (within certain reasonable parameters) into anything they disagree with. Of the two big parties, only one tries to force vaxes, queers, foreigners, and drug addicts into my streets, parks, stores, and work places. This is not my total position, but you get the idea. I would never stop you from helping, but I would stop you from compelling others to help. Enforcing charity is the supreme act of selfishness.

ADDENDUM
           Bad news from Las Vegas. It has lost enough of its glitter to cause major losses to the biggest operators. That’s the casino hotel places. I’ve never been there and have no desire to do so. I know only one gambler and you’d pretty much have to pay me to hang out in such a place with such people. Up to recently, I knew as much about Hormuz as most, so I scheduled some videos. I was aware tankers are the cheapest way to move oil and most other commodities. The place has been a trouble zone since day one, so I was looking for pipelines.
           Especially buried pipelines, since we know the political climate is hotter than the rest of their wasted lands and, historically, wasted lives. Most of the countries bordering the Persian Gulf would have to build across neighboring countries to read a deep sea port. At some point most of the oil-dependent regimes have built some minor pipeline that is just enough to keep them from starving if the waterway gets blocked. As for serious capacity, they don’t even seem capable of the thought. Trillions for nothing, and what have they done to improve their lot? If the oil ever runs out, they are back to camel-herding. Zero personal initiative is a trait of the third world.

Last Laugh