One year ago today: July 11, 2025, silver passes $38.
Five years ago today: July 11, 2021, my prettiest tree.
Nine years ago today: July 11, 2017, Ray-B’s in the valley.
Random years ago today: July 11, 2010, dust from elsewhere.
So JZ, forgetting I had an electric bike 16 years ago, goes to the keys and rides his brother’s fancy job. Now he’s sold, telling me all about the wonders of which I know nothing. Being 20 years ahead of the pack isn't easy, let me tell you. He saw a $300 model for sale at BestBuy, I mean BrandsMart. I told him run, don’t walk, for the nearest exit. Anything less than $2,000 is junk. He called with the latest on vitamins, he’s always keen on what’s trending. Sadly, kidney weakness runs in his family. The rage is still vitamin D, plus B complex with C added. He reports the complex is from the inclusion of niacin and thiamin. Okay.
Key lime pie for breakfast, as we talk real estate. Like many a condo-dweller, JZ draws too many parallels concerning property ownership. He almost thinks because I got a place cash, this could happen again by normal circumstances. In fact, it was a wild fluke. This was not luck, he knows I saved every penny for six years and looked at over 500 places. Luck would be if this money and moment had happened when I was 25, not 50. Want affordable housing? Kick out 51 million illegals. Otherwise, you will rent for life, which to me is [much] the same as high condo fees.
A big issue now is property taxes. Some feel they should cease after you own the house or turn 65. Not too bright, that bunch. I agree, there is wastage with any government, but what is the alternative? Watching your house burn down while the fire chief runs your credit card? JZ, like many renters, sees home ownership without the downsides of taxes, maintenance, responsibility, and liability on an entirely different scale. I can tell you to the penny what my cumulative property taxes have been the past five years ($5,202). And I can identify where every penny came from.
Yet like most, JZ could not tell you what he spent on groceries last month. I spent $368.86, that’s $90 more than average and up $140 from five years ago. He’s unaware of the details, but we do talk about money same as most. And like most, he does not recognize effective money management when he sees it. He thinks it is a skill everybody who spends money has naturally. But if that money supply gets cut off, 2/3 of America cannot last a month without dire consequences.
On the other hand, my self-acclaimed super-human abilities to manage money may allow me to find yet more in the corners—by now he knows I’m investing in something. I know damn well if I don’t do something pretty quick, in ten years there will be heap big trouble. Same for everybody. I’m already looking at severe conservation measures, which would include the monthly doggie food donation. Gone already are coffee shops, newspapers, and weekend drives.
Abandoned brick quarry
(Suggested Canadian staycation.)
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Today’s adventures center back on music. Just before dark, I grabbed the bass and played a half-hour of my favorite dance tunes, such as “Next Broken Heart”. This perked me up enough to drive out to Kooter’s, possibly to chance across Jack, the guitarist who never called. I walked in on Karaoke, fronted by Cathy’s husband. I stuck around for a couple, since the place vindicated my well-known prediction that a place with weekend country music would rapidly capture the local market. And the joint was packed.
Here is a video of two perfect boards. I don’t have anything else for you. From the blog that cares and dares. Now back to the show.
Yet, I would like to see what’s changed and hear the gossip. That’s the crowd to get it from. This interests me double because to get there tonight, I have to drive right past the old downtown club and it was dead. Two customers at 9:00PM on a Friday. I knew back in ’16 when I first met the owners, they were bad decision makers at the operational level. And I could see the clash on the way when they switched Cathy from barmaid to manager. She’s a nice lady, but has too strong a personality her actual management abilities. I know, because that is the opposite of my talents. That is, she takes on responsibilities that I would purposely sidestep. She messes up and I get heart attacks.
There is a parallel with the Hippie. He’s a talented guitar player, she’s a talented server—and they would both probably be successful it they learned how to limit themselves to that activity. They don’t have the right personalities for line management (dealing with “workers”). For that matter, neither do I, but I’ve gone beyond that into financial management. They have not. It takes years of study. So, because I’ve lived here so long, I’m curious about the stories which I will hear shortly.
ADDENDUM
From the blog that dares, how many of you ever build plastic model airplanes? Here is a kit featuring the DC-3 turboprop conversion by Basler. It has been featured several times here because of the old adage that the only replacement for a DC-3 is another DC-3. Here is part of the kit fuselage, if you note BT-67, that is the “Basler Turboprop” designation. Don’t expect one here, as the plastic model carries a price tag of $74. Don’t be fooled by the price from the Ukraine of $50 unless you check the shipping cost.
Part of the economy that makes possible is the ruggedness of the original airframe. I have flown many times on these airplanes as a child. The civilian airline market was flooded with surplus war “C-47s” for as little as $1200, and there were thousands of these available. The turbo engines use more fuel, but with extended range tanks and a longer fuselage, they remain economical all over the third world.
Yes, I already checked, there are laser-cut wooden models, which reveal the structure—and now that interests me. So see the actual frame, I looked for a 1/36 scale, anything smaller would not teach me anything but frustration. I found a 1/32, here is a picture because I know how links to pictures can dry up fast. Expect nothing fast, because I’m already distracted for a year now by a rare version called the “Super DC-3”. (There is another reason for this look at models. Read tomorrow's blog.)
The first jet I flew in was a 707 (Boeing), which is also the fastest. That was New Year’s Day 1974, a short flight to Seattle that left late. To make time, the pilot cranked up to 609 mph, easily 50 mph faster than ever again. I stopped flying in 2003 due to danger, over-regulation, and because it was just no fun anymore. Massive line-ups, crowded terminals, uncomfortable seats, and unruly staff that always takes the side of the next nearest idiot. Airlines since 1999 evolved to attract professional complainers.
