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Yesteryear

Monday, July 6, 2026

July 6, 2026

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 6, 2025, he suddenly decided.
Five years ago today: July 6, 2021, suddenly, after Reagan.
Nine years ago today: July 6, 2017, Imokalee.
Random years ago today: July 6, 2007, right down Federal Highway.

           Folks, I knew something would go wrong. It’s an easy prediction because the world is designed that way. The legal team in Nashville with the documents concerting the album release both were plowed down by a drunk driver on July 4th. One lawyer is dead, the other will probably not recover. What gets me is not the tragedy, but the way nobody was in any way prepared for things to go wrong. This means a number of things, but remember the factor I pointed out years ago. The situation will always require exactly the amount of money they know you have left.
           We are now back to boring, er, I mean, recuperation mode and I like my nice yard that has needed raking since 2023. Why, here’s the unusual shot of the day and the sun isn’t up yet. I almost stepped past this pile of dead leaves before I saw it was a clever fungus. Knowing how fragile these can be, I snapped this picture. Sure enough, it soon withered away.

           Before I left Tennessee, I decided to grab the fixings for a couple of cheese sandwiches for breakfast. And a tray of microwave sausages. There you have it, $26. Since little else will happen today, I’ll tell you a tale of PPP, poor people problems. Things that gang up on you if you are poor. Individually, they are minor, but they have a nasty penchant for snowballing. It makes a short story long, so let’s get started. Today’s preconditions are that most banks don’t own the ATMs. My GPS power cable has a leak. My backup ink cartridge just ran dry.

           To start, part of being poor means no cash on hand (or more accurately, no enough cash on hand). I need $200, so it is ATM time, but because this means a special trip, up goes the cost. Normally, I’d avoid rush hour. There are two ATMs, one is 8 miles, the other is another 22 miles. That means if the first ATM fails, it is a 60 mile round trip. I get two miles and the road is blocked. Ah, but I know there is a detour, but which turn? Why, I’ll just use my GPS. Usually, I would replace that bad cable next time I’m at Wal*Mart.
           No such luck, I pick up the GPS and the cable cuts out. I know to re-insert the plug but Garmin has a truly stupid boot-up time full of ads. There is a local riding my bumper and when the screen re-appears and I re-enter the destination, I have missed the turn. PPP is now in full swing. I turn around and get stuck the traffic.
           A while back I told how my ATM was in a bank lobby. After hours, the bank pulled the gate closed and you accessed the door using your card. But the cheap-ass bank puts in Amazon locked along one wall, which the local diversity gangs start to break into. Does the bank remove the lockers? Nope, the bank begins locking the lobby door, and I got there ten minutes late.

Picture of the day.
West Virginia Beach.
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           So, it was off to the next ATM, that 22 minutes took an hour. The special trip burned an eighth of a tank of gas and landed me in a rainstorm. It was either than or use my ATM card at a non-commercial bank and pay the $36 fee. Bank fees are a primary reason a lot of people are poor. I arrived back here in three hours late. And that, folks, is a surface-level glance at how PPP works. It is insane how things work at that level.
           Yes, the problem is universal, but America takes it to a fever-pitch. There are segments of the economy that barely scrape by unless you have an emergency where they can gouge you. But it is a thriving economy and Trump has made it impossible to ignore politics. Years ago, I spotted Rosseau, of the Patriot Front, as a born leader. Millions heard his speech on July 4th, and it is resonating.

           Of course, there is the contingent that will claim they are all feds and it is a sting operation, but I see some differences. First, is they are learning to stay safe. After getting arrested for nothing in Idaho, they’ve embraced the need for anonymity. (The Democrats have shown time and again, they will kill your women and children.) They have finally drilled and are marching in matching uniforms. No cell phones to trace, no license plates to run, they use the bus.
           Whereas they are certainly infiltrated, their security is admirable. For if they are a Fed operation, they have stuck themselves in a trap that is swallowing them. It reminds me of the Russian revolution, where the Tsarists set up fake parties to catch dissidents. They attracted so many real revolutionaries that it got them overthrown.

ADDENDUM
           One aspect of the Nashville music trade takes a lot of getting used to. Most of the industry is made up of people who want a fixed fee up front, but also a share of the profits. They invest nothing and get paid, win or lose, a gambled share. Normally, a percentage gain is associated with a proportionate risk, but not with the recording industry. They invest nothing and they sure do not work on contingency. What a racket.

Last Laugh

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