One year ago today: October 10, 2025, “no slop for you”.
Five years ago today: October 10, 2021, pallets, scooter, spuds.
Nine years ago today: October 10, 2017, first driverless semi trip.
Random years ago today: October 10, 2013, the Colorado circuit.
I bought this gizmo at the Thrift thinking it was a speaker, but it was a clock when I took it apart. Before we continue, it has been a dead calm all morning, so I will tour the yard after sunup, in case we are in for it. Hurricane Isis (not a typo and screw you weather bureau, go be woketards someplace else) makes landfall about now.and I’m seriously thinking of walling in all my lean-tos over this wind damage nonsense. The clock stunned me because of the precise assembly and perfect accuracy of pieces too small to be hand-held. This $4.99 MSRP gadget was a marvel in itself.
I’m considering a change to my Picture of the Day feature. The links expire, which is the readers incentive to check in regular, or miss something. They are also the single largest part of this blog that has any potential for copyright troubles. I abide by the court decision that copying such material is infringement, but merely pointing at it (like a link) is not. It’s a fool who argues this blot is anything other than entertainment or education, but the supply of fools grows exponentially with our welfare society. What to do?
There you go, the last week caught up with me, but I paced myself and I’m doing okay. Energy at 50%, marginally better than before. So that’s improvement. No word from the guitar player as I continue to apply custome bass lines to old Croce tunes. This, I cannot do without thinking of Sweet Judy. I wonder whatever happened to her. I did try, as promised, to contact her on her 50th birthday. After than that, nothing. She could be a great-grandmother by now. If I recall, we broke up about this time of year, 52 years ago.
Another distinct memory of the time was how “dumb” I seemed to people because I did not watch television. I could not follow their humor, nor they mine—but they had become a permanent majority. See addendum for history. My 50% energy does not measure motivation. I still managed a breakfast of jelly on sliced hard roll toasts, grits with cheese and chicken chunks, an apple, and three cups of coffee.
Lest we forget, I’ve still got the tail end of the Karaoke flu, and that’s been nagging for days. It chose this morning to give me some last trouble. Deep-chest expectorant coughing. Cancel my trip into town. The Reb called to tell me to cancel because the rain has already hit Tennessee. And you can leave the Reb in charge. Untrusting of cold medicine, I took a “sinus congestion” tablet, a half-dose. And it’s purging my whole respiratory tract. I’m staying put.
Part of it is I promised the Reb to take it slow. Here I am. I located a file of old pet pictures from the late teens and sent them. One trait of that gal is she does not, like some, attach any overboard nostalgia to these things. Keeps things light. Hours later, here I am, on the streaming computer, looking for a movie. My chest is loosening up and I made a quart of lime-ade y’day to keep hydrated. Now, if only I had some popcorn. This was my American Saturday morning.
Wait, there is one more thing. The Democrats are begging for money. No more NGO kickbacks. The Republicans have hundreds of millions while the Democrats are trolling for $17 million to contest a few spots where the contest is close and they stand to lose easily. Odd behavior for a party that is normally floating in cash by the midterms.
Congo coltan mining.
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Ever heard of “Blonde Facism”, it’s on TikTok (Scrolling with Hayley). Blondeness is now a far-right political statement. Quote, it is an American ideal that signals purity and traditionalism. There are shades of color, such as “MAGA blonde” associated with Republican politics, “Sweeney blonde” means racial supremacy, and “dumb blonde” is used to give other races inferiority by something called body propaganda. Gawd, what does this mean for my blue, blue eyes? Note that most blondes do not stay blonde into adulthood. By age 28, I was mostly a dusty brown. By 48, I was white. Not grey, white.
Nor can I find any of the original “real” assembler languages. I last did this brand of programming in the late 1980s. The newer versions are not assembler, but higher-level mostly crap. In my book all assembler commands are 4 characters with one command per line. I’m encountering something new to me, called HLA for High Level Assembler. It looks like COBOL. Later, I found a version called Netwide with four-letter command lines, so I’ll read that.
Trump is holding massive rallies, once again just showing up is enough. Yet, the legacy media is still insisting the other side is winning. In Tennessee, Trump announced that 25 million illegals will never get amnesty to a crowd roaring approval. That is the number let in under Biden and about half the total illegals. One person in six is here illegally and these midterms could spell the end for them. They are being cut off all government services, which is also a scary reminder that all Americans have become too dependent on that.
Later, I read up on assembler language (noting today’s authors interchange ‘assembler’ and ‘assembly’, bringing back an early fascination I had with my Apple computer. I recall most the immense effort needed to understand relative and offset addressing, which is second nature today—and how gamers find it easier to grasp.
ADDENDUM
I still have thousands of unsold tubes in my shed. Many are 1950s manufacture, which I find an amusing reminder of how most people are followers. TV had been invented long before it became popular in the 50s, but what changed? I often marveled at the set of tubes inside a television cabinet. I did not know they were a spillover from the war. In 1945, pretty much the entire tube industry was producing for the military. I read somewhere they were cranking out 100 million a year when the war ended.
It was find something to do with all that capacity, or wither. Wartime radio demand as maxed within 36 months after the war ended, but radio did not have the potential or require as many tubes. I had notice the inside of TVs had much the same set of sockets—but we were constantly warned that there was lots of dangerous electricity in there.
We were the last people in town to get a TV, not through any objections, rather because my parents were that cheap. Yes, it was the era of three channels, mostly golf and baseball, and signing off the air at 10:00PM. I witnessed two phenomena. How farm kids knew about “news” faster than I did. And how instantlymy siblings became addicted to television. Many times I saw my parents smiling at the others fighting over the channel, not aware these little bastards were seriously trying to harm each other.
Some may conclude my non-watching of television was due to lack of access or exposure. Wrong. I grew up surrounded by television. I rejected it for what it was—a waste of life.
