December 23, 2014

MORNING
           Here I am, waiting on my clutch cable. It’s not as much fun as it sounds, even in Florida, waiting for my mechanic. He has to drive over here to install it. See this picture? It has nothing to do with this episode, it is here to liven up the editorial. This, gang, is how boring it can be when you don’t have a motorcycle. The photo is also a warning of what happens when you swallow bubblegum. Little plot twist there, ha-ha. Where is that mechanic? He’s late, so I’ll take this opportunity to dispel a few urban legends.

           Myth 1: McDonald’s will stop serving overweight people in 2015. That’s 170 pounds for women and 245 for men. Not true. They should stop, but that would bankrupt them. Just kidding. Besides, all the fatties would just use the drive-thru.
           Myth 2: Reversing your PIN makes the ATM summon police. I’ve even heard the version where it ejects the money half-way and locks it until they arrive. Not true. Mind you, one bank study on the topic revealed that many younger people could not grasp the concept.
           Myth 3: Welfare dwellers return donated toys for beer money. Not true. This was an anti-Walmart post on Facebook. Besides, donated toys don’t bear the purchase receipt, which is necessary for most stores to give a refund—and they give cards, not cash.

           Oooo, have I touched a tender spot. My contention [last day] that religion was descended from a class of circus clowns. Now, I could be writing this in a brazen attempt to gain publicity or infamy, but that’s a separate issue. Let’s look at the logic here. Yes, Ken and Patsie, there is going to be some logic and thinking involved, so you can leave the room now.
           We go back to the dawn of civilization and find this clown, who we will call Peter, for lack of a better name. He’s got his bag of tricks that awes the local rubes. He quickly discovers that incredibly stupid people will attach mysterious explanations to anything they don’t understand. So, it is in his best interests to make sure the secrets of his tricks are never revealed.
           Time goes by and these tricks are passed only father to son, until nobody remembers why. But it is easy to remember that there is easy money to be made duping the masses. By now, the tricks of the clown are called “magic” and he is known to have “powers”, shall we say supernatural powers. How long do you think it will take for the clown to cash in on this? Instead of a circus act, he builds a temple and starts charging admission. It’s a short leap from the tip jar to the collection plate.

           Essentially, our clown is singing for his supper. And he spots that the better he sings, the better his supper. Problem. The other clowns are sure to notice the same. So initially, there is healthy competition but before long, one clown gets richer than the others.
           Rich enough to challenge and/or befriend the king. Soon, that clown’s magic becomes the official state magic and ere long he is using the king’s army to make sure there are no other clowns in the land. Or at least in marching distance. All that is required is a mass of sufficiently ignorant people. Presto!
           There you go. And that makes far more sense than believing in arks and turtles. And if this gets me famous, I'm quitting Harvard and doing this full time.

           Some trivia: Australia’s government spends more on fireworks than it does on foreign aid. Your Aries Derf horoscope for today: You'll soon encounter that weird kid who you made fun of in junior high school. He'll be conducting your job interview, and he remembers you well.

NOON
           I got to thinking. You know, I don’t have in my life a single activity for which they give out awards. Certificates are not the same and I have a trunk full of certificates somewhere. But there are no bass player of the year awards and even if there was, they’d hand the plaque to some fat lady on the standup. Here is my trophy case of cups, crowns, medals, and plates I’ve won over the years for my excellent job of playing electric bass. I have another just like it for my voluntary contributions to welfare dwellers, liberals, and east-of-the-Mississippi political parties.

           You want to know who has sunk to a new low? BBC and their documentaries. I’ve taken to filtering out anything they’ve done since 2006. These are not even documentaries by any good definition, more like dramatizations to stretch weak premises into hour-long programs replete with overkill music tracks. The narrators are obviously reading an unrehearsed script.

           So what are the ingredients to make a contemporary BBC documentary? I know the top few. You need a British accent. A lost city (although if it was lost . . .), you must always have a lost city. You also need at least two queers or skeletons thereof. And the lady doctor--never leave out the lady doctor or risk having your funding cut. Optional, although you must choose one and work it into the script: cannibalism, child sacrifice, aliens, or stones that you “cannot fit a razor blade in between”.
           The only other step is to post it on-line with claims it will “blow your mind” and is the “full” version. If you find anything with the corners worn off over time, be sure to bill it as “stealth”. And keep that permanently-out-of-focus camera on your dash. Putting duct tape over the auto-focus lens works well.

AFTERNOON
           I have in my hand a packet of “oxygen absorber”. It says do not microwave, do not eat. From a packet of Argentine beef jerky, 50 calories, the label says mgc company. Here we go, Mitsubishi Gas Chemical. The product is not mentioned on their site, but other sources say it is mainly tiny pieces of iron. That makes sense. The iron slowly oxidizes, using up all the oxygen to produce rust. First test, shown here, the packet indeed sticks to a magnet. Next step, dissect the package.

           Now I regret not having a microscope. The contents are very fine iron filing with small beige-colored pellets of some other material that is not as magnetic. But I mean really magnetic, the little broken piece of magnet I used to separate the components became very sensitive to another magnet I had resting a foot away. That’s normally beyond the distance it should have any effect. I will not look further into this.
           Going over my records, I’ve found a common link. Every guitar player that I’ve tried in this area has, at some point in time, taken lessons from a music studio. In many cases, the lessons were from various Guitar Center type franchises. These are generally reputable places but folks, they are not Peabody’s or Julliard. It does not seem to matter how long they took lessons, just the fact they have been exposed to that environment. I was beginning to think it was something in the water.
           Most guitarists will tell you their background, but if they don’t, I make it a point to ask. Well, at least we know why such an standardized song lists. I used to joke they all had the same teacher. It looks like I may not have been that far off.

           So, North Korea has been getting the Internet boot. Sounds like denial of service attacks. See what happens when you cross Sony? Or how about the big buzz over the Cuban lady being artificially inseminated off her husband in jail. Or was it the other way around? It’s being hailed as a step toward normalization. I’ve got a real suspicion that is one that could backfire. The feeling here is some people will do anything to get into the United States.
           The newest conspiracy theory is that that Malaysian flight that disappeared wound up in the Ukraine. The airline wants the case closed by declaring the Indian Ocean as the crash site. But in this era of satellite surveillance, I'll wait and see. But to take this one step further, 20 of the people on board that airplane were part of a company (Freescale) that was developing radar cloaking equipment. I’m going to presume that is well noted in conspiracy circles.
           Later - the oxygen package. It isn't rust that forms. Here is an article with everything you need to know about food-grade oxygen absorber. Other substances in the packet could include Vitamin C. Claim is the packets take the oxygen down to 0.01%. Impressive.

EVENING
           Last, I wrote a lengthy missive to my pal back west describing my reasoning for saying I hope to play music in a coffee house. This is a pal who remembers the day when we swore we would never date the kind of women who socialized at a coffee house. To be specific, the women that “wear a scarf & beret, sip latte with sprinkles, and enjoy a bowl of sugarless feminism for breakfast every day.”

           This is a picture of Laura. I don’t know Laura, but she is representative of the kind of lady I mean in the coffee houses. Admittedly, Laura is a bit better looking fare than normal in south Florida. But that could be because she is a “look-alike” model from England who says her influences include Cindy Crawford and Kate Moss. So she certainly has the coffee house mentality--what exactly does she mean by "influences". Are poor men influenced by Warren B, who'd want to look like him? Anyway, back to Laura. In Florida she'd be better-looking but not any better-dressed.

           Despite glorious weather I stayed in to study and watch documentaries. This time I watched the fall of Constantinople in 1453. Technically, I was learning about castle fortifications, a topic of some long-term interest to me. I first looked at it around the age of eight. It’s fascinating how from the Romans onward how the defenses were so effective against cavalry and foot attack. While this is going on, I’m examining if a more effective variable capacity capacitor can be manufactured with the better equipment we now possess.
           An hour later, I have more information. First, it seems to me if the enemy has a cannon to breach your castle wall, it seems kind of dumb to put a whole bunch of your soldiers anywhere near that point. Pull them back until the enemy stops firing the cannon and rushes the hole. He’s focusing his men, so you do the same. Then, as long as the sides are evenly matched, it becomes much like any other battle. Actually, defense is normally somewhat easier.
           And I have another piece of advice for the new crop of document makers at the BBC. Make sure, when you go to the east to find material on ancient and primitive civilizations, try to make sure the one you find isn’t still ancient and primitive. Put another way, if they are still riding elephants and camels, you haven’t found anything new. Keep looking.

           Last, capacitors. And I don’t know if we can make better gear, but we can certainly make it a lot prettier. The small parts are far more standardized. I am not satisfied with the sources that talk about antennas, as you know I’m taking another peek at what went wrong. These “experts” are a pack of yahoos. I know when to call the BS. I don’t think our original designs were wrong, but that there is some trick to connecting the antennas that the instructions are glossing over. I also need something to bend very small pieces of sheet metal. All the directions are for larger pieces. I'm not building drones over here. Yet.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

December 22, 2014

MORNING
           More social media, that’s what the world needs. So I looked at Ello. Ad-free and anonymous, you tag everyone as friend or noise. Folks, it is the same crap all over again. Initially, you won’t get the same problems as Facebook (your name is already taken and the world is full of beautiful people you’ll never meet), but only for a spell. As soon as the user-base fills, it’s back to the same old. The next level will be the company that devises an uncrackable way to get back web anonymity—and flashes it out there before the authorities can ban it.

           It is also illegal to build your own airplane propeller. At least above a certain diameter and 10,000 rpm. The few on-line sites that tell how [to build props] carry restrictions the props are for decoration only. So where does that leave you folks who want to make your own wind turbines? In the slow lane, that’s where. I found out wooden props have to be carved from a single slab of wood. No joints allowed.

           Okay, I admit to spending the morning watching paint dry. Seriously, blue exterior paint. But at my age, that’s better than doing the same thing while paying alimony or child support on top of that. I watched a documentary on a group that traveled to Pitcairn Island—the source of the colonizers on Norfolk, mentioned y’day. I had to laugh because they got stranded on Tahiti and don’t seem to realize they fell for every trick in the book. The captains “strands” them on the island, claiming the boat needs repair and sails away.
           Despite it being a tourist destination, the islanders miraculously lose their ability to grasp pidgin English at roughly the same moment the island’s only ATM ceases functioning. Again. Every attempt to get an explanation about anything, even the time of day, turns into an argument with a Frenchman, who is mortally offended when caught lying, which is about every two minutes. Only when the passengers show visible signs of hunger and the locals know all cash has been extracted, the captain returns with a different boat in even worse condition. Minus their luggage.
           I used to fall for this, but I was in my twenties back then. People’s needs are essentially the same everywhere, but non-English speakers just love to pretend there are incredible problems understanding you want food, clothing, and shelter. It’s all a scam, they know exactly what you want and are just putting you through the hoops. I remember one time in Venezuela I spend an hour asking the staff what time the movie started. Between twelve of them, they swore they did not know what I was talking about and kept telling me the movie was 90 minutes long. Talk about stupid, like anybody cares how long the movie is.

           That’s where I got the brilliant idea on publishing a book on how to swear in every major language on Earth. But I only got as far as the pronunciation guide. I found the Pitcairn video hilarious, but not because it was supposed to be.
           That was JZ on the horn. He wants to go partying on Xmas Eve, but only after I play Santa. Hmmm, if he can’t fit into that costume, how am I supposed to? I said we should, instead, take off for the weekend after Xmas but he’s got family obligations I tend to overlook. Maybe I’ll talk him into heading for the Lanai Kai. We will undoubtedly be talking real estate again, but the buying opportunity is gone until spring. Plus, the previous market plunge was when the yuppies were retiring, the next will be when they start dying.
           Trivia. Playing the electric bass sitting down burns 172 calories per hour. (Sitting alone requires 147 of those calories.) Hmmm, ten percent of my daily energy is used playing bass.

NOON
           A few days back I saw the neatest video of this old guy who build a metal crimping press out of door hinges. He did a demo on pressing a metal box out of thin sheet flashing. I didn’t bookmark that, now I can’t find it. I got up to Home Depot for the afternoon, spending a whole $21.00 but hey, it’s Xmas.

           Since little else happened, here is an photo of the innards of an airplane such as the propellors above might become attached. There is no other significance to this photo. But doesn’t it remind you of those balsa kits they used to sell? What? They still sell them? I wouldn’t know, if I went through all that effort, I’d probably just build the real airplane.
           On the way home, I stopped at the coffee shop. Let me tell you about a guy I know who had nothing to hide. Including his credit history. I'll explain how that unhidden history just cost him a thousand bucks three days before Xmas.
          He’s got one of those jobs that reimburses him for expenses. The catch is, he is expected to have the cash up front six weeks ahead of getting it back. He doesn’t, he uses credit cards. He goes to rent a car for two days in Orlando and they hit him for $950.00 “based on his prior usage and needs”. They looked up his credit history and determined he had some unspent money. He tried every work-around, even using his wife’s credit card, but they had that on file too. Serves him right and Merry Xmas. That's Merry, based on your prior usage and needs, of course.

NIGHT
           Two weeks late, but my Goldwing clutch cable has finally arrived. This week is full of commitments but I would like to take it for a sprint. At least out to the Gulf coast for the day. The weather has been perfect for motorcycles. And it’s always perfect for learning things, so I tried to find that article about using nerve endings to control robots. I can’t find it, but it was around two years ago in Scientific American. A medical team succeeded in grafting an interface directly to nerve cells, as opposed to using muscle contractions. If anyone finds the article, leave a comment for me.

           Here’s that photo of the Philippines’ Popemobile. I wanted to publish this a week ago when I had written something relevant. But if you think I’m going to go back and find it, well, I ain’t. At any rate, this is the future of American transportation. I believe I’ve told how they make vehicles out of stainless steel in the Philippines because everything else rusts out in the climate. From a distance, this makes the new trucks shine like they are completely chromed.
           This is just a tuk-tuk (say “took-took”) but what I saw was a real car. More an older style non-American version, something like those Indian manufactured Ambassadors, if you’ve ever seen those. At any rate, when the Pope went to visit the islands, it was said he rode in tuk-tuks. Some say that was a hoax. Hey, it was the Pope, so who you gonna believe?
           Anyway, enjoy the picture. If I recall, I was making a point about how in the better taxis, the front passenger seat faces backward—and yes, the door is made so it is easy to get in and out. But since leaving Manila in, what was it, 1986(?), I have never again seen such a taxi. But what a neat idea. And safer for the rider, too.

Jane's Fighting Pasta

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

December 21, 2014

MORNING
           This day’s navigation calculation (winter solstice) brought into focus Norfolk Island. It’s east of Australia in the middle of nowhere, population 2,300 1,800, and falling fast. The island has no industry, ports, railroads, or harbors. And it is in big trouble since there is no local economy. That’s why it is odd to see houses for sale for millions. The only draw seems to be the lack of crime. Nobody steals. Maybe because there is no place to fence the goods.

           Many of the properties on the island are abandoned by owners who boarded up and left when they could no longer find work. But then, their heritage is Brit. Charging exotic sums for something you can’t give away. Soon, the only way left to make any money or get ahead is to win the lottery. Think Canada. I tried to read stories of the island but what’s available isn’t very useful. Like this one lady who describes herself as an “adventurer”. What the hell is that?
           I probably already said, but I am very leery of people, particularly women people, who undertake expensive activities that are not occupations. I got this way from attending compulsory “meetings” at my old job. Compulsory in that if you stayed and worked instead, the company docked your pay. You’d often find yourself at lectures promoting some idiot’s agenda. Enter Pete, the Englishman.
           He would always ask these speakers what they did for a living that they could travel around giving speeches instead of working. It started as sarcasm, but then you realize that question mortally offends a lot of women. Especially the ones who ask for donations at the end of the show. Occasionally we’d meet a widow who attached herself to a cause, but most of the time, these women would never tell you where the money is coming from. And Pete, with his accent, was just the man to ask the questions.
           By then, most of us were taking crossword puzzles or magazines to these “meetings”. The worst case scenario was a lady lecturing on medical care for retarded kids. Pete dug out of her that she and her husband were from the wealthiest part of town who had seven retarded children, dumping them all in institutions at public expense while they went out on lecturing tours. Or the one who went on about women’s rights and Pete unmasked that her money came from being divorced four times.

           But, that was the type of thing that could still happen in America during the baby boom when everybody had a cause. A divorced woman lecturing single men on how she wasn’t treated right. No wonder I needed so many holidays. That’s why I looked at accommodation prices on Norfolk Island. My choice would be the Panorama Seaside, which describes it’s rooms as “fully self-contained” apartments. The blurb says $92 per night, but remember the hotel industry’s reputation for full disclosure pricing. Especially since the rooms hold up to five people, watch out for “supplemental” charges. They know you are on an island in the middle of nowhere.
           That reminds of the news item last day where a man advertised for a woman with the same name as his ex to go on a world trip. Seems he’d bought the ticket in happier times and now the airline would not exchange the ticket for anyone with a different name. That sucks. Airlines should not have any such say. If they sell you a ticket, they should honor it or pay back the money without money-grubbing “policy” stunts.

NOON
           Robots, my guess is that we are on the verge of a breakthrough, probably the 2020s. Somebody has to standardize and build the parts specifically for bots, as opposed to adapting off-the-shelf hardware. That pretty much describes what's available. I’ve heard tell of a prosthetic limb being controlled by nerve endings, there’s the interface we’ve been waiting for. The existing crop of sensors is, well, pretty bad. No, it stinks. But if the medical teams can fuse onto the nerve endings, that would be something indeed.

           Either way, breakthrough or not I mean, we are approaching that point where humans as labor must become obsolete. They are expensive, cranky, produce too much waste, and need all those long hours of sleep. I see a big increase in robots for small tasks instead of a few for mass production.
For example, as a novelty item, here's something a robot could make. I’ve long since noticed that the ink stems inside plastic ballpoint pens are the same diameter as the leads in a number 2 pencil. Wood is nicer and more comfortable. But I could not build such an implement by hand and make a profit. Where as a robot could make these in small batches, a factory to produce such items would cost big bucks to be worthwhile.
           Hold on, I think it best to show you a picture of what I’m talking about and I’ll have to put something together to show the pieces. Okay, I’m back. The top photo I’m pointing to a broken stick pen. The bottom photo shows the extracted pencil lead beside the ink stem. Alas, they are different diameters. Too different to machine into place. But at least we are thinking.
           As for robotics, our understanding of them has ultimately led to the unlikelihood of us building any. They are plain expensive and anything useful is expensive. It’s a case of the knowledge turning out more interesting than the construction. Like computers, it is easier to understand one than build one.
           Most of our “robot tools” are used for ordinary repairs and projects, which makes us semi-skilled laborers. This has saved us countless thousands but that may not compare well to others who’ve had access to proper tools for a lifetime. I am probably the only farm boy in America who grew up never touching a band saw or a belt sander.
           (To be fair, I did have relatives with such things, but you never, never accept anything, even a tiny favor like pick you up a soda from the store, from anyone in my family. You might wake up to find your car missing. You don’t think they pick up sodas for nothing do you? Of course that means they can now borrow your car. You did think the soda delivery was free? Well, that’s the stupidest thing they ehhhhhhhhhh-ver heard in their whoooooooooo-le lives. Smarten up, booodddy boy.)

           Not a one. No good movies this afternoon, even at the foreign cinema. Unless you are actually interested in the life of Steven Hawking or want an opera of people in rat costumes. Do you like think like in the Hawking movie they like are gonna mention like that he’s got that like weird disease like thing, like? Because like, there are like, so many people like who don’t like know it already, like. No wonder movie attendance is falling.
           In the end, I’ve decided against the idea of making the book safes, the old hardcovers with a hollow compartment for “valuables”. The operation is labor intensive and not all that many folks have valuables that fit in a space that size. Instead, today I’m making some turkey stew, the kind with turnip. There is no way Steven Hawking can compete with a turnip. For excitement, I’m planning on a 5:00 PM coffee at the Panera with a crossword puzzle. Let that be a lesson to me about how life goes when I’m not in a band.
           I also read some textbooks on electronics to see if I missed anything. Nope, they are as confusingly written now as when I first looked a few years ago. Same with some of my old university texts. No wonder it was so hard to learn that stuff. It’s still worth the read though, because a lot of physics and computers are like electronics--it takes a lifetime to realize your teachers weren’t any good.

EVENING
           In my quest for unique Xmas gifts, I took another look at handmade Xmas tree ornaments. Even the more complicated patterns on the scroll saw produce a better gift than the book safes for the time expended. Here is photo of various finishes. I keep forgetting to pick up some green paint, so I have only red. These wooden pieces would be natural except for my new trick of applying brown shoe polish to get a distinct color. (I carefully dilute the stock color, that’s my secret formula.)

           The sparkle does not have to cover the entire ornament, but I did [cover it] to try for effect. Shown here is a variety of test finishes, even on the bare wood. That’s also a nice effect. I am surprised how evenly the fingernail polish spreads the sparkle. Surprised because I supposed there was a little more to it. Yeah, yeah, what was I thinking? Anyway, it’s so easy I’ll try some double and triple layers.
           And that’s the end of my Dupont gift suggestions. The magazine has gone missing, it seems like it got borrowed. Not to panic, you got the best in what I presented here. Really, the rest of the magazine is mostly car ads. In fact, the whole magazine contains nothing but ads. No articles. So, there you have it. Rich people and poor people don’t need to read much, between them they know it all. It’s just the dumb ass in-betweens like me that have to hit the books each and every day.
           That’s right, I promised you one more Togla treat. There you go, Mr. Turkey, 20 times as many people now know about your existence in the past few weeks than your entire life’s effort to date. If they happen to think you are a jerk, well, that’s what I happen to think as well.

[/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/]
Today’s Togla Treat
Here’s my impression of “artists” who post still pictures on youTube,
and my view of foreigners who think copyright law is for censorship.

December 20, 2014

MORNING
           Here is some advice for the day:

                 1) When using airport parking don’t leave anything in the car with your home address.
                 2) Never put your home address on a GPS. Use a nearby address, like the library*.
                 3) Do not use relationship tags on your cell phone call list. Like “Mom”, “Boss”, or “Sweetie”.
                 4) Never tell a taxi driver you are leaving town for a while. Particularly not a Seattle taxi driver.

           Stevia, the artificial sweetener. This is a stevia plant. I don’t care for it [stevia] because it’s too expensive, it isn’t all that sweet, you have to use so much of it, and you can smell it when you open the packet. That means you are breathing some of it in. I’m just sayin’. FYI, there are only three nations left in the world where the Rothschild group do not control the central banking system. They are North Korea, Cuba, and Iran. There were others, but America has systematically killed their leaders and/or bombed the snot out of their infrastructure. The US Air Force does not bomb armies, it bombs cities and hospitals. Here is a video of a guy making a wooden lampshade. It’s worth watching the whole 3 minutes.

           Okay, here’s a joke. This Jewish guy sees this funeral procession. One hearse, then a second hearse, then an Italian man with a dog on a leash, then 200 men in single file. Curiosity gets the better of him and he asks the Italian if this is a custom.

           “Not at all,” explains the Italian. “My wife is in the first hearse. She yelled at me and the dog attacked and killed her.”

           “Who’s in the second hearse?” asked the Jew.

           Replied the Italian. “My mother-in-law. She went to defend my wife and the dog killed her, too.”

           The Jew thinks for a moment and asks, “Can I borrow that dog?

           The Italian says, “Get in line.”

NOON
           There’s something I didn’t know. During the last two years of the Second World War, when German tanks forged their reputations, there were never on average more than 400 tanks in operation on the German side. And on the Russian front, that endless battle line from the Baltic to the Black Sea, there were rarely more than 70 of the Tiger tanks at work.

           Band practice. We will certainly best the locals for audience appeal. With very few exceptions, the bands around here do not play to the crowd. Where there is interaction, they take contrived shots, a la “Anybody here got a birthday?” Mind you, audience appeal does not really make up for lack of audience interaction, don't forget I said that.
           "I just quite smoking", or "My wife is pregnant". Those are lines for stand-up comedians to get cheap applause. My last band played the last gig exactly the same way we played the first one. Which is not wrong, not at all, they did not recognize any other way. Did I tell you they once let me introduce the band, then never again? (The audience instantly picked up that I was a natural on the microphone, but did not have a microphone to sing.)

           Consider this: I’m the second to admit I am not the best musician in any Florida band. The first to admit it is always the guitarist. They generally admit it by stating they are the better musician. Besides, "bass is easy", right? And they have infinitely better taste in music. Or did they already admit that, too?
           We covered a ton of theory. It took the form of bass lines easy to fit to stock country tunes. But always with the added flair of the best-looking way to play each. Yes, over the years, I’ve learned how to emphasize the best bass tactics. I consider this not showing off, but showmanship, similar to how some guitar players act. Except I don’t make horrible faces when bending notes.
           We retired over to the redneck pub for a few afterward. Trent has not been in the neighborhood long enough to spot the drift, but that place is already changing from a tough bar to a more mellow club with the influx of our crowd. That’s since the closure of the last two traditional watering holes on Dixie. Like the original Jimbos, you now actually find single women in there, something unheard of in S. Florida since the 90s.
           The other change [in that bar] is the amount of country music on the jukebox. You still get the old men who play punk music, but they are now outnumbered. And I’ve often said the reason all the area clubs are rock and blues is because there is always a core group of regulars to dominate the selection. In a sense, that makes this one bar kind of exclusive in this area.

EVENING
           Hang on. It is 1:37AM and I'm working on this portion. Remember that tomorrow is the last Togla Treat. And it is near the end of our twelve days of Dupont. Only four more of those left, I think we've had eight already. Whatever, it's not like this blog is some kind of commitment. I simply like to write.
           Change of plans, writing the following was so much fun, I'm leaving it in first form, the way it poured itself onto my keyboard. Enjoy.

           Okay, first a tank joke. The background on this one is that the French make the most expensive tank in the world, something like $9.3 million each. (The second most expensive is the S. Korean Black Prince at around $8.46 million. By comparison, the US Abrams cost a piddling $5.24 million.) Back to the joke.

        Q. Why are French tanks so expensive?
        A: The wine dispenser, the 27 speed reverse gearbox, the white flag deployment device, and the loudspeaker which broadcasts “We surrender!” in nine languages, two of which are German.

           No, the French tank, the AMX-56, is not in the Dupont Registry. But it belongs there. I’ll bet the upholstery is something to behold. Seriously, for their own sake, I hope they build their tanks better than they do their cars. For those seeking enlightenment, I should point out the $9.3 million price tag was based on one sale to the United Arab Emirates. (The on-line site that claims it was $27 million is completely false.) Rumor is the standard price tag is more like around $8.5 million. But still, the Perrier-filled Jacuzzi really sets it apart.
           For those seeking a bargain, the Indian Ajun sells for $3.8 million. But when it breaks down, nobody knows who to call for tech support. Har-dee-har-har. Seriously now, the highly-rated Abrams is not a bargain considering the long string of support and repair vehicles needed to keep it in action. And also, the heavy American reliance on satellite data, drones, reconnaissance, and tank-busting aircraft all serve to disguise the huge number of shortcomings inherent in all American tank designs.
           But I would agree with the philosophy that the best tank is the one you are inside when you need it.
           The photo above? That's just my reply to the gang that want to keep the "Christ" in "Christmas".

[/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/]
Today’s Togla Treat
I didn't know airlines accepted food stamps.

Note to Ken: Library. That’s a large building full of books. What? You know, those things other people read. What? It’s a skill you learn in school. What? That’s a large building full of students . . . Oh, hell, I give up, go take your Karate lesson. Or something.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

December 19, 2014

MORNING
           Here’s a link to an English lady on welfare. With 8 children, she collects something like $3,450 USD per month. Her supporters say she is a model for scrimping by on so little. Which is roughly half again more what working class Brit taxpayers make. Yes, all eight are from the same father, if you look closely, you can tell. At least, I can tell. In England, the father does not have to pay child support. You do. Over here, we call it "welfare". (I am not a true redneck, because I would never prevent those from helping who want to help. It's the compelling of others who don't want to that I oppose.)

           What shocked me was not this blatant abuse, but that this was NOT in Canada, where the taxpayers are numbed to such events--they see it so often, they think it is proper. I thought it was in Canada, and read the article because it could potentially be be a criminal offense (in Canada) to complain against this shit (by publishing a critical article, which is considered "hate speach"). Then I saw it was in England. If you follow the link, read the comments. What a thing to become famous for, Marie. Disgusting, really. Not just her, but the entire mechanism that allows such exploitation to exist. She is obviously unfit to accept the role of a responsible parent.
           And while I’m even looking at this manipulative skritch, remind me go through my go through my contact folder and delete all the dismal women I met on that expensive “professional” site. The one that advertises in science magazines. All women guaranteed to be college level or better, they claim. Not any college I ever went to, and if they were actually there, it must have been in one of the jerkoff faculties. Education, PhysEd, Arts.

           Obama signed a bill ending “Nazi” benefit checks. I’m okay with that as long as Liberals and Democrats are next. Note that I am not against political parties, but rather I generally dislike people whose outlooks are so narrow that they can be fitted into such categories. Myself? If the world was me, there would be no need for political parties in the first place.
           Another urban legend still making the rounds is how bombs can wipe mankind off the fact of the Earth. And variations on that theme. It isn’t true, there will always be survivors. We’ll lose those who live in neat concentric rings around big cities and there are some who think that isn’t such a bad idea. The point is, no way could there ever be enough bombs to directly find and kill every human being, even those hidden deep in caves. So if the people who say things like that would quit doing so, that’d be okay.
           So, to wrap up this morning of my day off this week, here’s a famous quotation. When told her revolution was a success and she was about to become the most powerful woman on Earth, said Catherine the Great, “Whatever shall I wear?”

NOON
           Ah, such a perfect day. Precisely 76° and perfect humidity. I took another 20 mile scooter ride, maybe I’ll do that again this afternoon. The only matinee at the Paradiso is about some swami and the other movie, about Iranian women’s rights, doesn’t show until nearly midnight. Did you know that in Iran, women are banned from attending men’s sporting events? The women seem okay with that, really.

           Weather and sports, it must be a slow news day. Here’s a guy I know who likes cold weather. Call hin “The Mad Tobogganist” , this is him on a midnight run on the frozen pond across the road. He reports none of the neighbors called the cops. I’m serious, that’s a real guy I know. You can tell by the picture he don’t bother with none of them pansy cross-country ski type sports.
           According to Rotten Tomatoes, the two lowest ranked films this week are Woody Allen’s “Magic In The Moonlight” and yet another “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” release. I’m curious how the critics were able to tell them apart. Get it? Tell them apart? That’s what I think of Woody Allen as an artist. Cartoon turtles. He seems to make movies for people who like having interpersonal problems.
           Now what’s this? Dynamic pricing? It’s the first time I heard of it today. This is not Wal*Mart undercutting prices, but a system that changes the price on-line automatically based on factors such as supply and demand, popularity, and time of day. Best known defense? What I’ve advised people long before computers came along—don’t tell salespeople anything about yourself, insist on getting a price up front based on nothing but your inquiry. And LEAVE when they try to goad or embarrass you. “S’matter, son, you got something to hide?” I do now.
           However, dynamic pricing in real time is only a step away. I prefer to call it manipulative pricing and it will affect others more than me. I’ll wait until I see it, but I expect it will take the form of an LED readout on the store shelf rather than a price tag. And RFID will record the price at the moment you remove the item from the rack and charge you that at the till.
           The pricing for now is on-line, so clear your cookies every day and if you know how, use different IP addresses. There is no easy or free way to do that, but it works. Beware that using on-line “proxy servers”, which let you log on through the hosts IP address instead of your won, still depend on you trusting the host. I don’t. Most everything you need to know is at WhatIsMyIPaddress.

           And gift cards? Don’t. Newest scam is the bad guy copies the card numbers on the rack before they are sold. When you activate the card (by giving out personal information), he cleans out your bank account. You think it’s bad now, just you wait until they outlaw cash.
           I watched a video of a robot building frying pans. Workers of the world, you are doomed. And take a minute to watch this wire-bending machine in action. This isn’t even a robot, but it is computer controlled.


           [Author's note 2015-12-19: I created that last link to the wire-bending machine before the video was monetized. I would not normally send my readers to a site with stupid advertisements. Unless I was advocating nutting the a-holes who place those ads.]

EVENING

           This is the best graphic I can get of this Dupont offering. It’s a pistol yours for $9,950. The company states because the gun is machined to a 2-micron tolerance, it cannot be photographed properly. That’s at the nano-level. You can see it at Cabot guns website.
           The finish on the gun is not what caught my eye, but the company’s promise that you have never seen anything like it. That’s a tall order. Oh, and they are sold out, but you can put your name on their 2015 list. They produce ten of these per year.
           Other unique aspects of this weapon are that it looks “permanently wet”, requires 70 journeymen tool makers to produce each unit, and it is doubtful any of the guns made so far have ever been fired.
           Cabot will engrave your signature on the gun barrel as “a lasting testament to history”. The history of your $10,000 maybe?

           Here’s some trivia. Before bell-makers discovered how to cast gun tubes, the original European cannons were made out of metal staves bound together by hoops. These were the same type of hoops used to make wine caskets casks, you stupid MicroSoft spellchecker. Hence the term, “gun barrel”.
           Have you noticed MicroSoft's on-board thesaurus leaves out synonyms for all words they don't like to be called? "Stupid". "Moron". Etc

[/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/]
Today’s Togla Treat
From a Yuba, California, mug shot folder, meet Togla's mom.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

December 18, 2014

           [Author's note 2015-12-18: Today's posting is a good reminder that this blog is primarily prose. Pictures are always a luxury, never a requirement. Think about it. In the 1970s when this journal began, cut-and-paste was not a computer catch-phrase.]

           One report today, and no pictures, since I have no transportation. Both vehicles grounded. So the blog, which is a living and evolving creature, takes a step back to 2009. All special features canceled until further notice. Those things take time and I’m momentarily strapped for that. One thing I made time for was to arrange “Don’t Rock The Jukebox” for duo presentation. Once I got it apart, it was a snap to make it work right. You can almost hear the piano runs on the bass. That’s one song destined to be a standard.
           I was up late thinking about how to build a depth gauge that doesn’t require electricity. I told you that was going to happen. Think of a plastic rod of the correct length. As the sled moves, it gets deflected if it touches bottom. This creates other problems, but it is an avenue I am going to contemplate over coffee in about an hour when the bakery opens. Gee, why don’t I just focus on one project at a time? A wise man once said the adversary of art is a hurried life. For me, hobbies are more for fun than potential.

           Another casualty over on Federal last evening. A lady steps off the curb in front of the bus stop at Kelly’s and ker-pow, she’s history. The police were really grilling the driver, but he did the right thing saying nothing. This and other sporadic reports as I still have no home Internet service. I could get Comcast, but so few people hate the cable company as badly as I do, really. That’s the people who stole my bicycle*. Plus, I’m the guy that posted the original on-line how-to instructions on the ease with which their cable modems could be reconfigured. Shall we say. Or shall we say “hacked”, instead? If you see this, I’m at the library.

           I’ve written another song, another tune that will never reach its potential. It’s the “old” style country crossover, think Johnny Cash, not real country but that’s who would listen. And by “old” I mean it doesn’t have the mass-produced feel of contemporary radio. The song uses a beat that has never been part of any hit record, the 4/4 timing that splits into triplets. Oddly, this makes it difficult to dance to, which is part of the shtick, because the song is called “Dance With Her, You Fool, Dance With Her”. Like every song I've written so far, it got shelved. Ah, but one day I'll be discovered.

           The scooter is in the shop. A difficult start last day, which I attributed to the cold weather. This morning I got as far as the newspaper stand. It doesn’t matter what the repair comes to, since even that is paid in advance. I leave a standing deposit with the shop. This makes me smile because as much as some would disagree with doing business like that (the shop could go bankrupt, yadda yadda) I always get free towing and priority. I think it is the scooter microswitch needed to engage the starter, which can malfunction without any outward symptoms. Or I’d have fixed it myself.
           And I smile again at the report this morning about the US economic standards. The wealthy are worth, on average, $639,405, which, when you think about it, is not that rich at all. I pay attention to that statistic because if follows my formula of assets minus liabilities instead of some fanciful adjustment indexes the government is so fond of. I’m less confident about the use of purchase price to value assets, but agree that asset accumulation does follow wealth as an indicator of comfort.

           How does my wealth compare? Well, I’m not living in poverty and 100% of my wealth is assets, that is, zero liabilities. Alas, the government does not publish the two most meaningful figures, the amount of assets and the income required by a single taxpayer to be middle-income. I guess it to be as little as $28,000 annually, with assets based on one’s age. Except myself, who has an aversion to having lots of assets which require expensive protection and storage.
           Did you see the news today? Obama bought the black vote with cell phones, the immigrant vote with amnesty, and now he’s going for the Cuban vote. His administration also found a CIA agent not guilty of abusing his position for cash, which absolutely shocked the daylights out of everyone, I’ll bet. Enrollment in law school dropped 28% to 37,924 so expect a lawyer crisis in 2034. And in Cairo, they put a bunch of homosexual men in prison. Isn’t that kind of like pouring gasoline on a fire? To the Miami Herald, which always misses the point, the crime is not being queer, the crime is making public spectacle of it. Miami Herald doesn't realize their reporting angle is a laughing stock.

ADDENDUM
           *Concerning the scooter problem and how it just cost me $25 to replace a fuse. There’s the tale from the trailer court:
           I had the scooter towed because, despite my new-found familiarity with circuits, I am as bad as the next guy finding intermittent problems. The scooter would start, then not start. The electricity was there, but the starter would not engage. Left me baffled. Are you ready?
           Just now, Florida is experiencing the worst cold weather since I purchased that scooter. It was colder back in ’03, but I drove a car then. What was happening was I’d start the scooter on a cool morning and drive over to buy a newspaper. This heated up the motor for a couple minutes. I normally shut it off. I’d get back and weird—the lights come on when the key is turned, so it is not the battery or the circuit.
           Have you figured it out yet? Me neither, so listen up and save a potential $25, [which is] more than I spend on a night [out] self-gifting a Budweiser or two. There is a separate wire off the battery with a fuse to the starter. The heat of the motor on that short jaunt was enough to cause condensation to form inside the fuse case, which is located under the seat itself. Open the hatch, and you just don’t see it. Open it an hour later and it has evaporated.
           I looked twice at the culprit, but the fuse was not blown. Therefore, I did not look a third time when it finally popped. The mechanic, with a fresh perspective, saw it in a moment. A $25 moment.

           You want a picture today? You want a what? Then go get one. Same with Dupont and Togla. I’m outta here.

           [*Author’s note: it turned out to be a Comcast subcontractor that lifted my bike. This was some eight years ago now, but still. And it was Comcast that refused to allow me to wait at their compound gate and ID the truck, and a Comcast supervisor that said if I called back, Comcast would phone the police and charge me with harassment. Their people, it seems, have a right to steal. And, it also seems, to make extremely costly mistakes. I'm the guy who published the on-line manual on how, in my opinion, Comcast should be treated. It wasn't pretty.]

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

December 17, 2014

MORNING
           Here’s a totally irrelevant photo, well, except for the Togla-types who actually like this sort of thing. Sorry for any delays, the Internet is down again. I like the way the office makes out like the “free” service is such a big offering. Somehow, they have never developed the brain cells to keep the thing in operation. They’ve been through six or so different models of wireless. Unlike myself, the guy up the lane brags he is a power user and thus gets blamed as a hacker every time something messes up. Even the times I’m pretty sure it was me. But hey!

           I’d say musically, Trent and I have proven a point. It would take a mighty fine guitar soloist to compete with us and that is precisely what I set out to do. My reasoning is easy, this town has too many solo guitarists already and it is daft to go up against them. What this town does not have is a lite country music group. [Heavy would be with the fiddle and pedal guitar.] If we keep going, we’ll find someplace to play or we’ll create one. This band was planned to be marketable on that count before we started.

           Find me a coffeehouse so we can test case this live, would you? There are a very few other duos around, always two guitars, and people are expecting that kind of duo. We’ll get them listening. I want to gauge the reaction to our material because calling us a two-piece would be an understatement. We can’t possibly be unique in the whole country, but we are in this town. Admittedly, I am banking on some non-musical points not field tested as of yet.
           For example, all of our music is chosen to be foxtrots. Most people do not know how often they have danced to this beat—it is a beat, not a song. It is used in rock, blues, jazz, reggae, you name it. All I’ve done is focus and standardize. This music is also fun to play, something difficult to capture but the audience sure can tell. Trent and I have [actually] already played our first gig. It was a non-starter, but shows we have the cajones to get out there. The last band I was in balked at playing that same club and that cost us the steady Moose gig. I never told them that, but it did.
           I’m thinking of where we could get some stage time. Let me call Jerry, the trumpet player. The old folk’s homes pay well and would instantly know our song list. But I’m getting ahead of myself. We rehearse only once per week, which takes time. From the word go, we’ve incorporated plenty of audience appeal elements. The single most effective technique is to play as a team—a lot of groups fail at this. We have the automatic advantage that the way we arrange things, our music necessary must have total teamwork to sound right. We don’t have the option of “soloing in unison”, Hippie dude.

           There are two other details covered in the past week, medleys and fills. I’m finding the way we arrange our music for duo work isn’t that adaptable to playing medleys. It’s simple, each song takes almost as much effort to learn for medley work as to just play the song, and we need material. Medleys will have to wait. The fills Trent plays on bass are also unique to each song, so we can’t drift from one tune to another like two guitarists get away with.
           Further, those bass lines are not usually in the original, since he’s playing my style of “rhythm bass”. So where others can get away with playing compatible riffs, we are forced to make the parts complementary. It’s a different technique entirely, but it definitely imparts that added “charm” to the music. In summation, for now no medleys and we stick with the plan of a unique sound for each song. I think we’ve done okay on that last count so far.


NOON
           Who remembers the “mod” sixties? I barely do, so here's another Brit girl in Mini photo. Yes, the hippie types really did paint their cars and vans these outlandish patterns. What gets me is the lady wearing an orange outfit in a pink car. That’s the kind of thing that could happen in the days before quality control. These cars were strictly British and could only be pushed over 60 mph in supercharged racing versions, which doubled the price. They were quite a marvel, mechanically. No crankshaft, but a repair nightmare. The transmission was part of the motor.

           Yes, the Internet was down all along Federal. Bummer. I stayed in the shade and watched a couple Bruce Willis DVDs. Big action, but in his later years he seems to prefer non-blonds for his exes, his misunderstood teenage daughter, and the villain’s old lady. Come on Bruce, let’s get the babes a little easier on the eyes. I mean, it’s not like the roles you give them require any talent.

           Half my crowd is down with the flu, so I’m keeping out of the loop in case I haven’t had this strain yet. I have no intention of being a statistic quite yet. Influenza kills the old and young they say, so stay away from being either as long as you can. And listen to your parents when they say wait until you are out on your own and then you can do anything you want. Listen, so you will know what bald-faced lying sounds like.
           Did I do anything blogworthy this afternoon? Nope. I tried to read an article on quantum physics and quickly got lost. Like derivatives, it is a topic I can pass the exams, but no way can I find an article on how to solve the equations. Unlike 2 + 2, calculus formulas just kind of sit there. That’s correct, in my life I have never found a textbook that explains how to use the formulas, they just go on endlessly about how they work. Similar to taking music lessons from a guitarist, if you must know.
           And that’s not just bloviating. Everything I know about playing in a band was not taught to me. Nor did I have any examples [to follow]. There were no bands in my home town, not that if there were any they would have helped any. And even when I finally lived in the city and got exposed to musicians, most of them would lead you astray about playing in a band. Hence, to this day, a lot of what I do in that department is dictated by experience, not by listening to how other people did it. In fact, it seems to me they didn’t do it, they just existed by the millions and a few got lucky.

AFTERNOON
           December 17th, by the way, is the date I have taught generations of students to list as their birthday on all non-official forms. Like the “required fields” some free sites insist you fill out. “*Required field” was one of the most successful scams in computer history. I never fell for it, I wonder if my critics could say the same. I’d like to see a graph of birthdays just to see the spike on this date. Did I ever tell you how shocked I was to find certain “standardized data” that I used to teach in the early 90s now appearing in the private listings of BrandSmart and AT&T by 1998? Privacy policy, my eye.
           Read my lips: all information will be used against you. It is only a matter of time. You cannot prevent all records, but you can take an active roll in minimizing the number and what is on them. For example, all records about me contain exactly and precisely the same errors. I was on to the system early.

           Where is my clutch cable? Tomorrow I go find my mechanic. I’d like to take the batbike to the Xmas dinner next Wednesday. Speaking of cables, you know who need to be neutered? That inventor of those plastic guitar cable end pieces, the ones that are supposed to slide over your photo plug connections and protect them. He needs to be de-nutted as soon as possible. For his own good.
           And remind me to check on Billy-Bill. He’s the guy that taught me you can’t make a country guitarist out of a rocker. He’ll just never quite identify with the music deeply enough to identify with it. Moments later, I can report he sounds 1000% better, not a typo, on the phone. He got a new liver on December 7th. It was like talking to a different man, the guy has a new lease on life. He gets the sutures and staples out in early January, so make a note to go cheer him on his first gig back in the real world. Music, guys, that’s the real world. He plays the Moose, so I’ll know his audience.
           I’m serious. He really sounded like a different person. No comparison.
           We found out why the office router keeps shutting down. Similar to an internal DoS attack, all the Frenchies connect their Magic Jacks and it overloads the system. I was tempted to tell them to set the router on auto reset, but decided it was not a good idea to have them aware I knew that. Oh, and the neighbor guy with the hover drones got tired of paying fines and switched to remote cars. He had a model boat that went directly into a pylon on the Dania pier, cost of that fun was $2,200.

EVENING
           Here’s a treat for those who have followed my robot hobby. Like fixing cars, this is a rich man’s pursuit so I don’t build a lot of robots, I just follow the technology. I’m saying I could build a useful robot for $20k, but I need that kind of money for other priorities. So here is the million-dollar idea if anyone wants to pick up on it. Again, I’m not claiming originality, only that I am not consciously copying any other source. A quiet day here doesn’t mean we stop thinking.

           I got to thinking nobody seems to have considered an underwater version of the Ping))) sonar. Conceptually, this could be built quite cheaply. What I’ve sketched is an underwater vehicle that “floats” a fixed distance above the bottom. It maintains this distance by sonar or a fixed “feeler” which in turn operates some on-board winches, which are in turn tethered from floats on the surface.

           Thus, the feeler keeps the on-board cameras 8 feet from the sea floor while a series of accelerometers compensate for the sloshing of the waves overhead. I reject the idea of keeping the motors and batteries on the surface because the bobbing motion could not be counteracted as rapidly as needed. The cameras record the sea bottom in stereo and either record or send back real time images via the umbilical cord, possibly a wireless device.
           The “sled” itself can’t match a remotely piloted vehicle, but I would equip it with a propeller steering mechanism and a forward looking camera. It would troll a preset grid of ocean floor, maybe guided by GPS. I estimate this vehicle could be built for $5,000. I have no idea how practical it is, but it would easily work on the smooth waters of an inland lake. I have not checked to see if such a vehicle already exists but if it does, just you watch, they won’t quote you a price until they find out what you intend to go looking for.
           Such sales-dorks never get an answer, but that never stops them from trying.

ADDENDUM
           Later, my look at the underwater sled got me reading late about contact switches. The feeler would test the depth, but mechanic switches are notorious for bad behavior in such situations. I know a lot more about them than before, which is the purpose of my studies. I’m not about to embark on a new career, my motive is to learn about these things. I wonder if I could design a contact that measures depth without needing an electrical connection, or at least not a direct connection.
          

           No, I didn't forget you Dupont gift for today, I just put it here, in the wrong section. This is not a vest, it is a bulletproof t-shirt. The Ammendment II. According to the ads, it has passed all the tests. Your base design sells for $99, custom units to fit the fat guys over at the See Eye Aye run up to $899. Hey, dudes, I know how it goes. Back at the corporation, my cubicle was next to the coffee machine.

           I knew one guy who drank 16 cups a day, he turned into one of those psychos that was into tinfoil. But thanks to modern medical cures, he is now a guidance instructor at an undisclosed Iowa public school.
           And his ex-wife, approaching retirement age over in traffic services, runs a somewhat successful dried flower gift service from her condo on the west end. Oh, and that two-year stretch where her son by her first marriage "disappeared"? He joined the navy and was stationed in Antarctica, where we all bloody well know the mail service is atrocious.
           Hey, Ken. You wanna know why playing bass is better than soccer, baseball, or golf? Because to play those, you only need one ball. Bwaaaa-ha-ha-ha!

[/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/]
Today’s Togla Treat
As long as this is all he uses it for . . .

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

December 16, 2014

MORNING
           Still at a bit of a loss for gifts this year, I thought of Lindt chocolates. Top of the line Swiss, although I know such things are a matter of taste. Then I find there is no place in Florida to buy them fresh. Yes, it makes a difference. Chocolate contains fine aromatic oils that evaporate over time. The nearest outlet is New York. I cannot eat chocolate. You should read the Lindt story. I’m not keen on all the ingredients, but it shines compared to what’s put into others. Chocolate packages should not contain warnings.

           The carburetor on the Chinese scooter does not like cold mornings. I coaxed it up to the incense store to find they are out of coconut, in case anyone wonders what my favorite is. The paper says gas should drop below $2 per gallon. I’ll keep an eye open for that, and a gas cap, too. You see, if oil drops below $80 per barrel, places like Saudi Arabia cannot support their social systems. Same with Canada, but that’s another credit society, so the politicians can shunt the problem into the future. Something else I found out: you no longer go shopping, you are “self-gifting”.
           I wonder what is going on with the Iranian gold-backed dollar. It seems the media has completely blocked all mention of this serious development. On the other hand, there is talk that the currency is another FBI-perpetuated hoax. But if such a currency becomes available, I would instantly attempt to acquire it, me and anyone else with a functioning brain. The US money is mostly electronic, they can create it with a mouse-click and it instantly reaches “the corners of the empire”.
           On the other hand, gold is difficult to spend directly. And prices still fluctuate locally although there has never been a time when gold demand collapsed like paper money. The concern is with the entire western world hovering on bankruptcy or already insolvent, it does not take much to set off the implosion. Money has the secondary effect of diminishing system-reliancy. Most Americans could not produce their own food no matter what resources they are given. Only a temporary disruption is enough to flatten such a people.

NOON
           An extraordinary success, that’s how to describe rehearsal today. There is a long way to go. But we know we have passed initiation. What we are doing would probably not fit most notions of how things are done. We need only the time put in to push this duo into a formidably competitive position. I didn’t invent this, but nor did I copy it. We have a superb sound of bass-acoustics that is locally (maybe more) unique. Why? Because I know for a fact no guitar player in this area would ever deign to play what I do.

           The explanation is uncomplicated. I have no pangs about letting the bass play melodic passages, and Trent is getting those down fast enough on bass to do what I used to—make the guitar player sound like he knows what he’s doing. In this instance, I am that guitar player.
           I know I’ve gone over this before, but this is the furthest things have ever gotten. Trent has played 15 or so tunes he never learned before. That outlasts every other musician I’ve met in Florida. The sound of the bass and acoustic is definitely infectious. I am now convinced somebody, somewhere, will hire us on the spot.
           Who’s this lady in black and white? It the English model who “invented” the miniskirt. She also passed the name onto the little car behind her behind, the “Mini”. I rode in one of those once back in the 70s. The ride was utilitarian. I don’t know her name. She would have looked to me like somebody’s mother back then. I never did see what other men see in non-blond non-teen models. I suppose I never watched enough TV to condition me to what I’m supposed to find attractive. Theoretically, one day I’ll learn to act and think like the mass of men.
           Then all the small-town azzholes can call me "mature".

EVENING
           Here’s a tale from the trailer court. This is true, so don’t expect great excitement, okay? Trent and I went for a couple brews over at the neighborhood pub. He left early and I stayed to finish mine. The barmaid knew some talkative old guy at the far end and he brought in a bag of fresh vegetables. She didn’t want them so she asked if anybody wanted some potatoes.
           I thought, yeah, I’ll take one. So she walks over and sets it in front of me. That’s not a potato, that is a big beet. She didn’t know. Shortly later, I got home and I put that beet on the kitchen counter. Then I sat down and looked at it for about five minutes, just me and that beet. I got out the knife, peeled it, diced it, and put it in a pot. Then I boiled it up with a little salt, that one beet. I sat there and watched it boil.
           Then I clicked off the burner, drained the pot and I ate that beet. Just the beet by itself. With butter. I looked at my wall clock. It was 5:32 PM and I thought long and deep about that situation.
           Lord love a duck. I’m surrounded by people who don’t know a potato when they see one.

           And here is today’s Dupont. A drying out clinic for the affluent. Nothing spells success like checking yourself into rehab. Oops, the euphemism is “behavioral health”. So I went on-line to see what else the place had to offer. Basically, they put them in a compound and seal them off from the world for an unspecified length of time. There was a hazy something about the place I could not at first put my finger on. Something about all those pictures that heralded a return to sanity.
           Then it hit me. There were no TVs.
           Isn’t that something. The most evident therapy for straightening out crooked brains is to chuck the damn flatscreen. Hey, Paris, you may not be the sharpest dart on the board, but you can come recover at my place for a fraction of the cost. Well, at least until we do everything you know how to do, which may not take all that long. You might even learn something about self-reliance. Unlike some women I could name, recently.

[/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/][/\][\/]
Today’s Togla Treat
She has that healthy glow.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++