March 25, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 25, 2015, Becky goes babe . . .
Five years ago today: March 25, 2011, grating, raspy, whiskey voice.
Nine years ago today: March 25, 2007, the county fair.
Random years ago today: March 25, 2001, The Tax Act.

MORNING
           No motorcycle, so a home day scheduled for logistics. Here’s a video of a wheelwright, about a half-hour showing the construction of a wooden wagon wheel. This fascinated me, kept me up well past my bedtime. This craftsman is works in England, where most quality video comes from these days. No nonsense video, I mean, without “monetizing” overlays and popups. It kept me glued to the screen.

           You see, back on the farm, there were lots of broken wagon wheels around. But nobody knew how to repair them, so they mostly rotted away. Usually it was a single broken spoke, and sometimes you’d see a crude replacement of new wood. In most instances the broken wheels were of larger diameter than that shown here. There was also a blacksmith shop that sold standard “Conestoga” spokes, but did not do the repair for you.
           The blacksmith became a welding shop when I was 15, so even that supply was gone. However, I always like the word “spokeshave” even though nobody ever saw them in action. If you have time, watch the video of a skilled craftsman in action. I see the final assembly, the seating of the metal rim hoop, is most certainly a two-man operation. I never saw the rims welded like this video, but how it was done,well, it was so long ago, I can’t remember.
The video does not explain where the guy got the beautiful piece of wood he used to make the hub.

           I know I’m weak on navigation in the Pacific, but calculating the Geographic Position (GP) of the sun is easy because there is no east-west, only west. The nearest place to today’s exercise was the Admiralty Islands. Have I not landed near here before? Maybe, but I don’t know dick about this place. So let’s take a peek. A population of 45,000 means a pretty tiny dating pool. The place is so remote I can’t find any images and even Tony Wheeler seems to have bypassed the place.

           Some 35,000 US troops landed there in 1944 but nobody seems to know exactly why. Maybe target practice? Of those, 4 went missing. Rather than admit it was a useless mistake, the US built a huge airbase and fuel storage facility. This, in turn, became another useless mistake as the war moved thousands of miles away.

           The local populace has since voted or something to become part of New Guinea and unless oil is discovered there, that is the end of any significance for the Admiralty Islands.

           Now what about this episode with the Trump and Cruz wives? Ha, good old Lyin’ Ted tries to act tough, an obvious appeal to the redneck “stick up fer yer kin” vote. Ted, Ted, the Donald could whup you with his small hands tied behind his back. My ruling? Easy, when the other guy’s wife looks like a store-bought movie star, yes, the women are part of the game. Geez, Ted, do I have to fecking teach you everything?

           The I watched this instructional video of how to cut glass bottles with a band saw. Notice it has a water jet directly onto the sawblade. It works pretty fast, but the most I can say is I had better not catch anybody trying this with my band saw. I just bought $40 worth of blades and I intend to make them last. So don’t even think about cutting glass.

Wiki picture of the day.
Horseshoe Bend.
NOON

           “Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.” ~ Lemony Snicket.

           There are two things at my place by noon today. The clutch cable from New Jersey and the worst rainstorm this month. It started as I pulled up with the goods and it is still at it hours later. It’s uncanny. So I stayed inside and baked tomato herb chicken and improved the cardinal whirlagig design. The original showed only one each of the propeller and hub, casting doubt upon the aptitude of the first author. Not that the reader didn’t know you needed two, but how to lay it out on a block of wood.

           That’s not too bright there, Anders S. Lunde. Not that many people could do the required cut and paste operations on a computer back in 1982. But this type of shortcut at least proves that even in the low-tech atmosphere of the world back then, we still had our share of idiots. No, Patsie, mental morons did not arrive on the scene with your generation. It only seems like it because there are so damn many of you.
           Here is the proper template, with reversed propeller blanks and both hubs, laid out economically on a block of 1x6” The weird dimensions on the original are all close enough to plain 1x6” that there is no need to worry about exact dimensions. It is not like you are building duck lures.

           I had to get over to Harbor Freight for batteries before my 25% coupon expired, so I got the usual freebie. One of those items I’d likely never own but as a gift. Here is a magnetic parts holder, a little chromed tray. It’s undoubtedly handy, but before my interest in robotics, I never repaired much in my life except computers. And one thing you don’t want around computer parts is magnetism. It is actually kind of fancy, so I’ll stick it beside my drill press and band saw. While not emphasized here due to the blog-worthy nature of fancier work, I do a considerable amount of unreported household and motorcycle repairs with my tool set.

           For instance at this time, I’m designing a new wood retaining ring for the scooter headlamp. The factory issue bulb is anemic. I’m modifying the cavity to take one of those $40 quartz halogen puppies that you can’t look at on high beam. Note, the scooter is always on low beam, the high beam switch hasn’t worked since 2011.

           Now speaking of computers, there is a repair shop opening up in the old shoe store across the way and he is advertising for software help. Hmmmm. I learned about this from the weird drone guy, you know the one who never works and rides a skateboard at 52. He was out with his quadcopter at noon in the storm, whence I suggested he should tie a thin wire from the frame down to his big toe to see if he could do a Ben Franklin. He’s still thinking that one over and besides, I’m only presuming he was, you know, born with toes.
           Trivia. The German Panther, the best medium tank of the Second World War, was never used in North Africa. The heavier Tiger, which used the same motor and was twenty tons heavier, made enough of an appearance that 70% of some American units shit their pants without firing a shot. But the Panther was never sent there. In its early versions, it had a tendency to run hot and even started a rumor that it could set the Zimmerit paste on fire. By the time it was corrected, the North African campaign was over.

           This Zimmerit paste is the subject of all kinds of misunderstanding. It is that rumpled finish seen on early German tanks and was intended to defeat magnetic mines. The ridges helped stand the magnets away from the armor better without adding the weight of a smooth layer. There was also a rumor shell strikes could ignite the paste, but none of those stories are factual. In reality, the factories quit applying it because it took several days to dry at a time when the tanks were needed immediately.
           If you want to make some, the formula is 40 gallons of barium sulfate (the same stuff you drink before a stomach X-ray), 25 gallons of polyvinyl acetate (but if you are fresh out, wood glue is nearly identical), plus 15 gallons of ochre (a pigment that is found naturally all over Europe), then add 10 gallons of zinc sulfide (another cheap coloring agent found in German pickle juice) and finally ten gallons of sawdust. Mix well. Then go have some schnapps and try to forget how Zimmerit smells.

EVENING
           This picture is just another of the batbike under the tarp during that Florida rainshower that appears only on those days you want to get some work done. The new cable seems to be of incredible good quality, but ask me that again after I see if it really does fit as advertised. By quality, I mean compared to the part that was removed, the new one is in a fancier casing, has chromed fittings, the plug ends have small strain-relief sleeves, and the cable itself is both thicker and plain looks tougher. But my gosh, the price!

           How retarded are the Millennials at Google? They have removed the feature that stops counting your own visits to your own blog. The check box is still there, but it doesn’t work. So, for a while now I thought I had checked the “don’t count your own visits” box and didn’t notice it has changed to a “manage your own views box”, so I have no idea what my true readership is. The yesteryear feature is a very “click intensive” operation that adds dozens of self-views to my count. Typical Google/MicroSoft retards, they can’t leave anything alone. They all need their asses kicked, you know.
           It seems to work by adding a “blocking cookie” to your own browser. This, of course, means that Google is punishing anyone who has cookies disabled. Well, MicroSoft is on the way out and I hope to see Google get replaced in my lifetime. Shithead empires have always ruled in the C+ world. The bottom line is always Google trying to get all your on-line activity into one big account where they can identify everything you do.

           I had time to rag on Google, since once more I didn’t go out on Friday. Of course, the deluge stopped right after it was too dark to work on the Honda. I watched some documentaries on the “island-hopping” campaign of the Americans in the Pacific during WWII. It seems nobody has ever officially questioned the wisdom of this strategy, or at least nobody who disagreed with it has ever had much of a voice. The Japanese had self-isolated themselves in far-flung islands known to singularly lack any natural resources for conducting war. Just cut off their shipping and sit back.
           Yet somebody had the idea that America has to “re-take” these islands. For what? For whom? The propaganda promotes the fantasy that the Filipinos like the Americans any more than the Spanish before them, a misconception kept alive mainly by people who have never been in the Philippines. All America had to do to win was position a picket line of ships off the Japanese coast to stop the supply convoys and sti back and wait. But where is the glory in that?

           Looking further into whirlagigs, I see for sure there have been no changes or improved designs in a hundred years. Hmmm, like jazz music. I sketched up some ideas, such as a jalopy with turning wheels and a set of “dancing” smaller propellers. I have not yet had an “aha!” moment but there must be a reason my mind keeps coming back to the issue. And also, you should see me expertly cut the pieces out now. Some I barely have to sand. Did you know there are six, not just two, ways you can cut the propellers wrong. Even after the blades are roughed out, it is too easy to “fan” the shapes backward. The prop still works, but looks funny when the final device is operating. None of this is stated in the book.

ADDENDUM
           No link, but this is a referral to [the news article about] the man arrested for failing to return a VHS tape in 2001 to a company that went out of business. Now let’s not get into the bleep-bleep that the man should have returned the tape. This is not about the tape. It is about those who think only criminals have something to hide. This is the kind of crap in their future. In 2001, the crime was a civil offense. It was since turned into a criminal offense. And that, you anti-privacy creeps, is the real threat to being scrutinized and videotaped all the time. There is nothing to stop the authorities from declaring almost any otherwise innocent or tort activity as a criminal act at some point in the future.
           I personally object to paying taxes for police to go around enforcing what is basically debt collection. It is an activity made possible only by invasion of privacy. Not paying debts is not and should not be a criminal act unless there was fraud involved. The whole affair just stinks of bad law and the smell comes from the direction of the police. Note, he was arrested during the most corrupt of all police practices. The arbitrary license search during a pullover. That is, they searched his background without either reasonable or probably grounds and without a warrant. All the sheeple in America have been brainwashed to accept the police roadside check as legal (it isn’t) and a back ground search as a condition for the “right” to operate a vehicle. That attitude is sheer stupidity.

           What you did in the past has no bearing on your driving skills. Period. The police have no inherent right to look into your former life over a traffic infraction. You do not have to answer any questions without a lawyer present and the police are experts at telling you they will get suspicious if you insist on one. They must either arrest you or let you go, there is no such thing as “detained for questioning”. But America is now full of wimps who don’t stand up for themselves any more.
           And a warrant for one’s arrest is not the same as a search warrant. I’m waiting for the day some sharpie successfully argues that point in court. Traffic stops should be restricted to traffic offenses under most circumstances. Give the guy a ticket and let him go. And I feel the entire concept of the police “impounding” vehicles is a corrupt practice that needs some looking into.


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March 24, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 24, 2015, the annual February slump.
Five years ago today: March 24, 2011, bankrupt by 2014.
Nine years ago today: March 24, 2007, apples by the dozen.
Random years ago today: March 24, 201, FireHow, and other disasters.

MORNING
           What on Earth is this? It is the Earth, according to the “flat Earth” people. Their leader, one Mastakongo Prez, says that everything in science is the opposite of what the Bible says. I like that name, like “President” of the Congo. He provides a list of opposites, any one of which proves that science is wrong and Mastakongo is right. This is the guy who says to listen to phonograph records backwards. And you better get hip to all the Satanic Masonic hand signals on TV.

           Tell you what, watch this video so you’ll know all the hoaxes when you see them. (Unfortunately, the space shuttle wasn’t a hoax—except to five generations of kids who should be walking on Mars by now.)
           Mastakongo is such a kook, he winds up driving people away from the Bible. Kind of like the way protesters being so obnoxious, they send people toward Trump to find out why people like him. Masta hates school books, history, and the Van Allen radiation belt.

           Well, what you don’t find out when you read. The cPod, or wagon, or trailer, that I pull behind my sidecar is called a cart, that is technically not a two-wheeled version of what was once called a “dray”. A real dray is a gypsy wagon. The reasons are obscure, but it appears back in time that there were as many words for types of carts as there are for automobile designs of today. And the average child knew all the differences. Apparently a cart is a two wheeled wagon with the wheels under the chassis rather than beside it, and that “leans forward” when it is unhitched. But I’m still calling it the cPod for camper pod. And don’t quote me on any of this.
           Next news is the people called back again on the house, my offer has gone through at least the seller’s first line of defense. It is beginning to look like I was right about the place on several counts, including that the asking price was completely arbitrary. It does not match any of the equity projections I’ve followed backwards to its construction in the 1950s. But it also means the seller, in this case Wells Fargo, has an ulterior motive and decide to sit on it. Either way, I’d rather have a low-ball offer on the table than deal with the hidden agendas of these remote bankers who have never seen the property.

           Another aspect of these offers is the cantankerous rules around “proof of funds”. This doctrine is totally rooted in the 1970s, where houses were always sold on credit. Some people developed the mentality that credit is “proof”. I was around when this “get pre-approved” nonsense came along. Without credit, the seller would demand a copy of your bank statement, thereby tipping them off whether you had more money than you were offering and how much.
           Today, I am dealing with the same ossified mindset. These people do not know the world has moved on. They view selling a house as a fixed procedure that involves only bank-to-bank transactions with the real estate company taking a cut and the purchaser, unwise to their ways, glibly smiles and pays every fee and extra they can tack on. I mean the buyer just signed his life away, he’s not going to back out just because you add on a $6,000 closing fee at the 11th hour.

           What I’m referring to in this case is the refusal of the seller to recognize cash as proof. I looked at the situation from a dozen angles and all of them have one thing in common. They involve putting the money in the bank just long enough for the system to do a check to see if you have any judgments against you. I’m not saying that is wrong, I’m saying they don’t have to be so sneaky about it. Like I’ve said before, they are training their own enemies.
           And I mean real enemies who, if they were on fire, would not piss on them. That’s not a figure of speech, you folks at the DMV.
           In other news, during the negotiations for my offer on the property, I had a brief conversation with a lady up in the interior. To me she was just another office flunky, but she did seem fascinated by how I was able to grasp every progression just by scanning the money figures. Meh, I thought, she just doesn’t meet that many educated people in her line of work. I did get the impression she was gaining an eye-opener from me for free. Anyway, at 3:38PM today, I received an unofficial e-mail where she states it was “an honest and sincere pleasure” speaking with me. She’s right, you know. Hmmm, I wonder what she looks like.

Wiki picture of the day.
The lovely Canary Islands.
NOON
           Propellers, not the best place for beginners to start. I’m a beginner, so it is always nice to get lucky. The trickiest part of making a propeller is to get the thing to balance. You place it on a spindle and give it a twirl to see if one blade keeps stopping at the bottom. Then you shave it until it balances with the lighter blade. I’ve built four propellers in my life. They are rough-cut from 1” square dowel rods, using the bandsaw. So indeed, it is about as rough as you can get.

           Next, you use the small sander to make the blades look about even. I built a small oak propeller, and now three for my whirlagig. The device uses two, but I accidentally broke the tip off number three. So imagine my surprise that on every propeller, I came within a fraction of an ounce in balance.
           The first I took to be luck, but then I did it again and again. Harrumph, I may have a knack for making wooden propellers. Why not a knack for winning the lotto? Fate, I guess, although I can’t help thinking it is in part to cutting wooden robot gears and such.

           Due to a lack of gumption, I stayed home all day and read. The lack of a clutch cable on the Honda was another factor. I get a call to watch this clip of Jorge Ramos continuing to make a total ass of himself. I can’t say I know where he stands, but I watch him squirm, lie, and try to talk overtop of the interview. Does this guy take lessons from Whoopi Goldberg? He’s obviously never learned his place. You will notice he only talks his garbage from behind a television camera, never in person.
           I thought we’d seen the last of the guy when he got his ass kicked out of a Trump rally, but he’s gone on to a career in racist comedy. The message most Americans have for Ramos is, “Get out of my country.” He’s too thick-headed to grasp what they mean. He’s a traitor of the worst stripe.

           Aye-yi-yi, inflation. Home Depot prices are getting insane. Aluminum washers 40¢ apiece. Plus tax. It’s nothing to most of people, but these are basic components of most of the machines in our lives and the cost is going to filter through to your pocketbook sooner or later.
           By dusk, two positive things have happened. My 55% offer has not been rejected, and the longer that stays so, the better my chances. The other thing is if you dig deep enough, you can usually find who is really the party behind most real estate sales. And this one, it transpires, is not Wells Fargo at all. Instead, it is a certain government agency known to be extremely lax in their requirements.
           For example, they will accept an ATM printout as “proof of funds”. Even if you found it on the lobby floor. I’ve already hinted enough that there is more to my offer and the story behind this building than I can ever say up front, but I’d say the only thing that will stop this offer from climbing up their bureaucracy is some bigwig stepping in now and saying absolutely no. However, that is a big possibility.

NIGHT
           These are Russian apples. You can read about them next segment, but the picture is here to make this page appear more balanced. That’s also the food portion of this post. These are not crab apples.
How about some gossip? Sure, what’s a blog without a little nonsense now and again? Just before dark, I decide to go for coffee. I’ve not yet found a replacement for the bakery, but I like my sit-down break once a day since time immemorial. I’ve been in the house all day, mind you, all my tools are oiled, all instruments calibrated, and plans drawn up for a week of small projects. After a lifetime of big deals, I’ll have you know I now like small projects.

           I’ve covered this often, how so many people waste their youth with piddley projects, not realizing when they get old, they will have used up things that can be done in a day or two. And because they are old, it is far too late to start on big projects. Like my brothers turning twenty and discovering they had missed the bus on learning music. While it is possible to learn to play guitar like a champ after age 16, I’ve never seen it. Huh? I said, like a champ, not like your cousin Ernie, old boy.

           So I grab the crossword and head into the café on Dixie. Whoa, you talk about impact. There is a waitress there I’ve only ever seen from a distance, but tonight working the front counter. You know when you meet a lady who absolutely gushes over you, well, Ken, I mean most of us know it. I’m like, do I dare to encourage this gal? She is not really my type, but elegant looking in a telephone company sort of way. But she was completely taken by everything I did and when I ordered in Spanish, she was eating out of my hand.
           If you are expecting me to say, “I’ve still got it”, my reply is that I’ve never lost it. Ha! I will have to think this through, however. But I was getting sunburned on the side facing her. She was bound by a wild desire and I’m glad the place was empty except for other women, all of whom politely smiled through it all, which was like fanning the fire. I’m did nothing but my puzzle because I’m not forgetting how my library date backfired on me not that long ago. I’m not ready for a relationship with a Latina, which is a nice way of saying I’m way out of her league. And at my age, such things matter.
           But two gals in one day? That has never happened often enough in my life. Then again, I do wear that scent that few sincerely intelligent women cannot resist. It is called “money”.

ADDENDUM
           Here is a graphic I found hilarious. The caption is “Two Ways To Celebrate”. What? Well, I happen to think it is very funny, Patsie. Why, that’s you in the bottom panel. Just you watch, once the kids are grown and gone, he’s dropping you like a hot potato. You see, I can read other people’s e-mail. You had better like cats.

           I’m now well into the cholesterol control program as one of their more successful guinea pigs, but I can tell they are now giving me placebos. It’s a shot in the arm every two weeks, you get used to it. Plus you get really used to being paid. Essentially, they paid for all my vehicle repairs in the early days of the program. There were supplementary pills every day, but they have even taken those away. The reason this topic made the blog today was once again, I am hoping the latest round of blood tests will allow some of my favorite foods back on the menu.
           As with most diets, I’m allowed all the fruit I want. This caused a surprise. I bought a big bag of what I thought were crab apples at the Russian store. Crab apples are super tart, to the point of sour. Turns out these are not sour at all, but outright deliciously sweet. It’s an apple, but more like biting into a pear with an aromatic hint of sweet banana. Try them on your cream of wheat. I’m impressed. If I can find out the name, I’ll report back. But my Russian is pretty bad and I can’t pronounce my R’s backwards.

           What’s this? I was almost going to stop writing when the phone rang. No, my diet stays the same and I have to go on vitamin D again. My other prescriptions have the side effect of lowering my vitamin D. I don’t care about that, but they still say cut down on the carbs. No potatoes, no rice, no pasta, no grits. I swear, that diet was invented by some damn Yankee. The south did not lose the war; we came in second.


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March 23, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 23, 2015, electronic red money.
Five years ago today: March 23, 2011, very rare embedded video.
Nine years ago today: March 23, 2007, I still own this.
Random years ago today: March 23, 2013, The Great Jimbos Non-Bust.

MORNING

           Take a look at this photo and don’t be so critical. There's a reason it made top story. The price tag. The structure is actually very typical of pre-1970 Florida outback construction, and it has survived hurricanes. It gets mention because there is a huge (YUGE) misprint in the title record claiming this sold in 2007 for $350,000 (Zillow). I am not even considering this place, but a price error like that always shows up on my system. They are asking $20k for it, the place is gutted to the rafters.

           Another flurry of listings came up in the Sebring area, but remember that Sebring is a hotbed of petty crime, burglaries, car thefts, averaging 6 to 7 arrests per day. And I found out the shortcut from Lake Placid to Zolfo Springs I like to take is formally named the “Old Florida Cracker Trail”. Here are the three on-line services I use to check out a property of interest. None of the three is reliable in itself and you must look deeper on your own.

           Zillow.com: has an active map that shows most listings, including for sale by owner. The fake-priced foreclosures can be filtered out. Downside is the map is cluttered with auction click-bait that cannot be filtered, so there is no distinguishment made between mobile homes with or without the land. A major waste of your time.
           Realtor.com: updated every 15 minutes except for the one property you are looking at. Most importantly does NOT allow mobile homes without land to be listed. Tells you if there is a pending offer. Slow at removing old listings, can be slow on all browsers except the antiquated Internet Explorer, the software responsible for 90% of your viruses.
           Trulia.com: the one with the crime map. However, that map shows only crime colors in relation to nearby areas, which is misleading. However, always check Trulia as it is the ONLY place to get first-hand tip-offs about bad and dangerous neighborhoods. Sometimes shows totally unrealistic “estimated” prices which are always bogus.

           Here’s the contest of the day. Describe Germany’s Merkel in 35 words or less. That’s the broad that let all the Muslims into the country against the will of the Germans. Top prize is a year in Florida. My entry is below. My opinion is that Merkel is the epitome of the guilt-ridden German who has been convinced by propaganda that Germany was evil in WWII, and she will be the cause of new German nationalism, which the uneducated will compare to the Nazis. But all I can say is in Germany, the muzzies are asking for it.

           Have you seen the latest round of real estate ads touting “accept credit cards”. There’s a telling revelation on how well Americans have learned the lesson of 2006. The market is dropping, but since it has gained 24% since 2012, the true bottom, I’ll hold back and watch. The first thing a price drop does is take all the cheaper properties off the market, and that has just occurred. I suppose it makes sense from a lot of angles, and yes, I would appreciate a 24% drop just now.
           Delisting won’t really work on me as I keep a mini-database of what is wrong with each property that I reject. There are over 200 rejects so far, the most common reason being bla unsafe neighborhoods. There are a few nice places still shown (on the Zillow map), but they are way out in the toonies. All the good in-town properties have been taken down. Same as in 2006. I mean way out in the toonies. Like the time JZ and I went to find Camp Good Hope, we drove that road west of Deland. And we know there is no town called “Paisley” out there.

Wiki picture of the day.
15” gun animation.
NOON

           Since I can’t be in Bartow, I have $65 allocated for travel. I should skip the day and take a train ride up to West Palm. Take a magazine and just go. Haven’t been there since my barber and I went up to see the place. You know, sad but true, he is the next candidate for a major heart attack. And he’s a terrible barber, too, but loyalties last. You see, he lives with his parents, both of whom are dependent on him, and the guy is a nervous wreck. I often have to insist (and pay) that after work he not go home, but to a quiet shop for a cup of tea and stay there a half hour. But that’s just a band-aid. Abe is spiraling straight for a coronary.

           I won’t be in Bartow. Because although we finally found a real Honda clutch cable, it has to get here from New Jersey and that will not be until Friday at the soonest. On top of that, there is the new starter, which has not yet arrived and it cannot be installed until the clutch cable enables me to drive the unit to the workshop. There, that’s a fine howdie-doo. And at the worst time, not like there is ever a good time for vehicle repairs, something has come up.

           Look closely at this picture. My system not only finds the bargains, it finds anything unusual that comes along. I know people who have made decent homes out of everything from churches, barns, lighthouses, and wine barrels. This came up as one of those government places that caught the tenants up to a grow operation in this attic.
           The authorities have since cleaned the place out and put it on the market, but they also have a mandate to move it quickly from their listings. I wasn’t supposed to know that. Aha! They got a black eye over something—it seems they may have been related to the government employee that co-signed for them to be in that house. It is something fishy like that.
           I learned early this afternoon that the place has water and electric, so I want to explain something. I was raised in a four room log cabin with eight people crammed around all winter. The fanciest décor I ever had was good-one-side plywood, and when we finally did get electricity, it was pull-chain lights. Have you ever tried to find the pull-chain in a pitch-black room?

           I would also point out that the rest of the building is strictly cosmetic damage. Nothing I could not handle myself. My question to the real estate agent, a person JZ and I have had face time with so it is unlikely there would be any Winter Haven-scale lying going on is whether or not the place is inhabitable. In the event it is, I put in a low-ball offer of 55% of the asking price. If they counter, I can make it 70% provided they give me 90 more days to close.
           For clarity, providing the place can be lived in, even if rustically, and I say by the photos it is, my offer has already gone in. If anyone is still snickering, all I can say is you obviously have not seen the last motel we stayed at in the same town. This place is luxury. I could stake a tent in the room shown here and be just as well-appointed as many a motel I’ve stayed while crossing northern Mississippi-Louisiana.

NIGHT
           Hmmm, I’ve met a singer who “used to play guitar”. And he knows Johnny Cash. The biggest obstacle is that is the only English he really knows, but I can work with that. Unfortunately, about two hours later, it turns out he can only “play guitar in Peru”. Lot of help that is. Fortunately, I brought my homework with me and had plenty of time to run the numbers. The 55% mentioned above is no some arbitrary figure, but just above the amount which we now know the government will historically consider.
           We know their target is 67.5% but we will make them bleed for every penny of it. I’ve gotten two calls back and they have not yet said no. I’m not likely to be swayed by their rulebook. You might say I’ve known all I need to about government policy since I was a frightened teen and their rulebook said I was statistically getting $150 a month from my parents. Therefore I was disqualified from any educational assistance. I still meet people like Wallace who think education is phooey. Because back when he was in the workforce you only needed sixth grade to get hired.

           Have you seen the quip about Canadian dress codes? The head of their “Human Rights” Commission has proposed a law that prohibits anyone from dressing in a way that might “reinforce sexist stereotypes”. Oh no, not another fugly broad after Hooters again. Now that’s your sexist stereotype. That country has diversified itself back into the stone ages. Not that the average white over there was all that smart to begin with.
           Later, I auditioned the singer and he has never been able to play guitar. He lied.

ADDENDUM
           For those of you who caught that news quip y’day, yes, President Trump did finally take the position stated here two months ago that terrorism is not an Americian, or European problem. It is an Islamic problem, and they should be cut off from the rest of the world until they sort it out. As long as the bad guys can convince a few Western loudmouths that massacres are the victim’s fault, there will be no change in the pattern.
           To be fair, I’m not saying one of Trump’s people stole my words, only that once again, I said it almost precisely (between 52 and 58 days) days before he did. Nor did I advocate any attack on the terrorist’s families. But now that Trump points out the possibility, I see the merit in his idea. The problem is, the USSA has been bombing Arab families for decades, so it would appear he merely means to have better target acquisition.

           Here is my entry in the “Describe Merkel in 35 Words or Less Contest”:

           Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid. Stoopid.

           I think it is eloquent and captures her very soul. The soul that all Libtards have for the suffering they impose on their own kind. It covers the full gamut of her intelligence, personality, and behavior. It will remain historically correct forever and I think should take first prize.


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March 22, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 22, 2015, I prefer robot co-workers.
Five years ago today: March 22, 2011, Brother printers suck.
Nine years ago today: March 22, 2007, “Overseas Employment”, right . . .
Random years ago today: March 22, 2005, Internet thought crimes.

MORNING
           Okay, who bet the five bucks I’d have a go at building the whirlagig? Show of hands. Hmmm. Well, in my own defense let me say my decision was heavily swayed by another cold snap. So cold, for that matter, that I am not planning to drive up to West Marine for a 2016 copy of the Almanac. Here’s the blanks for the cardinal, I made two to allow for prototype error. And there were plenty. Most centered around the propeller, which the instruction helpfully says only that you should take care.

           Fortunately, any of my regular readers know I happen to have some experience with carving propellers. This is probably not for beginners, even if I did succeed wildly on my first try. And this time around, I have the equipment to get the blades quickly into shape. Why, I even have a Dremel tool to texture the feathers if I want.

           Most common mistakes not mentioned in the instructions:

           a) drill your propeller hubs first. Conventional training says don’t do anything that weakens the wood first, but if you don’t, drilling dead center on the hub gets tricky once the blades no longer rest flat.
           b) on bird designs, the propellers must be “handed”. One blade is right-handed, the other blade is left. You CANNOT just reverse one of the blades, it doesn’t work that way. You have to flip either your saw blade angle or your pattern over to its mirror image. (The blade in front has the top of the swing toward the bird’s head. The other propeller spins “backwards”.)
           c) do all coarse sanding on a belt sander or you will still be hand-finishing the bird the day after tomorrow and the propellers late next week.
           d) use dry, easily paintable wood, that is, don’t use cedar or plywood. Make all parts out of cheap pine 1x4” until you get some experience. Then stick with the 1x4”.
           e) do not drill the “pivot” hole until the entire structure is built and tested. Then drill it another ¼” toward the front. The bird is NOT a weather vane, it is meant to spin sideways to the wind. The ¼” is to compensate as the wing that is “behind” the body gets somewhat less wind.

           Expect to spent twice as long on each propeller (you’ll need two for bird designs) as the rest of the project combined. I’m no propeller expert, I’ve only done it before. Beginners take my advice and build only two-blade propellers out of a solid wooden block. No hub and blade props until you know what is going on. Well-made whirlagigs of basic design sell for around $30 on-line, $20 at the flea market. And that is the brand of “inside information” that keeps you coming back to this blog. Learning without the pain. Learning the parts the “experts” consistently leave out.

           I miss my Almanac. Whenever the feeling comes along that the world has the upper hand and I’m the dummy, time to get out that sextant and tables and do so real calculating. Doing something that stupefies most of mankind does wonders for the brain and attitudes. It clears the baffles and makes you realize why there are no super-criminals like Lex Luthor, my hero. It’s because the world prevents really smart people from taking advantage. The world has a creation that prevents the truly smart from flourishing. It is called “law”.
           And this invention works by making sure nobody, including the smart, can get ahead without paying their dues. That’s what it is all about. I know of fifty non-violent, non-coercive ways to go out there right now and make $500. But they are all quite artificially made into illegal activities at a commercial level because they don’t give the state their cut. For this reason, most criminals are the dumb hit-and-run small rip-off goons and not your Lex Luthors. The small fry instinctively know that society cannot possibly afford to track down all crime, and it follows that most petty criminals finally get nabbed when they try something just a tad too ambitious.
           Now, how’s that for bloviating? Pretty darn impressive, I’d say, for only one morning cup of coffee. And all while finishing prop blades to boot. Here’s two Seattle terms I’ve never heard west of the Mississippi. The USSA. And “waddler”, a reference to fat women who think fat is sexy. There, by now you’ve guessed what mood I’m in today.

Wiki picture of the day.
Bad dancers.
NOON

           “Strive for excellence, not perfection.” ~ RHP

           I got a reply on a property. That’s no big deal, except this was a total bottom-fishing offer. The ad contained a phrase nobody over here understood, but I took it to mean that the seller is so desperate for money that they are willing to either co-sign or extend other obligations to get their money out of this place. So I offered them half in cash, and they left a message. By extrapolating the data on the public records by the average mortgage interest in 2004, I was able to guess they put 5% down and now have just over $17,000 equity. So I offered $17,500.

           Dang, I can’t get up there to inspect. That Honda clutch cable has to be completely hand-made again. And there is no place in Hollywood to rent a motorcycle because there is no place that will insure them at a low enough rate to make the business profitable. I’m saying if these people say yes, I have no way to get up to Bartow without cornering JZ to take the truck, and he hates Bartow. Maybe, because technically the building is closer to Arcadia, which he does like. Except that the Arcadia bars close at midnight.

           Myself, I could not tell you the closing time of any bar in the world that I’ve ever been to myself. Nor could I say what time they open. I don’t say that in a braggadocios way, but because if Trump can use that word, so can I. It is very presidential of me, one might say. Anyway, how do you like the progress on my whirlagig? Nice paint job, or what. The axle through the wings is made of, well, do you remember the Chinese food I had last week? Yeah.
           One thing for sure, I’ll never have a boring old age. Not so boring as to know the pub hours, know what I’m sayin’? But I do enjoy a quaff now and again and if it warms up enough to operate the red scooter, I just might partake later this evening. Um, allow me this opportunity to make a distinction. When I go to a bar or a coffee shop by myself, I do not just sit there and drink. I’ve always got a notebook or a puzzle or a regular book.
           I have never just sat in a bar drinking. I defy anyone to find an exception, because yes, I do regularly head out for a beer a few times a week. I was out last Saturday, with my notebook, which has the date and location written at the top of every page. So do not equate how often I go to the saloon with the same frequency that some lush goes there to watch sports TV and hit on the barmaids. I actually get things done, even in a bar.

           Some pointers about the bird in this picture. The larger the propellers, the slower they turn at a given wind velocity. The paint should be exterior since this gadget is headed outdoors. The paint scheme is arbitrary, since I haven’t seen a cardinal in years and have a limited supply of colors over here.
           The pivot is a hole drilled into the base of the bird, then you glue in a BB. The statue then sits on a long pointed nail, preferably the aluminum type I use. This forms the joint that allows the bird to sway in slight breezes. The action of the props is loud enough to hear from several feet away. This is the prototype and I’ve already calculated they are not worthwhile to build and sell at the flea market. However, if produced in bulk, or as a kit, they have possibilities if distributed to others for retail sale.

AFTERNOON
           I like my nice toaster oven. After all, I take the “oven” part more seriously than some. JZ only ever uses his to grill things, whereas I rarely grill anything. This is my home made scalloped potatoes, heavy on the cheese. Well, for me, I mean, because to me this casserole is a very carefully calorie-controlled meatless meal for me. That’s 610 calories and one of two meals I had today. And don’t worry about the “dirty” stovetop under the racks. That is sawdust.

           My oven, like my coffee machine, is adjacent to my work area. The overhead kitchen fan draws fine sawdust toward this area, you may notice it is all the same color which would not be the case if it was ordinar kitchen drippings and such. I don’t know why I bothered to point that out.
           I’ve got a theory that potatoes became popular in England partially because they roast their meat a lot. And potatoes cook at exactly the same rate as the meat. Therefore, you can prep everything and put these in the oven together to be ready at the same time. Just a theory, but since it is food, I’ll bet somebody has studied this. I noticed the timing when I always boiled vegetables in a separate pot. I’ve always used kitchen timers so was quick to spot how I’d subtract 18 minutes from potato time for my favorite veggies. Carrots, peas, and string beans.
           Which is not to say I don’t like all vegetables except plantains. On the tenth year of my diet, however, there are still some vegetables I cannot say I like without salt. Lots of salt. Those would be beets, turnip, and spinach. Another history study would probably prove those only became human food when salt was available. That’s another of my endless theories, and the major difference with my theories, Ken, is that I write them down. So you can’t argue the next day you were the originator.

           The anti-Trumpers are at it again. Some people just don’t know when the apple cart has been upset. Right, wrong, or neutral, Trump is the next president. The media and both dominant parties have ganged up on Trump since day one, to no avail. How do you like that protester who got punched at the rally claiming he was hit by a Trump supporter. The media was all over that, but it seems there is no proof whatsoever that politics had anything to do with the guy getting a licking.
           The traditional stomp-the-new-guy tactics have all backfired. That’s likely because they were intended for a far softer target than Trump and were too obvious because Trump fought back. There is still time for the media to do the Hitler thing with real zesto, and time to evolved better smear tactics, but it’s getting down to the wire, you establishment types. The wire that will hang most of you. Have you see the “PolitiFact” attacks?
           That’s where they say Trump lies once every five minutes. Hmmm, that only a quarter of the rate of that Cruz fellow (77 lies versus 278), but that point is left out. They publish that three out of four Trump statements are rated as lies. Rated by whom? And how would that same source rate the Pope? “Rating” something as a lie is not at all the same thing as proving it is a lie.

           And that, some people should know, is why Trump is winning and they are losing. It is clear to many what Trump means because he did not set out to lie. I only see outtakes, but I sure noticed Hillary playing the Jewish card. How she unequivocally supports Israel where Trump thinks support is negotiable. A year ago that would have killed the opposition, but all Trump had to do was point out that the majority of her campaign contributions came from Jews.
           I’ve emphasized before I’m not as pro-Trump as I am anti-establishment. But after six months of watching what the DC insiders have been trying to pull on the man, I now definitely hope he wins. This is a change from predicting he’ll win, to preferring he’ll win, to now hoping he’ll win. I’d say the remaining path to victory left for the establishment is to prove they have not run the country into the ground. The problem is, they would have to lie on an obscene scale over that. Clearly, Trump is not responsible for the way things are compared to the other “experienced” candidates.

           As for the “equality” crowd, well, equality has always been a pipe dream. I don’t want America to be equal to the other nations on the planet. I’ve seen enough of those places to know they are not anything to aspire to. As for equal intelligence, folks, there is no such thing. Forty years of intense study with tens of thousands of subjects and allowing for every meaningful control have consistently shown that different races have different average levels of intelligence.
           This has been repeatedly demonstrated by every study over multiple categories conducted by every race, country, or schoolboard that ever overseen a test. And worse for the “equality” nutcases, the studies have always shown that the ratio of intelligence between races is also a constant. The American media will not succeed in forever suppressing the European studies that have identified a set of intelligence genes—and that these genes are lacking in certain large race pools.
           Over here, the most the authorities will dare admit is that intelligence runs in families. Not, Wallace’s, or Theresa’s or anything like that, but in general they mean. Folks, it runs in families and it runs in races, you can look it up yourself. I’m not for or against anything on the intelligence testing scales, but I am against these nincompoops who won’t let up on the equality thing. They tend to be those who would benefit by a forced averaging out of everything, know what I mean?

NIGHT
           I can always tell a quiet day around here because if I fall asleep in my comfy chair, nothing wakes me up until four in the afternoon. I’m wide awake now, peeps. Tell you what, since diagrams are not always a favorite, how about I explain celestial navigation using only words? That will test my grasp on the topic, wouldn’t you say?
           What throws beginners, and oh, how I know that, is it helps to think of the world as flat again. And that the edge of a big enough circle seems to be a straight line. The fact is, with navigation, you can assume both. That the Earth is flat and the equator (for instance) is a straight line if you were standing on it. Forget curves, they are theoretical to what you are doing here.

           Okay, here goes.

           A) There is really one principle to grasp, and it is that at any moment in time the Sun is directly overhead at only one spot on the Earth’s surface. That spot moves as the Earth rotates on its axis. It is called the GP (for Geographic Position) and the location for each hour of each day is calculated in advance and contained in a book called a Nautical Almanac for the upcoming year.
           B) Navigation involves the use of two triangles. The first triangle is flat on the surface of the Earth. At the top of this triangle is the North Pole. The next point is the GP, from article A) above, which you look up by knowing what time it is in England. The third point of this triangle is the nearest “whole number” latitude and longitude to where you THINK you are, called the AP. (You choose this point according to some rules, but you do NOT have to be very accurate about it, although it helps.) Now leave that triangle alone.
           C) The second triangle has its top point “up in the sky”. Again, one point is the GP from article A) above. The second corner is the AP from article B) above. The third point, well that is the fun one. Because you are unlikely to be exactly at the GP, the Sun will appear at a “lower” angle in the sky, which you measure with your sextant. This one you have to wrap your head around—as you move further from the GP, the Sun appears lower and lower in the sky. Like a giant imaginary lamppost.
           D) There will always be a slight difference between the Sun’s angle at your chosen AP and the angle you get when you read your sextant. You get the AP angle from a different book and the sextant angle from practice, practice, practice. You can now subtract these two angles to learn how far you are from the AP. Most people draw this as a line on a chart, hence, you are “plotting” your position.
           E) Each “plot” only shows you roughly where you are, so a few hours later, you repeat this process and you get a second line. When you draw this second line on your chart, it will cross the first line. That’s your position. Notice, you never once used a compass. It is customary to take five Sun readings per day, well-spaced so the plot lines cross at nice sharp angles.

           Now don’t run out and buy yourself an ocean liner. Most books on navigation are a hundred pages long. Here’s some trivia. The process is so inherently simple that much of what you see in old pirate movies is fake. It was a deliberate ritual to confuse the crew from figuring out how to navigate, in order to prevent mutiny. The cabin boy was set to upending hourglasses and the first lieutenant sent strolling back and forth with a spyglass, all of it a deliberate hoax. The actual sextant reading is the only necessary deck activity and normally takes a minute at most, although smart navigators take five readings at once and average them to one reading.
           There are several problems with my explanation. It does not delve into the circular logic of knowing how the time you took your reading matches up to the time in England. I don’t say how you “force” your AP to become whole numbers (integers) or why. Although the navigation tables are handy, I don’t get into why you still need practical sense to read them. However, my explanation is complete, so if you understand it in principle, it should help when learning by any of the other methods out there, most of which are long-winded and opinionated.
           There. Now you know too much. Or at least enough to really get yourself in trouble.

ADDENDUM
           Bombs in Brussels. Well, Europe, you asked for it and you had it coming. All you had to do was watch what the politicians did to Sweden, but no. Now it serves you right. Maybe you should consider building a wall? Germany awake! There is a reason Europe spent a thousand years keeping the Islamics across the Dardenelles. I’m not saying right or wrong, only that there is a reason. And probably a damn good one. This brings me to the topic of the Trump wall.

           I’d like to address the idiots, comedians, and Liberals who say the wall will cost too much to be effective. You know the bunch, they run these cost projections of billions over budget and how some farmsteads along the border are getting hit with eminent domain. Um, those particular farmers are considering only their own good above their neighbors and above the nation, and that, folks, is why we have eminent domain laws. They exist precisely to prevent the level of selfishness that harms society out of proportion. End of story, except to say their land is not stolen. They are well-compensated for it.

           Let’s get back to the wall. So it costs money. Let me explain something to the simpletons of the world. Everything worthwhile costs money, so the fact it does cost is a meaningless argument until you define “worthwhile”, which we notice the protestors are loathe to do. Let’s look at life. Food costs me, but I pay it to stay healthy. Motor vehicles cost more than they pay be back, but I pay it so I don’t have to walk everywhere. I pay for food and vehicles at a loss because they are worth it.
           So if you think I would not pay for a wall you are nuts. If it keeps out 1% of the illegals, if it keeps just one more illegal off welfare, I’ll gladly pay my share. Naturally, I hope it keeps out 99%, but when it comes to rapists and murderers, if it keeps out even a few, the cost is justified. So let’s not hear any more drivel about the cost of the wall. As long as it costs less than the damage it prevents, it is worthwhile—and we ain’t gonna know until we build the thing.
           Either way, Trump is right. The wall works in Israel, China, Berlin, and Capetown. Those walls function well enough for any reasonable person to grasp. Don’t you love the crowd that says a wall will only serve to further divide peoples. Duh, what part of “wall” don’t they understand?


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March 21, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 21, 2015, the Miami towtruck swindle.
Five years ago today: March 21, 2011, The other Hollywood, 1991.
Nine years ago today: March 21, 2007, Jeff goes religious on me.
Random years ago today: March 21, 2014, Isandlwana, baseless Hollywood lies.

MORNING
           Of all the books I own, which one is least likely to go missing? Right, my celestial navigation Almanac. Even if it was 2014, I still used the tables for constant practice. It’s a distinctive bright blue color and even if I left it at a coffee shop, somebody there would know it belongs to me. Methinks this is my prod to quit being such a cheapskate and go buy the 2016 version. How could I lose one of the few books I buy retail?

           Food, and today it is peanuts. Here is my normal size purchase. If I buy more, I’ll just eat more, so when this is gone, it’s another week for more. The motorcycle dude was here this morning and once again, we discover the longest cable made by Honda is still seven inches too short for my clutch mechanism. This is the same guy who did the last repair, so he agrees we’ll need something that lasts longer than 800 miles.
           Yeah, I’d prefer something closer to 150,000 miles between replacements. I’ve instructed him to get the best quality non-Honda wire available and expressed the urgency of this repair. I need to be in Bartow. By the way, the town in California is not Bartow, it is Barstow. And I was there two years ago. Cruisin’ the Mojave. That’s where I saw that monster train and the world’s largest windmill farm. And now I am forestalled by a $10 cable?

           Next, after comparison shopping on these band saw blades, I think the best plan may be to just absorb the $22.07 every month in broken blades as an operating expense. That’s more than I spend on bread. And the papers are saying house sales have fallen. That’s not the same as saying prices have dropped. When both situations occur, you have a slump, but not before. Still, I welcome the news because the lower sales generally indicates an overheated market and prices have to drop before it moves again.
           And, I’d like to point out, the average drop in prices before things turnaround has lately been 24% in the market I’m looking at. It will also hurt whoever is buying up all the Lakeland properties. I’ve noticed a few coming back on the market after two years with nothing but a paint job and twice the price. The underlying brake on housing prices in Florida is the inescapable fact that there are no jobs that pay enough for a working couple to buy at median prices.
           One of the places I’m putting in a low-ball is the turf of the blonde lady from our first auction. She has not returned my calls, but I’m not the only one who notices she not only has seven times as many sales as the second place agent in her office, but she also has the same last name as the owner. I’m not suggesting anything except that in my experience people with 12-letter last names rarely show up at the same office by happenstance.

Wiki picture of the day.
The Eden Project.
NOON

           ”If you’re brainwashed and you know it clap your hands.” – Hillary supporters everywhere.

           The area is empty again, the last Canuck is leaving this Saturday. They got eight or nine nice days this season, and fewer return each year. What an unwelcome chill in the air all day as I had to put 18 miles on the scooter to get some chasing around done. That includes some small pieces of lumber, you know I’m getting better at that. Now I recognize at least two kinds of wood. Good wood that doesn’t crack on you and the other kind. Pretty sophisticated for me.

           The question is, am I going to build myself a whirlagig? You know I want to. Now that I have the band saw back in commission and a way to sand things to perfection. And I even have an old 2x4 that is so dried out it isn’t good for much else. Alright, I’ll take bets. Do I build the whirlagig in the next day or two? Or do I stick to other, more important things? What’s it gonna be?
           Bird or business? Example, I took one look at the lineup at the post office and kept going. So I don’t have stamps left to write my snail mail. What, you didn’t know I also keep up with regular correspondence? Well, I do and it is not a dying art over here. An overseas letter costs $1.10 these days, which I’m sure so many of you already knew. If you are so smart, how about telling me where my Nautical Almanac has got to. I’ll be grouchy till it is found.

           I’m further missing my 9/16th drill bit. But that one is my fault and I’m close enough to the new Harbor Freight to not worry about the small stuff. I’ll tell you isn’t small stuff anymore. Airbnb. They just announced a net worth of $25 billion. I’m cheerful with that, as I’m the worst enemy the Hotel/Motel gang in America ever had. There is no such thing as a hotel worth what those Mafia bastards charge. I’m convinced if fair competition was allowed, America would soon have top-notch hotels for $50 a night.
           Overcharge the customer for the extras, but not the room if that is all he wants. Change the law to absolutely prevent hotels from tracking personal information about guests.once the bill is settled. I’ve heard the argument that the customer is renting your room. Yes, but he is also renting privacy. Time to root out those who can’t supply it. They ain’t never gonna improve on their own. Another argument is they have to protect themselves. Yes, and as long as they can do so by abusing privacy, they will never seek a better solution.

NIGHT
           I regularly review the ways people are making money over the Internet. The major obstacle is the all-or-nothing aspect of spending even a penny on-line. The man who wants to spend $50 has to sign up for the same service as the drug baron laundering millions—and potentially be subject to the same scrutiny when the authorities enact new laws that were not there when he started.

           Why not a service where people could spend up to, say $50 per day, anonymously. Where you could buy an album without the record industry inventorying your playlist. Or buy that porno mag without fear that twenty years from now when you are famous, it gets exposed. The government would probably not allow such a service, but it’s a thought.
           In all, the most successful ads for Internet “home business” seem to stress the aspect of doing nothing. You set up some of their software on your computer, then sit around in your bathrobe drinking hot liquids as the money rolls in. And they desperately want to help you achieve this. My question is what is with the “do nothing” aspect?

           This intrigued me in that it is opposite to the Horatio Alger attitude prevalent when America was a great land of opportunity. That is, before 1970 or so when government began to replace incentive. I mean, if you really want to sit around collecting a paycheck, you have to get in with the DMV. While I agree that working for a living is a formula for failure, neither can you do nothing. Why? Because, although a minority, the world is full of people like me.
           Like me? Yes, in that to live well, I don’t have to work. I merely have to create or support a system that protects what I already have from arbitrary distribution. No, I’m not the rich kid who inherited anything, but the system that shelters him from work applies equally well to me. Mind you, I had to accumulate what I have, so I don’t have his same fear of losing it. That’s simply because, unlike him, I obviously had the skills to get things together in my own lifetime.

           So yes, it is amusing to see these scams make the rounds every generation. I wonder how these get passed along. In my day, it was through comic books. “Would you pay a quarter to be 2” taller?” and “X-ray glasses”. Is there like a school or some underground network that all these scam artists attend? I often wondered about that. And yes, if I ever wanted to, I could easily steal a lot of money from stupid people.
           But why risk jail when there are plenty of legit ways to make a few dollars? They all take work, however, and that seems to bother the Millennials. By the way, I watched a show on the “stars” of their generation, Megan Fox, Jessica Biel, Natalie Portman. God, that generation must be infatuated with the non-blonde “single-mother” look. I did not recognize even one of these “stars” (which simply means they must be involved with television) and the only one I’d tap is that Rachel Macadams. I would shudder to see any of those stars without their makeup. The natural beauty of the farm girls I grew up with is just not there. Poor, poor America.
           Back to making money, if I had my health, things would be very different. For instance, I know one guy who makes a good living cutting up IKEA furniture and making useful things. He makes only one of each and then sells the plans on the Internet. Got that, he sells the plans only. His overhead is one IKEA kit per month, but he is known to scrounge.

ADDENDUM
           What gives? Another week sails by and that property that got me whisking the batbike back to town [from Bartow] in 4.5 hours is still listed for sale in all four major sites. You remember, the one supposedly sold to the cash offer that was so much greater than mine. Well, this is the third Monday it has reappeared on the market. I’ll send a note to the real estate lady reminding of her what I said about cash offers in this day and age, she seems so forgetful on that point. And I’m really sitting on the real money.


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March 20, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 20, 2015, bumper, grabber, & shill.
Five years ago today: March 20, 2011, my first computer, 1980.
Nine years ago today: March 20, 2007, older women in college.
Random years ago today: March 20, 2008, Wally’s Folly was Wally World.

MORNING
           Okay, over the previous few days, I’ve been getting this yahoo’s name wrong. (Like, whose fault is that?). He could be Stefan Molyneaux and I’ve been calling him Blake Williams. He should clarify things better. But anyway, other than his novel presentation, he’s not saying much I didn’t philosophize over myself in my teens. I don’t feel sorry for any “minorities” in North America, they’ve got it far better than back where they come from and should learn to appreciate our system more.

           I sort of follow his on-line monologues because he doesn’t realize how 1970s he is. It’s like he is unaware he is pretty much just following on what everybody with a brain already knew. That welfare was creating a class of single-mother families that would eventually ruin society. (You can look it up yourself, but the single biggest predictor of failure, poverty, crime, illegitimacy, drug use, and even being a serial killer is coming from a single-mother household.)

           I need another morning off, and so do you. Take yourself and maybe the old lady out for brunch. Be a nice guy for a change. There, that’s my good deed for the day. The bad deed for the day was taken care of by CNN, who’s banners proclaim “protesters block road”, but don’t mention these protesters are a definite well-recognized type of persons I won’t say here. Good, I say, because if blocking traffic is the best these anti-Trump bozos can manage, then they’ve already admitted defeat. Bad political philosophy for the past 40 years created Trump, and now they complain that they can’t control him? Get outta here.

           So I took the morning off and had a store-bought breakfast. And then over to the Panera for yet another coffee and work the puzzles. (Crossword, Sudoku, Ken-Ken, & Jumble). For a challenge, I like to do all of them simultaneously. What? Doesn’t everybody? And peanuts, I bought my jumbo peanuts and guess what I’m going to do all day? Get me a good book and woe to anyone who comes to the door. Well, I shouldn’t say that, because at first they scoff shelling peanuts. But just you watch, once they sit down and start themselves.
           I have vowed not to do much today but think, and one project I’ve got in mind I really like, because not that long ago, I would not have attempted such a thing. My band saw uses an odd 59-1/4” blade. They are as a rule available only from Home Depot, in sets of three, at nearly $30. What I have in mind is to purchase one of the more common and considerably cheaper 62-1/2” blades from Harbor Freight and see if I cannot rig up a small idler pulley to take up the tension.
           Or failing that, put some type of spacer around the 9” pulleys to take up the slack. While I know this is unlikely, it is worth investigating. And come on, the idea has at least some merit. I’ve been welding the broken blades, but this involves a trip to the clubhouse which costs more than the cheaper blades. And the weld seems to last a little less each time. The expensive Sears blades lasted maybe ten small cuts each. For all-purpose cuts, the wider “metal cutting” blades last longest, but can’t make sharp angles.

           What has my attention is these milling machines. There’s another tool I have zero experience with. I saw some videos of some “low mental energy” types using them, so it can’t be that challenging. Then, I took a look at the prices on these things. Whoa, maybe in the next decade. Even the smallest desk models are outrageous, it would be safe to say these machines don’t exist on a hobby level. Even the accessories, like table vices, cost more than most of my tools combined.

Wiki picture of the day.
Sextant view & rocking.
NOON

           ”When talking to a writer, remember they will always have the last word.” - Me. I said that, but it’s been kicked around by many.

           The last day of spring, and it looks like the last day of spring house bargains. Maybe six houses cam on the market where it is usually six times that number. This is a property I put in a low-ball offer on basically because it is a two bedroom somewhat near to where I’d consider living. By low-ball, I mean half price. I may not be rich, but I know I have more cash money than 99% of the people around here. Somebody will eventually see things my way. The house is also in an area we are semi-familiar with from the days of attending auctions and learning how that disgusting process works.

           Financially, things are right on target, so if I can pick up an entire place outright for what I’d normally consider my down payment, you can thank JZ for that influence. As for other properties, unless there is a last minute flourish, I found only three contenders this year. There would be more but I have a permanent negative reaction to real estate ass-clowns who won’t publish prices. This means you, Gibson & Wirt and the Butler Team. Only con artists won’t at least ballpark an asking price.

           I mean, it is no big deal, I will eventually get the bargain of the decade, but creeping inflation is about to start galloping. For the things I consume, prices are insane. Notebooks, $8. Alka-Seltzer, $7. Everything has doubled, even Popular Mechanics. If capitalism was left alone, these things would be dropping in price, but away go those government printing presses to pay for all the votes they bought.
           It is totally hypocritical to hear people say their taxes are too high, yet agree with welfare, handouts, food stamps, and governmentalized education, forestry, and secret agencies. Liberals are buffoons, you can’t have it both ways. The first thing Trump needs to do is cancel the DMV. Send ‘em all home to look for real jobs. Did you know the entire DMV concept was based on a farce? But it survives because the police and insurance companies know how to manipulate the thing.

           Which is why I decided to go to the movies. “Embrace of the Serpent”, and it was a sold out house. For a Sunday? Then, maybe the place is finally catching on. It is one of the few places that it is a safe bet to take a lady friend. In fact, one side of the theater is seating for couples only. Mind you, I sit there myself when somebody takes MY chair. Because I don’t know any women in this town I would take to the movies.

           Now, who are the women in my arena nowadays? For me, there is nobody special, which for me largely means a lady whose nonsense I’ll put up with. You can factor love in on your own time, myself there are some women whose antics are just not worth enduring. Right, Theresa? So what women are even in focus?

           V. She’s nice, but a totally clinging dependent. She wants a man who supports her and is rumored spends money like it is her own. Nice shape, but not near enough to tolerate the money thing. Likes me but likes her horrible boyfriend’s money even more.
           W. Fairly rich, not bad for pushing 50, owns a lot of inherited property around town. But dumb, a bit of a lush, and a chronic shack-up with the most mediocre of men. Has unsuccessfully hit on me twice.
           C. Nice, but has been leaving her boyfriend for fourteen years already, the type who knows she’s in a rut but won’t break out until it is really too late. Flirts with everybody without realizing how serious some boys take that sort of thing.
           And a few cling-on types who would not last a week in my world. You know them, can’t sing, can’t dance, checkered past, blurry future, barely self-supporting, the ones who would benefit best by getting themselves some vocational training for that fast-approaching day when the country goes broke.


           What about the movie. Ho-hum. It was nothing but another of those worn out Amazon themes. You know, where the white explorer tries to photograph native culture before civilization destroys the jungle people with their knowledge of natural cures. This has never actually happened in real life, but man, how amateur film-makers love to beat it to death over and over. The white man gets the ever-mysterious jungle malady, the Indian shaman takes him to the sacred whatever where he discovers himself. Hey you, stay awake! Watch this scientist type get born again.
           Yes, there are the evil rubber plantations, the sordid job the Catholics did on the natives, and the classic scene where the guide tells the European to abandon all his material possessions. Psst, that’s the same guide with no material possessions, well, other than the spear, necklace, loincloth, nose-bone, canoe, paddle, blowgun, darts, earrings, machete, beads, and facepaint.

           But gang, as far as that goes, there has never been a major medicinal discovery in the Amazon, only one explorer, a German, went deeper than the riverbanks near the plantations, and western medicine is far more effective at curing natives than the other way around. Still, it is a nice fairy tale, and there are the skeptics who say we didn’t find anything because either we can’t see or we didn’t look hard enough. This two hour movie taxes your ability to not catch some sleeping sickness.
           Thusforth, if you are content with yet another boiled-over hack movie about another quest for the sacred healing plant, "Embrace of the Serpent" is your baby. If you are expecting a shred of novelty, action of any kind, or overly-friendly bare-breasted native gals, you lose. Both the film and the plot are as black and white as it gets. It is a two-hour movie about paddling up a river to where all primitive cultures hide their secret mountain/cave/statue.

NIGHT
           I stayed home to play bass, thinking it is about time to waste another ad for a guitar player. Checking in on my old band, they are still flogging that dead horse. Music without fun or profit, just endless the endless rehearsals needed to keep going over a song list that is three times as long as is required to gig. They’ve revamped some of the advertising, but even though I now know who they are, I still have never heard of them and neither have any of the other musicians I know.
           They still have the same bassist, which makes sense, since he fills their pre-conceived notions of what a bass player is supposed to be. Humble, background, non-influential, don’t ever hand the guy a microphone, ever, because the audience might notice he is there. I see on bandmix the average age in that band is 64 years, so I was the youngster. I’ll wager they are still as guitar-centric as ever, unable to change or learn anything really new. But you have to give them credit for sticking with it year after year after year after year . . .
           What else can you say about a group that has been together for so many years and yet does not have a single review on any web page, newspaper, or anywhere really. Not even a mention among our peer group. I never played in a band as bad as that one for never allowing any new influences into their music, and in particular not any influence from such lowly crumbs like the bass player. Those consistent MVP episodes on the Applause-O-Meter for the bassist? Why, every one of those were nothing but an unbroken string of coincidences.

ADDENDUM
           Tell you what, here’s a link to a definition I agree with. It just takes the guy (Molyneaux?) nearly a half-hour to say it. But he gives some great analogies, like the people who keep hitting the guilt button to get your money. That empathy is used by many as a giant guilt button. He clearly divides good and bad guilt on the same basis I do, but tends to excuse people who feel no empathy where I tend to aggravate them by my natural behavior—that is, by letting them know they don’t matter.
           Blake/Molyneaux also presumes that to be outcast by society is universally hurtful, where I actually like to be left alone by certain large groups. Like the stupid and the druggies and generally most people on welfare. So, given the time, watch the video. It emphasizes that empathy is reciprocal, like at the 18 minute point where he questions feminism. And moments later when he rags on Catholicism, how you can never pay a Catholic priest enough to not feel guilty.


Last Laugh

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