Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Product review; Jack's Juicer///and other

Lots of entries here. Starting Friday I have a project which will be a real push due to time limits. It will be a live-on-site-until-done operation so I doubt I will write much then. Not that it matters. The self indulgence of this sort of blog is mainly for me. Otherwise I'd be disappointed that millions don't read and enjoy or argue or otherwise react.

OK. The Jack LaLanne power juicer. I have the shiny one with lots of chrome and stainless steel, and black on top. What a wonderful gift that was.

In Memphis, at some point during the planning stage of my escape I bought a cheaper brand which worked OK. I felt it was wise to find ways to pump in some natural nutrition since energy was low and diet was bordering on malnutrition danger. It did the job but was not nearly as efficient and splendid as the Jack Juicer. I gave it to Photo Lady but I don't think she ever got the hang of it. I believe it induced fear, like if she were to try using a chain saw. Just not the power tool sort.

This juicer operates on a centrifugal set up that pulverizes what goes in, casting the juice through a metal screen and the pulp back into a hopper. There is not way to get 100% of the juice out of things this way, but it does a good job for the type of machine it is. I like it.

If you have ever seen the info-mercial for it you know that Mrs. Jack is the one doing all the hard selling. To put it bluntly, Mrs. Jack is about the money and speaks with forked tongue; she lies.

While Jack is trying to say how great he thinks it is that the machine uses an induction motor, she cuts him off claiming clean up "is a snap!". Big lie. It takes a few minutes to clean the thing up, and it is a process for which you develop a system. It is worth it, but definitely NOT "a snap!!".

Mrs. Jack also tries to suggest you can make all kinds of tasty treats from the left over pulp. That I would have to have proven to me before I believe it. I used it to make some kind of broth once and it was not tasty. Nothing else has come to mind. Supposedly you can make muffins or birthday cakes. I think she is just lying because she thinks the hard sell is the cool way to go.

It could be that the thing to do is dry the pulp in the sun, then spin the fibers into some sort of straw and make baskets. Whatever the case, Mrs. Jack earned my distrust for all she says with that "clean up is a snap!!" malarky.

The truth is, to get a better juicer you need to spend ten times as much for one of those things that uses a gear crush mechanism. Short of that, it is unlikely you can really do any better. It rates my recommendation, but only if you are a person who understands it won't clean itself, and you have to use some sense on what you jam in there because things can get stuck.

They rave about how you can put apples in whole, but some apples are too big for the inlet mouth. It will accommodate some apples whole, and many tomatoes as well. It ain't rocket science but I know how the public is, and if you take Mrs. Jack's word for it, you will be confused and disappointed. Jack, himself, tries to play it straight. But the man is 150 years old and his wife is bossy, so he can't get a word in edgewise on the commercial. Even so, you can trust Jack. Old as he is, he can still kick most our butts into next week.

In keeping with my last discussion about solving the problem of a life un-lived, I made a big batch of juice which included unknown green leafy things, celery, orange, yellow, red, and green peppers, cauliflower, spinach, lemon, apple, carrots, and tomato. I think that was all I included in this batch. I made enough for 3 days--one substantial glass per day. I drink the stuff right down, and actually like it. Others may find it is an acquired taste.

+++update: I just remembered that I put a bunch of broccoli in there, too. You'd be surprised how the apple and lemon make the stuff taste OK. People who don't want the sugar of the citrus or carrot use hot peppers to make the flavor less "earthy".+++

In any case, who cares about taste if a glass of something gives you more good stuff than you normally get in a week of your usual diet? That is my situation. I'm not much for sitting around eating a bunch of fruits and vegetables unless someone else fixes them and does so in a way that makes it taste good but not cooked to death.

You'd wonder what does a vegetarian eat then? Often nothing. Sometimes omelets or peanut butter sandwiches, maybe cheese, lots of corn tortillas, potato chips, cheese sandwiches--stuff like that. Any kind of nuts when they are in front of me.

Geez, who cares what you eat? I don't know I just felt a need to explain. No one cares so shut up. OK.

That was a little internal conversation. I know it is impolite to whisper among myself in public. Sorry.

Sudden Recall; vertigo, or what

I just now recalled some of my last gigs in Memphis. There had been a running battle over volume, me not wanting to wear a hat very often, etc.

On the volume front I remember that for the last six months or year of playing, I sometimes would suddenly become totally disoriented on stage and the sound would lose all structure in my mind. It would be alike just a bunch of disjointed noise and rhythms, and would make me dizzy and somewhat nauseous. Almost like a seizure or attack. I remember one time it happened there was a guy who wanted to sit in on harp so I put him up there and kept him there longer than he really wanted.

Then it happened at other gigs and I just continued to play from habit not really hearing or feeling any of it. No one seemed to notice because I guess I was in key and starting and stopping at the right time. But it was like operating on remote control. Very weird. I had to avoid much more playing in that environment for awhile.

I think they were too loud. It drove people out the door, I know. They still deny it, but how they can I do not know. More than one inn keeper and patron said we played well but way too loud on the guitars. Duh. That did not phase them.

Amazing. But I am more sensitive to noise than most people, and especially more sensitive to it than most electrified musicians. Good I got away from it before it caused a grand mal seizure, which it very well could have.

Now I think I would not have a problem. I'd like to sit in with a high powered band again sometime. Due to the precision and different techniques required to play with my mountain buddies I think I could do far better than ever in a blues/rock electric setting. Amplified harp setting. If I did it for any length of time though I might get those special ear plugs. To loud is hard on the ears.

Abstract Introspective Apologia Critique

Initially, I was pondering the course of events with an eye toward defining what permitted others to overcome what I apparently could not. Much of it was in the vein of the rich man/ poor man, good son/ bad son scenario. That proved somewhat fruitless, as I realized there are innate, organic factors which separate those who thrive from those who perish, regardless of external circumstances.

Naivete may be one such factor. I always assumed everyone was honest and knew of what they spoke. Those close to me who overcame many shared obstacles were never under such an illusion. They assumed that most of those around us were idiots or small minded schemers, and rightly so. The disparity between what they reasoned as true and what was put forth only strengthened their resolve. It served to cause me to believe my ability to reason and use logic must be greatly flawed.

As a result, much effort was aimed at somehow aligning my conclusions and attitudes with those which appeared to be well accepted by my peers. That was disastrous. Much like those who suddenly find themselves in new business positions and proceed according to what they think is the norm. They prove to be tyrants when in power because they really don't get it.

All that failed effort toward rectifying conflicting values led to purely angry resignation, and some edgy activities. Needless to say such a mindset does not lead to constructive outcomes.

For a minute there, I wanted to post an open letter apologizing to those I think I let down. Those whom I perceive as being less than proud to include me in their family tree. Then I think I would not have such a view, positions reversed, but how can one really be sure? If not for the extreme pain and desperation experienced, would I have the same compassion and insight that I have now toward those who fall off the edge of the normal life path? Doubtful.

So, no open letter explaining how terrible I feel for being a let down and disappointment. And no letter vowing to make from now on a better more constructive process. The wish to change everything and the actual doing are worlds away, and that gap is not so easily bridged.

I cringe any time I hear a person expressing their disgust with a wayward brother or relative who seems to flounder about in unhappy chaos rather than thrive; who seems unable to make good use of the special consideration and generosity of well wishers. That is frightening close to who I am, and have been since the age of 12 or 13. In my defense, I was not always in the position of authority over those choices. Some of the glaring cases of turning my back on opportunity were due to family restrictions forbidding such things.

But later cases were merely my own autopilot at work, continuing such ignorant negation, as if an internal guidance system felt an insane loyalty to the powers that used to be. Good thing I was sedated through most of that so my mind did not explode from the internal conflict. That conflict is still with me but less intense now, so sedation would be a waste. That had its own consequence and too many lines were crossed to ever risk smoothing the edges with alcohol or opiates again. I do not rule out being a pothead. But for now, forget it.

I wish I'd done like the head of the physics dept and head of math department at one or more institutions suggested, and taken it seriously, gone on to grad school, then made it through the doctorate level and become a secluded academician or mad scientist. Trouble is, even then the thought of having to rely on government money turned my stomach. Still, it would have been a good thing to do. Maybe I was constitutionally incapable of such discipline. There are some places in private industry for physics people. Mostly the government partnership with corporations has killed that. They sold out so that government has the corner on research and such.

Besides I really dislike most so-called scientists because they seem to fear truth, and are more concerned with everyone thinking they are superior. I've known plenty of them. A rather arrogant closed minded bunch, especially those who are strictly paid from government coffers.

But that is all external. Maybe the internal landscape is just too worrisome to explore at this point. It always has been, in reality.

It leaves me continually feeling secretly apologetic to life, in general, for my lack of effort and accomplishment. Never, or rarely, proud of my existence and life. This is beginning to interfere with enjoying life and looking forward to waking up.

Beginning to? Well, it comes and goes and is actually an old emotion, not something that is just now beginning to cause annoyance.

Vegetable juice may be the only answer; throw every green thing they sell and all other colors of plant life into the Jack Lalanne
power juicer and consume in large quantity. It usually improves energy and mood. But it requires buying groceries and keeping up with it. I suppose most people find they have to buy groceries from time to time. The very basics are what throw me the most. Dammit.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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