Socal doing what they won't

Little bit of nothing on experiment recording and uploading from phone where I work--with phone connecting to their wifi.   This thing is pretty cool in ways.  

***Not an obamaphone (extrapolation of a program begun under Reagan for emergency landlines, and now cell phones), but exploited to convince the imbeciles of big cities that Obama is giving them a phone. Sorry.     I guess compared to some people and things my phone is smart.

Aldous Huxley predicted people would welcome their own enslavement, and they have.  Not everyone sees it yet. **** my apologies for ranting.  Can't help it 

Last video is later at the newest open mic place.  Cliff out the window warming up to play next.  I played harp on his tunes but didn't record it.  Didn't do too bad on a couple of them.  Norwegian Wood, with a mandolin joining us threw me a little.  I told him no ride for me because I never play the song.  He found the mandolin confusing--wasn't sure where that guy was in the scheme of things---so he turned to me.  I faked something but got thrown off myself.  People no doubt figured we were just stupid at arranging and planned it like that.  

Sound was better than indicated here.  The Star Wars/American Pie guy ran it, and does well with sound.  I think he may be the whitest white boy I know, in regard to some musical elements and such.  That's OK.  I'm one of those harp players who has no guilt or shame about being white.  Some would claim this is racist, but that is due to the fact that they can't think critically.  I expect no one to be guilty or ashamed of their involuntary make-up--ethnicity, sex, ability to roll one's tongue, etc. Note the high cheek bones--I must be Cherokee, as well.  OK, Harvard, here I come!

Doing the work that citizens and uninvited workers in CA won't do.  We keep the US economy going, such as it is.

   

Snowball In Paradise

Decided to get away further out in the country than even ballistic mountain.   Not that far away, really.

So, there I was on a pull-out place along the sunrise parkway or whatever it is.  Then, just as I was searching for vehicles or occupants to pelt with snowballs, I spotted this warning from The State.

Holy smoke!!  If I couldn't read, I might be doing time!  Of course, I didn't see any vehicles or occupants for about twenty minutes, but you never know; if I were totally illiterate, I might make up for it by being patient.

I was able to send the photo from my allegedly smart phone to my computer via bluetooth once I was back home.  I'm still wondering about the phone, but it may be useful if I start an independent money making enterprises, or hit the road.  I'll have to ditch it if I become a fugitive because I think They can track these things.  Google may do no evil, but they sure enable a lot of it.

I made a video but I don't like it so I'll have to do another smarty phone video.  It is rather good quality.  Makes sense.  The typical phone is just a handheld computer.

I'm mildly surprised that the sign didn't have fine print explaining that in California snowballs have been shown to be a carcinogen and that they contribute to global warming.  Lots of items and substances ignored by others are flagged on products here with the "in California" caveat.  That is because no one else subscribes to the degree of junk science which is used by special interests and politicians here.

Anyway, I certainly dodged a bullet on that one.

smarty pants

So, my phone died and appeared to be too lifeless to revive.  That did not bode well for retrieving the contacts stored in the well beaten, trusty communication device.

At the verizon store, the "took it to the back" to do some secret thing in an effort to make it show some life.  No luck.  "It's like a piece of rock".

Along with my phone I brought my charger for some reason.  I don't recall what prompted it but I asked the lady to try plugging in my charger and hooking it to the phone.  At home I'd had no luck.

It worked.  The phone came on, but the view was that after all this time, it may be on its way out, so I opted for a new one.  I was eligible for the upgrade anyhow.

I did not want to go the iphone route because I don't do well with virtual keyboards or the money I'm guessing they cost.  And I don't want something very large which makes me feel like I'm holding a tv up to my ear.  My ended up with something made by samsung, a stratosphere.  Great.  I wonder if I should have looked for one called ionosphere or dark matter.

It has a keyboard, and it has all the online stuff, apps and apps.  I don't do that much with such things but it can be handy when on the road, I guess, and if there is wifi around, you can hook into that and not worry about bandwith. 

I don't know how to use it.  Like most google influenced things they have tried to go so far with the idiot friendly stuff that it is a bigger pain for things like texting than the simple, unintelligent phone it replaced.

I did not invent the term smartypants phone referring to smart phones.  I got that from CF.  It strikes me as the right term. 

Soon I will test the ability to take video and send it to youtube.   Lots of people use these things to play games for hours and hours.  I can't do that.  I waste my time in other ways.

I realize now that if people read things like blogs from their phones then anything over a paragraph and a half is way too much for a post. 

In order to keep up with work and various musical things, it is best I have a phone.  I suppose I could have remained with the minimum, but in my situation the additional cost is minimal.  Less than two packs of cigarettes per month. 

And I have no contract because I'm on a larger plan of others and they could either add me or not but still be paying the same per user.  Win win.  I can quit and it won't mess them up.  But I pay them three to six months in advance just because I don't want to stiff them and because what if I wound up without the money later but needed to call my bookie?

Strange how these things evolve. TV screens are larger and larger, but computers fit in the palm of your hand and millions are addicted to everything their devilish phones have to offer.   There are better things I can think of that I should have my hands on.

New Interface, Like Monarchy, Sucks

Other than the whole royalty concept, I dislike this new interface more than almost anything.  No longer can I find a way to get back to the old interface.  I prefer choice whenever possible.  I abhor lack of choice.  

Perhaps that is part of my problem with the new healthcare law, put in place by professional bureaucrats and money bundlers.   I guess people have no clue how politicians serve as front men in elaborate con games which take money from you and funnel it to their pals, then in turn their pals funnel some back to the ego person fronting the scam to help with the campaign, the house purchase, college for the kids--you name it.  

That's the chick who was topless in France, I think.  Could you sit on a chair like that and be carted around by a bunch of people carrying you for no good reason?   I'd seriously be embarrassed and feel creepy doing that.  But I doubt I could ever address someone as "your highness", nor could I stomach insisting others address me that way.  

I would ride around the block on that stupid chair if it would bring back the old blogger interface.   She should be showing some hoots.  Really.  She's now famous for being topless, TAKE IT OFF!!! n Maybe someone will throw the lady a string of beads.  What if someone tripped all the people on one side of that thing?   The old Humpty Dumpty deal. 

Bet you anything there's a crowd out of the frame with signs, shouting, "show us your tits!!"   

Hey, she's a Brit.  They get in all sorts of pickles in exotic foreign lands.  I'll bet those are cannibals taking her to dinner.  Her only way out is to lift the shirt and proclaim, "Let me fatten up and I'll be back later".

Not understanding English, the cannibals assumed she was casting spells or pointing out some white lady plague, so they played it safe and let her go.  I've done that before--dodged the plague of a white lady by letting her run away. 

Out of Touch; the DRAFT--whew, girls still safe

Quite sad and ironic that those protesting the tyranny of the draft embraced images and philosophies of the most brutal systems and states on earth. It still goes on today, except more of the slave state lingo and spill over has come to be accepted as democracy. The too cool and the too stupid seem to unite in this insanity.


So, I was thinking, "I don't even know what this Jay-Z, that Obama thinks is so cool, does--other than Beyonce. I know who she is. She can sing. Is JZ just a coattail rider? I guess he's a rapper who got where he is by getting Beyonce. I'm so out of touch with popular culture, and presidential attempts at street cred. So out of touch that what is aimed to impress goes right by without notice."

Then I wondered, "Since they are so big on everyone serving in the military these days, are women still exempt from the draft?"

I know some people couldn't fathom my reasoning when I said that gays got the worst of doing away with "Don't Ask Don't Tell" because they gave up their out should the draft come back in force.

There was a time when the draft hung over the heads of teenaged boys like a random prison sentence. You could not plan life how you chose. You did not know if you'd be forced into "service" for some bizarre skirmish formulated by equally bizarre "leaders". You waited for your birth year's lottery drawing to find out what number your birthday would be. If they were drafting up to 150 you hoped to be drawn higher than that. 365 was everyone's dream.

My number was 92. For awhile I had a college deferment but got out of phase. They were drafting up to 200 or thereabouts when I got the college deferment, and only up to 125 when I lost it.

They suspended the draft while I was in AirForce basic training, and going into the Florida air guard. Yep. Like W. Nothing wrong with the guard. There is something wrong with sending them overseas. They are supposed to be for defense and domestic purposes. It came at a time when I was just getting a toehold on turning my life around, and my academic career.

I let it get the better of me, and quit trying in school and just generally floundered like a falling leaf. I had just got straightened out somewhat, was taking a fairly ful load of classes and through midterms was acing all of them. Then the news came that I had been re-classified 1A, and at the same time the guard called and said they'd just got to me on the list and it was now or never.

What to do? I did not know. Would it be more honorable to just get drafted? Should I join the guard and work my way into pilot training? I was unsure and felt I had to do something. I started just getting blitzed and cutting classes again. I gave up out of confusion. I even called my father for advice. "I can't really tell you. It's your decision." Thanks. Now I would know how to weigh the options against my goals and against various odds. Not then.

What an idiot. I forgot I did not really have freedom.
I needed rehab or something. Or to be left alone. I was majoring in physics, minoring in math and econ. And I was loving it and very insistent on acing it all---for once in my life. I was trying to learn how to try.

That whole time period was one big lie; from the hippies to the so-called hawks. Total lies and hypocrisy ruled like never before. Even more than now, but not quite as universally police state-ish as now. Those who worship the 60s are, mercifully for them, incapable of viewing the larger picture. It was the gateway to serfdom

I should have ignored it because I'd have skated by without being nabbed. Or chances are that I would have. I was appalled by the thought of actually dodging the draft, but now I feel otherwise. Then I thought there was an off chance that VietNam made sense and I was too dumb to see it clearly.

Even then I could see how purveyors of world slavery in one form or another used this to their ends, as they fueled protests and such. Just goes to show you how even the devil can be right and seem like your pal sometimes.


It was a sick thing and not only did many people die, but those sent to fight were in a war in which those who ran it did not do so to win or to minimize American casualties. It was criminal, just like the way they are doing it now.

But, the question was, have women done the insane thing, like gays, and given themselves no out? By "women", I mean those who pretend to speak for all females, but obviously don't.

I looked up the requirements for selective service registration. Why should I care? I'm too old now. Because, like many political leaders, I wake up wondering, "How can I make everyone else's life better?" OK. I lied. So do those creeps we pay to rob us. I wanted to reduce my overall ignorance quotient by knowing the selective service rules overview.

I'm happy to see that only males have to register for selective service. What a creepy name, Selective Service. What is quite laughable is that illegal aliens who are male and between 18 and 25 also have to register. Oh I bet they hop the border and run straight to the draft board, right after they vote.

I'm surprised NOW hasn't insisted that women be included in this pool of slaves on call. Gays used to be able to just get out by saying, oops, forgot to tell you I'm gay. Now they are screwed. Gay or not, if the US decides to draft soldiers to fight their own people or gets into a stupid war you hate, you go or else. Just like getting health insurance, Buy or die.

If they never planned to draft anyone, they wouldn't continue forcing registration. Something tells me that the illegal alien requirement is tough to enforce.

So, ladies, please do not get fooled into being required to submit life and limb to the whims of the police state. They will entice you by claiming people with my view are at war against you and such nonsense. However, I see no way out of it if women are to be equal in combat roles and all else in the military. But, then we'll all be more equal. The more of us eligible for legal slavery the better.

It is nothing to me if a person volunteers for whatever. If a woman can do it, and wants to, fine. I'm just looking at the other edge of that sword. It is a door to requiring tough girls and girlie girls alike to register for the draft should the government decide they want to conscript you. And the actual purpose, goal, and conduct of every war in my lifetime have been highly suspect, or so vague, no one actually knew what was happening. Few, if any, of them have resolved all that well.

Maybe women would be they key to eliminating selective service registration altogether. Interesting prospect. Volunteer if you want, but you have a choice.

All We Are Saying...

...is give peace a chance


right

So, people everywhere are all alike. You really think Ivy League lawyers can talk this all away? Boy I'd love to go do business there

End of s Short Era

I'm not in the pic but I played with these guys, Tim and Jeff. They can rock and have sometimes actually got a little jam going. I played Amazing Grace with them and Jeff must have given me four different solos on it. He has done some really good R & B covers. Can't recall the name of the best he did, but hear it in my mind.
I thought someone else was playing with Cliff and me; probably the bass player off frame to right, and drummer who is hidden. City of New Orleans. Everyone does covers I'd never suggest. I even had to sing a verse. But I get to start off with a fast train rhythm which speeds up them slows down. Cliff sounded good and was easy to play with as always. He's really something unique.



It is unusual for me to set aside a particular day or night on a consistent basis for a single purpose. Over the last several months--has it been a year?--I've dedicated most Saturday nights to the Valley Music open mic.

So, Saturday night was the last one. I was house sitting but K and M watched things while I was gone. I wouldn't worry leaving the five mammals and one bird for an hour or two, but from 5 until 11 PM is risky when you are responsible for someone else's house. At night is when creatures like to make mischief, eat remotes, garbage dive, etc.

That was the same day I fell down the stairs. I feel fine but I think it rattled my brain. I'm now a different person.

It was not jam packed with people, but enough. It seemed that everyone who played, including me, was thinking this the last one so may as well play it right. Everyone brought out their best I think. I didn't fret over one mistake or another because I didn't sense any big gaffes. I played twice and was lost in the enjoyment of playing--when nothing else exists, cares are locked out, and time stands still.

People are trying to figure a new venue, and a friday thing has started somewhere I haven't yet been. That is a bad night for me usually, but we'll see. Valley put me in touch with enough people that I can go many places and probably know someone I met. There are musical get togethers all over San Diego county. I just try to avoid going downtown and some of those more difficult places.

Too bad. This thing had grown into something special, and the quality improved at a steady pace.

Wimmin

OK. I guess I've succinctly put all I know about wimmins in just a few words or less, above.

thanks again to person who sent this long ago

Some Quick Questions

Has anyone actually seen the alleged movie about he who cannot be mentioned or critiqued(PBUH), in its entirety? (all I can find are little trailer-type videos, all of which are very cartoonish and comical)

Innocence of Muslims is the title, I guess. Catchy. not really

Does anything beyond the snippets of the flick even exist?

Do you honestly believe that this elusive bit of bad cinema -- which would have remained unknown but for the islamic riots and angry mob noise -- is actually the cause of all this?

Do you think all this hostility against the USA is not orchestrated by the misnamed Arab Spring people? (I think Muslim brotherhood spring is more fitting if you examine the results)

Spontaneous and coincidentally timed to occur on the 11th anniversary of 9-11, or something in the works with organization and intent?

As a pollster I am as obviously biased as the pros.

It may appear that I am not neutral on issues concerning the hurt feelings of the religion of riots, but trust me, I am ever tolerant and loving and only want to understand and make everyone feel better about stoning their wives and sisters to death. I am always thrilled to discover the diversity and unique ways of wild eyed religious fanatics of all beliefs.

Perhaps I should only use elevators, or parachutes

The first time it happened was when I was in 7th grade, if memory serves. It was probably then, because it was at S.Miami Jr. High School. That was before they renamed those institutions of torture "middle school".

My elementary school was all on one floor, the junior high was two story, which meant stairs. One day for no reason at all I fell down the stairs. I wasn't hurt, just puzzled, and, as was my state about 75% of the time back then, embarrassed. It may have happened on other occasions during my tenure in that world of sadistic and perverted educators.

Since then, I have take tumbles in stairways countless times, and almost never is there a good reason for it, like tripping or slipping on ice. Although, in recent years it usually resulted from being too much on the outer edge of the first tread and slipping down to the next one which can set off a chain reaction, cost you your balance and make for a rapid trip down to the next landing.

When I lived in Memphis where my apartment was the second floor of a converted older house, I had to take stairs from my front door up to the rest of the place. It had one landing half way up with a switchback. I tumbled down those stairs multiple times from the top and from the mid point landing. Mostly to no ill effect, but sometimes---OUCH.

I recall, on one occasion, landing head first, and face down at the bottom with my head an inch or two from my front door.

This past weekend I was house and pet sitting for friends who have a three level house with a view of the bay and downtown SD skyline. Due to the nature of the area, in remodeling and enlarging this dwelling they had to stick within very strict zoning parameters which required some unusual design.

There are no switchbacks between floors, and this place has very high ceilings. So, the stairs from the main (middle) level to the lower level are one straight, long, steep shot, with smooth wall on either side. It has a hand rail on one side, attached to the wall.

I was headed downstairs with a handful of clean but wrinkled shirts in the hand on the side by the handrail. So, no hand was on the rail. I thought I'd put the shirts in the dryer with a damp cloth to improve their look. And it did.

The trouble came at the first step down. I was barefooted, and from nowhere some force took my feet and threw them out in front of me. These stairs are of a very nice, beautiful, hardwood construction. My elbows and else can attest to this.

The unique thing was that I was unable to halt the downward momentum until my rude arrival at the lower floor itself. My first thought was, "Holy S&^%!!! Whatever you do, don't break a bone or get knocked out--lest your insurance criminal status be discovered."

My velocity increased as I travelled down. You'd have thought each step would have slowed me as I slammed it. No. B a m b a m b a m turned into bababababababamboom!

My last thought was, "Why didn't you just let go of the shirts and maybe grab the bannister or use your hand as a brake against the wall? Were you thinking if you let go of the shirts they'd spill or break?".

Seriously, I was trying to protect against injury and slow myself down while holding a bunch of wrinkled shirts up out of harm's way, just like a beer drinker would do if he were holding a beer while falling off a roof. I've been there.

None of the bruises of which I'm aware show. Just below that ball and socket deal with the hip joint on the left side is seriously black with a bit of blue. Some less colorful bruises appeared on the side of my thigh, but they pale compared to the major one.

No use looking for booboo sympathy; can't show anyone because it gets into the kind of territory where casual acquaintances rarely venture-- dagnabbit! I must have turned to that side so I could better hold the shirts up so they wouldn't spill, break, or get dirty. I think my left arm was trailing behind hoping for something to grasp.

Seriously, I so wish I had this on video, shot from above, especially, but from the top or bottom of the stairs would do. It would be great.

My first reaction was to get the stuff in the dryer quick before I found out if I was actually hurt. First rule of stairs tumbles is if you arrive conscious, and can get up, do it quick and get out of there.

Often as not you can get away before the injury catches up and makes camp.

No doubt though, you will feel some strained semi-pulled muscles and things that you never use, or always use, or both.

In this country, there are any number of people who would now be wearing a neck brace and only talking to their friends through a lawyer. Is that sick or what? Not their fault. I have a long history of taking the fast way down the stairs.

One of these times the stair tumble is going to mess my life up or end it. So, from now on, I stop, look, hold on to something, and wear a helmet.

Once again, if there were a law and someone to enforce it, I could have been saved from myself. Perhaps I can sue San Diego for not forcing me to hold the handrail and wear protective gear.

What I learned is that it is OK to let go of wrinkled textiles while bouncing down a series of aggressive speed bumps at near terminal velocity. And I must be in better shape than I thought; I survived and am not too sore to move. I was a bit dazed and cloudy just after the journey ended, though.

The Memphis stairs were carpeted which absorbed much of the impact, but I suffered more from the last one or two of those stair dives. I'm either getting better or else I'm losing the sense to feel it as much.

For once, no witnesses to my lapse of poise, and yet I wish I had it on film. It is indeed a strange life, or perhaps a strange view of it.