That’s it, that’s all I want to say.
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Please don’t poke the ghost, Mr. Werewolf. The Witch hasn’t finished her coffee. It’ll make a mess.
Well we had internet for a few hours, but then someone hit a transformer and the voltage spike took out the interface box. So Casa de El Poeta is cut off from the outside world again, and last report from the cable company is that the thunderstorm the other night damaged a bunch of the interface boxes and they are running out of replacement parts, so the first day they can get here is the 24th. And the composition window for my phone won’t let me categorize or tag this post. So, I’m outta here. Y’all stay safe out there, and mind the heat.
This is a little weird. We lost all wired communication with the outside world and I’m composing this on my phone so I am doing hunt and peck on a tiny screen. I haven’t been able to contact the cable company to fix it yet, so I don’t know how long it will be out.
This has happened before and is due to rain incursion in the outside interface box that converts the fiber optic cable signal to electronic signals for Internet, cable TV, and telephone. This has become more frequent lately and I think the enclosure may have degraded with age.
So anyway I will be silent for a while until I get internet back.
Rather than turning this blog into a bitch-fest, I will be taking a break for a while until I do something note-worthy. I’m trying to get the donation link fixed, but until then just copy/paste the URL into your browser window if you really want to send money to my PayPal account. That part of my sidebar has dropped below what I can access from my dashboard. EDIT: Fixed!
And FYI I made almost $4 with Sweatcoin last month.
Another short post today, because I’m still flushing out before starting the new meds.
The depression keeps me from having much inspiration to write, or enough energy to write if I do anything else that day. And if I do manage to write a decent length post I don’t have the energy to do anything the rest of the day and a good chunk of the mext.
But I have stuff to do today so this is all you get.
Buying a lottery ticket buys something I can’t get anyplace else, it buys me hope. When I have that ticket there is the chance, infinitesimal though it may be, that I will get enough money to live comfortably and pass down to my kids some of that comfort. No ticket means zero chance, a ticket means a small but non-zero chance of winning, and that makes all the difference in my outlook on life. I mean look at my life, it’s all a series of wild coincidences one after another and several non-survivable scenarios that were million to one odds or worse. If anyone should win the lottery it should be me. Plus I usually play the Texas Lottery which has far better odds of winning than any of the national games. Still astronomical, but in a lower orbit than the national games.
Mrs. the Poet has already agreed to split the payouts in thirds, one third each and the other third for the household expenses. If anything needs to be spent on the house for personal use, like wiring the garage for 220V for power tools, that comes out of personal budgets. What would this do for the TGS2? Well I think instead of the minivan I would use the flood-damaged Corvette from Houston scenario as the donor vehicle because I still wouldn’t have an unlimited budget. Close enough to unlimited for a bucket, though.
And my hand is still messed up and making typing hard, so this is the end of this post
I just read an author’s use of the Bechdel Test as a bare minimum qualifier for equity in a story. This got me thinking of a story that had no on-camera men, all the speaking characters would be women. And the only thing they would talk about would be men, and other women. Set it in a nursing home and call it “Gossip Grannies”. None of the speaking characters would talk about themselves or any of the other speaking characters, and each weekly arc would be about a particular combination, guy-girl, guy-girl-girl, guy-guy, girl-girl, whatever. For all my comic artist/writer friends here’s a free setup, just put Based on a Concept by Opus The Poet in the credits.
Mrs. the Poet wants a song about Clint sitting on top of the refrigerator. I’m setting it to the tune of “Stairway to Heaven”. It is going to be anti refrigerator-sitting per Mrs. The Poet’s request.
Someone in front of us in line left $0.72 in the change dish at the grocery store. Since the two people in front of us paid with plastic that means it had been there for at least 4 customers counting us and the person who left it. When I pointed the change out I was asked to please remove it.
Getting the TGS2 balanced in a corner is going to involve tuning the roll stiffness so that the inside front tire lifts clear of the ground just as the limits of grip are reached, and sizing the tires so that they have the same percentage of total grip as that end of the car’s percentage of static weight.
A good chili is a fine balance between heat and flavor. Finding a perfect chili is akin to searching for a virgin among the workers in a brothel, mostly a matter of timing.
Keeping up with Trump administration scandals is causing a rise in adult-onset ADHD making those of us who always had it feel superior.
After doing the research I would not object if someone gave me a’90s era Chrysler LH series car that had a running engine and working 42le transmission for making an SCCA A-Mod Solo Racer.
There should be a reader-only app for Twitter called “Short Attention Span Theater”.
Someone wants to open a “covfefe house” in my town. I don’t know what they’re selling but you know the sign is going to have a short lifespan.
About the time my feet were recovering from whatever I did to them on that walk I dropped a heavy metal object on the toes of my left foot. Nothing is actually broken, but nothing is working right either. It’s almost as if the world will cease to exist if I’m not injured or crippled in some way.
Speaking of free car stuff if anyone over at FCA has a pentastar V6 and a 62te transmission they need to get rid of … I know this guy who’s building this car …
Again, for the people looking for bike wrecks and advice I left the archive alone, but I can’t say for sure the links are still good. If you find my sanity back there could you put it in a box and mail it to me? I would greatly appreciate it.
One of the things Mrs. the Poet likes about taking me shopping is I will find the best buy for any particular product, one of the things she doesn’t like is finding the best buys for things she doesn’t want to buy, but I do.
Do you know what rich really is? Rich is going to the grocery store and having to leave something behind because you won’t have room in the car to take it home instead of not having enough money to pay for it.
I’m looking at the rear suspension for the TGS2 and looking at the composite bellypan/splitter combination and thinking “well since I’m already making the mess…”
We’re having chicken broccoli from a frozen box over brown rice from the rice cooker/vegetable steamer and I put the chicken and broccoli in the steamer basket and the sauce on the top of the cooker to thaw and get warm and pour over the chicken and broccoli after everything’s cooked. That way the only cooking pot/device that needs cleaning is the rice cooker, that was already going to get cleaned b/c we are having brown rice. And I did all the “cooking” so Mrs. the Poet is happy which is always a good thing.
Mrs. the Poet wants some beans and rice before she leaves, so slow cooker and rice cooker next time. I’m really loving that non-stick coating on the rice cooker, it makes cleanup so much easier.
No beer this trip as the specials just didn’t tickle my fancy enough. Also not a big fan of most summertime beers. I prefer a beer I can sink my teeth into. Also what’s the deal of making “beer” with rice? That’s not beer, that’s a bad starter for sake ruined with hops.
And it has been almost a week since my last walk and now I’m really wanting to go for that walk, like really really wanting. But if I go I will aggravate my injured toes. It is a conundrum. And lazy and overfed won out over getting some exercise.
In April of 2002 I had an operation to try to repair the damages done to my knee by the wreck after I discovered that I couldn’t stand on the pedals and continue to pedal the bike because something was funky in my knee. During the operation they discovered there was nothing they could do because the torn ligaments had already healed up and couldn’t be shortened back to their original length. They also discovered this was not the first time this had happened as all the ligaments in my knee were covered in scars where they had torn and healed up without surgery.
Last night I finally put π and e together and said “This is why my knees were always sore as a teenager.” When I was in college I was diagnosed with “chondromalacia patellae” which basically means pain in the knee after a couple of falls where I twisted my knee really badly or landed on my kneecap sideways. Too bad it took me 15 years after the operation to figure that one out. I’m sure the Army doctors who were trying to figure out why I was in constant low-grade pain would have loved to know I could tear ligaments and just go “Ow!” and not fall down.
So a mystery 40 years in the making was finally solved. It doesn’t fix my knees, but at least I know why they used to hurt all the time.
Now I know how I’m unkillable, too dumb to know I’m dead (J/K).