Clifton’s Place

I have just arrived back at the manse, to get started on the yard work that is sorely needed. I had headed out this morning for the old ‘hood in south East Lake to check out the neighborhood yard sale thing going on there. On the way back, I tooled onto the trusty old US Hwy 11 on the way home, and had a thought of going a bit out of the way and making a stop at the WalMart in Springville, to pick up a couple of needed goodies. I am not sure exactly what transpired, but after three gas stops and a quick lunch at a Waffle House in Fort Payne, I found myself back at home, with 168 miles on the trip odo. I got distracted, that is what happened. That is my story anyway, and I am sticking to it. The old Elite 250 does cruise well at 55mph though, and will do 60 without complaint, but does sound a bit busy at that speed. What can I say; it is old.
I did have an encounter at the Waffle House which was unusual. (Hmmm… WalMart and Waffle House; you knew I was white trash didn’t you?) An older guy (67 as it turned out) asked me, not the usual how may mpg, but if I thought he would be able to ride something the size of the Elite just around town, and was it a problem to shift the gears. He recently retired, has been widowed for a couple years, and has always wanted a motorcycle, but "my wife never would let me get one." He has some two-wheel knowledge from his bicycle, which he still rides, but the only motorcycle of any kind he has ridden was many years ago, when he rode his brother’s Cushman around the farm in the 1950s, to keep it exersized while bro was drafted away. I explained the CVT scooter trans has no shifting at all, and with Art’s influence in mind, referred him to Fort Payne Powersports, a Yamaha dealer, and suggested he look at the Zuma 125. I also recommended the MSF rider course. (I think the closest one to him is in Jacksonville)
He seemed pleased, so maybe we will have another scooter rider in Fort Payne.
So now for the yard work. I will work on it until I give up on it, which will be late this afternoon, and I will be working at my own pace, as I chase patches of shade around. I do want to go tonight down to Trussville, where the Birmingham Amateur Radio Club is doing their annual Field Day thing, just to look around, see some of the folks, and be around some RF.
I never did make it to Wally World. I’ll do that tomorrow…

I grow weary.  They are trying to stress out and kill an old man.  It is an evil communist plot. That must be it.  Our society deteriorates to a civilization of whiners and helpless fools.  The latest examples are the switch to digital television, and people who have no idea how to use her own computers.  People have had TWO YEARS to prepare for the TV thing, and just can’t seem to get it. Somehow, the idea of getting a simple converter box for their TV seems to be an insurmountable obstacle, even though the federal gummint has foolishly given them a chance for a $40 discount on a $50 box. Older folk are the worst, but not the only offenders.

At work Monday, I was called upstairs, where a woman was giving a presentation to a meeting.  I was there because her computer would not put her PowerPointless crap presentation on the screen through the ceiling-mounted projector.  Bear in mind thatr this was HER laptop computer, not mine, and she expected ME to make it work.  The first thing I noticed was that the cable from the wall box for the projector was not connected to her laptop.  Her explanation was "But the computer is wireless!"  While simmering inside, explained that the projector was not wireless, and it didn’t apply.  I got the cable, brought it to the laptop, and while I was tightening the connector, told her to switch the video to the socket on the back, so that it would send the signal to the projector.  She just looked at me with a bewildered expression, and had no idea what I meant. I, rather patiently I thought, showed her how to hold down the function key and press the number key with the little blue TV on it, and the screen popped up on the projector, and thus on the big screen. She was relieved, and thanked me "so much" for helping her out.  I went back to my office.  Less than five minutes later, I was called back upstairs.  Seems the woman had sound with her PowerPointless program, and was not pleased with the crummy sound from the speakers built into her laptop, and wanted to know if I had "better speakers" she could use.  I told her that I did not, and that she would just have to get along with what she had.  She had the gonads to want to know why I did not have better speakers.  I showed great restraint in not exploding on the whacko, and told her that we expect presenters to know how to use their own equipment, be rehearsed, and bring what they need to do their presentation, and rolled away.  After the meeting, I think she felt guilty, and came to my office to thank me again for my help.  I had to ask her if she had rehearsed this thing ahead of time, and she said no.  Before I could go into a tirade, she went into another whiney story about her mother having no TV, because she just didn’t know about this "converting" thing, and she could no longer get the stations.  I asked if her mother had a fairly new TV, and she thought that the TV was about 6 or seven years old.  I asked if her mother had a converter box, and she said yes, her mother had sent for the coupon from the government, and had bought a box from Radio Shack, but did not know what to do with it. I asked if she and her mother had tried to read the book that came with the converter, and she said no, that those things were "just too complicated."  At that point, I lowered the boom on her, telling her that the books for both her computer and the converter box were carefully written so that anyone with a room-temperature IQ could understand either, and to find any 4th grader in her mother’s neighborhood who had not been educated beyond their intelligence to hook up the box.  She left angry. 

Yesterday, a woman came into my sanctorum from another department upstairs.  Turns out she knows the presenter woman, who has a masters in marketing (and is still incompetent, IMHO) and it seems the biddy was offended by my "attitude".  What a shame.  At any rate, this woman had seen presenter woman at chuch, who had explained that she and her mother had found, actually, a 7th grader in the neighborhood, who, in less than 20 minutes, had hooked up the converter box, done a channel scan, configured mother’s TV to receive only channel 3 (for the box) and AUX (for the DVD player), and explained to the apparently thick mother how to use the remote for the box.  Old mother was just all thrilled to find out that now, instead of six channels, she had twenty four (that digital broadcasting is badass, huh?) and the picture looked so much better! Hmmph.

 Years ago, the first UHF TV station came to town, WBMG 42.  Those younger than me will not remember this, but TVs in those days came only with VHF tuners, channels 2-13.  In order to receive the new channel, people had to buy a UHF converter box which attached to their TV, and output on channel 3 or 4 on their TV, much like the digital boxes of today.  The government did not offer discount coupons.  The propaganda included with those old UHF converters, if any, was not nearly as good as now,  and most folks had to buy a new antenna in addition. Those who did not want to screw with the converters simply bought a new "modern" TV with the UHF tuner built in.  I was just a kid when all this went down, but I do not remember whining and hand-wringing.  People just adapted.

 Today, apparently, adapting is a lost art.  People these days are whiny, helpless, and to large extent, useless in day-to-day living.  I sometimes imagine a cataclysm, and can picture the Volvos and BMWs decending on what is left of the drug stores, and fist fights breaking out over the last Prozac.

 Let us do the math - I do this little rant not to aggrandize myself, but merely as a demonstration.  I am not a particularly brave or tough guy, but was raised with the idea that I would have to take care of myself, for the most part. I am an insulin-dependent diabetic. I have had two major heart attacks, and have a pacemaker.  I am a bi-lateral below-knee amputee, and wear prosthetics.  Medicare did not buy my mobility scooters, or the hand controls for my car.  I am still working.  I still ride my motorscooters.  I do my own yard work.   If something breaks, I fix it, not because I am an electromechanical genius, but because I can read at more than a 4th grade level, and thus do the research. 

 Pick it up, people.  Let us get seriously independent, lest we end up as we are headed.  Not a pretty destination…

This morning, I used what Daniel Meyer calls the "Wet Driveway Principle" - raise the garage door.  If the driveway is wet, drive the cage.  If dry, ride the motorcycle.  What happens the rest of the day is up to Fate.  This morning, the driveway was dry, so I fired up the scooter and set off.  My lady wife met me at an eatery, we had a good breakfast, and the parking lot was still dry, so I proceeded to the regular Sunday coffee shop to meet with the scooter group. While I was there, The Storm set in.  We were at the tables outside under the portico, so we had a front row seat for the lightning and heavy blowing rain.  Impressive, but not a good sign for the trip home. As it turned out, the front blew through in only a couple of hours, and the trip home was in barely a sprinkle, so I was spared becoming Functionally Non-Dry, and the air temp was warm enough that I did not get cold, so not a bad trip at all.  One of the others had to go in to work for a couple of hours, and apparently used the same logic that I did, so he was on his scooter, and was thoroughly wet.  He had apparently called his wife, who drove in with a change of clothes for him.

One thing does bug me - I make it a usual practice to fuel up on the way home, not the way out, so that I start with a full tank, and go where I am going. Today I did not, so Red has about 30 miles worth of fuel now.  This means that I will need to stop and fuel up when I next leave the house, and a fuel stop three miles from home on the way out will delay me, and cause a Disturbance in my Force.  Ah well.  A good ride, though, and good company.

Typewriter Day 2009, that is. If you’re a member of the Orthodoxy, you know that there’s enough typer-love in this world to celebrate on June 23rd, the anniversary date of the U.S. patent granted to Christopher Sholes. I have to admit to being a little over-nerdy with this thing…
I like the public typing part of it, especially as some on the forums have tried it, and shown it to not only be easy, but entertaining as well. The procedure is as follows: dig your old typer out of the garage, attic, wherever and tune it up, or beg, borrow, or steal one somewhere, take it out into public somewhere, and type a letter to someone you know. Put the letter into an envelope (preferably having addressed the letter by typing on the envelope) put a stamp on it, and mail it to whomever. "Public" can be whatever you like; I will be working that day, and am thinking of hitting a coffee shop that evening and doing it there.  Manual portables are best for this - your Remington 5 or IBM Selectric would be difficult to carry, and the IBimmer would require electricity.  I am thinking of using my 1951 Smith-Corona Skyriter. I must warn you that this may take some time, as a number of conversations with total strangers may develop.  It is fun, though.  I have 12 folk that I letter each year, usually doing 11 beforehand, and saving the last one for public, mailing them all that night.
One other thing while I am banging on the evil computer keyboard - there is a practice among the typewriter nerds called "typecasting". This is a practice of typing (yes, with a typewriter) a blog thread on a blank 5X7 index card, scanning the card to a .jpg and posting it in one’s blog. For an example, see  www.strikethru.net  - I am thinking of trying this on typewriter day myself.  We will see.