I just finished reading a book titled STRATA, by Laura Poppick. I don’t remember what tempted me to pick it up, and I still can’t understand why I did. Anytime it takes me two weeks to read a book with 241 pages, it tells me something. The something, is that technical works in fields like geology and anthropology are outside my sphere of interest. The first half dealt with how the earth became oxygenated over a period of billions of years. The final chapters finally struck a chord with me in that they covered catastrophic events that caused mass extinctions, and developments that led to the appearance of man. I most liked the final discussion on global warming and what happens. It confirmed my own theory that warming that takes millions of years to happen will occur no matter how much fossil fuel we burn.
Another thing I was able to learn is that Earth is a living thing and it often has hic-cups that move mountains, and releases gas much like we do. I also learned to appreciate the people who dedicate their lives to studying planet Earth. They are genuinely different but dedicated people.
At the tender age of fifteen, I learned about hospitals. I have written about my first hospital experience in a post titled “Life Can Change In A Moment”. Since then, I have been hospitalized several times for bouts with kidney stones. Most recently, my medical issues are age-related, like arthritis and sciatic-nerve flare-ups, neither of which has hospitalized me yet. Although I have avoided hospitalizations, I have not avoided doctors. I have to give them credit for having invented a fool proof scheme to extract money from the aged. It is not unusual to visit a doctor for an “annual” check up and wind up being tested to determine if my voiced complaints are caused by some known medical issue. For instance, at my latest check-up the doctor noted that my ankles were swollen. I had not placed any importance on such a phenomenon. Here is what happened: 1. I had to take an immediate ultrasound of my lower extremities to determine if the swelling was caused by a blood clot, 2. No blood clot was found, so I had to take another test to determine how vascular fluid was traversing through my legs. This test discovered a faulty valve in the system transporting vascular fluids. There is no synthetic valve invented to take care of this problem, so I am now on a diuretic medicine to remove excess fluid, and I have been told not to sit or stand for long periods. I guess, I’ll have to invent a horizontal barbecue like affair to spend my days suspended horizontally and rotating slowly like a pig on a spit in front of my computer watching Youtube videos or writing stupid stuff like this post.
Old age is not for the weak, and I continue to live by the creed of movie star Clint Eastwood, who recommends, “Don’t let the old man in.”
It has taken me a few hours to process the assassination of Charlie Kirk. He was one of my favorite people. I first met him at a Tea Party meeting in 2008. He was just fresh out of high school. Our Tea Party leader asked him to speak to us about his experiences with liberal teachers at his high school. I was flabbergasted to hear how assinine many of his teachers were. Charlie was an excellent speaker, and well rehearsed although I suspected that he was speaking extemporaneously. He was that good. I followed his career and sent him money on occasion to help him establish Turning Point USA.
It saddened me to hear of his execution. No one in the world can replace him. I thought the same of Rush Limbaugh when he died, but Dan Bongino filled his space in the world. When Bongino quit his radio show to take a spot in the FBI, I asked myself the same question: Who will fill his place? Within two weeks, he had found Vince Coglinaise. After listening to Vince I was satisfied that he was just as capable as Bongino or Limbaugh. Nevertheless, I would much rather listen to the commentary of Rush Limbaugh.
During the time I spend in my workshop, I listen to Podcasts, and Charlie Kirk was always my favorite. He had a knack for finding people who were like-minded as he and who could keep a dialogue going for the half hour time they spent together. Charlie was one hundred percent conservative. He had an innate ability to debate with liberals and loved the challenge of doing so. Because I am hooked on watching YouTube videos I particularly enjoyed watching Charlie destroy competitors from well known colleges like Harvard, or Oxford. He mastered the art of debate and relished taking on anyone who thought they could out argue him. I miss him.
After I win the Mega Millions lottery, I am going to buy a new car. It won’t be an Coupe-de-ville, but rather a custom built street rod. I will begin with an older U.S.built car from the 1934 through 1959 period. I will have it designed and built to my specs. It will be as stylish as anything from today’s car makers. The reliability will rival my current 2006 Avalon. The design will include all the modern technology that makes a 2025 car what it is: Electronic ignition, fuel injection, four wheel power disc brakes, automatic transmission with overdrive, power steering, and more. The cabin amenities will include air conditioning, power windows, keyless ignition, heated leather power seats, and more. In other words, it will be a 2025 car with a slightly used and reconditioned body.
Today’s street rods are an offshoot of the hot rods that are made for speed and drag racing. Street rods are totally drivable. I am amazed at the design ingenuity of hot-rodders that build their own cars. I once met a man who had customized a 1939 Buick (shown below). He’s been building and redesigning the same car for twenty years.
Why does it take so long? Well, one reason is money. The builders usually have a day job with limited money to spend. A second reason is time. Most of these guys are family men and spend time on their cars after family and work obligations are met. Some of them run body shops, so they can work on their cars when business is slow.
The hobby of custom hot rod building is a huge business in America. There are many organizations dedicated to supporting the builders. The National Hot Rod Association, Good Guys, National Street Rod Association are a few of them. One of my most popular weblogs is I Prefer Hot Rods With Fenders. This simple report keeps my BLOG alive with viewers. Hopefully this post will be enjoyed as well. I photographed the cars at the Tinley Park, Illinois Cruise Night on a Friday in August, and found the 1939 Buick. This is the same model year as the car I learned to drive on.
All of these cars were saved from the junk yard. They all look pretty and go like hell! ENJOY.
After posting several articles about positivity I have to break my record with a rant. This week I had a chain of events that sent me into deep depression. Thursday, Lovely and I left the house at 8:00 am to make it in time for her doctors’s visit at 9:30, we arrived at 10:00 a.m. Traffic going into downtown Chicago was dense. We checked in and waited for Lovely to be called. They called her at ten-thirty. I sat in the exterior waiting area reading. She eventually made it into the doctor’s office at 12:30 p.m. Luckily, I had a very boring book to keep me occupied. I knew there was trouble when Lovely exited with the doctor at her side. Evidently, the doctor could not assess her condition because the blood test results never made it to her. Lovely had her blood drawn three weeks ahead of the appointment. The story gets better. The doctor ordered another test for Lovely. This test could be done right next door at Stroger Hospital which is physically connected to Cook County Health. It sounded like a solid plan, we would make the appointment with the lab before we left to go home. We walked five hundred feet North then turned West and walked another five hundred feet passing clinic after clinic to the hospital main entrance where we got an elevator to the second floor. We turned left (by this time I lost my sense of direction) and walked the beige colored hallway passing clinic after clinic until reaching Clinic-M, Radiology. Except, the scheduler for Clinic-M was not available. We waited for another half an hour before an attendant appeared and gave us a number to call. Frustrated and beaten we decided to leave. Finally, we were on our way home. We arrived at our door at 3:30 p.m.
After a snack and a brief rest, I dialed the number to reach Clinic-M to make the appointment. The phone rang off the hook without an answer, and I gave up.
Today, Lovely asked me to take her to Quest Diagnostics, a national testing service, to find the missing blood test. The lobby was a baren room with a two people waiting, a standing computer screen, and a door. I began pumping our information into the computer when the door opened and a tech appeared. Lovely immediately corralled the attendant asked if she could give her the results of her blood test. ” We don’t deal in results here all we do is take blood. You have to go online.” Well, that triggered my blood to boil.
Lovely and I sat in the car as I dialed the number they gave us to call for results. After ringing several times a male robot answered and began spouting numbers to dial for specific situations. None of them sounded like what we needed, so I pushed the last number he listed. Another male robot answered and started the same spiel. The situations he rolled off sounded very much like the last ones. I pushed number eight this time and waited for something to happen. A third robot replied and began telling me to push button numbers assigned to my situation, except there was no button for getting test results. By this time fifteen minutes had passed and the car was getting hot so I ended the game. It was time for me to bite the bullet and use their website.
At my desk, I went directly to the Quest Diagnostics website and learned that I must set up an account to get any information. I did. I finally pushed the button to verify my information. A note appeared that I needed to get a code sent via text to complete the job. I did. The code came slowly, but it finally arrived.
I punched in the code, and another note page arrived with a paragraph of malarky about needing more information. This time, they wanted pictures of a photo ID and a passport. All I had to do was take a picture of the QR code at the corner of the screen. I took the pictures, but began wondering how they would move from my phone into the database on my computer. I hit enter on the phone and the same program I used on the desk top appeared on my phone. They wanted all the information that I just pumped into my computer into their website except now they wanted it to come through my phone. If I owned a gun I would have shot the desk top computer and my phone too.
There was a hidden clue at the bottom of the website page. It was a line of Chinese. I maintain that all of this Artificial Intelligence (AI) should be renamed Artificial Un-Intelligence. I’m taking a break for a beer.
The most stupid person I ever met was a genius compared to these AI robots.
