TSCLT 12.0: The pantheon hates a pussy 2.0

There's a damn stump Out West which mouths off to me regularly. So, I shoot it. It's a good sized target, not too large or too small. It's slowly coming to pieces.


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Depression is like a woman in black. If she turns up, don't shoo her away. Invite her in, offer her a seat, treat her like a guest and listen to what she wants to say.

~ Carl Jung


Then roofie the bitch.

~ Wat Tyler


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I'm wearing black, but it's because it hides the dirt and whatever else may splatter
It was supposed to be my day off, but there's some kind of infection going round and I got two minions off. One of the downsides of a small shop, when you lose even one person it gets interesting, when two are off, well that's something more. And to add to my stresses, I'm showing some of those units that finished in building two, there was more interest than I expected or I didn't ask enough in rent, but I'd rather have more options than have to choose the best from a bad lot.
 
I look terrible in black, but the stock always comes in covered in crap and white wouldn't last an hour.
Lunch time over, and so is the third quarter, time to get back to work.
 
Huge benefits to a small shop with regard to the number of people you have to deal with. Yeah, someone needs to take a few days off and the load gets heavier, but stuff gets done in short order, instead of taking the long way around.
 
Wat is in blue jeans and a khaki shirt. He rocks this look. Everything he has gotten on himself this week has been dust that brushed off.


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Home. Grazed in. Truck is ready to hit the road. Off to read here in a bit. Tomorrow will be an early one.


Got a text from the maintenance supervisor Out West. The shitbird Wat called Straw Boss got his nutsack caught in the bench vise. There's a sexual harassment investigation going on. Cunt happen to a nicer defective buttplug.


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“There is no respect for others without humility in one’s self.”

~ Henri Frederic Amiel


The pleasure and joy that arise in dependence on the eye: this is the gratification in the eye. That the eye is impermanent, suffering, and subject to change: this is the danger in the eye. The removal and abandonment of desire and lust from the eye: this is the escape from the eye.

~ Buddha


Happy Saturday. It's Anvil Pick-up Road Trip Day. A bit of coffee, some ablutions and clothes, and then off to Points North.


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Apply paint with a 9" roller. Apply the proper texture with a 4" brush.


You oughta see Wat do handrail pickets.


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That roller doesn't reach the sides of the porch boards, so a roller is just a pain in the ass.

They're 2X4 boards which means that the 4" brush easily and quickly coats their 3.5" width...
 
I made deck with 2x4 boards once and it was springy to walk on. Didn't like it. When I remodeled that deck, the boards were recycled to be duckboards in the canoe storage area and below the woodpile. Built a woodshed at the cabin with 2x4s and wide spacings for the floor (wanted ventilation) and it seems just fine. Evidently much better wood than what was available when I built that deck 40 years ago.
 
Everything is ready for winter, the winter clothes that needed replacing have been, and the groceries and other errands were done Friday so today I grabbed the little one and female minions and we had a girls day. Take-out on the way to the boat, then fished we got hungry, had a nice lunch at a local place and shot some pool afterwards. Once we were home I was ready to call it a day but somehow got talked into making perogies, the clean up is done, the fish are in the freezer and tomorrow I plan on sleeping in but that won't happen because I've been getting up early for too many decades so I'll make the coffee and have a quiet read before everyone else gets up instead.
 
Happy Sunday!!! Happy October!!! Happy 99, Jimmy!!! Up on the body alarm clock, mostly likely. Since it's Sunday, there's always the possibility of a nap later. The list of stuff to do today isn't very long. Groceries, move the trailer and unhitch it, load intact, some laundry, and a bit of tidying.


Oh, got a call from The Guy yesterday - the HfD guy. He's sorting the bike. Seems that batt'reh is crap and is making the electronics go wonky. The oil pressure sender was the issue there. There is still a code with the start/run switch, and that could either be a bum connection somewhere (which happens on bikes) or it's the actual start/run switch. We'll see this week coming.


After coffee then, too.


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There was an ad online for a “free to a good home” anvil with the one-year only engine, assuming that it hadn’t been swapped out at some point, so Wat crossed his fingers and contacted the people after some pondering. The damned car was sitting on the edge of a field and looked quite rusted and forlorn. No chrome goodies. It’s only other (besides the engine, we hoped) redeeming feature is that the glass is good.

Yesterday was the day. It literally took a year of nagging and reminding the woman that, “hey, I’m still interested.” We finally got a date. They preferred afternoon, so we hit the road before oh six hundred to get there. The drive was pretty. There were some mountains and the leaves were turning, so the vistas were scenic. The car was, as frequently happens, out in the middle of No Damned Where. Packards seem to hide there and wait for Wat to find them.

Got there and checked it out - there was the engine! Best news of the day. The worst was how everything was more mired in than the weeds around it made it appear. We knew that there would be rust, but sometimes one is still surprised at how far things can deteriorate. There was even a tree growing in it. The state of Florida wouldn’t allow it to come in - invasive flora and such. The man, the owner, the woman’s dad, had a D4 Cat and it’s a damned good thing that he did, because that’s exactly what it took to get it out of the hole it was in. Two hours to load the damned thing between pulling it out and then dragging/pushing it onto the trailer while trying not to destroy the trailer, the body of the car being beyond all hope of any kind of reclamation. The driver’s side doors started falling off during the loading process because what they were fastened to existed in name and ferrous oxide only by that point.

The bright bits had been removed years before because Dad harbored delusions of restoring it. They were stored in a barn across the street. There was a family fight over stuff (how materialistic) after the patriarch died, so Dad’s sister apparently either sold or tossed the stuff out of spite. Seems they still are contentious.

Dad is interesting. He told me that he had had two strokes, a heart attack, and had been struck by lightning. I looked him in his clear blue eyes and told him that I suspected that Allah isn’t done with him yet. He said that he thought that I was right and observed that, “I’ve still got shit to do.” After we were loaded and he was ready to retire to his shop and its accumulation of old well-drilling equipment and assorted machinery and trucks, he told me to keep in touch.

I reckon I will. Car is home. I’ll unload it later.


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The work of a major collector is never done.

The new guy in the 'hood has a '58 Corvette in a trailer that he's going to rebuild. He says he's a car guy, but I don't see a place in his attached garage for him to work on cars. There is a spot he could put in an unattached garage on his property. Maybe he'll do that. This is not the neighborhood where you can do long term outdoor auto work.
 
There's a term we haven't trotted out lately, and that it an error on our part, so thatnk you for doing your part, and I'll try not to fail there in the future.


Actually, I have been eyeballing big '56 anvils, the 2-door coupes with the big motors. Biggest V8s they made as a company, and maybe the biggest outta Deeetroit that year.


I'd probably need a spare hood for cutting the aperture for the scoop in . . . .


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nobody can save you but
yourself.
you will be put again and again
into nearly impossible
situations.
they will attempt again and again
through subterfuge, guise and
force
to make you submit, quit and/or die quietly
inside.
nobody can save you but
yourself
and it will be easy enough to fail
so very easily
but don’t, don’t, don’t.
just watch them.
listen to them.
do you want to be like that?
a faceless, mindless, heartless
being?
do you want to experience
death before death?
nobody can save you but
yourself
and you’re worth saving.
it’s a war not easily won
but if anything is worth winning then
this is it.
think about it.
think about saving your self.



~ Charles Bukowski


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