Well I finally sent in the application for a 401k and am forming in Nevada S-Corp. I will underpay myself and subject myself to lousy working conditions.
I got a new GPS reciever. Then something broke something inside my dash and I unsuccessfully fixed it with epoxy and glued the computer plug to it. I pried it off with a knife but now it's fried. Dammit.
I brought back the old reciever, and it works sometimes.
Soon as I'm loaded I head for Garland TX. I aim to be in Indiana tonight at my favorite truckstop. If I can park. Too damn many trucks, and too many park at the same time. They "run" together, too. Aint that adorable?
Sometimes I get between them, and next thing I know I've got a face full of trailer as the one has to get on his buddy's ass again. And yeah, I wrote it like that on purpose--gimme a break! I became a trucker for freedom and independance. They became truckers to drive nose-to-tail down the road and babble endlessly about nothing on the CB like old ladies.
They're idiots, too. Nose-to-tail in a convoy. I try to maintain intelligent following distance and keep getting trailers in my face. Sometimes THIRTY MILES down the road I can still see the first idiot that passed me, with a whole train of trucks behind him like a freight train. Idiots.
I say "Good boy! Go find the trooper--atta boy!" And usually, I end up ahead of them anyway. Anyway, I'm a pro. They aint. They park crooked, throw garbage out their windows, block traffic--I haul USA trailers, and company truckes are governed at 63. So they pass me, realize they're doing 72, then slow down! Mindless, discourteous, and stupid.
I gave up trying to get anybody to read my Browns Blog and am punishing them by spamming them instead. Serves them right.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Pensauken, NJ
After stopping at HQ and going to lunch with Matt (on USA's dime: He and the driver are covered if they go together--pretty cool), I backed off on my demands for longer runs or else. First, I had interrogated other drivers and found similar patterns in their own runs. With more info, it felt less like persecution and more like a broad logistical trend.
So when I went to see Matt, it wasn't to confront him. I just wanted to find out more about how this stuff works. And he was glad to tell me. There's often an adversarial relationship between dispatchers and load planners. Load planners feel as if dispatchers only care about their own drivers, and not the company--so some of them resist all appeals.
Matt had actually worked in that dept. for about six months. As a dispatcher, he will have two drivers, one of which needs to go home, and both of whom are in the same area. One load goes to driver a's home. The other takes him away. He gets the one that takes him away.
BAD load planner! (The planners know about this. Requests are in the system and they see them). Matt says "could you please switch these two loads so this guy can get home?"
Some planners will see how much sense this makes and do so. Others will refuse. Go ahead, ask me why. Matt didn't know either. So Matt has to let them both pick up their loads and then find a neutral point for a swap. The drivers have to find someplace to park, unhook, find eachother, switch paperwork and trailers...one is always ahead of another, and the other might wait so many hours... Then the drivers look at eachother and ask why the hell this happened? "Why couldn't I have just picked up your load in the first place? Now I've only got six hours left to run." etc.
Matt has fights with them a lot, and his first priority has to be getting most of his sixty drivers HOME.
And, since that meeting, I've been running ok. This load took me 1500 miles. I got here last night (saturday) for a monday delivery, and will get 34 hours off and zero out my hours.
I needed to. I have a balloon payment coming up on my eight-day hours. Also, this is my longest run yet, and I felt the need to prove something. I want that planner to see that on monday morning this driver delivered as the reciever opened and now has zero hours.
This is the driver who said he could produce 5-800 more miles/week with longer runs. And is proving it. (Truckers are mostly all mouth. I have to overcome a prejudice.)
Anyway, things are better. USA actually even takes better care of it's trailers these days. The tandems slide, and I haven't had to replace many light bulbs. I'm getting 500 miles more/week than I did at my previous company, and the short load pattern appears to have been cooincidence...I THINK.
Hey Juan. I'm really glad you kept plugging and got that certification (or whatchacallit). Now you can get something going and make up for lost time, like I did. It's a good feeling.
Well, Christine is behaving lately. I had one of my eight drive tires all tore up. Bald in patches, all around. Same tire as all it's mates, which wore evenly. It was probably a bad shock, I hope. I replaced two of the four shocks and two tires. (Tough to match them once they have wear on them. You have to get used ones. I had to get to Little Rock, and two were sent from Central Maintenance on the Cal-Ark yard--long story.)
I still have a constant check-engine light. The Electronic Control Module (ECM=BRAIN) thinks, I guess, that my coolant, oil, and fuel are always low. That I have low oil pressure, am hot, and have everything else wrong which could be wrong. The truck still rolls. I just have to pay more attention to my guages and levels because Christine is now Chicken Little.
Ya know, owner-operators work harder. The other day I was losing voltage, and experience told me that I was going to get stranded. Thought my brand new alternator was bad, or else the recently load-tested batteries were suddenly going. But I pulled into the 80 mega-truckstop in Iowa and took a look. Loose belt!!!
My alternator and belts are a lot bigger than yours, though, and it's not so easy to tighten belts. This is why a company driver will always just take it to a shop. But I had paid attention, and knew how to do it. So I walked into the parts place I'd parked in front of and paid eight bucks for a giant wrench.
...I used my adjustable to determine the size. That didn't work. So I bought one, found out it was too small. Then traded it for another. And another. Finally, I had the right tool and got the thing fixed in three minutes.
The shop would have charged me fifty bucks or so, and taken awhile. But I got it done in about 90 minutes for eight bucks, and now have the proper tool to take care of it whenever it happens again.
That was a good feeling. Here and there, I can fix my own rig like that. Too bad Eman is boycotting all my blogsites. He remembers me as the helpless guy who was damn near wrecking his life calling for road service--usually on simple stuff.
Well, I've got to dig up the electrician's tape to fix that engine light. Okbye.
So when I went to see Matt, it wasn't to confront him. I just wanted to find out more about how this stuff works. And he was glad to tell me. There's often an adversarial relationship between dispatchers and load planners. Load planners feel as if dispatchers only care about their own drivers, and not the company--so some of them resist all appeals.
Matt had actually worked in that dept. for about six months. As a dispatcher, he will have two drivers, one of which needs to go home, and both of whom are in the same area. One load goes to driver a's home. The other takes him away. He gets the one that takes him away.
BAD load planner! (The planners know about this. Requests are in the system and they see them). Matt says "could you please switch these two loads so this guy can get home?"
Some planners will see how much sense this makes and do so. Others will refuse. Go ahead, ask me why. Matt didn't know either. So Matt has to let them both pick up their loads and then find a neutral point for a swap. The drivers have to find someplace to park, unhook, find eachother, switch paperwork and trailers...one is always ahead of another, and the other might wait so many hours... Then the drivers look at eachother and ask why the hell this happened? "Why couldn't I have just picked up your load in the first place? Now I've only got six hours left to run." etc.
Matt has fights with them a lot, and his first priority has to be getting most of his sixty drivers HOME.
And, since that meeting, I've been running ok. This load took me 1500 miles. I got here last night (saturday) for a monday delivery, and will get 34 hours off and zero out my hours.
I needed to. I have a balloon payment coming up on my eight-day hours. Also, this is my longest run yet, and I felt the need to prove something. I want that planner to see that on monday morning this driver delivered as the reciever opened and now has zero hours.
This is the driver who said he could produce 5-800 more miles/week with longer runs. And is proving it. (Truckers are mostly all mouth. I have to overcome a prejudice.)
Anyway, things are better. USA actually even takes better care of it's trailers these days. The tandems slide, and I haven't had to replace many light bulbs. I'm getting 500 miles more/week than I did at my previous company, and the short load pattern appears to have been cooincidence...I THINK.
Hey Juan. I'm really glad you kept plugging and got that certification (or whatchacallit). Now you can get something going and make up for lost time, like I did. It's a good feeling.
Well, Christine is behaving lately. I had one of my eight drive tires all tore up. Bald in patches, all around. Same tire as all it's mates, which wore evenly. It was probably a bad shock, I hope. I replaced two of the four shocks and two tires. (Tough to match them once they have wear on them. You have to get used ones. I had to get to Little Rock, and two were sent from Central Maintenance on the Cal-Ark yard--long story.)
I still have a constant check-engine light. The Electronic Control Module (ECM=BRAIN) thinks, I guess, that my coolant, oil, and fuel are always low. That I have low oil pressure, am hot, and have everything else wrong which could be wrong. The truck still rolls. I just have to pay more attention to my guages and levels because Christine is now Chicken Little.
Ya know, owner-operators work harder. The other day I was losing voltage, and experience told me that I was going to get stranded. Thought my brand new alternator was bad, or else the recently load-tested batteries were suddenly going. But I pulled into the 80 mega-truckstop in Iowa and took a look. Loose belt!!!
My alternator and belts are a lot bigger than yours, though, and it's not so easy to tighten belts. This is why a company driver will always just take it to a shop. But I had paid attention, and knew how to do it. So I walked into the parts place I'd parked in front of and paid eight bucks for a giant wrench.
...I used my adjustable to determine the size. That didn't work. So I bought one, found out it was too small. Then traded it for another. And another. Finally, I had the right tool and got the thing fixed in three minutes.
The shop would have charged me fifty bucks or so, and taken awhile. But I got it done in about 90 minutes for eight bucks, and now have the proper tool to take care of it whenever it happens again.
That was a good feeling. Here and there, I can fix my own rig like that. Too bad Eman is boycotting all my blogsites. He remembers me as the helpless guy who was damn near wrecking his life calling for road service--usually on simple stuff.
Well, I've got to dig up the electrician's tape to fix that engine light. Okbye.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
KC, MO
Stopped here at the drop yard at 6 pm. Didn't want to, but USA has been screwing me over ever since around the beginning of my third week. Nothing but short runs. My effective cap, as I showed my dispatcher on his own screen, is 850 miles.
I'd told him that they'd done this to me as a company driver, and that it was the reason I'd quit. He keeps assuring me that there isn't anything in the computer which classifies drivers and filters out loads, but there has to be.
Last night, I was to drop a load here which couldn't be delivered to Davenport early. My preplanned load assignment? Same load. I was to wait two days to deliver it. I went thermonuclear--this was a punch in the face: "this is what you get for complaining".
My dispatcher took the blame. He said he'd thought they could reschedule it. The thing is, the load coordinator knew better, didn't tell him, and set up the fuckover.
I told Matt (my dispatcher) that I was going to quit once I could set something else up (I'm in hell now and won't go through it like before...I saw it coming quickly...I doubt that Matt has ever seen a list of unbroken short runs like that). Told him that meanwhile I was instituting the 1200 mile rule.
I'm slowing down on all loads under 1200 miles. I won't deliver early anymore. I know it will cost me money, but there's nothing else I can do to defend myself.
It's really stupid. I think that some beancounter looks over my first two weeks and sees me delivering early all the time. He decides I should deliver as many loads as possible, so he caps me at 850 miles.
That's a beancounter for you. Nevermind what the driver wants, and don't think beyond what's in front of you.
If they'd let me run the way I'm meant to run, I'd easily rack up 5-800 more miles per week. This pinhead is costing USA one of it's best drivers, and meanwhile about that many dollars every week.
I try not to take it personally--try to tell myself it's just a bad business decision. But how can I not take it personally when they refuse to let me out of this cage? When they ignore me? When I tell them I'm quitting? When I get screwed every weekend with more short loads, some of which can't deliver early? When they force me to sit around wasting miles rather than cough up one crappy thousand-plus mile load? Even on a weekend?
My god it's like a Stephen King novel!
So yeah. I stopped 120 miles short of my pickup and am screwing around. I'll pick up on time, then drag my feet down to Texas. I might get 60 miles away, stop, and wait several more hours to deliver at the appointed time.
Sons of bitches. Let the beancounter check out his handiwork in a couple more weeks.
I'm getting worked up. Can't stand stupidity. (OK well downs kids--that's different. they're innocent and guileless. I mean stupid people who think they're smart. Too smart to listen to common freaking sense.)
No, I saved my money, and I do allright trading and poker-playing too. It's tough for me to shut down and be mediocre like this, but I won't get bored. Anything less than 1200 miles goes slow. I'll run when they allow me to run.
Do you see this? Do you see what they're doing to one of their best drivers?
Well, I'll mark time and screw around, hoping against hope somebody gets a lightbulb over their head and turns me loose. Fat chance. Pretty soon I'll lose a couple of lies off my dmvr and get my applications out. CRST will let me run. the DRIVERS said so.
Congratulations, you dumb bastards. Whoever leases me next should send you a thank-you note.
I'd told him that they'd done this to me as a company driver, and that it was the reason I'd quit. He keeps assuring me that there isn't anything in the computer which classifies drivers and filters out loads, but there has to be.
Last night, I was to drop a load here which couldn't be delivered to Davenport early. My preplanned load assignment? Same load. I was to wait two days to deliver it. I went thermonuclear--this was a punch in the face: "this is what you get for complaining".
My dispatcher took the blame. He said he'd thought they could reschedule it. The thing is, the load coordinator knew better, didn't tell him, and set up the fuckover.
I told Matt (my dispatcher) that I was going to quit once I could set something else up (I'm in hell now and won't go through it like before...I saw it coming quickly...I doubt that Matt has ever seen a list of unbroken short runs like that). Told him that meanwhile I was instituting the 1200 mile rule.
I'm slowing down on all loads under 1200 miles. I won't deliver early anymore. I know it will cost me money, but there's nothing else I can do to defend myself.
It's really stupid. I think that some beancounter looks over my first two weeks and sees me delivering early all the time. He decides I should deliver as many loads as possible, so he caps me at 850 miles.
That's a beancounter for you. Nevermind what the driver wants, and don't think beyond what's in front of you.
If they'd let me run the way I'm meant to run, I'd easily rack up 5-800 more miles per week. This pinhead is costing USA one of it's best drivers, and meanwhile about that many dollars every week.
I try not to take it personally--try to tell myself it's just a bad business decision. But how can I not take it personally when they refuse to let me out of this cage? When they ignore me? When I tell them I'm quitting? When I get screwed every weekend with more short loads, some of which can't deliver early? When they force me to sit around wasting miles rather than cough up one crappy thousand-plus mile load? Even on a weekend?
My god it's like a Stephen King novel!
So yeah. I stopped 120 miles short of my pickup and am screwing around. I'll pick up on time, then drag my feet down to Texas. I might get 60 miles away, stop, and wait several more hours to deliver at the appointed time.
Sons of bitches. Let the beancounter check out his handiwork in a couple more weeks.
I'm getting worked up. Can't stand stupidity. (OK well downs kids--that's different. they're innocent and guileless. I mean stupid people who think they're smart. Too smart to listen to common freaking sense.)
No, I saved my money, and I do allright trading and poker-playing too. It's tough for me to shut down and be mediocre like this, but I won't get bored. Anything less than 1200 miles goes slow. I'll run when they allow me to run.
Do you see this? Do you see what they're doing to one of their best drivers?
Well, I'll mark time and screw around, hoping against hope somebody gets a lightbulb over their head and turns me loose. Fat chance. Pretty soon I'll lose a couple of lies off my dmvr and get my applications out. CRST will let me run. the DRIVERS said so.
Congratulations, you dumb bastards. Whoever leases me next should send you a thank-you note.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Little Rock
Christine. The bitch. Had to stand on the brakes with 43,000 lbs. at 70 (I brake for IDIOTS). Blew out a brake chamber diaphram. I bleed out at stoplights--have to use the hand-brake (trailer brakes) to keep from locking them.
Door handle broke off in my hand. I've been sticking a fork in the works in order to escape from the truck.
Another air-leak. Prodigeous. With the engine off, the low-air siren starts screaming in ten minutes. I think when I broke to avoid purifying the gene-pool, the trailer put about 140,000 lbs of pressure on my fifth wheel and blew out airbags or seals there. I think this because when I unhooked to get serviced at Kenworth, the leak stopped.
On my way, the check-engine light added itself to the ABS light in the "always on" dept. All I can do is top off oil and water. Then as I near Little Rock, I smell coolant.
I've added this to the crooked steering wheel which blocks my speedometer, the relentless power steering leak, the vibration and rattling in the front end, the loss of the low side of my com pression brake...
It was a hot load. I know Christine, so I busted ass to get to Kenworth over 24 hours ahead of schedule, then got the load taken off me as soon as I got the news I expected.
Think USA appreciates this?
After a couple weeks of decent runs, I'm now back to where I was when I quit them before. Pickup and deliver every day on one-day runs, and rarely a run over 1,000 miles on the weekends. My dipatcher insists it's random, but the most basic statistical alalysis precludes that.
I'm getting the weekly miles, and can't bitch about that. But if they'd simply let me run the way I was born to run, I'd make MORE miles---for USA, and my dispatcher. I mean, it's STUPID to insist on keeping me short, including on weekends, and make me quit again, but for whatever reason, they're doing it again.
STUPID.
Well I'm in Howard Johnson's again. Waiting for the Browns game. The Injuns whomped the Sox last night (had dough on it). I probably have to hear the Browns on the computer, and can't watch it again--but maybe I'll get lucky.
I'll take the truck if it's ready and roll again today, but won't unless everything is done, including the door-handle. I've got enough unneccessary stress worrying about what kind of stupid assenine loads USA is going to keep inflicting on me.
Well okbye.
Door handle broke off in my hand. I've been sticking a fork in the works in order to escape from the truck.
Another air-leak. Prodigeous. With the engine off, the low-air siren starts screaming in ten minutes. I think when I broke to avoid purifying the gene-pool, the trailer put about 140,000 lbs of pressure on my fifth wheel and blew out airbags or seals there. I think this because when I unhooked to get serviced at Kenworth, the leak stopped.
On my way, the check-engine light added itself to the ABS light in the "always on" dept. All I can do is top off oil and water. Then as I near Little Rock, I smell coolant.
I've added this to the crooked steering wheel which blocks my speedometer, the relentless power steering leak, the vibration and rattling in the front end, the loss of the low side of my com pression brake...
It was a hot load. I know Christine, so I busted ass to get to Kenworth over 24 hours ahead of schedule, then got the load taken off me as soon as I got the news I expected.
Think USA appreciates this?
After a couple weeks of decent runs, I'm now back to where I was when I quit them before. Pickup and deliver every day on one-day runs, and rarely a run over 1,000 miles on the weekends. My dipatcher insists it's random, but the most basic statistical alalysis precludes that.
I'm getting the weekly miles, and can't bitch about that. But if they'd simply let me run the way I was born to run, I'd make MORE miles---for USA, and my dispatcher. I mean, it's STUPID to insist on keeping me short, including on weekends, and make me quit again, but for whatever reason, they're doing it again.
STUPID.
Well I'm in Howard Johnson's again. Waiting for the Browns game. The Injuns whomped the Sox last night (had dough on it). I probably have to hear the Browns on the computer, and can't watch it again--but maybe I'll get lucky.
I'll take the truck if it's ready and roll again today, but won't unless everything is done, including the door-handle. I've got enough unneccessary stress worrying about what kind of stupid assenine loads USA is going to keep inflicting on me.
Well okbye.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Van Buren, AR, USA
I left Little Rock wednesday after considerable research and mission planning. At about 2:30 pm I reported in a day early with my new address (a box at the local UPS Store) and my new social security card applied for at the local office (and a letter stating same).
I got ahead of the paperwork, and then was sent on the shuttle bus to the Holiday Inn in downtown Fort Smith. The desk person wanted to know who the hell I was, since there had been no fax from USA on me. Got that resolved.
Next day I show up for some more processing, and am sent on the shuttle to the Howard Johnson. This time, there was no confirmation fax on me, and the night shift wasn't authorized to do it. After extensive phone ping-pong, they send a cab for me and had it take me here, to the Meaders Inn (a step down, naturally).
Next day I go in and ask the receptionist who was playing childish games with me and why. She said she thought I was this other guy named Ken. Only no other guy had gone there with me. I went to the classroom and met the director of training. I informed him that I exist. "My name is Wile E. Coyote and I exist." Then I told him how I had been dicked around. Later, I told another training person the same thing.
You can't let people treat you like that. You can't be a good sport. I'm sick of people losing this and forgetting that and leaving me hanging, and--because of my history with some Jr. Highschool reject here (identity unknown), suspected that it was deliberate.
Because of my much-delayed drug test (couldn't go), I missed the road-test (yeah, they even test experienced drivers. Fortunately, they're going to test me in my own truck. I haven't driven an automatic in three years--I could have done it in their truck, but would have looked pretty sloppy.)
I had requested several times of several people a separate hotel room, for which I would pay half. But of course this was also ignored, and I got a roomate.
But he was great, and a real american. Former marine TAC, combat vet in Nicaragua. Married, three kids, Jersey native. He'd managed service center from which he'd had a view of the World Trade Centers.
We agreed about literally everything. When the islamofascists bring their war of conquest to your doorstep, and you are thus forced to face certain realities, you will wish the two of us were with you. Until then, you may continue calling us capitalist pigs, or whatever less stigmatized version of same you're thoughtlessly using these days.
Anyway, I got tomorrow (sunday) to go. (They start at 6:30 am--the bastards). Then monday we graduate (I'll get my road test in there somewhere) and they'll decal my truck and stick a new Qualcom unit in it. I'll also meet my Fleet Manager (dispatcher) monday and let him know how I run best.
As I've mentioned, my operations record is impressive, so he'll already know I mean business. However, I sort of expect him not to believe it until I show HIM, which is fine with me. I've heard good things about this guy. (And second-hand bad things...
Ok like a Cal-Ark driver told me that a USA owner-operator had told him that "they" only get about 2800 miles/week. Well, it's a good bet that "they" are married and need home-time and stuff, whereas I am a gypsy. And I don't mind telling you yet again, the odds are heavily against this second-hand source being as good as me. Sorry, it's the truth.)
I was the only owner-operator. Some guys were experienced drivers, but most were students, getting ready to start new carreers. I was glad to spill every tip and bit of advice I could to my roommate, to spare him some of the stuff I learned the hard way.
I told him and other guys not to listen to the bitchers and moaners in re this company. It's not perfect, by any means, and have some downright stupid policies. But this company saved my life and turned me into a success (remember my definition: doing what you love for a living.)
And the rest of you: You can't listen to that crap--or at least not with your emotions engaged. You can take it in and think about it, because some of it IS true, and you ignore that part at your peril. But most of these guys are just permanent bitchers and moaners. They'd be bitching and moaning if they made twice the money running half the miles. Many have been with USA for several years, and been whining and crying about this and that every day of it.
If they ever DID pick up and go somewhere else because it looked like a much better deal, they'd be bitching and moaning about THAT company, too.
There's good and bad things everywhere you go. On balance, USA is pretty competitive with the industry--actually maybe even above average. I was there to tell a couple of the new guys this, and glad to do it. When I was here, there was an ongoing issue about my average length of haul, and somebody higher up in operations screwed me over a few times. But I still averaged around 3000 miles/week.
So there it is. Some shithead worked here with the power to screw me over, but I got my miles and got paid for them. They put me in a brand new experimental automatic after one year. They forgave me a couple incidents (of which I was reminded yesterday. They weren't on my DAC record; the DOT one...but they had occurred while I was here, and USA had them recorded. Ouch!)
So what do you want? Utopia? Grow up. Don't listen to the whiners. If you think you can do better, you can move on, like I did--and leave on good terms.
Good thing I did, huh?
The moment I get done here, I'm going to track down my birth certificate, and (today online or monday on the phone) get it sent to my new address. They've started a new program to expedite loads into Canada. If you're in the program, they have you in their database and know you're not a terrorist or smuggler or whatever, so you can bypass some of the customs ragamarole.
I was happy not to go to Canada before, but if it's somewhat less difficult than it used to be, it's worth it to me. I'd get some longer runs that way...like from Laredo to Toronto! And anyway, I want my proof-of-existance. I'll probably dig up my DD-214 again, too, and get a new VA hospital card.
Well...here I go okbye
I got ahead of the paperwork, and then was sent on the shuttle bus to the Holiday Inn in downtown Fort Smith. The desk person wanted to know who the hell I was, since there had been no fax from USA on me. Got that resolved.
Next day I show up for some more processing, and am sent on the shuttle to the Howard Johnson. This time, there was no confirmation fax on me, and the night shift wasn't authorized to do it. After extensive phone ping-pong, they send a cab for me and had it take me here, to the Meaders Inn (a step down, naturally).
Next day I go in and ask the receptionist who was playing childish games with me and why. She said she thought I was this other guy named Ken. Only no other guy had gone there with me. I went to the classroom and met the director of training. I informed him that I exist. "My name is Wile E. Coyote and I exist." Then I told him how I had been dicked around. Later, I told another training person the same thing.
You can't let people treat you like that. You can't be a good sport. I'm sick of people losing this and forgetting that and leaving me hanging, and--because of my history with some Jr. Highschool reject here (identity unknown), suspected that it was deliberate.
Because of my much-delayed drug test (couldn't go), I missed the road-test (yeah, they even test experienced drivers. Fortunately, they're going to test me in my own truck. I haven't driven an automatic in three years--I could have done it in their truck, but would have looked pretty sloppy.)
I had requested several times of several people a separate hotel room, for which I would pay half. But of course this was also ignored, and I got a roomate.
But he was great, and a real american. Former marine TAC, combat vet in Nicaragua. Married, three kids, Jersey native. He'd managed service center from which he'd had a view of the World Trade Centers.
We agreed about literally everything. When the islamofascists bring their war of conquest to your doorstep, and you are thus forced to face certain realities, you will wish the two of us were with you. Until then, you may continue calling us capitalist pigs, or whatever less stigmatized version of same you're thoughtlessly using these days.
Anyway, I got tomorrow (sunday) to go. (They start at 6:30 am--the bastards). Then monday we graduate (I'll get my road test in there somewhere) and they'll decal my truck and stick a new Qualcom unit in it. I'll also meet my Fleet Manager (dispatcher) monday and let him know how I run best.
As I've mentioned, my operations record is impressive, so he'll already know I mean business. However, I sort of expect him not to believe it until I show HIM, which is fine with me. I've heard good things about this guy. (And second-hand bad things...
Ok like a Cal-Ark driver told me that a USA owner-operator had told him that "they" only get about 2800 miles/week. Well, it's a good bet that "they" are married and need home-time and stuff, whereas I am a gypsy. And I don't mind telling you yet again, the odds are heavily against this second-hand source being as good as me. Sorry, it's the truth.)
I was the only owner-operator. Some guys were experienced drivers, but most were students, getting ready to start new carreers. I was glad to spill every tip and bit of advice I could to my roommate, to spare him some of the stuff I learned the hard way.
I told him and other guys not to listen to the bitchers and moaners in re this company. It's not perfect, by any means, and have some downright stupid policies. But this company saved my life and turned me into a success (remember my definition: doing what you love for a living.)
And the rest of you: You can't listen to that crap--or at least not with your emotions engaged. You can take it in and think about it, because some of it IS true, and you ignore that part at your peril. But most of these guys are just permanent bitchers and moaners. They'd be bitching and moaning if they made twice the money running half the miles. Many have been with USA for several years, and been whining and crying about this and that every day of it.
If they ever DID pick up and go somewhere else because it looked like a much better deal, they'd be bitching and moaning about THAT company, too.
There's good and bad things everywhere you go. On balance, USA is pretty competitive with the industry--actually maybe even above average. I was there to tell a couple of the new guys this, and glad to do it. When I was here, there was an ongoing issue about my average length of haul, and somebody higher up in operations screwed me over a few times. But I still averaged around 3000 miles/week.
So there it is. Some shithead worked here with the power to screw me over, but I got my miles and got paid for them. They put me in a brand new experimental automatic after one year. They forgave me a couple incidents (of which I was reminded yesterday. They weren't on my DAC record; the DOT one...but they had occurred while I was here, and USA had them recorded. Ouch!)
So what do you want? Utopia? Grow up. Don't listen to the whiners. If you think you can do better, you can move on, like I did--and leave on good terms.
Good thing I did, huh?
The moment I get done here, I'm going to track down my birth certificate, and (today online or monday on the phone) get it sent to my new address. They've started a new program to expedite loads into Canada. If you're in the program, they have you in their database and know you're not a terrorist or smuggler or whatever, so you can bypass some of the customs ragamarole.
I was happy not to go to Canada before, but if it's somewhat less difficult than it used to be, it's worth it to me. I'd get some longer runs that way...like from Laredo to Toronto! And anyway, I want my proof-of-existance. I'll probably dig up my DD-214 again, too, and get a new VA hospital card.
Well...here I go okbye
Aint the innernet cool? I just ordered my birth certificate from vitalcheck.com. Paid for it and everything. I used regular mail, so it might take a couple weeks, but then I'll get my app in to this program, and get a passport to boot. I just gave myself another raise (trust me).
I'd go after the DD-214 (military stuff) but the Browns will play their first exhibition game pretty soon and I'm going to listen to THAT on the internet. I love this!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Murphy in Little Rock
Well, over the weekend I chgecked out every post office branch and UPS store in Van Buren and Fort Smith in the internet, made one actual phonecall, and have pre-decided on a UPS Store 6 miles from my new home base in Van Buren as my new alleged address.
Today (tuesday) I went to Kenworth to get my truck back, and found my batteries so dead that there was no LED display or other sign of life. Great. Well, I'd known ahead of time that it would probably need a jump after sitting over the weekend with my cooler running...ok ok it was my fault. I should have written off the food in there and unplugged it, along with every other possible battery drain.
They jumped it, ran it into the shop, and immediately shut it down. Then (big surprise) they failed to start, then jumped it again to get it back out. And shut it down immediately. And then, the next day, they tried and failed to start it, jumped it, and drove it back in/shut down immediately to complete the repairs. Then (ditto) to get it into the paint shop. Then ditto to where they left it for me.
The batteries are about 3.5 months old, but most likely have been bludgeoned into fried city. My poor innocent alternator might have caught too much shrapnel, too.
After getting jumped at Kenworth, I drove to HQ to complete the processing. They took my decals and license plates and stuff, and I got new fuel cards and stuff. I had Tony, my Leasing co. handler, go back in time and tell me how my exploded tranny was handled--(adequately; I paid labor but not for the tranny).
They wanted my social security card. I couldn't find it. Searched the truck and still couldn't find it.
They let me go. Without license plates or a temp tag. I'd missed the post office and it was about to close, and byt the time I got to the truck it was close to 5 pm. I was sweaty and pissed off, so I just took the truck. If I get pulled over, I'll be an innocent dumbass and blame my leasing company.
I hit the post office, too late. I cleared my box and then buzzed the "employee only" door to get a change-of-address form from the very decent dude I knew was there and would answer.
Took the truck back here, to my hotel, where it still idles in the optimistic hope of recharging to 14...searched for the social security card some more. Back to this room and laptop, to the internet.
I can apply for a new social security card with my license and and insurance card (and other
stuff) (in lieu of my birth certificate) per the website (unless I run into an asshole)...SO, tomorrow I need to get the shuttle downtown to the Federal Building...
...or a cab. Go apply and hope I don't get an asshole who insists that since I can pribably get my birth certificate within ten days, my other evidence of citezenship won't work....
I'm a vet--I was a c/o--military and GS, and freely offer my fingerprints and stuff--(ohmmm...ohmmm...)
Then I HOPE to come back here and chill for one more night before going to Van Buren.
I intend to open my UPS Store box before going to HQ, pre-paying for a year. Then I'll go on in, and as soon as possible change addresses on all my accounts. Then, of neccessary, I'll tell the Van Buren service center to check my alternator and batteries as they stick USA decals on my truck...
And use some "application pending" statement in lieu of my social security card...ARRRGH!
OK that's it okbye
Today (tuesday) I went to Kenworth to get my truck back, and found my batteries so dead that there was no LED display or other sign of life. Great. Well, I'd known ahead of time that it would probably need a jump after sitting over the weekend with my cooler running...ok ok it was my fault. I should have written off the food in there and unplugged it, along with every other possible battery drain.
They jumped it, ran it into the shop, and immediately shut it down. Then (big surprise) they failed to start, then jumped it again to get it back out. And shut it down immediately. And then, the next day, they tried and failed to start it, jumped it, and drove it back in/shut down immediately to complete the repairs. Then (ditto) to get it into the paint shop. Then ditto to where they left it for me.
The batteries are about 3.5 months old, but most likely have been bludgeoned into fried city. My poor innocent alternator might have caught too much shrapnel, too.
After getting jumped at Kenworth, I drove to HQ to complete the processing. They took my decals and license plates and stuff, and I got new fuel cards and stuff. I had Tony, my Leasing co. handler, go back in time and tell me how my exploded tranny was handled--(adequately; I paid labor but not for the tranny).
They wanted my social security card. I couldn't find it. Searched the truck and still couldn't find it.
They let me go. Without license plates or a temp tag. I'd missed the post office and it was about to close, and byt the time I got to the truck it was close to 5 pm. I was sweaty and pissed off, so I just took the truck. If I get pulled over, I'll be an innocent dumbass and blame my leasing company.
I hit the post office, too late. I cleared my box and then buzzed the "employee only" door to get a change-of-address form from the very decent dude I knew was there and would answer.
Took the truck back here, to my hotel, where it still idles in the optimistic hope of recharging to 14...searched for the social security card some more. Back to this room and laptop, to the internet.
I can apply for a new social security card with my license and and insurance card (and other
stuff) (in lieu of my birth certificate) per the website (unless I run into an asshole)...SO, tomorrow I need to get the shuttle downtown to the Federal Building...
...or a cab. Go apply and hope I don't get an asshole who insists that since I can pribably get my birth certificate within ten days, my other evidence of citezenship won't work....
I'm a vet--I was a c/o--military and GS, and freely offer my fingerprints and stuff--(ohmmm...ohmmm...)
Then I HOPE to come back here and chill for one more night before going to Van Buren.
I intend to open my UPS Store box before going to HQ, pre-paying for a year. Then I'll go on in, and as soon as possible change addresses on all my accounts. Then, of neccessary, I'll tell the Van Buren service center to check my alternator and batteries as they stick USA decals on my truck...
And use some "application pending" statement in lieu of my social security card...ARRRGH!
OK that's it okbye
Friday, August 3, 2007
Little Rock, in Transition
In the trucking industry, we are vulnerable to parasites.
Parasites and the naaive and soft-headed have caused a lot of difficulties, and made everything you buy cost more. Also put more trucks on the road than would be neccessary. Low sulphur fuel is less efficient, so we consume more of it. Hours of service regulations impose a cieling on the best drivers (including me) which prevent us from running as hard as we can. So you have about 15% more trucks on the road than you need.
Some lawyers even specialize in extorting trucking companies. They run ads "Been in an accident with a big truck? Call me now and I will make them give you money!"
Doesn't really matter whose fault it was--and over 85% of the time it's the "plaintiff"'s fault.
Because of this: In three years, having driven over FOUR HUNDRED THOUSAND miles, I have a record. Two citations will drop off my license in November. One is...well I just don't know. The state of Maryland decided to give me a ticket, without using a cop or a courtroom. It just appeared there. Can't figure out what it's even for.
Another, which will also go away in November, is a ticket for an improper lane change in NC.
Well, I had to climb a curb on a right turn, and some guy hit me...I think. He was adverse to me--waiting third in late for his light to change, facing east. I was southbound, and turned west.
I was supposed to have hit him with my left trailer tire without running him or anyone else over with my tractor, and while my right tires were on the curb.
It was easy for me to prove that this was impossible. But for this, I end up with an improper lane change, and most likely the company settled with the asshole and he got the front end repairs he was angling for for free.
I had an asphalt shoulder collapse under me as I pulled onto it, and rolled a trailer.
Now, some other idiot or asshole such as the guy in NC could decide to run into me at any time, and fall out of his car grabbing his neck, and a parasite ambulance chaser gets into it and takes my company to court. "Look! Improper lane change! This other thing! This guy rolled a truck! These guys will hire ANYBODY!"
And a bunch of idiots, even if it's obvious that I did nothing wrong, will decide to transfer a bunch of wealth simply because they feel sorry for the fake whiplash and loss of affection and pain and suffering and all that crap. That's why most suits are settled.
My company's deal with their insurer is set to specific standards. The safety man really dragged me through it, like I was seven years old, or retarded. They agreed to these standards in order to get cheaper rates, and I had become unqualified based on my history.
I went online and applied to my old company, USA, as an owner-operator. My leasing company (that I lease my truck from) has a deal with USA, as well as my current company, so that I can go there with my truck.
Happily, they accepted me, and as soon as my truck's bodywork is done I'll bobtail over to Van Buren for orientation.
New truck? Landstar? Well, I've paid for two years on this truck, and to turn it in would cost me about 20k to pay off my negative balance in my maintenance account. That would be 20k and starting over.
I'll make 2c more/mile here--basicly most likely over 100 more/week. I won't have to switch trucks, and I'll just keep doing what I'm doing--just moving different trailers.
I won't get screwed by politics and stupid policies like I was as a company driver. There is only one dispatcher for the o/o fleet, and all he cares about it production.
One of the load coordinators at USA hated me for some reason. When I left them, having given three weeks' notice, they sent me as far away from Little Rock as they could get me, so that I had to turn in my truck in PA, rent a car, and come all the way back. They could easily have brought me to their own headquarters in Van Buren. It was deliberate.
I've head enemies at other places I worked, and still don't know why. Somebody was simply out to get me.
Well, I'm pretty sure that this childish, evil bastard can't screw me again. My dispatcher, once I prove to him how easy I can make his job, and how productive I can be, will look out for me. I'm starting fresh, and should do fine.
I guess I'm lucky.
Right now I'm in a hotel. Paid for a week, because it was cheaper and I don't expect my truck's bodywork to be done til monday or tuesday.
More later.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Atlanta
I allegedly got here last night, so that I can reset and zero out my hours. It was a very good week. AND, after delivering right here where I'm parked bright and early tomorrow, I'll have til noon the next day (tuesday) before the pay period ends.Wish I could get to California or Oregon more often. I make the most of the longer runs, because I can cram the resets in or deliver way early.
I called my second choice of prospective new partners. (As a contractor, I guess "partner" is the correct term.) I found out that they SELL some of their used company trucks.
In other words, they don't strictly lease them in order to hose drivers out of three to four times their value, and trap drivers in the company store. That changes things, and opens up another option for me.
I'm still saving. I was fortunate to have dumped all the stocks I did when I did, because the balance of my portfolio is hurting now. I eliminated my margin deficit and am about 17% cash, so I dodged a bullet. While my overall value dropped about 9% in just a couple days, I'm still well ahead, and what remains invested is in reasonable shape.
I'm glad I got my trading program, Deep Insight. It warned me, and it was right. It's more useful to me tealling me when to bail out that what or when to buy. The biggest part of what wiped me out in the past was my stubborn refusal to get out. TAKE THE BIRD IN THE HAND. The two in the bush are pteridactyls (sp?) and they gonna EAT ya!
Because of my recent moves, and the fact that this will make it two really good weeks, I can get the new truck and do whatever else I need to at any time. I just feel more comfortable piling up more money first...I mean, it's like insurance.
At some point, they have to bring me back to Little Rock, and from there I'll drive over to the other company to check out their trucks and interrogate their drivers (who will tell me the truth about the whole deal). Then, if neccessary, I'll hit the dealerships and see about financing something there. (Don't know what kind of trucks the company has. I gotta have an automatic tranny, a big sleeper, and MPG's).
The photo you see was taken in California--off I-10. When I get a homesite, I will--if it's feasable--have one of these wind generators. A smaller one, of course.
I saw what looked to me like a lot of dummies driving through the southwest. I saw a whole bunch of roofs, and not many solar cells. Man, you got all that sunshine all day every day, and you just let it cook your roof.
The solar cells SHADE the roof, so IT doesn't get so hot or wear out so soon. The SHADE saves energy because the roof isn't transferring heat. As for what electricity they generate, who cares if it's only enough for a portion of your needs--it's FREE!
Man, I'll get ALL the free electicity I can get. Maybe I'll get SEVERAL wind generators and sell the surplus juice, how 'bout that?
Well...gimme maybe three months. The next step toward that will have been taken. Moe munnah moe munnah moe munnah!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Long Beach, CA
My trading program, TotalInsight, signalled a whole bunch of "sell" signals. Today I had a good connection and was able to check them out. This time, I agreed with several, and dumped a whole bunch of stocks.
In most cases, I took profits. A lot of them...so I need to...email my accountant right away okbye.
In most cases, I took profits. A lot of them...so I need to...email my accountant right away okbye.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Gulfport, MS
I'm not here yet. I have just left Macon, GA and will arrive here at midnight. It's a temporal space thing. I couldn't leave Macon until 7 pm central. If I had, I wouldn't have the 34 hours off duty required to give me zero hours. Therefore, I did not, and am enroute here now.
I will stop on the way and get a new bluetooth earpiece for my phone.
Well, I'm getting sort of frustrated in the truck-buying thing, but have reconsidered financing one, since the payments could approximate my current lease anyway. I'm headed for Laredo, where I'll need to get inspected after delivering, and also get a preventive maintenance...but there are used truck dealers down there, and they TEND to be cheaper than elsewhere.
Laredo is often slow, and I may have time to scamper around checking stuff out.
Anyway, it's ok--I'm still piling up dough, and will need a lot behind me to take over a truck's maintenance out-of-pocket.
Speaking of which, a certain stock I've held for some time has peaked, and I'm dumping it monday. It will free up a BUNCH of cash, and lock in a big gain...which...oh God I HAVE to buy a truck and sink some money into it...
Not gonna think about it back to internet poker okbye.
I will stop on the way and get a new bluetooth earpiece for my phone.
Well, I'm getting sort of frustrated in the truck-buying thing, but have reconsidered financing one, since the payments could approximate my current lease anyway. I'm headed for Laredo, where I'll need to get inspected after delivering, and also get a preventive maintenance...but there are used truck dealers down there, and they TEND to be cheaper than elsewhere.
Laredo is often slow, and I may have time to scamper around checking stuff out.
Anyway, it's ok--I'm still piling up dough, and will need a lot behind me to take over a truck's maintenance out-of-pocket.
Speaking of which, a certain stock I've held for some time has peaked, and I'm dumping it monday. It will free up a BUNCH of cash, and lock in a big gain...which...oh God I HAVE to buy a truck and sink some money into it...
Not gonna think about it back to internet poker okbye.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Seabrook, TX
18 hours early again. They let me hit a dock, so all I gotta do is get woke up in the morning. This is one of the reasons I'm always early--nothing to worry about anymore.
I'm "reading" an audio-book on Alexander the Great. This one relies mostly on the word of Ptolomey, one of his generals, and Aristomulus (sp?), his chief architect--and other reliable sources, and I've decided he really was great. I have also suddenly remembered that I was him in a past life.
I know what you're thinking: "What took you so long to realize it? We knew it all along!"
Well, it's just that I'm too humble to realize stuff like that.
Anyway, I should set the record straight. I was the son of King Philip of Macedon and Queen Olympia of Barbaria. (Mom wasn't Macedonian, hence was a barbarian, and out of the gate people were saying I wasn't a legitimate heir. Really pissed me off.)
Anyway, Dad helped organize the League of Corinth, which united the Greek states (except for those bastards in Sparta.) He was named King of it. This alliance was neccessary, because the Persian Emprire kept invading and conquering everybody, and then there were a bunch of lesser tribes that were running around raiding and pillaging.
Worse, the rich Persians kept bribing people and setting us at eachother's throats. The City-States were separate countries, and constantly at war over one thing or another. Athens was a shadow of it's former self, too, and there was a lot of corruption there. But they had to admit that Dad had built the toughest army in the world, and could protect them.
When I was thirteen, Dad sent me to Aristotle's school in Athens for four years. Know Aristotle? Well, he favored me especially, and taught me what a King should be. The DUTY of a King is the welfare of his subjects. He's not there to gouge them and rob them, but to provide leadership, stability, and protection. It's a two-way street. Tyrants wreck everything for everybody, including themselves.
Aristotle is known to you as a perhaps the greatest Greek Philosopher, but in my time was the acknowleged expert in many fields, including the hard sciences. Later came Da Vinci--Aristotle was like that. And he was my teacher for four years, can ya dig it?
I believed in the highest Greek ideals; largely formed by Aristotle's predecessors, Socrates and Plato. (Socrates was a soldier first, you know. Fought in five campaigns.)
Men should be free, and allowed to speak their minds. We still had slavery, of course. That's what we did with people we defeated. But it was more like indentured servitude, and you could earn or win freedom. You'd get fined heavily or sent to prison for abusing a slave.
People should be educated, and then make intelligent decisions about their own government. Although in Macedon we had a monarchy, and this was hereditary, the new king had to be approved by the Companions. This was the ruling class.
Now, see--monarchy and "ruling class" triggers revulsion in you, but that's because most of them throughout history have been abusive and self-serving. We had a very strong code of ethics in Macedon, which understood that our duty was TO our people. We were a nation of farmers, mostly. People had to work hard, and were glad to have us take care of the larger affairs of state, so long as we didn't tax the hell out of them or push them around.
In Athens, thanks to abuses in their DEMOCRACY, people were impoverished, and many of their young men were mercenaries--some employed by the Syrian Empire--you believe that? (Don't get me started on the Spartans. They had actively fought alongside the invaders whenever it suited them. And, too, they were ruled by ruthless tyrants.)
At any rate, Dad (King Philip) wanted to knock out the Syrian threat once and for all, but first had to bring the rest of our enemies under control, or they'd be all over us as soon as the army left. All along our northern border, there were large tribes who kept raiding and pillaging us.
Before he could really get started, though, he was assassinated. At the time, I was about twenty. I'd served as one of his generals, and done a nice job. I had also replaced him at the Palace while he was away, seeing ambassadors and running things, and people liked how I did that, as well.
I was pretty popular among the common people, most of the companions, and especially the soldiers (we had a professional army, by the way.) But some said that because mom was a barbarian, the real legit heir was my half-brother from his second marriage; and infant. There was a big move to install a regent on his behalf. (His mother's Aristocrat father).
Further, Athens eagerly declared the league of Corinth null and void, because that deal was with Philip. (Athens never liked us much: "buncha farmers".) Thebes, too, split away. Everything looked like it was going to collapse. But I got named King of Macedon, anyway.
I had to take action fast, and I did. I went up north and kicked the hill tribes' butts. I left garrisons, but also well-diggers and other experts to help those people learn modern agriculture and stuff. They were expecting me to sack, pillage, and enslave them, but I didn't. In fact, my soldiers were forbidden from molesting any of the women. I put two of them to death for doing so. I set one captive woman free--she'd killed a soldier who'd raped her, and was honest about it. I would have killed him myself.
Because I was benevolent, and even allowed them to continue governing themselves, they loved me. DUH!
Point is: I wasn't a conqueror. I was a liberator. You don't seem to know the difference. Wise up.
But Thebes crossed the line. They killed two of my emissaries. It was bad enough that they'd withdrawn from the league the first chance they got. They were very powerful, and felt they could defy me.
I'm telling you here and now, I did what I did for the sake of the league, and that I had a broader vision. Ask Ptolomey or Aristomulus: I spoke of all men as brothers, beyond race or country. I spoke of one overriding God. I did what I did to make the world a better place for everyone.
Well, when I showed up with my army 6 miles from their capitol, they wouldn't even apologize for killing my people. They even killed more of them, and called me names and stuff. I tried everything to avoid a conflict and reunite us. Hey, you remember Abraham Lincoln? See how it was?
Well, they wouldn't listen, so I had to kick their asses. Now, when it was over, I turned to the various peoples that Thebes (another tyranny) had been stomping on for generations, and left their fate up to them.
Big mistake. They slaughtered and enslaved them. My bad. But it was sort of neccessary:
You see, upon hearing first of my mercy in the north, and then my brutality with Thebes, people saw the writing on the wall, and sent emissaries to me from all over to offer their allegience--to me, as to my father. (Except Sparta, naturally. Today you romanticize them, but let me tell you--they were rotten bastards.)
By the way, my soldiers loved me because I shared all their hardships, and LED them into battle. Yes, in my shiny armor and plumes and stuff. And I don't mind telling you, I personally killed a lot of enemy soldiers. (The Oracle of Delphi had told me that I was invicible. And I was not afraid to die).
Today, many think I was just a maniac who loved war. True, I was unafraid, but didn't do it just to prove something, or to get my jollies, or for any of the other crappy reasons you assign to me. You are jealous, and simply WANT to think that I was just as lousy as you are. Your level of cynicism is disgusting. You want think everybody sucks, so that you don't feel so bad that YOU suck. WRONG. I really WAS a superman. DEAL with it.
Aristotle's student believed in peace and freedom for all people, and had to do some nasty stuff to get there.
Anyway, with most of Greece at peace and the hostile tribes subdued, it was safe for me to get after King Darius and the Persian Empire.
That clown Demothsenes in Athens was always orating against me, for some reason. Wanted them to pull out of the league and act like Sparta. He'd produced witnesses to my death in the North, which was partly why Thebes grew big ones...they'd thought I was dead! Demothsenes would, throughout my life, campaign against me, and everything I did--and many would believe him.
Oh! I forgot. While I was away trying to get confirmed as King, mom had both my half-brother and his mom killed. I raised hell, but what was I to do? Put my mother to death for protecting me?
Anyway, my dad (King Philip) had assembled a professional army of 40,000 infantry. The Companion Cavalry 10-15,000 consisted of sons of the aristocracy, and themselves were severely well-trained, professional, and fearless. It was recognized as the most effective force in the world, and this was partly why Dad, with Aristotle's help and influence (and despite Demothsenes), was able to unite most of Greece...uneasily...sorta.
Now, I was going to put a stop to constant Syrian wars of conquest against us...you see? It was my duty to protect my people, even if I didn't have the higher ideals I mentioned in mind.
To be continued.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Pineville, NC
Got an email from Landstar saying they sent my package. Early again, waiting to get unloaded. Got creamed in poker. Updated photos. Put order in to buy some more of a cheap uranium stock. Can't believe I got more bread now than before I lost all this time.
Above left: US 69 in Oklahoma. Probably a ticked off citezen doing his civic duty--or possibly some sneaky cops. Got 'em set up northbound and southbound. And yeah...there is one. A bunch, really. Every freaking 4-8 miles wham--you gotta brake it down from 65 to 50. Up and down like a yo-yo for like 50 miles.
Above right: Here, about 3 hrs ago.
That is all.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Shelby, OH
I'm stuck waiting for a load. Freight traffic is slow, and sometimes you're stuck someplace waiting for several hours, or even a day. Fortunately, thanks to high tech, I have the internet to kill time with.
No internet poker today yet. Instead, I contacted Arrow Trucks. They have 2,500 trucks in their inventory. Last night I emailed them with my specs: I want a truck they're going to auction that I can rebuild.
This morning (monday) a salesman from their St. Louis branch got right back to me. He said that they had two that were going today. He was hoping I'd jump, of course, but I asked him how often they got those. Every thirty days or so, he said. Ok, well, I'm not in a hurry and want the RIGHT truck. He'll give me as much notice as he can so that I can get by there.
They're actually in IL off I-55. That's off my company's primary lanes for mere mortals, but I know a shortcut through northern AR, and can get there on any runs to or from the middle southwest to the northeast or back without burning extra fuel or losing time.
I called and talked, and then emailed a followup, mentioning that I'd be open to other deals, as in on a truck they'd normally finance that's not due for a rebuild, for a certain price-range. I doubt that they'll be able to satisfy me there, but it's worth a shot.
I've got to tell you: They have free truck-sale papers at the truckstops, and dealers advertize online. One add: A truck with EIGHT HUNDRED THOUSAND miles on it for 37k. Made my blood boil. That truck is within 200,000 miles of a rebuild, of it's not due for one already. Probably gets a half-mile per gallon less than it did new and struggles on hills. WTF! I couldn't look at it much for fear of going blind, but it must have had a lot of chrome on it. Must have been a very pretty pile of junk.
I might get lucky and get one with, say, 600k on it and in need of some bodywork for under 18k. One that I could count on 300,000 more miles on before I need to sink 15k into rebuilding. With this truck, I'd probably go ahead and get a refrigerator, see if I could find a used generator (so that I needn't idle my truck and burn more fuel), upgrade the sound system, and consider bodywork.
The tough part is this: Moving out of a truck is like moving out of a house. Not just all my clothes and stuff, but my inverter, which is wired into the batteries. I'll have to go to where the new truck is, park next to it, and spend at least a DAY moving stuff into it. I'll probably have to pay a technician to take care of the inverter, then or later.
Then I return the old truck to AEL and start fighting them over the 20k they say I owe on it. Then take a bus or something to go back up and fetch the new truck. Then get everything processed through my O/O company all over again...I think.
You see, the whole idea of this is to make my move to bigger money--and why not Landstar, since that's where I aim to end up anyway?
But you can't apply without your own truck, so I won't be able to until I have the new title in my hands, and the truck in a condition to meet their requirements. Every company, to varying degrees, sweats "image", and also doesn't want drivers running trucks that are likely to break down.
So what I'll do is, as soon as I'm finished here, go to the Landstar website and get an application sent to me. I'll have that filled out and ready to fax when my newused truck is ready. You need to send them photos of it too, sometimes.
I can run with temporary tags for two weeks or a month, I think--not that it matters.
If Landstar accepts me, I'd probably want my own authority. But I may not be able to get one, since my address is a post office box, and using my Gman's in Ohio would subject me to Ohio taxes...well, when I incorporate it will be in Nevada with a resident agent. There will be a physical address there, so maybe I'll just do that later and make ten cents less/mile til that's settled. The authority will need to be in the Corp's name anyway....
I hate this stuff.
With the newused truck I can probably get it to a bodyshop and wherever else it needs to go, along with the bulk of my junk stashed in it, and then continue driving this truck for this company until that's all done. Then return this truck to the leasing company in Little Rock, but not start the battle with them over the money yet.
Then bus--no, rent a car--to go get the newused truck and bring it back. Complete the move, and THEN engage in battle and pay the leasing company off. In the meanwhile, I'll have been in touch with Landstar already. I may not know yet about Landstar, but my backup is the high-paying reefer company which is only 60 miles from Little Rock.
They're smaller and I have a contact person there. I will have disclosed my driving record and (ideally) confirmed that there is a gig waiting there for me once I have a truck. I'll wait for Landstar's decision and delay everything else, meanwhile taking care of my inverter and (ideally again) a used generator installation.
(As soon as the bastards realized they could gouge for truck generators, they went from 3 to 8 grand. I won't pay that, so I'll try to find a used one.)
Anyway, I won't burn any bridges. As I said, I like my current company a lot, and the only reasons I mean to leave is for more money, longer runs, and--in the case of Landstar--self-determination (freedom).
Trucking companies don't take it personally when you leave (on good terms). Or when you get tentatively accepted and then tell them you're going somewhere else. Good faith here is calling and TELLING them this, rather than just not showing up.
I will, of possible, give at least a week's notice to my current company of my leaving. But unlike in other industries, this is common. Companies are always trying to lease new drivers and never have enough, and my departure wouldn't change anything; one driver isn't enough to put them in a bind.
It's going to be stressful and difficult physicly and mentally. For me, especially, it's going to be hell. But sometimes you just have to put in your mouthpiece and go through this sort of purgatory. In a couple weeks, I'll come out the other side in a nicer place than I've ever been. It's worth it. It really is.
There you go. I just mapped it out (roughly) for myself, well in advance. Now I know that I need to contact the two companies and get those balls rolling. I've got a foundation, and as I think about it further over the next few weeks, I'll refine it. By the time I get to the newused truck, I'll have it mapped out like a commando raid.
There's something to be said for being obsessive, ya know?
No internet poker today yet. Instead, I contacted Arrow Trucks. They have 2,500 trucks in their inventory. Last night I emailed them with my specs: I want a truck they're going to auction that I can rebuild.
This morning (monday) a salesman from their St. Louis branch got right back to me. He said that they had two that were going today. He was hoping I'd jump, of course, but I asked him how often they got those. Every thirty days or so, he said. Ok, well, I'm not in a hurry and want the RIGHT truck. He'll give me as much notice as he can so that I can get by there.
They're actually in IL off I-55. That's off my company's primary lanes for mere mortals, but I know a shortcut through northern AR, and can get there on any runs to or from the middle southwest to the northeast or back without burning extra fuel or losing time.
I called and talked, and then emailed a followup, mentioning that I'd be open to other deals, as in on a truck they'd normally finance that's not due for a rebuild, for a certain price-range. I doubt that they'll be able to satisfy me there, but it's worth a shot.
I've got to tell you: They have free truck-sale papers at the truckstops, and dealers advertize online. One add: A truck with EIGHT HUNDRED THOUSAND miles on it for 37k. Made my blood boil. That truck is within 200,000 miles of a rebuild, of it's not due for one already. Probably gets a half-mile per gallon less than it did new and struggles on hills. WTF! I couldn't look at it much for fear of going blind, but it must have had a lot of chrome on it. Must have been a very pretty pile of junk.
I might get lucky and get one with, say, 600k on it and in need of some bodywork for under 18k. One that I could count on 300,000 more miles on before I need to sink 15k into rebuilding. With this truck, I'd probably go ahead and get a refrigerator, see if I could find a used generator (so that I needn't idle my truck and burn more fuel), upgrade the sound system, and consider bodywork.
The tough part is this: Moving out of a truck is like moving out of a house. Not just all my clothes and stuff, but my inverter, which is wired into the batteries. I'll have to go to where the new truck is, park next to it, and spend at least a DAY moving stuff into it. I'll probably have to pay a technician to take care of the inverter, then or later.
Then I return the old truck to AEL and start fighting them over the 20k they say I owe on it. Then take a bus or something to go back up and fetch the new truck. Then get everything processed through my O/O company all over again...I think.
You see, the whole idea of this is to make my move to bigger money--and why not Landstar, since that's where I aim to end up anyway?
But you can't apply without your own truck, so I won't be able to until I have the new title in my hands, and the truck in a condition to meet their requirements. Every company, to varying degrees, sweats "image", and also doesn't want drivers running trucks that are likely to break down.
So what I'll do is, as soon as I'm finished here, go to the Landstar website and get an application sent to me. I'll have that filled out and ready to fax when my newused truck is ready. You need to send them photos of it too, sometimes.
I can run with temporary tags for two weeks or a month, I think--not that it matters.
If Landstar accepts me, I'd probably want my own authority. But I may not be able to get one, since my address is a post office box, and using my Gman's in Ohio would subject me to Ohio taxes...well, when I incorporate it will be in Nevada with a resident agent. There will be a physical address there, so maybe I'll just do that later and make ten cents less/mile til that's settled. The authority will need to be in the Corp's name anyway....
I hate this stuff.
With the newused truck I can probably get it to a bodyshop and wherever else it needs to go, along with the bulk of my junk stashed in it, and then continue driving this truck for this company until that's all done. Then return this truck to the leasing company in Little Rock, but not start the battle with them over the money yet.
Then bus--no, rent a car--to go get the newused truck and bring it back. Complete the move, and THEN engage in battle and pay the leasing company off. In the meanwhile, I'll have been in touch with Landstar already. I may not know yet about Landstar, but my backup is the high-paying reefer company which is only 60 miles from Little Rock.
They're smaller and I have a contact person there. I will have disclosed my driving record and (ideally) confirmed that there is a gig waiting there for me once I have a truck. I'll wait for Landstar's decision and delay everything else, meanwhile taking care of my inverter and (ideally again) a used generator installation.
(As soon as the bastards realized they could gouge for truck generators, they went from 3 to 8 grand. I won't pay that, so I'll try to find a used one.)
Anyway, I won't burn any bridges. As I said, I like my current company a lot, and the only reasons I mean to leave is for more money, longer runs, and--in the case of Landstar--self-determination (freedom).
Trucking companies don't take it personally when you leave (on good terms). Or when you get tentatively accepted and then tell them you're going somewhere else. Good faith here is calling and TELLING them this, rather than just not showing up.
I will, of possible, give at least a week's notice to my current company of my leaving. But unlike in other industries, this is common. Companies are always trying to lease new drivers and never have enough, and my departure wouldn't change anything; one driver isn't enough to put them in a bind.
It's going to be stressful and difficult physicly and mentally. For me, especially, it's going to be hell. But sometimes you just have to put in your mouthpiece and go through this sort of purgatory. In a couple weeks, I'll come out the other side in a nicer place than I've ever been. It's worth it. It really is.
There you go. I just mapped it out (roughly) for myself, well in advance. Now I know that I need to contact the two companies and get those balls rolling. I've got a foundation, and as I think about it further over the next few weeks, I'll refine it. By the time I get to the newused truck, I'll have it mapped out like a commando raid.
There's something to be said for being obsessive, ya know?
Sunday, July 8, 2007
CLEVELAND
Oops! I hope this photo isn't redundant--I need to take some more. I'm kind of lazy, and just pick one out of my collection without checking previous blogs for it. I need to organize them, but for me it's harder than for normal people.
I hate reading directions, so I just stumble around learning by trial and error. My most important tools are "undo", and "no", (and sometimes "restart").
Being a dumbass, I forgot to take my digital camera to my nephew's wedding, so I can't put photos from it in here.
Man, I was impressed by a lot of things. For one thing, my nephew (I'll call him Eman2, since he's my fraternal twin's kid), is a hellacious dancer. I never liked dancing; just did it because it was (in the 70's) the only way to get dates. And because (to me) it was a silly ritual, I never enjoyed or got any good at it.
But seeing that kid making his entrance with his new bride filled me with a sense of roads not taken. It was just so COOL! And it was clear that he really dug it, so it was genuine. What moves the kid had...so smooth, so easy...(sigh).
Then there was his bride, who for lack of a better fake name I'll call Mandy. For her dance with her father, the song played had been recorded by her. I have never heard a more professional, flawless execution. Benetar, Twain, etc. move over--she was that good (in only three takes).
I felt regret for not having spent more time with Eman2 as he grew up, but the fact is I am who I am. I'm a loner, and in an earlier time would have been a mountain man, or possibly a freight hauler--somewhere away from other people. It's not a matter of being antisocial. It's more like being a-social.
Yeah, I know: mememe. Well, it's my blog, see?
Anyway I'll bet that my gift to them was the most important. I sent them a one year subscription to the Dines Letter www.dinesletter.com . If they invest in the stocks he recommends, they'll make a great return on their money, and be off to a nice start. I'm up over 300% on one of those stocks, and over 100% on a few others. I've taken big profits on a couple, and bought back in.
My two big sisters were there, who I haven't seen for years. They hate that I still smoke.
I can't write a damn soap opera here, but there are some subsurface issues in the family relationships here. I've found that G3, my other nephew, is fond of nursing grudges, making mountains out of mole-hills, and overreacting.
In dealing with other people, inevittably there will be conflicts, and oversights of protocol or courtesy. I've always dismissed them. In reality it's really rare that anybody would personally offend you deliberately, or without what (to them is) a good reason.
For G3, NOTHING goes unnoticed, and his reaction is always an OVERreaction. He would make a good Cicilian...spending his whole life pursuing assorted vendettas.
When our father died, he left the bulk of his estate, including the house we all grew up in, to G3. G3 knew that this was patently unfair, and voluntarily met with the rest of us to make a redistribution. He came there (to Eman's house), with his reallocations all pre-determined, and determined not to bend or compromise.
My biggest sis, Carol, thought that partial ownership of the aforementioned property would be in order. She is separated from me by a generation--was in college as of my earliest memory. She was the first-born and a female, and treated differently by our parents than us boys were. There were some serious issues and resentments left in her from that time, and she never forgave it.
I don't know many details, but I do know that she resented being treated as females were traditionally treated in that dark era and prior to it. There was no Gloria Steinam to help her out. I also know that our family doctor and his wife sort of took her under their wing, and, for whatever reason, our father forbade her to see them anymore, and cut off contact with them himself (until my appendix burst when I was 13).
Probably, she rebelled--or else tried to communicate with Dad--and he felt that this couple was undermining him and turning his child against him. At any rate: BIG mistake.
Another issue was that my parents fought like cats and dogs when Eman and I were infants. We heard it nearly every night. Later, it settled down, but there was no affection to the relationship; they were strangers in the same home. I guess the walls broke down temporarily sometime later, as Gman was born.
But the conflict no doubt began when Carol was young and alone, and then when Lee, the second sibling, was added to the mix. Carol might have also felt that Lee was treated better than she was, but that's just a wild guess. Carol is inarguably damn smart--too smart to be the forst-born who reflexively gets jealous of the new sibling's treatment. I'd assume that if she does feel that way, she has reason to.
She's referred to our home as an insane assylum. But I contended, and still do, that such households were more common than she wishes to believe. Nobody divorced back then, and in most cases spouses cheated on eachother, then came home and fought like cats and dogs just as our parents did. They stayed together--probably mistakenly--for the sake of the children.
But there were no beatings or physical violence. We were safe, well-educated and fed. It was far from ideal, but...but I digress:
She tried to persuade George to split up the house. I'm not certain why, but she did.
Gman refused, and Carol let it drop. Simple, right? WRONG. Because G3 found out about it, and Carol became public enemy number one.
My reaction? Aw, for cryin' out loud, kid! Is it possible, I wonder, that G3 and Carol are similar? Carol is immune to anything I ever said about the commonness of such households, the prevalence of attitudes like my father's (and my mother's--who failed to stand up for her), the fact that parents make all their mistakes with their first children and improve subsequently, etc.
G3 is immune to what I've told him about Carol and how she felt--and the fact that her request was for her a matter of principal, having nothing to do with him or his father.
In fact, when G3 was a tot, knee-high to his dad, I mentioned to him that when his dad was his age, his head was too big for his body, and the kid shouted "it was NOT!" in a state of outrage. I saw an element of his personality right there--and was alarmed by it. I know me, too. I would
have said "Really?"
Later, Gman gave Carol and Lee the family album, which they said they'd scan into the computer and return in digitized form. They failed to do this, so G3 doesn't know what his Dad's family looked like. G3 is resents this, but it fails to rise to the level of hatred. But G3 got ahold of it, and...well, that's just ALL I needed, ya know?
Gman refuses to bother them about the photos. I understand--I'm like that too. To some extent we all are. It's on me. I'll do it. Hell, it was just an oversight. They just forgot about it, like everybody does. You procrastinate, or think somebody else was supposed to do it, or whatever.
Another thing, about our father: I believe he was a sociopath. Carol should check with her husband, the shrink. People hear that word and think mass-murderer, but most sociopaths live relatively normal lives.
They are incapable of empathy. Most of their social behaviors are rote; a matter of duty or obligation. They are born this way; they have something "missing", and are, depending on how you look at it, more or less than human. And our mother? Intelligent, but far too emotional and somewhat manic--another PHYSICAL condition. A manic depressive and a sociopath...a match made in heaven!
FORGIVE THEM!
Lee is the sister I remember. She was in highschool when we were little. We stole gum from her purse and stuff. She was well-adjusted and mild-mannered. She was kind to us--except when we had raided her purse and she was chasing us around. Every one of us are really smart, by the way (blush-blush). Carol proved it clinicly, with several advanced degrees.
I feel as if I'm the most pragmatic of all of us, though. My emotions don't interfere so much with analytical thinking. This was substantially the result of my Air Force training. I was fortunate enough not to have served in war, or be used in an analysis role, but you must understand this:
For an intelligence analyst to allow emotion or personal opinion to influence his estimates is incompetance. Emotional detatchment is CRITICAL. Had we been at war I would have been a ground-based foreward air controller or an analyst. If I played "hunches", or perhaps allowed the fact that my friend had been killed by a certain enemy unit to influence my thinking, I could target civilians or friendly units. I could cost us position. I could lose a war.
You target the arms depot, looking right at women and kids. If you don't, you'll find that shrapnel and those bullets in the bodies of americans later--aimed at them by the combattants you left alive amid their weaponry. That is reality. DEAL with it.
When you really understand this, it alters you, permanently. Emotional detachment becomes a tool, and TRUTH your highest ideal. Truth is not morality, or actually an ideal at all (I just used the expression). It is reality. A reality that includes extrapolation and permutation into the future, and on the broadest scale.
Others pay lip service to this, but it's like going to church and acting holy for one hour a week. They really don't GET it.
They will vote for a woman or a black because they are female or black. They will declare someone innocent or guilty because they like them or don't. They will recite platitudes and sound-bytes they heard verbatum, but make each and every choice contingent first and foremost upon how it will effect them personally (and damn the community and their children's futures).
Ah, there I go again--off on a tangent. But I never go off on these without reason. I'd hope that someday Carol and G3 might read this, and understand how short life is. (You tie it up--it's over MY head!) Haha.
Anyway, I also saw my favorite aunt. The wife of my late favorite blood-uncle; my dad's middle brother. Went to the Phillipines in WW2. Probably saved from being killed in an invasion by the two nukes. Came back and went to school on the GI bill. The only brother to get degrees. Worked his way up to superintendant of one of the foremost school districts in the country. Organized every family reunion. Beloved by all--especially every generation of children.
Aunt Mary, his cultured, refined, intelligent and classy wife, NO DOUBT had everything to do with the man he became. And she told me this at the reception: After the war, he was beaten down attending school and working full-time. He called the V.A. (with Aunt Mary eavesdropping). She heard him say "Hello, Susan. I need you to send me the papers. I've got to quit school.--"
He was due for a 2-week break in another week. Aunt Mary called the V.A. behind his back and asked for Susan. She told her not to send the papers. Bob might change his mind.
And he did. And she even told him to go to school full-time, and they'd scrape by. And he did. She didn't talk about how, but I suspect that he borrowed money, perhaps from her family. Which he no doubt repaid with interest.
And so he became a great man. Sweet!
Too much to talk about with the family, really...
I go back to Shelby, OH tonight to try to get an empty trailer from a Goodyear plant. If they've got one for me, I can settle into a parking place I know there for a good night's sleep and report in before my dispatcher arrives monday morning, ready to roll. I'm glad I have a Qualcom unit, which is like email--or maybe a chat room. I have a series of numbered canned messages that I send.
To return from my time off, I'll first send in my hours for the last seven days--mostly zeros. Then a 34-hour reset message (meaning that I have zero hours and am available). Then (because my dispatcher never assumes) a written message stating that I am ready to roll.
And then it's hammer-time. I've got to pile up some more cash. I'm not in a big hurry, but within the next couple months, I need to dig up my next truck, buy it for cash, and probably get it rebuilt and fixed up--for cash. Up to 25k. Then turn in my current lease-truck. They say I owe 20k on my maintenance account (which is like a medical savings account for trucks).
There will be a fight. They charged me for the replacement of a transmission that blew up only three weeks after I got the truck from them. I'll have on my attorney persona, and doubt that they'll force me to get a lawyer and sue them...but it'll still cost me 16k or so to get out from under the truck. (The other charges are legit. I know it, because unlike most truckers, I read the contract before I signed it.)
I could remain with my company, with which I've been happy for some time, but won't. I'll have two choices. One company runs reefers (regrigerated trailers) and pays 66% to owner-operators. This translates to approximately 1.75 per mile (the load charges vary). I'm currently paid 87c/mile. The reefer co. runs longer distances on average, which suits me well.
Here I'd make the most money I could without driving on ice in Alaska or hauling military stuff on flatbeds (I'd never even think about oversized loads--you got to stick with a convoy with those, and I'm a lone wolf.)
The other choice is Landstar. They pay the same percentages, but the average load charge is lower. If I bought my own authority--(or commercial truck license in my own, rather than the company's name), this percentage is higher by a good ten percent, but I'd have to secure my own insurance, etc. and probably pay for repairs out-of-pocket, but I can handle that stuff.
Some can't. They NEED that maintenance account because they blow all their own money on chrome and stuff. Then they get hammered with a $6,000.00 repair and they don 't have the money for it. I have trouble feeling sorry for them. I've saved, invested, and compounded money since I started. I leased the oldest and cheapest truck, with the cheapest insurance and the best fuel economy, and never spent a dime on cosmetic stuff.
I'll be forced to dump a lot of stock to engineer all this, and potentially wipe out half my savings, but (if I do get my own authority, which I probably will), will never have less than ten thousand bucks available for a catastrophe--and the ability to go liquid the next business day and free up more. That's just plain common sense.
And I still won't pay extra for fancy paint or chrome. I'll just have a refrigerator installed, and a better sound system, maybe. I won't wash it unless it's salted-up. Who the hell do I need to impress? That stuff is so silly!
I'll end up with Landstar anyway, so they are probably my first option. This is why: They have a network of brokers, who list loads on the Landstar website. From my truck and my laptop and with my wireless internet connection, I can shop around and grab those loads, essentially dispatching my own self.
If I want to take two weeks (or months) off, I simply do. I needn't inform anyone--I just don't take any loads for awhile and remain wherever I am...after having got myself paid for getting there, that is.
This is another reason why I want to pay cash for my next truck. No weekly truck payments. My weekly expenses could be less than 200 bucks (I think), so taking time off to scout out some real property--or to fix it up--wouldn't start sucking my accounts dry at a prodigeous rate.
I'll be keeping the hammer down hard for at least another two years before doing anything else. I still love the job and might as well exploit that to max out my savings. I got a late start (misspent youth, the road not taken, and all that). Now, I'm fortunate enough to be able to buy my freedom. Cash for land. Cash to build a home. Cash for a recording and art studio.
GOD BLESS AMERICA! I just hope the gaping rectums in our government don't destroy the industry first.
We build our own fences.
We lock our own doors.
We forge our own chains in smoke-filled rooms,
Of meaningless words like "someday".
Is it the fear of failure,
Or fear of success--
That has us listening and believing,
What a beaten world has to say?
How clearly can a mind's eye see?
Beyond misty dreams to what can really be?
We make our own reality.
I wish I'd never heard the word "someday."
-Robert Morris-
Friday, July 6, 2007
CLEVELAND
Well after more repairs (yawn) I needed to take hometime early for my nephew's wedding...well...reception.
I hate weddings, and all other formalized rituals. That's just the kinda insensitive bastard I am. My bro Gman and his kid G3 are all worried about offending the bride (a beautiful kid who teaches welfare kids) by not attending.
My other bro, Eman--the nephew in questions's daddy--told me the wedding part was "optional". I dunno...I got to do what Gman does. Jeez, you'd think she'd want mainly people she actually KNEW fairly well there, but who can say with wo...ok nevermind.
Bub tried to fix HAL and couldn't. It said "What are you doing...Bub?" But bub (the closest thing any of us are to a computer expert), gave me some tips on choosing Hal's eventual replacement (SHHH!).
I heard that...Wile E.
Shut the hell up you pieca crap. When I get the stuff I need out of you there's a BMFH with your name on it if you keep it up. Dammit.
G3 needs to be a general because he slaughtered me in Allied General again. Lousy Hun bastard.
He won some money on my poker account, though. He's more aggressive than me, and pretty good in his own way. Except I kind of like to play some poker myself occasionally...ya know?
I think I've decided to become an S-Corp after all, and had E-Trade send me a SEP IRA application. My nephew is a CPA and told me the 40k I can put in doesn't all qualify for reducing my taxable income. He said 15k. That's ok, I'll take it.
The S-Corp can insulate me from the horrendous and despicable medicare and social security gouging.
For this year I should be ok too as an individual, since I'm going to have to blow about half of my savings on a newused truck, and the (alleged) 20k deficit on the Carey's maintenance account.
Well, time to idle Carey some and go to bed. Looking foreward to seeing some of my clanpeeps tomorrow. Okbye.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Dear Nobody:
Well, today I took the hotel shuttle to Kenworth, then had it follow me in my truck to Freightliner, then take me back here. Kenworth is pretty good, and got the ABS valve for about half what I'd expected. They replaced batteries (instead of my alternator again) to fix my electrical problem. As expensive as this long, long layoff has been, I feel better about everything now.
In all this time, I've only hit the bar once. I don't think it's just physical; that I get headaches the next day and stuff. I think it's more atmospheric. I don't like loud music or flashing lights. Don't like stratosphied crowds, either. And I'm not happy sitting by myself (in a bar). And then...like last night...I knew that I'd have to move the truck today, and can't seem to let go much when I've got unfinished business.
I did do some internet shopping, and have some recommendations for my legions of rabid fans, which I'm absolutely certain will not include anybody related to me, since they are rabidly determined to avoid me:
Ok. I went through a torturous obstacle course to get an affiliate deal with Puritan's Pride (nutritional supplements), but don't have a link yet. I'll come back and edit it in later...meanwhile of you order stuff from them I'll track you down and demand my three percent or whatever the hell it is, see?
Ok I got the email. They gave me this link to go look for text-links...ok here's yet still more free and valuable info which everybody but my family can get here: I'm talking about a link which says, probably, "Puritan's Pride" in the text, but has the actual html buried under it. An affiliate link is coded for the referrer (ie ME), so that I get a commision for any sales coming from people who click that link and end up buying stuff. I've decided to make this a semi-commercial site now, and will get deeper into it later...
Puritan's Pride Quality Vitamins GOT IT HAHA!
Ok here I'll try to use the link I copied from the email. I'll see if it translates to english as far as what you see, and then of it works. Here goes: OK dammit-I got the whole damn html rubic's cube, and clicking it refreshed the page--same as in the damn email.
Here's a useful digression: IF you're interesting and/or informative, and can establish a readership, and IF you're honest enough to only make recommendations you're sincere about, you can make some easy money on the internet by recommending stuff to people, in just this way.
..Ok I have two blogs now, but it now appears that I need a third one. This one will be about making money, and will have a specific niche (which is important onthe internet--you must specialize. My targets will be younger versions of ME, representing maybe 5% of the population...I'll save the details for that site...ok nevermind.)
Anyway here was a sneak preview. You have to deal with technical glitches. I mean, I copied and pasted the link to where I was supposed to get an intelligable (and functional) text-link, and got a generic commercial page with no log-in option, and about twelve dead links. Time to set up my commercial blog now--we now return you to your regularly scheduled blog:
Anyway, yeah, I've dealt with them before, and they've always been the best deal I could find on most nutritional supplements. They have almost everything you'd want, cheaper than you'll get anywhere else, including Wal-Mart.
If you check it out, you need to do the math!!! You see, their price per-bottle isn't that good--but just about everything is a buy one, get two free deal. They also try to make you think that you can save more by buying two and getting four free, but it aint so, and you're better off just getting three, so they stay fresh.
Further math only makes it better. Like, I got this carb-blocker stuff (mostly white bean extract). I get that stuff at Wal-Mart for six bucks/bottle, and paid about eighteen for three from Puritan's Pride, right? A wash? No, because the bottles have twice as many pills, and the milligrams and dosage are the same. I saved 100% over the Wal-Mart price, see?
Their shipping is $3.98 regardless of the order size, too!
I don't know why I ever got away from this company. Probably because they don't have certain stuff like Hyleoronic acid, ir HGH, and I went elsewhere to get that stuff.
I forgot to see whether or not they have any smart pills, but will check on that. Meanwhile, at the local pharmacy I found "Focus Formula" from Windmill (labs or something). 20 bucks for a month's supply, and it's quite similar to Focus Factor, which wants you to mortgage your house to pay for it.
I got prostate stuff, a nose hair trimmer for six bucks (a GOOD one), a magnifying sheet like a big magnifying glass for three bucks, the carb-blocker, and argenine/ornithane (helps you metabolize lard and collect muscle)...and some other junk, maybe.
Ok well it's after 5:00 so I'm going to margaritaville...or bloodymaryville--aint sure yet.
But I'm going tonight. The bar at the Holiday Inn (next door and closer to me than the one right here) opens at 5:00. And it's sunday.
Man, I used to drink a ton. Maybe if I were stationary, with a "real" job, I'd still hit a neighborhood bar more often. I don't know. I do know that I'm no alchoholic. I don't think either side of my family has that dangerous gene--which has a lot to do with it.
Anyway, today I did some shopping on the internet, and will make some recommendations to...ok waitaminnit...excuse me while I check the sites to see if they have affiliate deals. Might as well collect some loose change in case my millions of adoring fans want to order anything...be back shortly....
In all this time, I've only hit the bar once. I don't think it's just physical; that I get headaches the next day and stuff. I think it's more atmospheric. I don't like loud music or flashing lights. Don't like stratosphied crowds, either. And I'm not happy sitting by myself (in a bar). And then...like last night...I knew that I'd have to move the truck today, and can't seem to let go much when I've got unfinished business.
I did do some internet shopping, and have some recommendations for my legions of rabid fans, which I'm absolutely certain will not include anybody related to me, since they are rabidly determined to avoid me:
Ok. I went through a torturous obstacle course to get an affiliate deal with Puritan's Pride (nutritional supplements), but don't have a link yet. I'll come back and edit it in later...meanwhile of you order stuff from them I'll track you down and demand my three percent or whatever the hell it is, see?
Ok I got the email. They gave me this link to go look for text-links...ok here's yet still more free and valuable info which everybody but my family can get here: I'm talking about a link which says, probably, "Puritan's Pride" in the text, but has the actual html buried under it. An affiliate link is coded for the referrer (ie ME), so that I get a commision for any sales coming from people who click that link and end up buying stuff. I've decided to make this a semi-commercial site now, and will get deeper into it later...
Puritan's Pride Quality Vitamins GOT IT HAHA!
Ok here I'll try to use the link I copied from the email. I'll see if it translates to english as far as what you see, and then of it works. Here goes: OK dammit-I got the whole damn html rubic's cube, and clicking it refreshed the page--same as in the damn email.
Here's a useful digression: IF you're interesting and/or informative, and can establish a readership, and IF you're honest enough to only make recommendations you're sincere about, you can make some easy money on the internet by recommending stuff to people, in just this way.
..Ok I have two blogs now, but it now appears that I need a third one. This one will be about making money, and will have a specific niche (which is important onthe internet--you must specialize. My targets will be younger versions of ME, representing maybe 5% of the population...I'll save the details for that site...ok nevermind.)
Anyway here was a sneak preview. You have to deal with technical glitches. I mean, I copied and pasted the link to where I was supposed to get an intelligable (and functional) text-link, and got a generic commercial page with no log-in option, and about twelve dead links. Time to set up my commercial blog now--we now return you to your regularly scheduled blog:
Anyway, yeah, I've dealt with them before, and they've always been the best deal I could find on most nutritional supplements. They have almost everything you'd want, cheaper than you'll get anywhere else, including Wal-Mart.
If you check it out, you need to do the math!!! You see, their price per-bottle isn't that good--but just about everything is a buy one, get two free deal. They also try to make you think that you can save more by buying two and getting four free, but it aint so, and you're better off just getting three, so they stay fresh.
Further math only makes it better. Like, I got this carb-blocker stuff (mostly white bean extract). I get that stuff at Wal-Mart for six bucks/bottle, and paid about eighteen for three from Puritan's Pride, right? A wash? No, because the bottles have twice as many pills, and the milligrams and dosage are the same. I saved 100% over the Wal-Mart price, see?
Their shipping is $3.98 regardless of the order size, too!
I don't know why I ever got away from this company. Probably because they don't have certain stuff like Hyleoronic acid, ir HGH, and I went elsewhere to get that stuff.
I forgot to see whether or not they have any smart pills, but will check on that. Meanwhile, at the local pharmacy I found "Focus Formula" from Windmill (labs or something). 20 bucks for a month's supply, and it's quite similar to Focus Factor, which wants you to mortgage your house to pay for it.
I got prostate stuff, a nose hair trimmer for six bucks (a GOOD one), a magnifying sheet like a big magnifying glass for three bucks, the carb-blocker, and argenine/ornithane (helps you metabolize lard and collect muscle)...and some other junk, maybe.
Ok well it's after 5:00 so I'm going to margaritaville...or bloodymaryville--aint sure yet.
But I'm going tonight. The bar at the Holiday Inn (next door and closer to me than the one right here) opens at 5:00. And it's sunday.
Man, I used to drink a ton. Maybe if I were stationary, with a "real" job, I'd still hit a neighborhood bar more often. I don't know. I do know that I'm no alchoholic. I don't think either side of my family has that dangerous gene--which has a lot to do with it.
Anyway, today I did some shopping on the internet, and will make some recommendations to...ok waitaminnit...excuse me while I check the sites to see if they have affiliate deals. Might as well collect some loose change in case my millions of adoring fans want to order anything...be back shortly....
Friday, June 8, 2007
Dammit
Still stuck here, now at least til tuesday. They need more parts for my bodywork. I took it to Kenworth for the weekend to get my airleak, a probable a/c compressor burning out, and now fried batteries and/or alternator. THEN, I have to shuttle back to Kenworth, drive it BACK to Freightliner for the rest of the bodywork, ans shuttle back from there.
Here's the other dammit. Here Gman calls me about 2 weeks ago, wondering what was up with me. So I tell him again about the blog, and he says he doesn't know from blahblah. Ok so I send him another email with links to them.
I bet he never even clicked either of them. Nope. So here I am, back in the vaccum of empty space, writing for myself and posterity. And Juan...I think. but he got busy with other stuff and hasn't even been on-line for awhile. Anyway he's not a relative so I can't really get irked if he hasn't got time for me for awhile.
Anyway, in case anybody ever stumbles across this: The other day I accidentally left CNN on while in the john and heard this call-in thing they do. This one was "Should President Bush pardon Scooter Libby"?
Well, pardon him for what? The fact that Plame worked for the CIA was all over Washington, and everybody knew it. She had a reserved parking slot at Langley. She was an analyst.
The Prosocutor knew shortly after getting the case that no statute or law had been violated, and yet inexplicably proceeded with this Seinfeldian case about nothing.
"Covert Operative"? My God what a joke!! Agent 99 over seven years prior had pretended to be a bank official on the internet for a little while. Her life was never in danger, and compromise meant only her removal from the mission. The two statutes cited are intended to protect operational details and field-agents. Even if the time-limit hadn't long since expired, it's a huge stretch to assert that either could, by any stretch, apply to her.
How can you "smear" somebody by mentioning something that's common knowlege? Nobody would even have noticed had this firestorm not been fabricated as a political hit-job.
No crime! Nothing! The prosecutor will tell you if you ask him. That's right, he'll tell you that mentioning that Plame worked for the CIA was perfectly legal. How does he know that? He knows it because, from the start, he knew that the time limits on her minor "covert" assignment had expired over two years hence.
So your next question has to be "ok but you proceeded anyway, so how come you're not being disbarred?"
What a crock. It was Plame who got her husband sent over there to discredit Bush. NOT to find out about the yellow cake, but to sabotage the administration. But he couldn't lie to the CIA. It would be a crime. That's why the intelligence report supports the Britt's assertion that Sadam had been attempting to buy mass-quantities of it.
He thought that this would remain secret forever. So in PUBLIC, he DID lie! He said the exact opposite of what he said in his own intelligence report!
And here's Scooter Libby being sent to prison because he either lied about or couldn't remember mentioning that somebody's wife worked for the CIA? How the hell come "I can't recall" is the same as a Hindu chant for Hillary Clinton, and this guy gets nailed to the cross for saying it once? Even if he flatly denied it, it could still be attributable to faulty memory!
Bush, you pansy--PARDON him! You're just like your deal-making father. Do the right thing because it's the right thing. You're a lame duck anyway, how much lower can you go? You let Libby go to prison for nothing and you can go straight to hell. I'm sick of you, you wimp!
But listen to these nuts calling into CNN: "Aggregious", "treason".
Psychopaths are worse when they're also clueless. You need to keep them away from heavy machinery.
I know. I drive a truck.
Here's the other dammit. Here Gman calls me about 2 weeks ago, wondering what was up with me. So I tell him again about the blog, and he says he doesn't know from blahblah. Ok so I send him another email with links to them.
I bet he never even clicked either of them. Nope. So here I am, back in the vaccum of empty space, writing for myself and posterity. And Juan...I think. but he got busy with other stuff and hasn't even been on-line for awhile. Anyway he's not a relative so I can't really get irked if he hasn't got time for me for awhile.
Anyway, in case anybody ever stumbles across this: The other day I accidentally left CNN on while in the john and heard this call-in thing they do. This one was "Should President Bush pardon Scooter Libby"?
Well, pardon him for what? The fact that Plame worked for the CIA was all over Washington, and everybody knew it. She had a reserved parking slot at Langley. She was an analyst.
The Prosocutor knew shortly after getting the case that no statute or law had been violated, and yet inexplicably proceeded with this Seinfeldian case about nothing.
"Covert Operative"? My God what a joke!! Agent 99 over seven years prior had pretended to be a bank official on the internet for a little while. Her life was never in danger, and compromise meant only her removal from the mission. The two statutes cited are intended to protect operational details and field-agents. Even if the time-limit hadn't long since expired, it's a huge stretch to assert that either could, by any stretch, apply to her.
How can you "smear" somebody by mentioning something that's common knowlege? Nobody would even have noticed had this firestorm not been fabricated as a political hit-job.
No crime! Nothing! The prosecutor will tell you if you ask him. That's right, he'll tell you that mentioning that Plame worked for the CIA was perfectly legal. How does he know that? He knows it because, from the start, he knew that the time limits on her minor "covert" assignment had expired over two years hence.
So your next question has to be "ok but you proceeded anyway, so how come you're not being disbarred?"
What a crock. It was Plame who got her husband sent over there to discredit Bush. NOT to find out about the yellow cake, but to sabotage the administration. But he couldn't lie to the CIA. It would be a crime. That's why the intelligence report supports the Britt's assertion that Sadam had been attempting to buy mass-quantities of it.
He thought that this would remain secret forever. So in PUBLIC, he DID lie! He said the exact opposite of what he said in his own intelligence report!
And here's Scooter Libby being sent to prison because he either lied about or couldn't remember mentioning that somebody's wife worked for the CIA? How the hell come "I can't recall" is the same as a Hindu chant for Hillary Clinton, and this guy gets nailed to the cross for saying it once? Even if he flatly denied it, it could still be attributable to faulty memory!
Bush, you pansy--PARDON him! You're just like your deal-making father. Do the right thing because it's the right thing. You're a lame duck anyway, how much lower can you go? You let Libby go to prison for nothing and you can go straight to hell. I'm sick of you, you wimp!
But listen to these nuts calling into CNN: "Aggregious", "treason".
Psychopaths are worse when they're also clueless. You need to keep them away from heavy machinery.
I know. I drive a truck.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Little Rock
Stuck again. Body work to my truck--to fix the damage to my truck resulting from my rollover. I couldn't stall any longer. They say it'll be "later on this week." After that, I have to go over there and drive it to another place to get my ABS valve leak fixed, and something else which I forgot.
The reason is because Freightliner charges us almost twice as much in labor. The Kenworth Dealer I take it to for that repair will have to get the ABS valve from the Freightliner I just left. If they still have it. If they don't, I'll tell them to just get it ordered and I will rack up a few miles and come back for the repair.
Yep. TWENTY THOUSAND IN THE HOLE on my maintenance account. Ya drive 16 hours, and what do ya get? Another day older and a-deeper in debt. Saint Peter don't you call me, cuz I can't gooooo....I owe my soul to Arkansas Equipment leasingggggg...
Dammit. And just make it 20,600.
I called my most excellent new accountant and asked about the 401k stuff. I'd rather just set up the shelter than incorporate if I can. I can put up to 40k/year into one, but it has to be a certain type, and I also want one which I can manage myself. You guys (if you ever read this, dammit) would do well to have a manager like me (blush-blush).
Err...that's the new, improved me. Gman recalls witnessing first-hand the swift and sudden annihilation of the old me. (It was all Bill Clinton's fault, since he was the President then and the President is God.) Nah. Seriously, it was THEM. THEY will stop at nothing to destroy me. I must apologize to everybody else who lost their wads in that market crash. Sorry you guys got caught in the crossfire.
Ok-ok, I was playing poker and a full house beat my flush. Because THEY were dealing. Happy now?
Anyway, that's the only way to save Social Security. It should ALL be privatized, as is PERS, which government employees get.
"But the market is a risky scheme". That is a lie. They aren't misinformed, or merely wrong. They are LYING in order to manipulate you. They are doing this because they want you dependant upon them. The success of the reformed plan would discredit them and their M A R X I S T philosophy. They know it. They know it from PERS.
Risky? Well, my own portfolio has lost over one percent in one day; something like seven percent in a week. I think I even went down over a thrity day period once or twice. But if you're investing for the long term, these fluctuations are irrelevant. The market trends UP, and always has. And when it does retrace, or even goes into bear mode, you are buying stocks cheap.
DUH!!! And anyway, you can invest in RIETS or bonds (inc. tax-free/municipal), or a variety of other stuff. You can set it up so you can't lose unless the whole country is destroyed. So don't listen to their L I E S. End of dissertation.
I'm at the Howard Johnson--the best deal in Little Rock. Better than the hotel in Effingham. But a lot of stuff tends to be cheaper in Arkansas, which is why, when I buy land, I think it might well be here.
Gman, if you ever do read this, I sure would be real happy to throw some money at you for an investment property, ya know? Maybe with my help you could think a little bigger, and leave your 401k unmolested, ya know?
I could incorporate. I know how to do this stuff, but am too lazy and know my weaknesses. I'm an idea guy. You see, I'd set up a C-corp, in Nevada. Zero state taxes, and they don't share info with the feds. With a C-corp, I'd knock out all the survivorship junk by giving Gman some shares and setting it up so that all assets revert to him and his control upon my untimely demise. It's all liquid, so he could turn it into cash or take over the investing. No death tax or BS. A verbal agreement with him would be enough to have him throw some at Eman or whatever.
And I would pay myself, as a driver, a nominal stipend. I'd use a company credit card for all operating expenses, which is most of what I buy aside from food, clothing, and toiletries. The stipend itself is a corporate write-off. The corporate tax rate on investments is lower--but there again the 401k for me, the driver, is also a write-off and tax-deferred.
Since Gman is a part owner, my visits there, and dinner or whatever, would be a board meeting.
This and a lot more...like a company vehicle for the driver...lots of stuff. See, I know all this stuff, and could tell a more disciplined and enterprising individual how to set it up, but I'm just too lazy to go through that rigamarole myself.
Anyway I think these guys at the hotel are wise to me. Every day I hide my complimentary shampoo so they replace it, and I stash these in my shaving kit. They skipped my room today. It's like the truckstop buffets: Because of me, they made the containers smaller.
I got a pizza from Pappa John's for the last time last night. SIXTEEN BUCKS for a large thin crust? I figured it must be really a huge, massive pizza which I could gnaw on for a couple days, but it's just the same size as a 9.00 pizza at a more honest joint. What a rip!
But at the local pharmacy I found a great smart pill. 15 bucks for thirty days! It has a bunch of stuff you can't pronounce ending in "zine" in it, so you know it's good stuff. It's called Focus Formula and it's made by Windmill Health Products. No website listed, and I haven't looked for it yet online. But Juan? The formula is very similar to Focus Factor, so check it out and save some dough.
Been playing online poker like a maniac. The cards and bad beats were, as I expected, absolutely murderous, as it always is when I play more than a couple tourneys in 24 hours. I just got hammered and hammered, until I got so tight I was frozen, and so pissed off I wanted to destroy the bingospazzing, bullying, bluffing lottery players, and I won the last three.
Well, that's my visceral reaction to spazzes. Intellectually, I understand the niche they fill on society. In poker, spazzes make big pots. With their big, huge raises, they tell smarter players to fold and save their money, or else to jump on them, pushing everybody else out to make it 1:1, and take all their money.
They help me make up my mind. On the road, they help me a lot too. Like, most truckers will wait for a "rabbit", or superspazz trucker, to race by them, and then follow them. The cop will nail the superspazz, but probably not them.
But I have a three-digit I.Q., so I maintain a decent following distance, and often will go just slightly slower than the superspazz who is winning the race to the speeding ticket. Other truckers are spazzes, too, however, and when they see that they can pass me and wedge themselves in between me and the spazz, they have to do so.
This is actually how I started going slightly slower than the superspazz. Every time I got a safe, intelligent distance behind the superspazz, I got me a face full of trailer from the moron who had to pass me and wedge himself in front of me.
Tailgaters are spazzes, too, you see. They cause big messes by trapping as whole slew of people behind granny going 50 mph in the right lane, which in turn makes it impossible for people to merge off entrance ramps. Spazzes entering traffic, tailgating there as well, simply think that they will force their way onto the freeway as the second or third car in a train.
So spazzes come in handy for me by getting speeding tickets instead of me (and I love it when the cop deliberately skips the superspazz to nail the tailgater), but they actually cause a lot of problems.
I mean, it really sucks when I barrel over the top of a hill or around a corner, with some overweight bastard six feet off my trailer, and see a traffic jam I have to brake hard for. I often have maybe one second to turn on my flashers to alert the spazz behind me before I kick in the jake-brake and start braking. Then I have to delay that as long as I can to give the shithead a chance to react.
Otherwise he barrels into me, and I barrel into the stopped traffic.
On second thought, spazzes suck and I hate them intellectually as well as viscerally. Being willfully ignorant and refusing ot think is even worse than being a moron.
Well, back to the bingospazzes...and THEM.
The reason is because Freightliner charges us almost twice as much in labor. The Kenworth Dealer I take it to for that repair will have to get the ABS valve from the Freightliner I just left. If they still have it. If they don't, I'll tell them to just get it ordered and I will rack up a few miles and come back for the repair.
Yep. TWENTY THOUSAND IN THE HOLE on my maintenance account. Ya drive 16 hours, and what do ya get? Another day older and a-deeper in debt. Saint Peter don't you call me, cuz I can't gooooo....I owe my soul to Arkansas Equipment leasingggggg...
Dammit. And just make it 20,600.
I called my most excellent new accountant and asked about the 401k stuff. I'd rather just set up the shelter than incorporate if I can. I can put up to 40k/year into one, but it has to be a certain type, and I also want one which I can manage myself. You guys (if you ever read this, dammit) would do well to have a manager like me (blush-blush).
Err...that's the new, improved me. Gman recalls witnessing first-hand the swift and sudden annihilation of the old me. (It was all Bill Clinton's fault, since he was the President then and the President is God.) Nah. Seriously, it was THEM. THEY will stop at nothing to destroy me. I must apologize to everybody else who lost their wads in that market crash. Sorry you guys got caught in the crossfire.
Ok-ok, I was playing poker and a full house beat my flush. Because THEY were dealing. Happy now?
Anyway, that's the only way to save Social Security. It should ALL be privatized, as is PERS, which government employees get.
"But the market is a risky scheme". That is a lie. They aren't misinformed, or merely wrong. They are LYING in order to manipulate you. They are doing this because they want you dependant upon them. The success of the reformed plan would discredit them and their M A R X I S T philosophy. They know it. They know it from PERS.
Risky? Well, my own portfolio has lost over one percent in one day; something like seven percent in a week. I think I even went down over a thrity day period once or twice. But if you're investing for the long term, these fluctuations are irrelevant. The market trends UP, and always has. And when it does retrace, or even goes into bear mode, you are buying stocks cheap.
DUH!!! And anyway, you can invest in RIETS or bonds (inc. tax-free/municipal), or a variety of other stuff. You can set it up so you can't lose unless the whole country is destroyed. So don't listen to their L I E S. End of dissertation.
I'm at the Howard Johnson--the best deal in Little Rock. Better than the hotel in Effingham. But a lot of stuff tends to be cheaper in Arkansas, which is why, when I buy land, I think it might well be here.
Gman, if you ever do read this, I sure would be real happy to throw some money at you for an investment property, ya know? Maybe with my help you could think a little bigger, and leave your 401k unmolested, ya know?
I could incorporate. I know how to do this stuff, but am too lazy and know my weaknesses. I'm an idea guy. You see, I'd set up a C-corp, in Nevada. Zero state taxes, and they don't share info with the feds. With a C-corp, I'd knock out all the survivorship junk by giving Gman some shares and setting it up so that all assets revert to him and his control upon my untimely demise. It's all liquid, so he could turn it into cash or take over the investing. No death tax or BS. A verbal agreement with him would be enough to have him throw some at Eman or whatever.
And I would pay myself, as a driver, a nominal stipend. I'd use a company credit card for all operating expenses, which is most of what I buy aside from food, clothing, and toiletries. The stipend itself is a corporate write-off. The corporate tax rate on investments is lower--but there again the 401k for me, the driver, is also a write-off and tax-deferred.
Since Gman is a part owner, my visits there, and dinner or whatever, would be a board meeting.
This and a lot more...like a company vehicle for the driver...lots of stuff. See, I know all this stuff, and could tell a more disciplined and enterprising individual how to set it up, but I'm just too lazy to go through that rigamarole myself.
Anyway I think these guys at the hotel are wise to me. Every day I hide my complimentary shampoo so they replace it, and I stash these in my shaving kit. They skipped my room today. It's like the truckstop buffets: Because of me, they made the containers smaller.
I got a pizza from Pappa John's for the last time last night. SIXTEEN BUCKS for a large thin crust? I figured it must be really a huge, massive pizza which I could gnaw on for a couple days, but it's just the same size as a 9.00 pizza at a more honest joint. What a rip!
But at the local pharmacy I found a great smart pill. 15 bucks for thirty days! It has a bunch of stuff you can't pronounce ending in "zine" in it, so you know it's good stuff. It's called Focus Formula and it's made by Windmill Health Products. No website listed, and I haven't looked for it yet online. But Juan? The formula is very similar to Focus Factor, so check it out and save some dough.
Been playing online poker like a maniac. The cards and bad beats were, as I expected, absolutely murderous, as it always is when I play more than a couple tourneys in 24 hours. I just got hammered and hammered, until I got so tight I was frozen, and so pissed off I wanted to destroy the bingospazzing, bullying, bluffing lottery players, and I won the last three.
Well, that's my visceral reaction to spazzes. Intellectually, I understand the niche they fill on society. In poker, spazzes make big pots. With their big, huge raises, they tell smarter players to fold and save their money, or else to jump on them, pushing everybody else out to make it 1:1, and take all their money.
They help me make up my mind. On the road, they help me a lot too. Like, most truckers will wait for a "rabbit", or superspazz trucker, to race by them, and then follow them. The cop will nail the superspazz, but probably not them.
But I have a three-digit I.Q., so I maintain a decent following distance, and often will go just slightly slower than the superspazz who is winning the race to the speeding ticket. Other truckers are spazzes, too, however, and when they see that they can pass me and wedge themselves in between me and the spazz, they have to do so.
This is actually how I started going slightly slower than the superspazz. Every time I got a safe, intelligent distance behind the superspazz, I got me a face full of trailer from the moron who had to pass me and wedge himself in front of me.
Tailgaters are spazzes, too, you see. They cause big messes by trapping as whole slew of people behind granny going 50 mph in the right lane, which in turn makes it impossible for people to merge off entrance ramps. Spazzes entering traffic, tailgating there as well, simply think that they will force their way onto the freeway as the second or third car in a train.
So spazzes come in handy for me by getting speeding tickets instead of me (and I love it when the cop deliberately skips the superspazz to nail the tailgater), but they actually cause a lot of problems.
I mean, it really sucks when I barrel over the top of a hill or around a corner, with some overweight bastard six feet off my trailer, and see a traffic jam I have to brake hard for. I often have maybe one second to turn on my flashers to alert the spazz behind me before I kick in the jake-brake and start braking. Then I have to delay that as long as I can to give the shithead a chance to react.
Otherwise he barrels into me, and I barrel into the stopped traffic.
On second thought, spazzes suck and I hate them intellectually as well as viscerally. Being willfully ignorant and refusing ot think is even worse than being a moron.
Well, back to the bingospazzes...and THEM.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
More Philopsychosociology
You, as an individual, have the right to be free. No person or entity has the right to deprive you of that. No bully who kills, bribes, or buttkisses his way to controlling any government is your representative or master in any moral sense. A government by force is a criminal enterprise, and no more legitimate.
The only legitimate form of government is some form of democracy, in which the governed are empowered and protected from totalitarian bullies.
In 1980 I was at a friend's condo, drinking and playing UNO. I took a break to go to the john and step outside for some air. It was quiet. The complex was well-spaced, in a rural area, with woods to the south, where I stood on my friend's patio. And I heard, through those woods, a young woman screaming, and was on my way.
In my stocking feet, blasting through thorns and scrub in the dark. Enough moonlight to navigate. The screaming got louder. It wasn't a joke--something was happening to her. At my side appeared another guy, doing the same as me--I felt better, ya know? And he was a pretty big guy. Good.
After about 50 yards, we came out of the woods onto a new street with no houses on it. Isolated. There was a Cadillac there with windows tinted downright opaque. That's where the screaming was coming from. I grabbed the handle for the back door. It was locked. "Let her go!, you bastard!"
I knew there could be a gun. I could be shot. Didn't care. I was stepping back to try to kick the window in when the far rear door opened, and a teenage, petite, well-dressed black girl came out and ran to the front, stamping her feet and hopping in hysterics.
The car shot foreward, to turn around and escape. I got us out of the way, thinking he'd try to run us over. I tried to get the license, but it was hopeless without my glasses. I went to her and tried to calm her, but she recoiled from my touch, as if my hands were coated in crap. Oddly, though, a moment later, she let the other guy take care of her. Oh well.
Even as the caddy sped up the street, another car came the other way past it, and the driver--a young guy--wanted to know what happened. I said follow the caddy and get it's license number, and he wheeled around and shot away in pursuit. No interrogation. No hesitation. Most of the reasons were self-evident, and if he waited a few more seconds, the assailant would be gone.
Later, he (had a male passenger, by the way) came back. He'd got the license number. I asked them to take her to the police, and they did.
I learned some good stuff about myself, and also about these other three guys, that night. We didn't stand there listening to her scream, waste time getting help or calling the police, or slink back inside, pretending we didn't hear her. And at least this other guy and me risked our lives to free her--and God help the rat(s) if we'd got our hands on him/them, by the way.
Something else, too: I took over. I don't think that was really all that special, though. I think that, in an emergency like that, all pretense is dropped. I mean, If this other guy had started telling people what to do, I would have just kept my mouth shut (unless he was wrong). It wasn't about being a bigshot. It was about getting stuff done ASAP, period.
A collective sort of thing. We'll all respond to the strongest voice in a situation like that. No time for a lot of critical thinking, or asking "so who put you in charge?" If I'd been that driver, for instance, I would have done the same.
And men have thast instinct to protect women...from other men. You don't think about "what if it was my sister/mom/daughter?" You just DO it!
And me? I was the bully-fighter, Jack. I was the nerd's hero, because I came out of my phone booth and protected them. I was abused by other kids, until I got over the pacifist crap my mother had filled me with (and I'm passive/aggressive to this day. I take too much, and then overreact.)
But I wasn't like these other scumbags. Don't tell me you were doing whatever to somebody else because somebody did it to you. You know what it feels like, and yet you enjoy inflicting that pain on other people? The rage this engendered in me made my white knight stuff only natural. I HATE bullies, and when I see their victims, I feel what they feel, and it just wells up in me. I want to wipe these rectums off the face of the earth.
Not a digression. Here we are: Totalitarians are bullies. They are criminals, and not legitimate. And when we knock one off, it's a good thing.
And listen, carefully: Because I can't save all the rape/murder(?) victims on the world, does it mean that I should have ignored that one? If she went home and got abused by her stepfather, does it mean I was an idiot for saving her?
And I wonder...do they act the same in France? I mean--would several men run toward the screaming, regardless of the consequences?
Are you aware that those old western movies helped to form a uniquely american culture? One in which all the guys wanted to be John Wayne, and rescue all the good guys from all the bad guys?
All those guys who went over there in WWII: That was why they went. That is...or was...America.
Yeah, here we go. "Yeah but we screwed the native americans and we had slaves and--" and nevermind what we did to remedy of compensate for those atrocities, or all those who died doing it. Nevermind that what evil we did pales in comparison to anywhere else in the world.
Aw, hell. That's it, I can't win.
The only legitimate form of government is some form of democracy, in which the governed are empowered and protected from totalitarian bullies.
In 1980 I was at a friend's condo, drinking and playing UNO. I took a break to go to the john and step outside for some air. It was quiet. The complex was well-spaced, in a rural area, with woods to the south, where I stood on my friend's patio. And I heard, through those woods, a young woman screaming, and was on my way.
In my stocking feet, blasting through thorns and scrub in the dark. Enough moonlight to navigate. The screaming got louder. It wasn't a joke--something was happening to her. At my side appeared another guy, doing the same as me--I felt better, ya know? And he was a pretty big guy. Good.
After about 50 yards, we came out of the woods onto a new street with no houses on it. Isolated. There was a Cadillac there with windows tinted downright opaque. That's where the screaming was coming from. I grabbed the handle for the back door. It was locked. "Let her go!, you bastard!"
I knew there could be a gun. I could be shot. Didn't care. I was stepping back to try to kick the window in when the far rear door opened, and a teenage, petite, well-dressed black girl came out and ran to the front, stamping her feet and hopping in hysterics.
The car shot foreward, to turn around and escape. I got us out of the way, thinking he'd try to run us over. I tried to get the license, but it was hopeless without my glasses. I went to her and tried to calm her, but she recoiled from my touch, as if my hands were coated in crap. Oddly, though, a moment later, she let the other guy take care of her. Oh well.
Even as the caddy sped up the street, another car came the other way past it, and the driver--a young guy--wanted to know what happened. I said follow the caddy and get it's license number, and he wheeled around and shot away in pursuit. No interrogation. No hesitation. Most of the reasons were self-evident, and if he waited a few more seconds, the assailant would be gone.
Later, he (had a male passenger, by the way) came back. He'd got the license number. I asked them to take her to the police, and they did.
I learned some good stuff about myself, and also about these other three guys, that night. We didn't stand there listening to her scream, waste time getting help or calling the police, or slink back inside, pretending we didn't hear her. And at least this other guy and me risked our lives to free her--and God help the rat(s) if we'd got our hands on him/them, by the way.
Something else, too: I took over. I don't think that was really all that special, though. I think that, in an emergency like that, all pretense is dropped. I mean, If this other guy had started telling people what to do, I would have just kept my mouth shut (unless he was wrong). It wasn't about being a bigshot. It was about getting stuff done ASAP, period.
A collective sort of thing. We'll all respond to the strongest voice in a situation like that. No time for a lot of critical thinking, or asking "so who put you in charge?" If I'd been that driver, for instance, I would have done the same.
And men have thast instinct to protect women...from other men. You don't think about "what if it was my sister/mom/daughter?" You just DO it!
And me? I was the bully-fighter, Jack. I was the nerd's hero, because I came out of my phone booth and protected them. I was abused by other kids, until I got over the pacifist crap my mother had filled me with (and I'm passive/aggressive to this day. I take too much, and then overreact.)
But I wasn't like these other scumbags. Don't tell me you were doing whatever to somebody else because somebody did it to you. You know what it feels like, and yet you enjoy inflicting that pain on other people? The rage this engendered in me made my white knight stuff only natural. I HATE bullies, and when I see their victims, I feel what they feel, and it just wells up in me. I want to wipe these rectums off the face of the earth.
Not a digression. Here we are: Totalitarians are bullies. They are criminals, and not legitimate. And when we knock one off, it's a good thing.
And listen, carefully: Because I can't save all the rape/murder(?) victims on the world, does it mean that I should have ignored that one? If she went home and got abused by her stepfather, does it mean I was an idiot for saving her?
And I wonder...do they act the same in France? I mean--would several men run toward the screaming, regardless of the consequences?
Are you aware that those old western movies helped to form a uniquely american culture? One in which all the guys wanted to be John Wayne, and rescue all the good guys from all the bad guys?
All those guys who went over there in WWII: That was why they went. That is...or was...America.
Yeah, here we go. "Yeah but we screwed the native americans and we had slaves and--" and nevermind what we did to remedy of compensate for those atrocities, or all those who died doing it. Nevermind that what evil we did pales in comparison to anywhere else in the world.
Aw, hell. That's it, I can't win.
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