Ballpark Prediction Equation Survives Another Day

I am still alive, and I salute all those who are in the same condition in spite of the underachieving coronavirus plague.

I have good news to report. After several days with no changes, my coronavirus forecast equation, which will be a primary source when I create my upcoming Coronavirus Hysteria Index, is doing extremely well. The equation predicted 375,977 infections for this morning, and the actual figure was 387,382. I am trying to predict the Johns Hopkins running total, so please don’t make the mistake of correcting the actual total in a comment. It’s irrelevant. I don’t have data for it.

You would expect the actual, known-to-God-alone graph and the Johns Hopkins graph to run more or less parallel anyway, even if the former graph has higher numbers.

The difference between the actual and predicted values is so small, it’s insignificant. It would be amazing if an armchair epidemiologist were within 200% of the correct number, and I’m within something like 3%.

I don’t know if I’ll make any more changes to the equation. I would be excited to be within 20%, and there is no hope, short of a miracle, that I can improve on 3%.

Will the equation hold up? That’s the question.

Of course, it will not hold up. As noted earlier, it goes infinite with time, and there are only 7.7 billion people to infect. All epidemics plateau and go away to nothing or a very low level of infection. This one, will, too. There is a future moment for which my equation predicts an infection total of 4 trillion, and by that time, my equation will be pretty useless. I have high hopes that it will do well while the infection is still ramping up. That’s about it.

My best wild guess is that we will see a plateau within the next month. Before a plateau, of course, the infection rate will slow down. If the beginning of the plateau, which is something you have to define arbitrarily, is on April 20, then there will have to be a number of days prior to April 20 during which the rate drops off pretty quickly.

What happens when coronavirus goes away?

I was concerned about that yesterday, because you can have this bug more than once, and they don’t expect it to vanish entirely (although it could). What if we always have COVID-19 with us, from now on? The question disturbed me.

I don’t think it’s a big deal now. Officials seem to think vaccinations will work, and it won’t take that long to develop them, so within a year or two, you’ll be able to protect yourself.

This won’t help gullible, dangerous people who keep diseases alive by refusing to get their kids vaccinated, but then coronavirus doesn’t like kids, so maybe that won’t be a big factor. I’m not sure whether kids are relatively immune or they just get light symptoms. If they get infected just like the rest of us, they will spread the virus, so that will be bad.

I saw a piece of bad information on a website. They said no one is immune to this virus. That’s wrong. No virus can infect every person on the planet. There are many human beings who have never been ill in their lives. Look it up. There are definitely people who can’t get this virus, and there are people who can be infected yet can’t develop symptoms. The symptoms are what kill you.

What they should have said is that the majority of us are not immune, and they should have added that a whole lot of people get no symptoms or very, very mild symptoms.

When this is over, I will think a little bit, but not too much, about future preparations. I will put a few things in a closet, and I don’t mean a big closet. I’ll try to have enough food to keep me alive for a month, I guess. Beyond a month, there isn’t anything I can do. I can’t grow enough food to feed myself indefinitely.

I may pack away some more ammunition. That’s always a good idea, because the price keeps going up.

What did Jesus say about the future? He predicted wars, famines, and plagues. Does a mild problem like coronavirus count? I don’t know, but more stuff is in the pipeline, and it may be worse. We’re already having a sort of famine because selfish people who aren’t all that bright are filling their houses with food the rest of us want. Not much of a famine, but it’s no fun having to go to two different stores to find a baking potato.

The disasters aren’t the main problem. The main problem is the pig-like way people respond to them. Coronavirus hasn’t caused a single shortage. People have.

It’s strange that we can suffer lack while we are surrounded by an abundance of food. It’s there, even if you can’t see it. It’s in warehouses and in the houses of a few people who should be banned from grocery stores. It flows into stores every day, and the worst people in the world scoop it up before you get there.

I don’t believe in creating a huge personal cache of stuff. Jesus told us to take no thought for such things. If he won’t take care of us, there is no point in worshiping him. He gave us all sorts of great promises, and we should be connected with him and receiving his help. If you reject God, well, maybe hoarding is your best bet. But it’s no substitute for favor. God’s help can’t be defeated by people with bulging grocery carts. You can’t keep food away from me. Only God can do that.

I try not to scrap for things like a starving dog. When my sister conned my dad into buying her a house, and he asked for my approval because it affected my inheritance, I told him to do whatever he wanted. When my grandparents died, and some relatives competed over their belongings, I didn’t get involved. When you lower yourself to the level of a looter, what good does it do you? You get a bunch of things you like, but you become a filthy creature no one can respect, and you find yourself in a world of stress, striving, and defensiveness. It’s a bad trade.

The Bible compares God’s children to eagles, not maggots.

In the end, I did very well in spite of failing to engage, so it looks like I took the correct course.

It’s sad to think of all the people I care about whom I can count on to try to stick it to me at the slightest sign of pressure. You’re in the same boat. Something you should think about.

Before I go, more interesting information. I found a site saying it is estimated that the swine flu pandemic of 2009 caused 123,000-200,000 deaths, and that since then, the same virus has killed many more people. The article was written last summer, so it’s not someone trying to stifle COVID-19 fears. In 2009, we didn’t hide in our houses or shut down the country. We had ample access to toilet paper.

There are pandemics we barely notice.

It’s starting to look like the biggest change we’ve seen isn’t an attack from a new virus. It’s our new, snowflaky inclination to react to mildly bad news with hysteria.

People just can’t understand how many of us there are, and how little 100,000 deaths mean in a population this size. Not that we’ve seen anything like 100,000 deaths from coronavirus. In order to have a real global plague, we would have to see something like 400,000,000 deaths in less than a year. A slow plague isn’t a plague.

In a real plague, we would see hospital corridors filling up all over the world. We would see government trucks going around to get bodies. Instead, we’re seeing news stories about isolated individuals. An obese person here; a celebrity there. The fact that the press is stretching so hard to find stories should tell you everything you need to know.

If people were better at math, you would be able to buy hand sanitizer right now. I feel sure of it.

The Love Grows Cold

On Friday, I went to see my metal dealer (who was sick), and I spent about $33 on steel so I could build a stand for my steel gong targets. Yesterday, I finished the main part of the fabrication. Here’s the result.

I plan to paint it, since it will stand in a cow pasture permanently. Until the cows knock it over and walk around on it, which will probably happen 15 minutes after I set it up. I didn’t know cows were mischievous, but it turns out they are.

The long square bits are 1″ tubing. The round bits are galvanized conduit, which I had lying around. I also used some scrap, including two short pieces of a spear for a Hawaiian sling. Look it up.

Wait…you can’t weld galvanized steel! It gives off poisonous gas! Not to worry. If you dip it in muriatic acid for a few seconds, the zinc goes away. Cheap galvanized stuff is a great resource for hobby welders.

I have a piece of round tubing that will slip over the horizontal bar. I’m going to cut the round tubing in several pieces. I’ll weld long pieces of 1″ by 1/8″ bar to the round tubing, and I’ll fasten my gongs to the other ends. This will give me targets that can swing vertically but not from side to side.

I have considered welding the targets to the steel bar, but welding will surely anneal the gongs in small areas. Soft metal can cause ricochets. I don’t know if a tiny bit of soft steel will be dangerous enough to worry about. After all, people all over the world shoot hardened gongs held up on mild steel frames that are soft, and obviously, the frames get hit. Welding would be quick and easy compared to using bolts.

I think it would be smarter to insert bolts in the gong holes and weld the ends of the bolts to the flat bar. I wouldn’t have to drill holes in the bar, and I wouldn’t soften the gongs. I don’t want the gongs to be right up against the bar. I want to put some distance in there. This will make the gongs hang so they tilt forward a little, which may make spent lead more likely to be deflected toward the ground. I guess the bolt idea is good.

When this is finished, I will have a strong stand that comes apart with two screws.

If I were making the stand today, I would change the design a little, but it will be fantastic, so I don’t care.

People knock steel, saying it’s heavy, but they forget that it hasn’t been that long since steel was considered a wonder material. The abundance of iron and the versatility of steel have changed the world. If you think steel is heavy, try building a wooden or masonry skyscraper. We haven’t always had lighter metals, and they’re more expensive and harder to work with. Steel is an incredible material. You just don’t realize it because you’re spoiled.

In other news, when I got up this morning and checked the coronavirus numbers, my latest coeffient’s results had me within a few hundred cases of the actual toll. Shocking. Maybe the equation I constructed will work fairly well for the next couple of weeks. Sooner or later, factors like recovery and saturation should mess it up, however.

I read some very comforting news today. I don’t know if it’s true. I read that MOST Americans get the flu once a year. I had read that about 36,000,000 of us caught it this year. If “most” is correct, we’re looking at a figure over 170,000,000.

That would be comforting, because it would make coronavirus look even less significant compared to the flu.

I have my doubts about it, to say the least.

A reader has suggested that Italians screwed up their data by calling all respiratory-disease deaths that in anyway involved the new bug coronavirus deaths. I wonder if that’s true, and I wonder how many other countries are doing similar things.

Don’t forget: Chinese researchers put the percentage of false positives at 40% to 80%. How would you feel, taking a cancer test that unreliable? What if you got charged with murder, and you found out juries had a 40% false-guilty rate?

Actually, that wouldn’t shock me. I’m amazed they ever get it right.

I have finally been impacted by coronavirus. Almost. A week or two ago, I noticed that my local Winn-Dixie sold store-brand shredded whole-milk mozzarella. This is not an easy thing to get even in sane times. If the cheese is good, it would be perfect for pizza. Low-fat mozzarella turns brown in the oven. You can reduce this by covering it with provolone or some other whole-milk cheese, or you can butter your mozzarella, but it’s better to start with good cheese.

Yesterday, I thought I might get some bagged cheese and Ragu for emergency pizza, just in case. Too late. The hoarders got both. They should be forced to go out in orange vests and pick up dog poop. They should have all their toilet paper confiscated and replaced with corn cobs. Or bastard files.

Another store had plenty of sliced provolone, so I grabbed some. I bought crushed tomatoes and paste. Can’t hurt. Still low on flour, but the kind of person who hoards food isn’t likely to cook from scratch, so maybe I can find some.

Hoarders don’t eat most fruits and vegetables, either. They cleaned out my local store’s potatoes the other day, while apples and all types of green vegetables sat in a big lonely display, untouched. When you see hoarder carts, they’re full of sugar cereal, Pop Tarts, Hot Pockets, and so on. Hoarding doesn’t appeal much to people who have it together.

I wonder what’s happening with cigarettes! I’ll bet they’re gone. People with poor values hoard, and they also smoke.

If you think about it, maybe the hoarders are onto something. They eat garbage and they smoke. They tend to be obese. These are coronavirus’s favorite things. Maybe hoarders are more likely to die if they get infected, so we should let them hoard!

Hoarders seem to miss some obvious things. Stores are having temporary problems, but you can go to McDonald’s or any other takeout restaurant and get all the food you want. You would think this would be a clue that there is not going to be a food shortage.

The only thing that could cause a real food shortage would be a lack of workers at the fundamental level. If there is no one to work on farms because insane politicians have made them stay home, yes, we will have shortages. The disease itself won’t hurt enough people to cause a problem. The US food supply chain is very, very flexible, and it has a lot of backup storage built into it. People need to read about it instead of filling their homes with food other folks should have.

I have a policy. I always try new pizza restaurants that open near me. In Miami, this was usually not a fruitful effort, because Miami is a pizza desert. Cubans make very bad pizza. Ocala is different. The pizza here is as good or better than New York pizza. Don’t ask me why. And yes, there is bad pizza in New York. There is plenty of it.

There is a chain here called Five Star. They opened a location near a grocery I use. Twice, I went in and tried to get slices. This was weeks ago. They were having professionalism issues, so I could not get served in a reasonable time. Yesterday, I finally got lucky. I got a couple of slices. Wonderful. I’m thinking of heading over there today.

Coincidentally, Five Star left a flyer in my mailbox yesterday. It says they use 100% actual cheese, which is something Papa John’s and Domino’s can’t say. They use fake cheese. Look it up. They mix cheese with things like starch.

Five Star also uses tomatoes which are packed ripe. This is hugely important. It’s very hard to find this kind of tomato sauce in grocery stores. Hunt’s Contadina, Cento, and the others generally do not use ripe tomatoes, and they mistreat the green tomatoes they do use. Five Star probably uses Bonta or Stanislaus sauce, from California.

I may try to hit the store tomorrow early, because I am very curious about the bagged cheese. Oldsters get exclusive shopping rights before 9 a.m. After that, I can pounce. But maybe there are lines and fistfights in the morning. Wouldn’t surprise me.

I had another plague problem. I tried to order a GoPro from Best Buy. Ordinarily, I have very good experiences with this chain, but not this week. They’re cowering behind their counters with their doors locked, but you can still pick things up in the parking lot. My understanding is that you drive by with your hatch up, and an employee in a nomex burqa fires your purchase into the back of your car with some kind of cannon. Then he goes back in, and they give him a squirt with a flamethrower.

Anyway, I tried to place the order three times, and Best Buy canceled it every time, saying they couldn’t verify my info. Their site said to call them. I called. They routed me to someone who was in the wrong department. That person routed me to another department. That department’s system told me I could expect to wait over 60 minutes to hear a human voice.

Tomorrow, Amazon will be delivering my GoPro. They promised a Thursday delivery, but it’s going to be Tuesday.

I have a Yi-brand camera I bought in ’17, but it’s junk. It turns itself on and off. When you’re shooting video, it switches to still photos and fills your SD card with them. It takes many tries to connect it to a computer or wifi. I decided to give up and buy the real thing. Do NOT buy a Yi camera.

You can imagine my stress, missing out on unnecessary cheese and having to buy toys online instead of in person. It’s hard, but I’m a natural hero and saint, so don’t make a big thing out of it. It would embarrass me, because I’m humble. And charismatic.

This morning, I realized something really bad about the stay-home orders and business closures. When people are stuck at home and they can only shop for essentials, what are they going to do? They’ll shop out of boredom. So the bans are increasing hoarding. How about that?

I’m going to see if I can get paint for my target stand. If the hardware store has paint, I’ll just buy ALL OF IT! I HAVE TO HAVE IT! SOMEONE ELSE MIGHT GET IT FIRST! I WANT IT ALL!

Whew. I’m back now.

I guess I’ll put up a photo of the stand when I set it up. May be a couple of days.

Innocent by Reason of Other People’s Insanity

It looks like I’m hoarding. But I didn’t mean to.

One reason I’m hoarding is that I was a hoarder before hoarding was cool. I started shopping for things like targets, pistols, and ammunition before I had any idea the American public would go nuts and start buying up toilet paper.

I went to Gander Outdoors to look at a Glock, which is probably pointless, since they are all nearly exactly the same, and I saw Aguila 9mm selling very cheap. I didn’t even want it, but I bought hundreds of rounds. I knew I would use it some day. Pay a little now, or pay a lot later.

I bought a neat Colt Woodsman pistol, and I felt I needed to quit relying on Remington’s not-quite-ideal Golden Bullets, so I ordered a fairly heavy box of CCI Mini-mags. I also bought a huge number of small pistol primers, because I was thinking about reloading. This was all before I realized people were going to snap up gun stuff. I also bought a large package of .50 AE, because I happened to be shooting that gun at the time.

I already had enough ammunition of other types to require many trips to move it from one room to another. This is just how bargain ammo shoppers roll. I accumulated this ammunition over a period of years.

The last time I bought toilet paper, I figured I might as well quit playing around and buy a lot so I would save money. When the panic set in, I still had something like 17 rolls.

I use disinfectant wipes when I go to the dump and when I leave the grocery store. I’ve been working on the same can for quite a while. After the supply dried up, I figured I was going to have to make that can last. Then I went upstairs and checked my bathroom. I had two cans that were nearly full. For me, that’s probably a 6-month supply.

I always have a lot of alcohol. I have parrots, and I used to have a parent with dementia, so I use alcohol to wipe things down all day. On top of the isopropyl alcohol I had on hand when coronavirus popped up, I had a big jug of denatured alcohol in my workshop. I haven’t checked, but my guess is that microbes don’t like it any more than isopropyl.

I checked. The Internet says it works great.

Factoid: coronaviruses have oily outer coatings, so solvent disinfectants work well on them, and soap kills them. Lysol wipes aren’t that great for coronavirus. But they will still help me when I visit the dump.

Since the Purge began, I’ve made another gun buy. It took slightly more effort than usual, but I got it done, and I got what I wanted. I needed reloading supplies, because the only good store 10mm ammunition is expensive. I was afraid I was out of 10mm powder. I couldn’t remember what I used last time. When I looked into it, I realized I had probably used Alliant No. 7, of which I have a large quantity. I also had large pistol primers because I had made a big buy while the Obama panic was subsiding. I thought I was out of bullets, though. I found 300 of the ones I like, so I ordered them. Then I looked at what I already had. Turned out I had around 200, sitting around. Oops.

I had to get some 10mm brass. I bought direct from the people who make it. I’m really hoping I don’t turn out to have hundreds of cases I forgot about, moldering in a storage box.

But it’s pretty likely.

I was planning to do some .308 shooting before crazy got ahold of us, and after it did, I was determined to go through with my plan. I found 300 rounds of match ammunition, which no one actually needs during an epidemic. If it were crisis ammunition, I would have bought something made for killing game.

Do I feel bad about any of these buys? Actually, I am having misgivings about the 10mm pistol. I don’t really need it. I just thought it would be handy, and I was concerned that the hysterical mob might make it impossible to get another one for several months. In retrospect, I think maybe I should have left it for someone else. To the person who needs this gun, I would like to provide a tip: Democrats say attackers will leave you alone if you soil your pants. They really say that, and I assume they wouldn’t say it unless they had done the research.

That was humor. Calm down.

The 10mm reloading stuff does not tickle my conscience. I did end up with more than I wanted, but no desperate person is running to gun stores demanding 10mm components for reloading. If you’re into reloading, you have ammunition already. The desperate are trying to find factory ammunition because they can’t make their own. Besides, 500 rounds don’t constitute a hoard. It’s three days of casual shooting, plus a couple of magazines for home defense.

Last week, I went to the store. I wanted to buy little red potatoes to go with a pork roast. I could not find loose potatoes, so I bought a big bag. This week, I went back, and I bought two New York strips for $5.49 per pound. Guess what? People are hoarding potatoes now. Unbelievable. The store did not have a single potato. But I did. I still had half a bag of red potatoes at home.

You can’t keep potatoes forever. They sprout or they rot. Hoarding them is a bad idea. What happened to make people hoard them? Did Oprah tell all her girls to buy potatoes?

It’s gross, the way women worship her. Millions of women think she’s a genius. She’s so influential, Weight Watchers pays her to do ads, and she’s obese! Unless she converts to Christianity and gets help from God, she will probably be obese until she dies. Obviously, she doesn’t know how to be thin, but they pay her, and many women listen.

If they want me to listen, they’ll have to hire Kate Moss.

Why would you hire an obese person to give people dieting advice? It’s like hiring Amy Winehouse to counsel drug addicts.

I was running out of paper towels when the insanity started. I found some online, through Office Depot. I only wanted 6 rolls, but when I bought a small package, the deal fell through. I had to buy 15. So now I have more than twice the number of paper towel rolls I would usually have, and because I bought an off brand, I got a deal.

I just found more alcohol in an upstairs bathroom. Sorry, but I did.

When are people going to start hoarding fuel? They’re hoarding water, which has a zero percent chance of a supply problem. Why not fuel? Maybe I need to fill my cans in case people get even crazier. I don’t think they’ll hoard fuel, but I didn’t think they would hoard water and potatoes, either.

I guess fuel won’t be a problem, because the supply is great and people have nowhere to hoard it. If you’re an average person, you can fill your car and maybe a few cans, but that’s it. We only have fuel shortages when the supply is bad.

Oh, buy. I checked. No gas cans at Home Depot! People never cease to disappoint me. I have more cans than I know what to do with, so it doesn’t matter.

Why are things going so well here? Here is what God has to say, in Psalm 37:

The LORD knoweth the days of the upright: and their inheritance shall be for ever. They shall not be ashamed in the evil time: and in the days of famine they shall be satisfied. But the wicked shall perish, and the enemies of the LORD shall be as the fat of lambs: they shall consume; into smoke shall they consume away.

Am I saying God rewards me because I’m a wonderful person? Of course not. That’s obviously untrue. My faults are not hard to see. But you don’t have to be perfect to get God’s protection. Give your life to him, be baptized with the Holy Spirit, move in the gifts and fruit of the Spirit, develop a powerful prayer habit, claim God’s promises, focus on being changed internally, and you will meet the criteria.

I am trying to keep listening to God so I don’t mess up my protection. I’m not saying this will work. I’m just saying it has worked for me for the last 12 years or so. That’s a pretty good run, for someone who is wrong.

If it works for 30 more years, I’ll be dead before my streak ends. WINNING!

When the real estate recession hit, God said, “This recession is not for you,” and it turned out to be true. I didn’t have any problems. Why should 2020 be any different? Same God.

The best retirement account is the one you build up through years of prayer. It’s an account in heaven, where nothing can touch it. I haven’t knocked myself out trying to make money, but I’ve been extremely consistent with daily prayer, for a very long time. I’m doing fine, and I live far from areas where the coronavirus psychosis is making people suffer. I don’t even have a mayor, so I am less likely to have my civil rights taken away during this ordeal.

It’s not good enough just to pray to “God.” You have to know JESUS, and you have to be full of the Holy Spirit. “God” doesn’t mean much unless the word is connected with Jesus, because to reject Jesus is to reject God. If you don’t know the Holy Spirit, you won’t have good communication with God, so you’ll lack guidance, and you’ll get out of his will, even when you think you’re doing things that make him happy. To be out of his will is to lack is full support. You can be a missionary and fail to please God.

As for the virus, it looks like my forecast equation is still doing quite well, although the actual numbers are still diverging upward from my prediction. It’s not a big deal, because a true plague would infect more people by orders of magnitude.

I check figures in the morning, and I saw something like 276,000 today. It’s higher now. My prediction for this morning was about 252,000. If this were a plague, we would be looking at hundreds of millions by now. Even if we are missing many cases, I am still being vindicated by the data. Even if the actual case number is 10 million, we’re not seeing anything like flu rates, and we have had plenty of time for the infection to spread.

Why is Italy doing so badly? Maybe it’s because Southern Europeans aren’t as clean as Northern Europeans. Sorry, but it’s true. The Germans and Scandinavians are much cleaner than people to their south. That would explain the high Italian transmission rate, but why are so many dying? The German death total is 73, and the Italians have lost 4,000. It can’t be because Italian cases have had longer to worsen, because China has a lower death rate than Italy, after 4 months.

If you take the figures for cases by nation and deaths by nation side by side, you will see that the order is different. Countries that are high on one list are low on the other.

Are more Italians obese? We know they’re older than other Europeans, but it’s hard to believe it makes that much difference. I just checked, and the median age, which ought to be close to an average, is higher in Germany than in Italy.

The average age of victims in Italy is supposedly around 80. This would explain the high death rate, but why are so many being infected? I suppose the general dirtiness of Southern Europeans is the explanation. They must not be protecting older people, and older people are probably dirtier anyway.

It makes people angry when you say one ethnic group is cleaner than another. So what? Read about personal habits in places like China and Iran. Gross. There are places in Africa where people use their fingers to shove food in other people’s mouths, as a sign of affection. Is it okay to admit this happens? Koreans eat out of the same dishes when they have meals. My family never did.

I would say my mother’s family was in the 90th percentile in terms of cleanliness, and my dad’s was much lower. His family was closer to what people in Kentucky call “white trash.” Southerners from good families are phobic about cleanliness, but poor Southerners will sit at a dinner table and scoop mashed potatoes from the common bowl with their forks. I picked up some of my dad’s filthiness and some of my mother’s cleanliness, and I have been trying to improve all my life.

When I was a kid, I had a friend whose mother was a Lebanese Arab. She wouldn’t let him go to Lebanon. I asked her why, and she said, “Because of the damn dirty Arabs.” She was afraid he would die from food poisoning. Different cultures have different standards. I’ve cleaned out apartments after Hispanic tenants left, and I saw things you would not believe. There are entire apartment buildings in Miami that smell like cockroach manure. My time in such buildings is the only reason I know what cockroach manure smells like. Ordinarily, there isn’t enough of it in a building to create a smell you can detect.

Speaking of Miami, I just got a really annoying text from Miami-Dade County, in SPANISH. It looks like it says, “Since we’re all staying at home, why not fill out the census?” Says it’s from Alcalde Gimenez. I absolutely hate being dragged into anything involving Miami. Their site says they will leave you alone if you text “STOP” back to them, but how did they get this number to begin with? That place is like a stink that won’t wash off.

Maybe old Italians are dying because they’re Italians. Imagine all the great food and drink an 80-year-old Italian has had. Maybe Italy had a high smoking rate when these people were young, and their lungs aren’t strong enough to stand up to the disease. Anyway, it sure looks like Italy is letting the aged down.

Journalists here in the US are trying to tell us young, healthy people are in great danger. They put out a story about a family in New Jersey. Several of them died after a gathering. I saw a photo of the family. Everyone visible in the photo was obese. The skinniest one was a lady who had to be 40 pounds overweight. None looked to be under 45. Most were older. They looked awful. Saggy and weak, with terrible posture and crepey skin. They were exactly the kind of people this disease kills. Reading the twisted coverage from journalists is very trying.

Coincidentally, or not, the sick family in New Jersey is Italian.

If Bernie Sanders were president, we would be hearing about his brilliant response, and journalists would be looking for ways to reach back and blame George Bush for his failures. They hate Trump and are conditioned to lie about him, and this is an election year, making things worse. They also love exaggerating crises because it makes them money and builds careers. It’s a perfect storm for propaganda. Until it becomes hard to find a new case anywhere, it will be impossible to get them to admit the epidemic isn’t that bad.

If you’re looking for a Glock 10mm pistol, I apologize, because it’s on its way to me. I felt like God said I should buy it. I pray before I buy just about anything. Maybe I was wrong. I don’t think it would matter, because there are still used guns all over the place. Nothing interesting is happening with the used guns on my Gunbroker watch list. There’s even a new Tanfoglio Witness that hasn’t sold.

Just try to be nice to the home invaders. It could work.

The other stuff was hoarded in advance, making it unintentional, and intent is an element of hoarding. Before you know there’s a shortage, hoarding is just smart shopping.

Gun-Buying Panic Finally Gains Some Logical Support

What is there to write about, except coronavirus?

I guess I could write about my mother’s giant credenza. I think it’s called a credenza, anyway. You would have to ask a guy who likes musicals. It’s an eight-foot-long china cabinet. I got rid of it today. It’s on the way to a consignment shop.

My dad didn’t buy my mother nice furniture or cars. We always got Buicks at cost from my grandfather’s dealership. We got used furniture or things from outlets. Then when my parents divorced, my dad got a girlfriend and let her fill his house with Miami Vice-style furniture that cost a fortune. It included a thousand-dollar credenza. Made from particle board.

My mother earned her own money after the divorce, and when my parents reunited, she bought furniture from an old lady who bought estate goods. That’s where the credenza came from. In addition to being a gigantic, heavy piece of furniture no heterosexual man needs, it’s a reminder of family dysfunction.

Now that it’s gone, I can move my indoor workbenches downstairs into the dining room, which I have been using as a storage area. It will be nice not walking upstairs every time I need a wrench.

If I leave this place, it will be a blessing to be rid of heavy furniture I never liked to begin with. Moving costs money. On the way out of Miami, a mover tried to charge my dad a grand for packing and moving one mirror.

I still have my mother’s bedroom furniture, which is not particularly good. It’s real wood and all that, but the fit and finish are not great. I think it was from an outlet. It’s about like Thomasville, but it seems like the quality control is lacking. No way am I paying anyone to move it. I have the first dresser my parents bought when they married. I already gave away the matching bed. When I was in high school, the dresser and bed were in my bedroom. High school itself was fine, but my life at home was not, so I look forward to not having that dresser.

I also want to unload her first set of sterling flatware. Both sets, in fact. The first set is just plain ugly, and the second set is ostentatious. It’s too fancy. I love my mother, but her taste was limited by her Eastern Kentucky roots.

Actually, now that I think about it, my grandmother had much better taste. That’s odd.

My mother collected Waterford crystal, which I do not like. It’s heavy and lacking in grace. Waterford makes fine vases and such, but no one wants a wine goblet that weighs a pound and looks like…a vase.

It would be nice to have heirlooms around, but what do you do when they’re ugly or they remind you of miserable times? The nice shotgun and terrible, cheap revolver I inherited from my grandfather remind me of good times. The furniture is different.

Actually, I inherited the shotgun from my dad. My grandmother gave it to him.

My dad’s mother, who did not give anyone a shotgun, knitted two afghans for our family. I threw one out a long time ago, and I’m still planning to take the other one to Goodwill. She was a very cold lady. She wasn’t nasty to us, but she had no interest in my sister or me. Didn’t send us Christmas gifts or cards. Didn’t call. On top of that, she liked olive green, which is a depressing color. Every time I look at anything she owned, I think about the fact that she was a stranger to me.

If the afghan were wool, I might be more reluctant to part with it. It’s synthetic.

I have the feeling that I’m cutting myself loose from things. Part of this involves my dad. Yesterday, I found out he had a Linkedin account, so I canceled it. I unsubscribed him from emails from the Kentucky Bar. I took him off a Morgan Stanley list.

I have canceled many accounts for him in the past. When an account has contacts, I look at them to see what kind of people he associated with. It’s interesting to see how many were the sort of people who take advantage of older men they think have money.

A woman who was an associate at his law firm emailed him a while back, out of the blue. At first, I didn’t think anything of it, but then I decided to Google and see if she had divorced recently. I didn’t come up with anything. I emailed her from his account and let her know he had died. No response! Not a good sign. Seems pretty cold. But I can’t draw conclusions. Maybe my email went to her spam folder.

She and her husband have separate Facebook pages. His photo shows him with another man. Hers is a picture of a sunset. No human beings. There are also a couple of photos of her alone on a beach with her dog. Her husband tended to rub folks the wrong way. Maybe things didn’t work out.

It’s funny how smart you get when you get old. It’s too bad I didn’t have any older people to give me good advice when I was young.

It’s not exactly unheard-of for middle-aged women with financial problems to see older men as lifeboats. It’s a nasty business. When you start to fail, you don’t want to be at the mercy of someone who has been wishing for your death from the second the ring slipped on.

There were a couple of single women who emailed my dad regularly during his last years. I find it extremely hard to believe they were interested in him for reasons that were not financial. He was very overweight, and he was past 80. My grandfather had very young admirers when he was around 70, but he was tall and thin, and women had always liked him. Not everyone ages that way.

Anyway. Coronavirus. The epidemic is progressing very slowly, but the madness is still going viral, to use an appropriate metaphor. California’s governor just told his citizens they have to stay home. It’s an order. Oddly, he does not plan to enforce it. Because he can’t. Let’s be real. But he still had the nerve to issue it.

He says people can only go out for essential errands. He says you can’t go to work unless you’re in an essential business. I can already picture the confusion and inintended bad results. What if your essential errand involves a business that isn’t officially essential? Uh oh.

You can’t just imprison a whole state and expect it to work.

Here’s something weird: there are major cities where the mayors have banned the arrest of people who rob houses and commit other types of theft. I think the point is to reduce the load on skeletonized city employee rosters.

I’ll try to be helpful here. When you issue an order like that, you may think you’re saying, “We will not arrest people who steal.” What you’re really saying is, “Go out and steal, right now. You can even break in people’s houses.” That’s how people will take it. You’re also saying, “Buy guns and ammunition so you can protect your home or protect yourself while you steal.” You’re telling people the purge has commenced.

Supposedly, all sorts of hypocritical leftists (redundant) are dashing to gun stores to buy weapons they don’t know how to use. I’m sure this will end well. I wonder how many noobs got their hands pinched by semiauto slides at gun ranges today.

People who pretended to be against the Second Amendment are showing they’re all for it when they think they need it. Why didn’t they just admit it in the first place?

One big difference between leftism and conservatism is that leftism is often a pose. Leftists get to say all sorts of nice things they don’t mean. They get to virtue-signal. Leftist men do it to get gullible women in bed. Conservatism is different, because conservatives have to say things people don’t like to hear. Leftists are like divorced dads who fill their kids with candy and burgers on the weekend. Conservatives are like the moms who make them do their homework and brush their teeth. Naturally, leftism attracts more hypocrites.

With regard to the gun situation, people like me are sitting at home, relaxing. I have enough ammunition to start a South American insurgency or support a typical Tuesday in Baltimore. I didn’t buy it to shoot people, for the most part. I just like to buy in bulk and get good prices. I like shooting recreationally. In the past, I used to think a lot about defending my property, but the closer I get to God, the less that mindset appeals to me.

I’ve been thinking about getting a full-sized Glock. I used to have one. I bought it because my sister, whom I had helped push into rehab, was threatening to send her addict friends after me. They are very lucky she didn’t follow through. I sold it because I didn’t like the caliber or the memories.

The other day, I saw Jerry Miculek carrying at home. He’s a freak pistol shooter. I subscribed to his Youtube channel. He does things you would not believe. He said he carried openly while working on his property. I generally carry a compact Glock with 11 rounds in it. I had to ask myself why I was cheating myself. On my own property, I can carry anything I want. It doesn’t have to fit in a pocket.

I thought about getting a Glock 40. This is a full-size 10mm. I’m already set up for 10mm, so the caliber is not a problem.

I have to think about it. Carrying in a pocket is very nice. Holstered guns are a pain in the butt. They bump into things. They’re hard to draw. I can draw from a pocket in one second.

Added capacity would be nice, but I could just as easily put an extra magazine in another pocket.

A longer sight radius would make for better accuracy, but I shoot just as well with my compact as I do with a full-size 1911. If you’re an assailant within a hundred feet of me, you are in serious danger.

The only way to make a real step upward in long-range accuracy is to carry a long gun or use a red dot sight. I think. Not sure about the red dot. I know nearly nothing about them.

A Glock 40 would give me 16 shots without a magazine change. I now have 11. I should also admit I’m carrying a 9mm at the moment. The 10mm was heavier, and the gun I’m carrying is one I bought for my dad. It has sentimental value.

On the one hand, I have no interest in shooting people; I want to return good for evil. On the other, I still carry, because I might be wrong, or I might have to defend someone else, so shouldn’t I do it right?

Someone said I should get a long-slide Glock. They have longer barrels. The only real advantage is higher velocity. I’m getting 1250 fps from the 10mm right now, with 180-grain hollowpoints. That’s awfully good already. It’s about like a .357, with a bigger wound channel. How much overkill do you need?

I could try carrying a 1911 in a holster to see how I like it. I don’t think I have any defensive .45 ammo, though, unless I’ve forgotten where it is. I’ll bet it’s fun trying to buy it right now. I may have some defensive .38 Super ammo, but I don’t want to carry my pretty barbecue gun and scratch it up.

Actually, I do have a lot of .45 hollowpoints. I had forgotten. I made them myself. I don’t know how good the bullets are. I got them for nothing when I bought my press.

I’m trying to be improved by the pandemic instead of rotting. This morning, I felt that God was telling me to get a grip on myself. I was starting to be overly critical of the people who are panicking, as though I were somehow superior. I made comments on Yahoo News stories, and some were snippy. Ordinarily, I avoid reading the news, and I do not make comments. This afternoon, I went back and deleted them all, except for one, which I thought was acceptable.

I can actually understand why people with dependents are panicking. I give them a little slack. When you have mouths to feed, it’s probably harder to resist buying 10 cartons of eggs. It’s still not smart, and it’s morally wrong, but the pressure is greater.

I do not understand the people who are purely selfish with no discernible excuse. Ellen DeGeneres has been hiding at home for days, and she has had the tone-deafness to post about it on social media. “I’m cowering in the living room of one of my mansions, and I’m sending the maids out for tofu.” This is the opposite of inspiring. I’m surprised she doesn’t understand how bad she looks. Well, no I’m not. She lives in a bubble, surrounded by toadies.

In 1941, celebrities ran down to recruiting stations and joined the armed services. Wow. That’s a little different, isn’t it? Jimmy Stewart, who had to stuff himself to make the induction weight requirement, flew a bunch of dangerous missions. He actually enlisted long before the war started. When he died, he was a general. Lots of celebrities were war heroes (John Wayne, who was having an affair with Marlene Dietrich, notably excepted). Now celebrities post snowflaky messages about their terror of getting the sniffles.

Tom Hanks showed a lot of class. He and his wife submitted to quarantine, and as I recall, he said it was about like having a cold.

I’m hoping the epidemic poops out here, as it did in China, in a month or so. T.B. Joshua predicted the Chinese coronavirus collapse. He seems to think his prophecy is for the entire world. I’m not so sure, but he knows more than I do. If this thing goes away quickly, it will be a nice, relatively painless warning we can all profit from.

Even if it doesn’t go away quickly, we will probably get used to it before long, and then we’ll start to get pretty angry about the ludicrous forecasts and insane restrictions. Life should become more normal by June regardless of whether the epidemic goes away.

I guess I should go to the store and see if they have any cheap rib eyes available. I have been trying to think of different things to fix for dinner that aren’t a lot of work. Seems like I keep coming back to beef. Maybe I should buy a pound of shrimp and have a giant shrimp cocktail.

I’ll check the toilet paper situation out. There is no way I’ll buy any, though. I can’t stand between needy people and their miracle cure.

Update on my Amateur Coronavirus Predictions

My second coronavirus death toll prediction model is not doing very well. My total infection prediction model seems to be doing quite well indeed. While it should amaze anyone if either model works, I figured the death model would work better, based on the higher reliability of death numbers, but that hasn’t panned out.

Several days ago, I came up with a differential equation to predict the total number of infections that would occur. It says the total for today (morning, more or less) should be about 178,000. The actual total is 185,000. I call that a home run! Much better than I expected. Of course, the total may diverge wildly from my prediction in the future. It would be remarkable if I even came close.

Later on, I created an equation based on the death numbers, which I thought would be more accurate. The death total for today…well, I don’t know what it was, but it doesn’t matter, because it looks like we will pass the number for March 22 tonight or tomorrow.

So what does this mean?

1. Given my total lack of training in the area of epidemiology, combined with the lack of reliability of the data, maybe there was no way either prediction could work, and the good results we’re seeing from the A equation (total infections) are illusory. Maybe it will turn out to be a bad predictor, just like the D equation (total deaths).

2. Maybe the death figures are actually less reliable for prediction purposes than the total figures, because the death rate varies wildly depending on where the virus is.

These guesses top my list.

I suppose that with a very minor epidemic like this one, where the total numbers are very small (sorry, but it’s true), you end up with a situation in which death rates vary because the tiny infected populations in various countries have characteristics that make them much more or less likely to die.

Example which I just made up: what if the virus hits a big community of retirees in Thailand, and because they’re old, 10% die? In a tiny infection pool of 185,000, that would mess up the death data.

The Italians have a crazy death rate. Maybe they’re not detecting mild cases. That seems to be the only thing that could explain it, since the people in countries around them are doing better.

Scandinavians and Germans have low death rates. Given their rigidity and willingness to follow orders, maybe they’re getting tested more thoroughly.

I wonder if I could go back and apply my model to the flu. I don’t think I could get figures. I would have to apply it early in the season, because it doesn’t take saturation into account.

Do I still think the hysteria is utterly unrealistic? Of course. Don’t forget: we get something like 8 million flu cases per day during a global season, and right now we have 185,000 global cases for coronavirus after several months. There is just no way an honest, rational person can look at those numbers and think COVID-19 is worth the trouble we’re putting ourselves to.

I’m very blessed to live where I do. My poor cousin lives in the Chicago area, where the population density is high and the politicians are corrupt leftist authoritarians. She said the authorities are threatening to tell people they can’t leave their houses except to buy food and so on. Consider this: yesterday, the Chicago Tribune said there were 105 detected cases in Illinois.

I looked at the website for the local paper, and nothing like that is happening here. Events are closing, and schools are shut down, but if they are threatening to imprison people in their houses, the mighty Star-Banner is not saying so online. I would assume the would put that information on their site if it were in the paper.

Unless the people in the press room are just too weak to work their keyboards.

The terrible thing is that we are going to have the economic destruction of a plague, without a plague. Businesses are going to close permanently, all over the place. Stocks are in the toilet. All sorts of jobs will be lost. Jobs are important. Businesses are important. It’s not okay to throw them away over a disease that will probably kill fewer than 20,000 Americans.

We should be focusing on insulating old people and sick people. That’s it. Kids are nearly immune, and the rest of us are very, very unlikely to die even if we get infected. In other words, it’s a lot like the flu, except it affects way fewer people.

If you think 20,000 people is a big hit, you’re bad at math. You don’t understand how many people die here every year. Go look up the number of traffic deaths we suffer in one year. Look at the number of suicides. Look at tobacco deaths. There are over 300,000,000 people here, and you have to take that into account.

Doesn’t every life have infinite value? No. Never did. If a life had infinite value, we wouldn’t build skyscrapers or bridges. Every huge construction project costs lives. We would quarantine people who get colds and norovirus, because these diseases kill a small number of people. We don’t do that. The world has to keep turning. The value of keeping our economic system going, sorry to tell you, is very, very high, and before coronavirus, we accepted the fact that keeping America bustling would cost many thousands of lives every year. We just didn’t talk about it.

If lives had infinite value, we would drive $500,000 cars that provided 100% protection in crashes. We would force kids to be vaccinated. We would ban tobacco and scuba diving. We would build every house from reinforced concrete. We don’t do those things. An acceptable risk of death is something healthy societies accept. The alternative is economic paralysis. And we can’t really control death, anyway.

It’s okay to say money is important. It’s not something to be ashamed of. Money is housing. Money is clothing. Money is medical care for kids with cancer. For the leftists, let me say that money is tarot cards, dope, Molotov cocktail ingredients, and black ski masks. It’s Greenpeace donations.

Guess how many people die in New York City every year. The figure is over 154,000. That’s one city. One year. How many New Yorks can you fit in 7 billion? The global annual death figure is around 60 million, and many, many of those deaths are not from old age.

I just looked up the world’s population. I thought it was 7 billion, but I’m seeing 7.7. Is that really true? Man, there are a lot of us.

We are killing our economy over nothing. When the panic goes away, we will have a real problem: increased poverty.

Here is the total number of cases of coronavirus, expressed as a percentage of the world’s population: 0.0024%. Here is the total number of cases of Spanish flu, expressed as a percentage of the world’s population in 1981: 27%. Here is the number of seasonal flu cases in the US, expressed as a percentage of the nation’s population: 10%.

Sure, the coronavirus total will go up, but if it were going to get anywhere near flu numbers, which don’t upset us, why is it so far behind after several months? The flu gets the job done in 100 days.

There is really no point in my writing these things, except to vent and to commiserate with other people who understand the situation. People are not going to listen to common sense in large numbers. They’re under a mass delusion with a supernatural cause. This is what happens when people don’t get baptized with the Holy Spirit.

I have to go to the grocery store. I can’t believe it. I have to go look for purified water. I’m not buying it because of the virus. I buy it because I’ve had kidney stones. Will I find any water on the shelves? I wonder.

I would like to get sanitizing wipes, because I use them when I go to the dump, and I’m running out. Not sure I’ll be able to buy them.

Last night I wondered if I should buy a sack of rice and some dried beans. Then I snapped out of it. Food isn’t going away. Farmers aren’t going to let their crops rot. People are filling their houses with Pop-Tarts, potato chips, and other boxed food, and when the panic tapers off, they’ll be stuck at home, eating junk. Maybe I’ll have the store to myself for a while.

Time to leave the house. I plan to cover the entire car with toilet paper rolls, with a tiny hole I can look through to drive. This should give me protection from the juju.

God help people who live in cities. I am praying he will wake them up and help them move.

Addendum: in case anyone cares, Tom Hanks and his wife are out of quarantine after a lengthy one-week illness. Here’s the list of terrible symptoms they had: mild fever, chills, and some aches. I have to confess; when I was a kid, I would have chosen that over going to school. Hanks is over 60, and so is his wife. Was he lucky? Did Australian medicine, which was developed mostly on sheep, work a miracle? NO. Their cases are typical, even for old people.

I’m off to brave the panic. If I don’t make it back, my toilet paper stash is up for grabs.

Coronavirus Pandemic Fizzling Nicely

Time for more annoying optimism RE the coronavirus outbreak.

Things continue to look bad for the nervous Nellies and tribulation fans. Right now, the number of detected cases, worldwide, is 111,362. This means we are detecting somewhere between 3,000 and 4,000 cases per day, which appears to be a big drop from last week.

This is not how real plagues work. A real plague’s case total goes up exponentially until saturation is reached. UP. Not sort of sideways.

Will the picture change? What if a whole bunch of people have been exposed, and they’re going to develop symptoms and be reported in a nearly simultaneous statistical glob?

Doubtful. The average incubation period lasts 5 days. Assuming a reasonable distribution, that means around half of the cases pop up in 5 days or less. The virus has been in the US for a while now. We should have seen something by now. The US total is 565, which is probably lower than the number of Americans who found out they had tuberculosis last month.

Besides, how would a bunch of people get exposed all at once?

Maybe a bunch of Harbor Freight employees could cooperate to open a particularly nasty freight container.

I’m sticking to my prediction. The plague never happened, and it will not happen, barring a terrible mutation. Just guessing, but I’ve been right so far.

Does this mean COVID-19 won’t kill a bunch of people? No. Every year, trampolines kill a certain number of people. So do roller skates. So do coconuts, staplers, vacuum cleaners, and Beanie Babies. The world is a big place, and a lot of nutty things happen here, because that’s how probability works. Even a fairly tame epidemic like this one will take a toll when it has 7 billion people to work with. COVID-19 doesn’t have to be a plague to kill a few thousand elderly people. A real plague would infect millions or healthy people and kill a significant fraction of them.

I just read that the common cold kills 4500 people in the US every year. I’ll bet it’s true.

Now that I’m confident there will be no plague, I’m still annoyed, because there is no guarantee I won’t get sick. There are several cases in Florida, and I do not want to join them. I already had pink eye this year. That will suffice.

I don’t want to go on the cart. I feel happy.

Given the choice between the flu and COVID-19, I’d say COVID-19, all the way. The symptoms are typically much less unpleasant.

I read something interesting the other day, and it must be true, because it was on the Internet. I read that viruses tend to become less severe as they spread. I wonder if that explains what happened in Wuhan province, where COVID-19 was much worse than it is everywhere else. Maybe the disease changed, or maybe the dirty habits and poor response of the Chinese explain everything.

It’s not fashionable to say people in this country or that one are dirty, but–you know this–it’s frequently true. People in Arab countries are really dirty. The Germans are cleaner than the French. Hispanics tend to be less clean than other Americans. Black people seem to be cleaner than other Americans, as do Southerners. New Yorkers are really gross. A New Yorker will drop an ice cream cone on the sidewalk, pick it up, and eat it.

The Chinese are dirty. No two ways about it.

A friend of mine crossed China in 1983. He told of a horrifying experience there. He was on a riverboat, and meals were included with his ticket. He said there was a table, and at mealtimes, a big bowl would be placed on it. The passengers would then start grabbing food from the bowl, using chopsticks. One bowl. He said the toilet in his car on the Trans-Siberian railroad was a small hole in the floor of the restroom, and it was surrounded by rounds that had missed the target. Poo flyers. He also related a terrifying tale of a man who was employed by the state to clean people’s rear ends, with a giant swab, at a public toilet.

I hope things have improved, but current hygiene standards in China are still highly disturbing.

When I think about travel, I don’t worry about things like terrorism. I worry about encountering fecal material in every item of food and drink, and on every surface, I deal with. On the other hand, this is what happens whenever I visit someone who owns a cat.

I lived in Israel for 4 months, I visited Jerusalem maybe 3 times, and I got dysentery from Arab food twice. The Jewish food was awful; like prison food. But it was clean.

Jews can only make two things well: desserts and sandwiches. Steer clear of the other stuff. Even if it means dysentery.

I haven’t had a Nova bagel in ages. Man.

I wonder what will happen with COVID-19 in Thailand, where nose-picking in public is acceptable. They need to cut that out.

If my sunny coronavirus predictions are giving you heartburn, you should probably go away until the hubbub is over, because I don’t see myself not writing about it while the story is still in the news.

Don’t despair if you spent a lot of money on useless surgical masks. They should work pretty well for protecting you from dust in your workshop. Also, Purell is flammable, so if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to use napalm, now you may get your chance.

As for me, I am not yet ready to go about in public in a face-burqa.

Plus New Old Tool

I may as well post an update on my illness.

As I wrote a while back, I managed to come down with pink eye. The symptoms appeared on the same day I finished major welding on my arbor press stand, so I thought I had burned my eye with the welder’s arc. In retrospect, that would have been a more favorable diagnosis. A welding flash burn goes away in a day or two. It has been two weeks, and I am still having symptoms.

This particular type of virus likes to take a tour of the body. It may start in an eye, but during its junket, it may make the rounds of other parts of the body, like a tourist trying to see every landmark in Europe in 5 days. The list of things it does to people is long and annoying. It can give you cold symptoms. It can make your bones hurt. It can give you pretty amazing diarrhea. It gives some people meningitis. It’s a very versatile microbe.

The first time I looked it up, I saw the phrase “3 to 5 days,” and I was pretty happy. I could stand awful things such as living in Chicago without a pistol for 5 days. Then later I read stuff that completely blew this rosy prediction out of the water. One said the incubation period alone can last 9 days, and another said the illness itself could last two weeks, which has proven true in my case.

Initially, the bug was in my eye. Then it got bored and moved to the general region behind my face. Then it moved into my nose, which is where it is today. Yesterday and the day before, I also had fatigue, and my mood was not great. These are typical pink eye (adenovirus) symptoms, believe it or not. It dabbles in everything.

Of course, I have been praying and so on. I’ve been asking God which doors I left open, to let this thing in.

Today I tried something that had worked well in the past. I simply told it to leave. I didn’t get total healing, but within an hour, I was much better, and that’s how things stand now.

Because I felt better, I decided to take some actions which were pretty aggressive. I decided to torture the invader with spicy food. I ate the better part of a theater-size box of Ferrara Red Hots, and I followed it up with some homemade kung pao chicken so hot it nearly glowed. I have a lot more energy now. Let’s just hope I don’t have to expend it on multiple trips to the bathroom later on tonight.

This virus is extremely contagious. I read a lot about it because I didn’t feel like doing anything else. It usually hits kids, and it spreads like crazy in schools because a) kids are filthy, and b) it makes infectious fluids pour out of practically every orifice in the body. I read that a person’s poo remains full of viruses days after the infection is over. What lucky researcher was assigned the job of looking into that?

In Japan, pink eye is known as “swimming pool fever” because–get this–you can get it from chlorinated pool water! Nice, right? I had no idea pool water could spread disease. Makes me wonder what chlorine is actually good for. Something inside me shrivels when I think of all the pools I’ve been in. Nobody showers before getting into a pool these days, and let’s face it, most kids don’t get out to pee. Think of all the used Band-Aids you’ve seen lying on the bottoms of pools. Imagine the things you didn’t see, yet which were there all the same.

If you can get pink eye, what else can you get? Something like a third of Americans have venereal disease, and I’ve been swimming with them.

It just proves I’m right when I say public pools are disgusting and foul. And hot tubs…who thought that was a good idea? A guy I knew led an all-male prayer group at his church, and one week, they met in his hot tub. So basically they sat in hot man soup and exchanged every possible type of bodily filth. Which they then took home to their families.

I must wash my hands 30 times a day, I use disinfectant wipes all the time, I leave the house about as often as Boo Radley and Howard Hughes, and somehow I got the filth disease! Where is the justice?

Anyway, I feel much better. I still have some chicken. Tomorrow I’m going to add even more heat to it and eat the rest of it.

In other news, my compressed air system should be working by Saturday night. All the parts have arrived. A couple hundred more trips up and down the ladder should get it done. It’s amazing how many complications set in to slow me down.

Here’s something I did not expect: I destroyed the swivel on one of my air hose reels. I didn’t know it had a swivel. Maybe this is why it got destroyed.

My reel has a little brass fitting attached to the hub. A horizontal thread goes out of it, to the compressor. There is a thread perpendicular to the horizontal thread, and it goes to the air hose. When the reel turns, a swivel between the threaded parts lets the reel rotate without twisting anything.

It looks like I failed to use Teflon tape or pipe dope when I installed the hose back in Miami. I used to do a lot of work on my dad’s boat, and it was full of brass and bronze. Someone taught me that it wasn’t necessary to use Teflon or dope, and I guess that’s why I didn’t put any in the hose reel. It was not great advice. When I installed the hose reel here the other day, I had to remove the hose, and when I did, I had to apply so much torque I screwed up the swivel.

It looks like other people do the same thing, because you can find these swivels online. Of course, the best one I found for a good price was backordered just when I needed it. Luckily Amazon had one somebody had returned, so I bought it and saved some money.

I had also bent the stud that held the swivel on. I measured it, and it was an M10-1.5 thread. I figured I was going to have to drive to a store, buy a bolt, cut the head off, and make this weird stud. I decided to look around the shop first, thinking there was no hope. Unbelievably, in an old box of fasteners a tenant had left in one of my dad’s warehouses, I found an M10-1.5 bolt just big enough for the job. I cut the head off with a hack saw and cut two screw slots in the ends. Now I don’t have to search online for a metric air hose reel stud.

Now that I have everything I need, I just have to install the swivel and hose, finish the air lines, fire up the compressor, and look for leaks. I really hope I don’t find any, because nearly all of the connections are 12 feet off the ground.

Once the air line job is done, I’ll be able to move on to other jobs that will improve order in the shop.

I really sabotaged the whole shop organization plan last week. I bought an old Gorton tool grinder on Ebay. Of course, it has turned out to have undisclosed problems, so now I’m buying tools to fix it. I had hoped to be working on a mobile base for it by now. I haven’t taken it off the pallet. I was afraid to take it off because I was thinking I should send it back. The spindle that holds the grinding wheel needs new bearings, and the motor blows my GFCI. The whole thing made me feel discouraged. Then I asked myself why I had so many tools if I was going to give up on a grinder rather than use them. Ouch.

Right now, I need a gear puller to get the arbor off the spindle. Once the arbor is off, I should be able to use an adjustable pin spanner, which arrived today, to get the spindle open. Once that’s done, I should be able to replace the bearings. I hope.

I might as well go ahead and make the mobile base. Now that I have my mill running, I can make pretty fancy cuts on steel tubing. I may cut a couple of pieces of rectangular tubing so I can weld them together in an efficient X configuration. That would make for a very simple base. I would have to have casters with swivels, because they wouldn’t be parallel. It’s not easy to mount parallel casters on a base shaped like an X. If you put 4 casters on a base, and they aren’t parallel (at least on two sides), it won’t move.

Why make an X-shaped base? Because it’s the simplest way to make a base wider than the machine. It will be more stable than a small base.

The grinder is sitting in the floor taking up a tremendous amount of space. It has to be dealt with.

This is my sitrep. I hope you enjoyed it. My advice, as it already was prior to my illness, is to avoid public pools and, when possible, human beings. I hope to cease shedding microbes soon, and then life will return to normal. Or what passes for normal around here.

The Years I’ve Wasted!

Yesterday I had a discovery that left me with a mixture of joy and deep regret, as well as a sense that I had been cheated. I discovered that mustard greens are actually the best greens.

Here is the problem: I had never had properly prepared mustard greens. I had always had undercooked, bitter greens. I figured they always tasted that way. They were okay, but I saw no reason to go out of my way to cook them for myself. I thought my results would be no better.

This week I picked up what I thought was a package of collards. I was going to use them for salad. Collard greens make excellent salads. I mix them with grape tomatoes and feta cheese, among other things. They’re a little tough compared to lettuce, but that doesn’t scare me.

When I got the greens out to make salad, I was alarmed to see that I actually had mustard greens. I tried them, and I discovered they had a strong, sharp flavor. I guess the chemicals that make mustard pungent go all through the plant. There was no way to make a decent salad from them.

The next day, I decided to cook the greens, just to get them out of my life. I didn’t have any bacon grease; I had exhausted it while cooking for the holidays. I found a couple of old slices of country ham in the fridge, and I also had leftover scraps from the sugar-crusted ham I made for Christmas. I put this stuff in the pot with the greens and simmered them for over two hours. I also added powdered garlic (I was out of the real thing) and a little sugar.

I expected greens that were merely edible. I got something completely different. They were delicious. Best greens I’ve ever eaten. Better than kale, spinach, and collards. The sharp flavor was gone, and the taste of the wilted greens had mingled with the pork to create a whole new experience.

I got so excited, I made cornbread. I couldn’t help myself. I could not allow myself to eat greens this good without it.

I didn’t have buttermilk, but I had some whole-milk plain yogurt I needed to get rid of. I did something crazy. I used about a cup of yogurt, and I made up the rest of the liquid with whole milk. I also mixed about half a teaspoon of citric acid with the dry ingredients. Because I was out of bacon grease, I made a half-and-half mixture of lard and butter.

The cornbread was excellent. It would have been better with bacon grease, but it was still wonderful.

It seems to me that the reason I didn’t know how good mustard greens could be is that no one ever cooked them correctly for me in the past. Most people undercook their greens. There is a terrible prejudice in favor of undercooked vegetables these days. It works for some things, but greens need to be cooked to death. If you undercook them, they don’t develop any flavor. Greens should be cooked until they’re completely wilted but not dissolved.

I ordered myself a new country ham, as well as 6 country ham hocks. It will come out to around $5 per pound overall, which is not bad for a delicacy. The next time I want to make mustard greens, I’ll throw a hock in with them, and I may chop some sort of ham steak into them. Country ham can be overpowering in greens, so it’s okay to mix it with plain old grocery store ham.

Now that I think about it, this is a good development. I keep looking for vegetable-heavy, low-carb dishes for lunch and dinner. Mustard greens with ham will fill the bill. I should probably omit the cornbread, though. Greens are simple to cook, and they improve in the fridge, so you can eat them for several days after you prepare them.

I don’t have a lot of interest in cooking these days, but it seems like I still get pulled back into it by circumstances. I ate way too much over the holidays, because I was doing the cooking, and the food was tremendous. Now I want it all behind me ( instead of in front of me).

I had a wonderful dream last night. I keep asking God to invade my dreams. I don’t have bad dreams, but I have dreams that are sort of dismal. It seems like I almost never pray or think about God while I’m dreaming. It’s very strange, considering my waking mindset. Last night, I had dreams which seemed to reflect his presence in an indirect way.

I dreamed I was driving in the country, on a dirt road, in an area where there was at least one house. The area around the road had been cleared of trees. It was covered with deep grass and flowers. I couldn’t see any of this, because it was pitch black outside, and I didn’t have my headlights on.

As I drove, the grass and flowers in front of me, where my headlights should have shone, lit up as I approached. They filled up with shimmering gold, green, and red light. It was as though God was lighting up my path. I felt happy and peaceful as I watched. There was something very comforting about the nature of the light.

I had my window open, and my hand was outside. I felt something bite down on it. It was a firm bite, but not painful. Whatever was biting me had no teeth. It held on. For some reason, I had the idea that it was a big baby bird.

I drove out of the darkness into an area where the sun was bright, and I saw that a biracial baby girl was holding onto my hand with her gums.

I took her into the car and drove to the front steps of a school, which was also a courthouse and hospital. Friends of mine were situated around the steps. They were very happy to see me carrying the baby in. I was happy, too. I was very glad to be looking after her.

I don’t know what to make of the dream, but even after I woke up, I felt God’s love pouring through me like sunshine. I’m trying to hang onto that. Trying to love people with your own strength is better than nothing, but what you really want is to have God love through you.

Various people claiming to be witnesses say there are no shadows in heaven. They say everything is transparent, so the light that comes from God, and which contains his character, including love, pours through all. I believe we’re supposed to be like that. Yesterday I saw Mark Hemans preaching about how the word says we’re not supposed to have darkness in us. Every corner should be clean and illuminated.

I hope God gives me dreams in which he is less subtle. I don’t want to think like a Christian during the day and like an unbeliever while I sleep.

Introducing Beer Cheese

It may be that there are people out there who think Eastern Kentucky has not produced any delicacies. This is far from true. Eastern Kentucky produces the best molasses (actually sorghum) on earth. People there cure fantastic hams. The most popular soft drink in Eastern Kentucky is Ale-8, which is made in Winchester, and it’s wonderful. Finally, there is beer cheese, which was allegedly invented in the same city.

I guess the list is not impressive, but it’s something.

According to Wikipedia, the Kentucky legislature has declared Clark County (home of Winchester) the birthplace of beer cheese, and–get this–Queen Elizabeth loves it. She took some home with her after visiting Lexington. She probably puts on furry slippers, rocks back in her La-Z-Boy, pops a cold Busch, turns on Keeping up With the Kardashians, and packs the cheese away.

I don’t really know what beer cheese is, except that it’s a spicy cheddar cheese spread. It’s flavored with beer, obviously. Bon Appetit’s recipe, which is almost certainly bogus, calls for flat brown ale. I am pretty sure no one in Kentucky knows what ale is, unless it’s Ale-8. They drink the cheapest beer imaginable. Stroh’s is probably the top seller, although I have known a number of Natural Light fans. All the drunkenness with none of that pesky beer flavor.

I remember beer cheese from my youth. At some point in the Seventies, I would guess, my relatives started raving about it, and from then on, it was a staple.

Some believe beer cheese was invented at Johnnie Allman’s restaurant. I don’t know anything about this place, but my aunt apparently does, because when she came to visit me over Christmas, she brought two containers of hand-packed beer cheese from Allman’s. She also brought one container of “Kentucky Beer/Cheese” from Evans Gourmet Foods. I guess she thought beer cheese was so important, it was crucial to have alternatives from which to choose a favorite.

A lot of people my aunt knows have recipes, but she sneers at them. She really looks down on the people who use Velveeta. My mother, one aunt, and my grandmother were good cooks, but there are a lot of bad cooks in Eastern Kentucky. There are people who use Bisquick and margarine.

I just found the Allman family’s website, and it says Johnnie got the recipe from his brother, who lived in ARIZONA! I wonder if that’s true. It would be a big blow to Kentucky’s culinary legacy.

It’s hard to say which brand is better. I found myself gravitating toward the Evans product, so I suppose it probably wins.

Before my relatives arrived, I went shopping, and I picked up some crackers to go with the cheese I was planning to serve. My local Winn-Dixie was selling Ritz crackers two for one, so we were in good shape when it came time to open the beer cheese. I didn’t know beer cheese was coming when I bought the crackers. They’re the ideal beer cheese substrate, so it worked out well. Saltines aren’t nearly as good.

When it comes to beer cheese, my recommendation is to stay away. I would guess that it has 50 calories per dip, and you are not going to stop after the first cracker. Once you start eating, you will continue much longer than you originally intended, and by the time you manage to pull yourself away, you may be 2000 calories heavier.

Anyway, I enjoyed the beer cheese tremendously, and I wish my relatives had taken the leftover cheese with them, because now it’s taunting me from the fridge.

I’m sure I could come up with a better recipe than Evans Gourmet Foods or the Allmans, but I’m not going to try, because I don’t want to die trapped in a recliner surrounded by empty beer cheese containers.

I feel like I should throw the remaining cheese out, but it’s hard to throw out a delicacy someone brought in their car from over 600 miles away.

The food worked out very well this Christmas. Disturbingly well. I now find myself with pounds and pounds of irresistible leftovers. The prime rib was perfect. The scalloped potatoes were impossible to stop eating. The cheesecake was magnificent. The Texas trash could not have been much better.

The Caesar salad was not all that great. I’ll say that. The dressing recipe I use is not satisfactory, even though it’s supposedly the original. I need to fix that.

I thought I was making a reasonable amount of food, but I still have more than I know what to do with.

I still can’t figure out why I have a talent for cooking. Is it a gift from God or a curse from the enemy? I would be happy if the food I made were merely good, but it’s so good it’s impossible to stop eating it. I have to be careful what I cook, because I sometimes end up with food that is too good to leave alone. It sounds like a joke, but it does bother me. I try to fix things that are okay but not great, in order to avoid problems.

I must have a pound of scalloped potatoes on hand. I really need to throw those out.

I still have a quarter of a cheesecake.

Maybe I’ll muster the strength to put things in the trash.

This was my first Christmas without my dad. His birthday is nearly the same day as Christmas, so he always had a birthday celebration as well as Christmas itself. I used to take him out to expensive steakhouses for his birthday, but we reached a point where that was not practical because of his dementia.

Was it sad to have Christmas without him? No. I was too busy to think about it. I was very busy all month with a difficult real estate closing, and there are still one or two things to deal with, so I had a lot on my mind. I also had to get the house ready for my relatives, and once they were here, there was a certain amount of drama, so I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on my loss. Frankly, I am still enjoying the freedom of not being a caregiver, so that also factors into things. I didn’t have to follow my dad around and clean up after him. I didn’t have to cook for him. I didn’t have to observe him to keep him from defiling the holiday food. I didn’t have to drive him to any doctors or to the emergency room. I didn’t have to do his laundry or help him shower and dress. I was able to leave the house and run errands.

I don’t care how much you love your parents. If you take care of one for several years, and then he or she dies, you will feel relief, and you will love your new freedom. Even if you’re grieving at the same time, you will feel like you’ve dropped a huge weight, even if you’re too dishonest to admit it.

It’s not easy being chained to a disabled person or to live in a smelly house or to be blindsided over and over again with emergencies you could not have anticipated. When it’s over, you will savor your new freedom for a very long time.

Maybe things are different for people who have help from relatives, but I didn’t.

The house I sold was a gigantic burden to me. I have other properties down south, but they’re not houses. A house is a big obligation. The taxes are high. The maintenance is very expensive. You have to endure several hurricane scares every year; hurricanes are harder on houses than any other type of property. You also have to be concerned about opportunists harming themselves on the property and suing you. Other types of properties are much less difficult to handle. Commercial properties are a breeze compared to houses. You should never, ever own a house for investment purposes. You get all the same benefits from a commercial property, with many fewer headaches. Also, it’s easier to evict a commercial tenant.

Now that my dad is gone and I have no houses in Dade County, I should have a great deal more freedom than I used to. It just dawned on me yesterday that I can travel now. I can put the birds in a boarding facility and take off. I could leave for a month if I wanted to. I wouldn’t need to be in front of my computer, talking to my realtor, my house sitter, and tradesmen.

Sorry I can’t give you a good beer cheese recipe. You’re probably better off, though.

Three-Dog Nights

I’m back. I was busy with Christmas.

I have an aunt. I will call her Polly. She has a lot of problems, and she has been rejected by the family. She has been divorced for many years. Her daughter, whom I will call Mabel, has also suffered a lot of rejection, as has the daughter’s son, whom I will call Larry.

When I took my dad’s ashes to Kentucky earlier this year, I spent a fair amount of time with Polly and Mabel. All three of us felt we were no longer integral parts of the overall family circle. A few years back, my other living aunt called during the fall and told me how she, four of my cousins, and their families had gotten together for Thanksgiving, and she apparently didn’t think about the fact that she was talking to someone who hadn’t been invited. My dad and I didn’t make the list, which seemed odd. Since then, I have had the impression that we no longer had insider status.

While I was in Kentucky, I told Polly and Mabel they were welcome to visit me over Christmas, and I said they could bring Larry, too. I figured I would probably be entertaining friends as well. In the end, some of my friends could not make it due to work conflicts and another could not be here due to difficulties with an interesting parent, so I only expected Polly, Mabel, and Larry. They had committed to come 9 months ago, so I thought they were serious.

Not long ago, I talked to Mabel, and she said Polly had suddenly changed her mind about coming. She has arthritis, and she didn’t want to travel. At this point, it was starting to look like attendance was going to be limited to me, my parrots, and the squirrels.

People change plans. This is normal. It’s a little out of the ordinary to announce you’re calling off a holiday trip right before it’s supposed to happen.

I wanted them to come. In Kentucky, Mabel and I had talked a lot about God, and she had accepted Jesus. I prayed for her in her mom’s driveway. I told her about the benefits of baptism, and she said she wanted to do it. I suggested she go to a Last Reformation event, but she insisted she wanted me to do it. I thought this was a bad idea, because you should be baptized as soon as you receive salvation, but it was what she wanted. I let her know about some events she could attend, but she didn’t go. I ended up pinning my hopes on the Christmas visit, and it looked like it was not going to happen.

I prayed and encouraged them to come, and they decided to do it. I didn’t understand what I was asking them to do. The only decent car they had belonged to Larry, and it was a mini-SUV. They had two golden retrievers and an Australian cattle dog, and they weren’t happy with the boarding options that were available at the last minute. They had to jam three adults and three dogs into a pretty small car.

They didn’t want to put three large dogs in my house, but I told them to bring them. I was not going to give up that easily. Baptism is important.

When it came time to leave, Polly said she had a bunch of errands to run, and they were determined to make the 11-hour drive in one shot, so they ended up arriving at 4 a.m.

Polly and Mabel both smoke, and the dogs are big, so it was an interesting time. No one smoked in the house, but when you smoke intensely, you can change the atmosphere in a house just by being in it along with your belongings. The dogs behaved, but you can’t have three big dogs in a house without issues.

I didn’t care. I wanted to get the baptism done. How often do people with dysfunctional families get to fight back with real weapons?

Polly has some firm views on religion, and she tends to take a dim view of new things. I had told her about TLR in March, and since then, she had done some Googling. TLR and its leader, Torben Sondergaard, are getting very intense persecution from a wide variety of nutcases here and overseas, so there is plenty of unflattering slander out there for anyone to read. My aunt got the impression that I had joined a cult, and she thought Torben was a wanted criminal in Denmark. Maybe he is, if full-gospel Christianity is a crime. The authorities passed a ridiculous new law because he and his friends were casting demons out of people.

I don’t belong to TLR, and Polly and Mabel had been told this. I think TLR does a lot of good work, but I don’t join denominations or churches, and I think there is a strong chance that TLR will become corrupted and overly regimented soon, as virtually all other denominations have. Polly already had her bad impression, however.

I have Googled TLR a lot this year, trying to find out if they have ever done anything wrong, and all I have seen is prevarication and innuendo. The people who attack them are just like the people who attack Trump. I’ll post a video I found, to give you an idea what I’m talking about. It’s basically hysteria.

That’s a video in which some person uses a video of a completely different ministry to “debunk” TLR.

Here’s an even weirder one. You will see TLR’s own footage, which they post for the purpose of ATTRACTING people, used for the purpose of “exposing” Torben. It’s truly bizarre. Torben and TLR want people to see this footage, so clearly it’s nothing that makes them look bad. It’s Torben and others, helping kids receive deliverance. The kids are happy as they can be when it’s done. No one is forcing them to do anything. They’re glad to participate.

When I was at the TLR event in Raleigh, I was part of a group of people who cast a spirit out of a woman who foamed at the mouth and screamed. Two little girls came over and got involved. I don’t think the oldest one was older than 7. They were working right along with us. They weren’t disturbed at all. Afterward, they accompanied my group on an outing in which we healed people. They continued to pray for people, and they performed some healings. It was their own idea, and they had a great time. The idea that you should hide Christianity from children is a little hard to understand, especially when you consider the fact that we routinely expose them to toxic things like occult videos, Halloween activities, violent entertainment, video games, and the Internet.

The people who post these things appear to be unbalanced fanatics. They evoke visions of torches and pitchforks. There are a lot of truly ill and dangerous people among the ranks of the charismatic-haters.

It’s unusual to see enraged charismatics, but the people who are against charismatics are often extremely angry, to the point of being out of control. There is a reason for that.

The TLR saga is a very interesting thing to watch. The irrationality of the critics is an indicator of a supernatural cause, and this is characteristic of persecution, the flames of which are lit and fanned by spirits.

I fixed prime rib, scalloped potatoes, cheesecake, and Texas trash for Christmas, and we did as well as we could. Things were complicated by the dynamic between Polly and Larry. They had always gotten along in the past, but for some reason, Polly was laying into him over various things, and Larry kept reacting by going to his room and staying there with a video game device. He would come out the next day early in the afternoon, which made group activities difficult.

My understanding is that he spent a lot of time contacting friends, trying to get someone to buy him a ticket home.

My take is that Polly was 70% responsible, with the remainder of the fault belonging to Larry. Polly refused to give an inch, and Larry didn’t do a lot better. It’s a shame, because she won’t be around forever, and they should be trying to create better memories. Larry has a great deal of potential, but he needs to take on the responsibilities and attitude of a man.

I talked to both of them, but I didn’t make significant headway. It’s a shame, because until recently, they had a very warm relationship. Larry has a heart deformity, and he had lots of problems as a kid, and Polly was always there for him, fighting to get him what he needed.

Pettiness is extremely destructive, as I have learned from practicing it. It seems like modern Americans don’t understand how forgiveness works or why it’s necessary. They also don’t understand the principle of the extra mile. It’s okay to let yourself be wronged a little.

Anyway, you know it’s a real family Christmas when people keep making things awkward with what appears to be very little justification. It could have been worse. All over America, cops responded to domestic violence reports on Christmas. Ho, ho, ho.

Our challenges were compounded by my refrigerator’s sudden decision to fail, with many pounds of holiday food in it. Luckily, my spare refrigerator was already turned on. Mabel got down on the floor with a tiny shop vac and cleaned the fridge’s coils, and then I got on the web and figured out what was wrong: the bearing in the circulation fan motor was going, so the fan flopped around and got stuck. With Mabel’s help, I removed the fan and motor, and I used my belt grinder to make the fan’s blades smaller so they didn’t catch on things. The fridge resumed working, and I ordered a new fan and motor which should arrive on Monday.

Speaking of pettiness: really, Satan? You went after my refrigerator?

Last night, Mabel started talking to Polly about baptism for some reason, and they got into a very long conversation about doctrine. Polly made some veiled jabs at my beliefs, and I didn’t respond. I just waited. And waited. I would say she went to bed at around 12:00, which is two hours later than I like to go to bed. I stayed up, avoiding participation in the conversation, because I was determined to get Mabel baptized if at all possible.

When Polly went to bed, Mabel started talking about her reservations and problems, and I told her what I knew. Eventually, she decided her baptism didn’t have any relationship to her mother’s progress as a Christian, so she changed clothes and got in the pool, which was freezing. I had suggested the jacuzzi tub, but she wanted the pool. It probably took her 15 minutes to get into the water because it was so cold.

In the end, we got it done, and Larry was there to witness it. Finally. I guess I got to bed at 2 a.m.

I didn’t care about anything but the baptism. It was done, so I was happy.

They wanted to start driving home today. Polly has a green thumb, and she was not happy with my plants, so when I strolled out at maybe 10:30, after compensation sleep plus prayer and a shower, I found Polly and Mabel fixing up the plants on my patio, which was very nice of them. They also insisted on cleaning their linens and straightening up the house. Larry came downstairs at around 1:15.

I didn’t know what to think. If I had a long drive to make, I would want to leave in the morning, but they do things differently. They had things in the washing machine, so I knew they weren’t leaving for a while. I offered to take them out for barbecue, which I did. I would guess they got off my property at 4:45 p.m.

Until I saw them pack the car, I didn’t realize what they had gone through to get here. There were things stuffed in the footwells. It was very tight. If they have an accident, the EMT’s will need the jaws of life to get them out, even if the car isn’t damaged. With those big dogs in the car, they don’t need airbags.

Whatever. Mabel got baptized. That’s the important thing. Now maybe she can mature and work with Polly, who is extremely unhappy.

Long before all the difficulties arose, I told Mabel to expect Satan to throw everything he had at her to prevent her from coming, and boy, did he come through. But he lost. I prayed, and she prayed, and God listened.

Buy Yourself some Nice Jewelry Instead

Thanksgiving dinner is over.

My Texas trash recipe is excellent. Much better than last year. If you can find it in the post I wrote yesterday, you might as well save it, because it works.

Most Texas trash recipes are underseasoned, and they don’t contain nearly enough peanuts. My recipe has lots of Worcestershire sauce and other stuff. I used a cup of cocktail peanuts per family-size bag of cheddar Chex Mix, and I could have used three and gotten away with it.

My turkey came out great, as always. I think using Aidell’s andouille in the stuffing was not the best choice. Plain old Hillshire Farms beef sausage would have been better. Still, I have never had stuffing anywhere that compares to mine, so I guess it’s okay.

Here’s the big bombshell: everyone agreed that my Honeybaked ham clone blew the real thing away. Not even close. That’s a wrap for Honeybaked. I will never buy one of their hams again.

The recipe I posted works. Just be careful not to burn the crust when you torch it. You want it to harden but not blacken. You’re welcome.

You may not believe my recipe is better, but it is, and it costs 20% as much as the real thing. You may think people all over America wouldn’t be paying Honeybaked prices if they could do better at a small fraction of the price, with a few minutes’ work, but it’s a fact. Here’s something else that’s weird: the Smithfield ham I started with is better, regardless of crust or seasoning, than the meat inside the Honeybaked crust. It’s not as dry, and it’s more tender. You would think Honeybaked would at least try to provide the best meat available.

Spiral-sliced ham crusted with sugar, cloves, and spices is now cheap. You just have to be willing to work for 10 minutes instead of spending 30 minutes buying a ham at a store.

My guests were friends I made at Trinity Church. Their youngest is my goddaughter Gabby. She is really something. Totally fearless. A real firecracker. Runs up to people and grabs them. The thought of rejection is not part of her programming. They have four other kids, and they’re all a pleasure to be around.

We went through a lot at Trinity. We were treated badly by the pastors, of course. When my friends’ son was very young, he got burned while in the care of Trinity’s nursery staff. The burn was on his face, and it was large. The leadership clammed up and refused to talk to my friends. There was no admission of fault, and there was no offer of help.

Of course, when my friends took the boy to the ER, they were treated with suspicion. There were insinuations that they had burned him. It would have been nice if someone at Trinity had had a spine and a heart and could have backed them up.

They left the church. Later on, another child was burned in the nursery. That’s how Trinity is. Nothing changes. Everyone lives with blinders and a muzzle on. The leaders feel that if they pretend everything is fine long enough, eventually the people they hurt will go away and not sue them or otherwise inconvenience them.

My friend was an armorbearer at Trinity, as I was. He remembers spectacularly shabby behavior the Wilkerson family displayed toward me. For example, I put in a long day working for nothing, and then I made the mistake of driving home with Rich Wilkerson’s car keys. I lived 20 minutes away, and that’s in optimal traffic. Instead of showing a little class and gratitude and offering to send someone, like one of his two oldest sons, who did not have real jobs, for the keys, Wilkerson insisted I bring them back the same day.

You would think a grown man would have at least one copy of the key to his main vehicle.

Today we joked about Trinity. I said I wondered who had cooked Thanksgiving dinner for the Wilkersons. We had a good laugh about that. My friend speculated it was some black family still under the Wilkerson spell.

We left Trinity at about the same time, and we ended up in a church run by a man who was an active pedophile. One day that pastor came to church with a Christmas ornament he had bought for my friends’ second-oldest daughter, who would have been maybe eight. My friends thought it was a creepy thing for a middle-aged man to do. When the mother of the pastor’s victim blew the lid off things, my friends were glad they had left the church before anything happened to their daughter.

Being abused by the same preachers can really help people bond.

We cooperated today. I provided the turkey and a couple of pies, and my friends brought sides and soft drinks, plus two unexpected pies. This is how normal Christians do it. They don’t manipulate other people into cooking their food and then stroll in after someone else does all the work.

We had a lot of fun, even though my friends’ rescue dog, Pumpkin, pooped on my carpet. I can pretty much count on Pumpkin leaving me a present on every visit. I have a fair amount of equipment for taking care of a dementia patient, so I was well prepared for any type of spill.

Their eldest daughter stayed in the kitchen most of the afternoon, working on her studies. She had a scholarship to one of Florida’s best private colleges, but she had to turn it down because they don’t offer a pharmacy program. She wants to do the 6-year program at FAMU. Her mother complained that all she did was study. What a terrible problem for a parent to have!

She’s a tremendous young lady. Really restores my faith in young people.

The boy who was burned will be starting baseball next year. His dad had him out in my hard today with a tee-ball set.

When we were done eating, my friends and their kids did most of the clean-up work. The reward for the kids was pie, plus being allowed to shoot coconut-flavored Reddi-wip directly into their mouths.

The conclusion today was that if I’m still here next year, we will do it again, and they will spend the night. Everyone was paralyzed after dinner. They did not want to climb in the car and drive home.

I made them take most of the leftovers. It’s not safe for me to be around that stuff. They made the mistake of leaving an entire pecan pie. I will probably throw it out. That will hurt.

I’m expecting my aunt and cousin for Christmas. We somehow ended up outside the circle of relatives who were invited to family get-togethers, so we will gather here and have better food and weather than everyone else.

I hope your Thanksgiving has gone well. I have to go downstairs now and talk to a couple of birds.

And Messing With Texas

Just when I think I’m out, they pull me back in.

I went to Wal-Mart today to pick up some items I needed, and while I was there, I thought about the total lack of snacks for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving meal. I felt like I had to do something. I fell back on my old standby: Texas trash.

Texas trash is Chex cereal mixed with a lot of other stuff and baked. It’s supposed to be acidic and spicy.

I like to start with prepackaged Chex Mix, simply because it’s most of the way there when you buy it. You don’t have to add crackers or anything. The Chex people took the peanuts out of Chex Mix a long time ago, so that’s the main solid ingredient you need to add.

Two years ago, I found a recipe online and changed it (because it was sad and lame), and I was pretty happy with it. Today I looked at it, and I decided it was not manly enough. Seemed like there was too little of everything in it. I came up with this:

INGREDIENTS

family-size bag (5 cups) cheddar Chex Mix
2 cups cocktail peanuts.
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
3 tablespoons Frank’s hot sauce
1 teaspoon chipotle powder
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon celery seed
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon prepared mustard (I used French’s)
1-1/2 tablespoons brown sugar

I heated the butter and liquids and stirred the seasonings into the mixture. I put the Chex Mix on a roasting pan, tossed it in the mixture, and put it in the oven at 250°. Last time, I baked it for one hour. I don’t think that’s enough. I want it to have some crunch. I’m going for 1-1/2 hours.

The mustard made a huge difference. It added more acid, and it contributed zing without heat.

If I were making this for myself, I would double the chipotle powder.

Bacon grease might work better than butter. Black cardamom might be a good addition.

I don’t know how it will come out, but at least I can say I have one snack to offer.

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I tried the trash, and I could not stop eating it. I had to drag myself off of it. I liked it so much, I decided to double the sauce. I edited the recipe to say 1 bag of Chex Mix instead of 2.

Now how do I keep from eating it once it’s ready?

“I’ll have a Quart of Pie Filling and an RC”

It’s 11 a.m., and I’m already cooking for tomorrow.

I was asked to make a sweet potato pie this year, but I decided to exercise my veto power and make two pecan pies instead. Pecan pie is better, and I don’t know how to make a sweet potato pie anyway. This morning, before breakfast, I started putting my ingredients together.

It’s very bizarre, having a talent I don’t particularly care about. I do not have much interest in good food, but somehow I am still capable of producing extremely tasty dishes without any training and without much effort. I throw things together, and the results are just crazy.

I generally use the recipe on the side of the Karo syrup bottle, with little modifications. Today, out of laziness and curiosity, and because I had a new ingredient on hand, I changed things more than usual.

First, I added some corn starch to the recipe. I always put liquor in my pecan pies, and I don’t want the texture to suffer because of the added liquid. I added half a teaspoon of starch to each pie to make sure it doesn’t go wobbly. They have never gone wobbly in the past, but the starch still seemed like a good move.

Second, I used brown sugar instead of white sugar. I used up nearly all of my white sugar yesterday while coming up with a better substitute for Honeybaked ham, and I did not want to wait around today until I could get to the store. I had dark brown sugar, so I used it. I also used dark syrup, as I always do.

For all I know, I always use brown sugar. It sounds like me. I can’t recall.

Third, I used an expensive type of vanilla extract. I’m not sure I ever knew what real vanilla tasted like until I got this stuff. I’ve always used things like McCormick and Kirkland extract, and they smell exactly like the stuff my grandmother and mother used. My new bottle is from a company called Sonoma, and it has a different smell to it. I decided to try it.

Fourth, I added salt. Good cooks don’t make sweet things without salt.

I gave up on making my own pie crust years ago, simply because I didn’t want to. If I were to make a pie on a random day in July, I would make my own crust, but there is something about an obligatory holiday meal that makes me want to cut corners. This year, I went with frozen Pet-Ritz crusts, which Internet sources seem to favor. Of course, homemade crust would be better.

I mixed my ingredients up, filled my pie crusts, and set my timer. Then I decided to wash the mixing bowls (one per pie) so I could use them later for cornbread. Needless to say, I had to taste the pie mix that was clinging to them

I can’t describe how wonderful this stuff is. I ate every drop I could scrape up. I could not stop. I kept thinking of things I wanted to do with it. I want to make a batch and put it on ice cream. It’s astounding.

For quite a while after I finished cleaning the bowls, I found myself announcing, “MAN, that was good!”, at random intervals.

I feel like making a batch without eggs, heating it to activate the starch, and then beating eggs into it.

I assume it will make good pies. There is no reason why it shouldn’t. I can post the ingredients.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup dark Karo syrup
1 cup dark brown sugar
3 eggs
3 tbsp. butter
1 shot Knob Creek
1 tsp. high-end vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. starch
1/2 tsp. salt

Yes, it has raw eggs in it. I don’t care. So does zabaglione. So does the real recipe for key lime pie. If you’re afraid of raw eggs, you’re going to miss out on a lot of good food.

I wonder if I should have used more starch.

Cook’s Illustrated says 185° is the magical final measurement for pecan pie filling. They also say to heat the filling before putting it in your crust. I did not know that. I would have tried it. They tend to be right about things like that.

Some people say to tap the pie and see how much it jiggles. That sounds like very poor advice. Judging a digital thermometer reading is a lot easier than trying to guess what “jiggle” means to someone else.

If the pies turn out to be as good as I think they will, I will follow up.

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My pies are done. Wouldn’t you know it? The Karo recipe goes overboard on cooking time. I reduced it and still ended up with pies that were hotter in the center than I wanted. They’ll be fine, though.

I have to go buy new glasses now. While my dad was alive, we used Mason jars because they were cheap and hard to break, but now I can have real glasses. I also need a giant platter for my oversized turkey.

Still not happy about that.

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It looks like I took notes when I cooked last year’s food. I used a tablespoon of vanilla per pie, and it worked very well. I should have done that this time!

Welcome to the Real Clone Wars

I can’t resist a puzzle.

I decided to try my hand at faking a Honeybaked ham, using a ham from a local store plus whatever I had in the kitchen. I think it will be very good.

INGREDIENTS

1. Honey glue

1/2 cup orange blossom or other light-colored honey
2 tbsp. prepared yellow mustard
1 tbsp. butter

2. Sugary crust

1 cup caramelized sugar
1 cup dark brown sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tbsp. cloves
1 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. allspice

First, I had to make caramel sugar. It did not really work. I put sugar on a pan and baked it at 300°. After a couple of hours, it began to turn brown, but it also started to melt, which it’s not supposed to do. I think the pan got hotter than 300° because I had it too low in the oven. It would probably work better if I put the pan on a high rack with a sheet of foil on the rack below it to keep radiant heat off the pan.

I scraped as much of the sugar off the pan as I could and chilled it to solidify it. Then I ground it in a coffee grinder (so I didn’t have to drive 10 miles for more sugar). I got caramel dust. I was shooting for granules.

I figured I could fix the problem by mixing it with brown sugar, which is granulated, so I did. It worked reasonably well, but it was not the answer I wanted.

The measurements for the crust spices are as close as I could get while working frantically and making mistakes. I was surprised to see that the crust needed salt, because earlier today, it did not seem to work.

When I opened up my ham, I saw my first challenge. It was floppy. Spiral-cut hams are not very stable. I tied it up with twine to make it hold its shape, and it worked pretty well.

I turned the cold ham downward so the cut part was on the bottom. I covered it liberally with the honey mixture. Then I patted the crust stuff all over it.

It didn’t look too good. The finely ground caramel sugar looked like chalk dust. I was afraid it would be like mud. Also, the color didn’t look like the old Honeybaked hams I remember. It was sort of beige.

After the ham sat for a few minutes, the juice soaked through the crust. Suddenly the color was perfect, at least where the juice had finished soaking in.

I slapped the ham on a plate, covered it with foil, and put it in my spare fridge. It has two days to do its thing.

Why didn’t I bake it? Because it was already baked.

Honeybaked does not bake its hams after applying the crust. How do I know this? Because the crust on mine has no cuts in it. A ham can’t be cut until after you bake it. The ham was obviously baked, sliced, and then covered with crust ingredients.

If their hams were baked with the crust in place, the crust would not be crunchy. It would melt.

I think the honey coating may have been a waste of time. A lot of it slid off, taking the mustard with it. I’m not sure yet. Maybe it’s better to put mustard powder in the crust mix and forget the honey and butter.

The flavor of my creation is wonderful. Whether it turns out to be a good clone or not, it should be very nice, as long as the sugar doesn’t fall off or melt completely.

The underlying Smithfield ham is fine. It’s tender and tasty, and it’s already spiced. No problems there.

The ham came with a packet of glaze. I decided to try it, to see if the pros would shame me. I almost spat it out. It was disgusting. It had a chemical taste to it, as though someone had contaminated it with mop water. Do NOT use the glaze packet that comes with a Smithfield ham.

Now I have around 14 pounds of ham, including one bone. Not sure what I’ll do with it. Do I keep my homemade version for myself and start eating it tonight, or do I share both with my guests? The Honeybaked ham is guaranteed to be okay. Mine still has not passed the final test, so maybe I should withhold it.

I think it’s safe to say I will never buy another Honeybaked ham. There is no reason to. Preparing a crusted spiral-cut ham is obviously very easy, and you can save $60 doing it, which is astounding.

I may try darkening the crust with a torch, since people who claim they worked at Honeybaked say this is what the chain does. Unfortunately, I have seen people lie before, claiming they have KFC’s secret recipe and so on, so I don’t know how reliable the torch info is. I can’t do it with the twine on the ham.

There is a lady who claims she has the real Honeybaked recipe, and she published it. Sure, sweetheart. The company just tells random employees its most important secret. That totally happens, because unlike every other food company with secrets, Honeybaked somehow needs to tell grunts and peons everything.

No, here is what Honeybaked does. They mix their ingredients behind closed doors in a single facility, they ship the mix to stores, and no one who works at a store has ever been involved in the mixing process in any way. Take that to the bank. I guarantee it. Anyone who claims to have the recipe is pulling your…ham.

If people actually had the recipe, they would look at Honeybaked’s $80 hams, realize they could get rich selling the same thing for $40, and open stores. That has not happened. Whenever a company overcharges dramatically for a product or service someone else can provide, someone else provides it, fast.

If you try making a clone, mix a test batch of the ingredients and try it on a ham sample first. I’m concerned about the amount of powdered cloves I used.

Maybe you can find a source of granulated caramelized sugar. I’m too lazy to look. It would save you some pain.

I’m glad I found out about caramelized sugar. I can think of a lot of uses for it. The burned sugar I already knew about is bitter, and caramel flavor without bitterness is a good tool to have.

Even if it turns out my recipe needs work, it’s still time for you to join the ham revolution. Nobody should ever pay $80 for a spiral-cut ham.

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I decided to try using a torch on the ham. I was wondering how to get around the twine, but then I realized that as long as the ham was face-down, it would support itself without help, so I cut the twine off. I should never have tied the ham up. It was unnecessary.

I applied the torch. I didn’t want to blacken the ham, but I did want a little burning here and there, and that’s what I got.

Here’s what I think: it’s a mistake to burn the crust at all. Something in the ingredients–maybe cloves–does not react well to burning. Maybe it’s the nutmeg. After all, people smoke clove cigarettes, and they don’t complain. Whatever it is, it gives off a non-helpful odor when it burns.

I think the key is to heat the crust until it starts to melt and then hardens into a sort of scab. Then stop.

After the torching was done, I found neat little crust flakes came off the ham when I fiddled with it, just as they used to back when I ate real Honeybaked hams. There was a little bit of the burned flavor in the ham, and I could do without that, but it was still pretty impressive.

Apart from using too much heat, I can’t find anything to complain about. The ham tastes wonderful. I hate to say it, but a little voice keeps telling me to get another one and see if I can do the torch bit more skillfully, just to show that Honeybaked can be defeated with ease.

If I do this again, I’ll let the ham sit and drain for an hour before I start. Smithfield packs its hams in water, and they release it after you cut the bags off of them. If you don’t release it into a pan, it will be released into your crust.

This has been a great experiment. Very empowering. It will be a long time before anyone sees me spending $11 per pound for ham again.

Let’s Bust up the Honeybaked Cartel

I wrote a long post yesterday, but I deleted it because it seemed too negative. I complained about the cost of holiday food. I have a lot going for me, and I have good friends who are coming to share a meal with me, so I should not be crabby. I should never be crabby, really. Crabbiness is not a fruit of the Spirit.

That being said, I have to confirm the primary thesis of the post I deleted, to wit: Honeybaked hams cost way too much!

This year, I’m sharing food expenses. My friends are bringing sides. I’m on the hook for a turkey, a ham, and two pies. I figured the meal would be cheaper than usual, but then I went shopping yesterday and spent over $130.

There were four reasons the food cost so much.

1. I could not get a normal-sized turkey because people who fry turkeys snap them up early. I had to get an 18-pounder, so I paid for three extra pounds.

2. I bought Korbel brut to flavor the turkey and dressing. Poultry without white wine is wrong. We should probably be marinating fried chicken in it.

3. I bought pecans for pies. Nuts are crazy expensive. I don’t know if there was a nut blight or what, but the only cheap nuts now are peanuts. I spent $11 on 16 ounces of pecan halves.

4. I bought a Honeybaked ham. It seems pretty well established that all the other brands are inferior, so I paid the price for the real thing. For a tiny 4.5-pound ham, I paid about $50.

This is a lot of money for a tiny ham. Even Omaha Steaks, which is basically a scam operation that preys on people who have no sales resistance, sells hams cheaper.

Omaha Steaks and other food truck scams have an annoying and insulting Jedi trick they play on people. The guy parks his freezer truck in your driveway, and then he comes to your door and says, “Come see what I’ve got in the truck.” He starts walking backward while looking at you to motivate you to follow. It’s definitely something they teach in their training. The natural response is to follow. The countermove is to shut the door while they’re backing away, and if you want to keep it civil, say, “No thanks! Have a great day!” They will not come back to your door. It’s too awkward. Walking away is supposed to compel you to follow, like the motion of a fishing lure, but it also establishes their motion toward the truck, and once you shut the door, they pretty much have to continue.

I feel for the truck people. I know exactly what happened to them. Someone from Omaha Steaks convinced them to finance a truck and a bunch of substandard food, on the assurance that their methods can’t fail. They work up their courage and go out and try it, and people like me shut the door on them. Ouch.

No one likes to be treated like a cat chasing a laser pointer. If I don’t cooperate, it’s on you, buddy. Welcome to sales.

I’ve actually had their steaks. Thin frozen cuts of what appeared to be plain old supermarket-grade beef. Not good at all.

Of course, I’m assuming all the truck salespeople who pestered me were real Omaha Steaks affiliates. Maybe they were not. But if you Google around, you will find some pretty sad-looking photos of real Omaha Steaks frozen wonders. They look just like the ones I tried.

To get back to the Honeybaked story, my local grocery is selling similar hams right now for under $20, or $4 per pound. They sell bone-in spiral hams for $2 per pound, which is a monumental discount over Honeybaked. I can buy sliced, packaged country ham shipped to me for something like $7 per pound. Clearly, $11 per pound is too much for a Honeybaked ham.

I thought about it yesterday, and it occurred to me that a smart person should be able to duplicate (and improve upon) the taste of a Honeybaked ham at home. I went to my kitchen and mixed up some ingredients.

My efforts were based on the way I remember Honeybaked hams tasting in the distant past. I haven’t had one in years, and I can’t break into the one I just bought. The ones I’ve had tasted like sugar and cloves. That’s about all.

There are clone recipes on the web, but they don’t look good. Some include onion powder, and I don’t see that working at all. At least one includes cinnamon. Honeybaked hams do not taste like cinnamon.

I fiddled around for a while, and I think I can tell you what was in the glaze on the hams I remember: white or light brown sugar, light honey, cloves, nutmeg, mustard, and caramel. Allspice may also be in there somewhere.

For mustard, you can use whatever you have. I used French’s yellow mustard, which is as unpretentious as mustard gets. I would not use mustard powder, because the acidity of prepared mustard is helpful.

You may be wondering how to get caramel to put in your glaze. I learned some new things about caramel.

It’s always possible to burn sugar in a pan to get caramel. The problem is that you end up with a hard piece of sugar glass. It’s not easy to break up so you can apply it to things. Also, it will have some bitterness, which you may not want.

What if you want caramel-flavored granules with no bitterness? You just bake granulated sugar at 300° until it turns brown. It stays in grain form, and it doesn’t get as bitter as burned sugar.

I’m thinking you could use this in your glaze as an addition to plain sugar, or, by controlling how dark it gets, you could replace the plain sugar entirely.

It’s supposed to be an excellent cookie ingredient. Look it up.

Do NOT put cinnamon in your glaze. I tried it, and it makes the glaze smell funky, like something that has been sitting at the bottom of a laundry hamper for a month. It’s a very bad idea.

I looked at some copycat recipes, and while I reject their ingredients, I think their cooking methods aren’t bad. It appears that you just smear the ham with honey, bake it until it’s warm, apply the rest of the glaze ingredients, and then broil it or use a torch to set the crust.

One lady suggests applying butter with the honey. I don’t think the Honeybaked people do that, but it sounds like a good way to one-up them. Nearly everything needs butter.

I can’t tell you how much of each ingredient to use, but you should be able to figure that out by trial and error. I would say maybe 1/4 teaspoon of cloves per ounce of sugar, to start. You don’t want much mustard at all. You want it to be a subtle background ingredient. You don’t want much nutmeg, either.

I would use prepared mustard and mix it with the honey.

If I were doing this, I would use orange blossom or sourwood honey. You don’t want a dark honey with a strong flavor. The honey is mainly there to hold the sugar mix in place.

Don’t put salt in the glaze. It makes it taste worse.

I feel like trying this just to stick it to the man, even though it will cost me more money and I don’t want another ham.

If Honeybaked charged half as much as they do, they would still make a killing, and people like me would not be scheming to outwit them.

I may try this. It’s bugging me.