Beyond all the compulsive behaviourism–so many call work or career or achievement–that I’ve successfully avoided all these years, there’s a few things in the greed $hit$how that stick with me and have, of course, left me skewed. Perhaps these things are stigmatising and pursuant of all my/the ill-will towards the world and all things that be, yet I’ve learned to live with them like so many of you have learned to live with yours. You know, the slime, the residue, the crumbs left behind that wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the sight of the lumpenproletariat consuming it (all). For it is something that must be seen. And so.
As the world turns, all that’s left is to… let’s make a deal. For that is the new way of doing things, ain’t it? Especially considering a man like #Trump can cum so far in life and yet be blessed with so little. Indeed. That’s where we are, dear worst-reader. Us deal-makers. Right smack-dab in the middle of a hell-hole made up of greed and ignorance–i.e. the bell-pepper of ringing tunes that steer the mind’s eye into the pauper-hand of mendacity galore.
Let us gorge ourselves on it, shall we. Like no other there is so much to be had–and so much for you to give the likes of your #Trump. Or is the jail-cell where Jeffrey Eppstein, trying so unsuccessfully, albeit deservedly, to kill himself (wishful thinking, eh), becomes too much for even you/me to face as we judge his existence next to our own? Because the deal has been made, has it not, dear worst-reader? Now that so few can realise such a deal forevermore doesn’t mean we can’t own it. Yeah. Let’s own it–since we’ll own nothing else.
Let’s finally move on, eh.
One of the skewed deals in my life, other than marriage and/or too much penetration, took place about twenty years ago. Yes. It was just a few years before embracing all the/my forced early retirement. I was with wife number two or three or whatever at a summer company grill party (her company, not mine). Part of the entertainment for the day, beyond the consumption of brats and packaged potato salad, was an auction to raise money for the company. I know. I know. Why would a company have a grill party to raise money for itself? Indeed. So much for the failure that capitalism has become, eh. But let’s not get too far off subject.
The idear for the auction was a bit unconventional. Employees were supposed to bring a toy which in turn would be bid on but whoever won the bid wouldn’t get the toy. The toy was subsequently donated to a local, struggling Kindergarten. Keep in mind, dear worst-reader, this was at a time when Germania, mostly Western Germania, was in full confusion mode due to the cost of integrating East Germania into the capitalist fold (of the West). One of the really, really great things about East Germania was their Kindergarten system. Since wife number so-n-so was also the only one to produce something worthwhile out of all the/my penetration, that in turn showed me the struggle of acquiring a Kindergarten spot, it was more than relevant I participate in this/the charade–or is it, in current parley, deal? Of course, the other part of the charade/deal was that the money raised would go back to the company. And there you have it. An example, if there’s ever been one, that proves you are living in a con and/or one should never marry for love. But let’s move on.
Obviously the auction was a joke. Of course, for the careerist, there is no choice but to participate in the/that joke as we all do at some point or other in this/that life. But then something happened just as I began to chomp down on my second grilled brat. An object appeared in the auction and guess what. I wanted it. Since everybody knew that it didn’t matter how much you bid on an object, it was also obvious that there was no point in counter-bidding. Yet, immediately after I submitted my bid, one of my wife-number-so-n-so’s colleagues offered up a counter bid. I was like: “WTF, dude!” He smirked and smiled and hid away his motivation. As usual, as an #Americant living and participating in the budding #Eurowasteland nightmare, I let it pass–and not only because of an impending divorce and the man that most likely caused it. So I immediately called him out for breaking the un-bespoke rule of the $hit$how game. “Foul,” I yelled. The small crowd of compulsives (careerists) all turned to me while swallowing half-chewed brats. I could see it in their over-educated and under-employed eyes, don’t you know. They were all saying: what’s the point? The point is, I wanted that object I bid on and felt that it was my right, due to historical enlightenment or not, to have it. So I countered the counter bid. And the game ensues.
Long worst-story short, I eventually won the auction and grabbed the object and left the party–breaking all the rules. Wife so-n-so and I fought over her embarrassment until I butt fucked her one last time before divorcing and that was that. Yet I remember the auction to this day as I read about the goings and cummings of this new world order that so many compulsive behaviourists can’t seem to break free from. Oh, how they all love the auction of their lives.
Which begs the question:
Can anyone see the great deal-scam they’ve bought into?
The great deal-scam may or may not be an auction, don’t you know, like the one I participated in so long ago, but if they are not totally inept to reality, it is a deal-scam all the same. Considering the current state of affairs of my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, is it a complete boggling of mental capacity to assume that they (the compulsives) will never stop? As in: yeah, dumbass, you’re fcukednomatter what happens. And beyond that, you’re kids and grandkids are probably fcuked as well. Yeah, baby.
All this fcuking is going on because a few dumbasses that managed to elect the likes of Barry-O are incapable of un-electing #Trump. Or are they all just waiting for the fcuking to start happening to #Trump? Now that’s the ticket, ain’t it, dear worst-reader? Yeah. Let’s see if the tentacle-slime that made #Trump and his/our deal-scam will actually turn on and rip him to shreds on account, well, being stupid should be a crime, too.
Another heatwave is coming dear worst-reader. Or should I say: worst-rider? Indeed. For I was on a short e-bike ride this morning when I happened across this. Obviously it takes a bit more than über-hot #Eurowasteland weather to melt a public trash can. Children will be boys, eh, when they play around with matches and the like. Yet as I rode past this piece of art, I immediately thought of the Wicked Witch melting in The Wizard of Oz. I suppose, if I had it with me, I would/should have put that witch hat atop it. Then it would be just like the dream I’m always having where the likes of witches, #Trump and all the abused must rattle around in cages of galore, confused n’all, while waiting for someone to finally help them/us–on account there is no helping those who got themselves into this mess. Just like that friggin trash can, I reckon. Nomatter.
Been saying it for years, dear worst-reader. Gotta make this. Although I’ve enjoyed this dish many times, either made by others or at fine dinning places around #Eurowasteland, I hadn’t yet embarked on doing it myself. And don’t get me wrong here. It’s not that I’m claiming in any worst-way that I’m, you know, a cook, don’t you know. At best, I only enjoy the drinking that accompanies cooking and, of course, the continued drinking that coincides–which is even better when I screw up as I can drawn my sorrows. There’s just something about a kitchen, a grill, organising ingredients, which includes shopping for those ingredients where rich women shop, chopping stuff with a fine knife, and keeping things clean compared to how others cook, that gets under my gander–and gets me in my kitchen. Did I mention the self-medicated drinking part that goes so well with cooking? Yeah, that’s a whole ‘nother worst-post, don’t you know.
So I finally gave it a try the other day. I gave it a try not only because of my lust for France. No. Or the memory of that girl in Paris that blew my mind–so many years ago–who actually made fresh croissants right in front of me while butt naked and it was the only thing we ate for three days between some of the most beautiful love making I’ve ever known. No. Cooking is just a great thing to know how to do–or even to what to do–including loving Paris. And for a first try, if I may worst-add, it came out pretty good. My only criticism of the recipe (see below), is the amount of butter required. I’m not crazy about cooking with butter–even though I watched Julia Child on black/white TV in the 70s abuse the stuff. I’m gonna have to study-up on this dish to see if I can make it with less butter. Nomatter.
Btw, the pic on the left above I took while flambéing the chicken, just before adding the sauces (self-made chicken broth and reduced wine marinate). As you can see, I had a bit trouble with the flames as they scorched the back panel of my stove top–almost ruining or enhancing a picture of sage.
Yeah, dear worst-reader/rider, I’m looking for filler here. Reason? I just don’t have much more to report on my fabulous e-bike that just surpassed 8000km. Indeed. It’s also well over two years old and… Get this! It’s purring like a kitten on the lap of a beautiful Scandinavian blonde that has long since rejected the MANnerism of patriarchal behaviour that can only culminate in #Trump (-isms) galore and thereby becoming HER emotional rescue on account there are no real men left in this world to fight for what is right and… Oh wait…
Forget that. Forgive my worst-writing gesticulations. It’s all just part of my having to take care of a neighbours cat recently–who’s from Scandinavia–and I’m still nursing the unhealed wounds it scratched into my hand after trying to pet it. But at least I fed it and also didn’t mind my wife watching after me as I did.
So. Back to filler. Shall we start with the e-bike or how about a quick worst-post of my recent first-try at making Coq Au Vin?
E-Bike.
The truth is, dear fellow worst-rider, I haven’t been riding much for the past half year. In fact, I think I’ve made one 60 KM ride since November, 2018. Reason? Well, it ain’t the bike, that’s for sure. No. It was one of those winters. Since late October (2018) it was either wet, cold or both. There wasn’t much ice and freezing, but the other two are just as unappealing when they’re around every damn day for months on end. I know. I know. I should buckle-down and quit whining like a little biatch about the climate I live in. But to be honest, there was something else going on. I was having upper-back troubles. I injured my foot in an odd fall (that had nothing to do with e-biking). I caught a nasty case of eye stye because as I’m getting older and my skin is dropping more and more, my eyes are dry and I’m drinking too much and and and… And this past winter I felt like $hit most of the time. But enough about worst-moi and his failure to self-medicate–or do it poorly (with drink).
I finally got around to riding in early April (2019) on an extended weekend vacation to Berlin where we drove up there with our e-bikes on a hitch. The intention was to cruise the city for four days on e-bike but I was only able to ride one of those days due to the above mentioned issues. I just couldn’t take the pain, especially my neck and my upper shoulders. After about twenty minutes my foot hurt so bad I couldn’t peddle or walk the bike home. And that krapp stye in my eye… Although it’s gotten better, I’m still nursing it as I worst-write this. So much for Germania miserable winter weather that holds on and on and on. Did I mention that I probably drank too much this past winter? Oh well.
It took me, along with some yoga and a stretching routine, till about mid May before I was able to ride again. Then came more rain. In early June we took a ten day vacation to a small beach resort on the Baltic Sea, in a place called Zingst. As usual, with our trusty e-bikes hitched, the idear was to drive the eight-hundred KM up there and then only use our bikes to get around. Other than one day, we did just that. And it was brilliant. Although my back pain lingered on, it was getting better with every ride. And so. It took me well over a half year to get from 7000km to 8000km. Can I get an amen here?
Oh yeah, our magical über expensive E-Bikes.
At about 7200km I finally got a new chain and sprockets on my Charger GX. More on that here. According to my mechanic, I’ve now got a chain that is specifically made for high-torque e-bikes. “You mean the previous chain wasn’t for e-bikes,” I asked him. Of course, I was deferring the conversation that I probably should have changed the chain at about 5000km–and then when asked how much I was willing to spend… I just waved him on to get it done.
The odd thing about the new chain–and my skepticism/cynicism regarding its cost (just over 200,-€)–is that it’s taken at least five-hundred KMs to break it in. In fact, I’ll go so far as to assume, after just hitting 8k, it still might need a hundred or so KMs more before it’s fully broke-in. Which begs the question: A thousand KM to break in a chain and sprockets? Add to that, the chain is extremely loud. In fact, I can feel the chain riding on the sprocket cogs. Add that to an already loud (Bosch) motor, and I’m really starting to like my wife’s belt drive Charger Mixte and its continuous hub gearing. With that in mind, the idear of upgrading my GX next year is getting more and more appealing. But upgrade to what? (Stromer maybe?)
But let me not get ahead of my worst-riding self, eh. I still love my Charger GX. The fact that I have little to report regarding its stamina and utility and quality, should say everything. Other than a few slight squeaks, which are mostly dealt with by keeping it clean and oiled–plus the cost of maintaining it–I have never regretted buying this bike. It still exudes quality, don’t you know. In fact, on a recent ride a fellow e-biker informed me that I was riding the “Mercedes” of e-bikes. Yawn.
The B-17 saddle is still in great shape.
The handle bar, that is a bit wide for my riding preference, and I thought I would have changed by now, is still original.
The handle bar grips are gonna last forever.
I’ve never (knock on wood) had a flat tyre (tire) and rarely have I had tyre (tire) pressure issues.
The brakes are brilliant and it looks like my brake disks are gonna go on and on and on, but definitely won’t last forever.
Heck, even the wheel fenders are still perfect–and I thought they’d be the first to go.
The only thing that bugs me and might motivate me to up-grade my e-bike next year, is the fact that the Bosch battery is definitely starting to give way. It’s been steadily losing power since about three thousand KMs. Where I once was able to ride well over twenty KMs for every bar on the battery indicator–even while in Sport mode. I’m now lucky if I can get it to fifteen KMs per bar. The cost of a new battery is definitely gonna influence the future of my grand Charger GX. Will Bosch upgrade its external battery design to the 650W battery that they are now offering with new motors but ONLY for internal frame mounting? And if they do offer it, you know, so that it fits my frame (externally), will I have to get a mortgage to afford it?
The wife approval e-bike.
My wife’s Charger Mixte has under three thousand KMs. We purchased (consumed-to-survive) both bikes at the same time. Although she doesn’t ride much, I’ve been using her bike for various chores. Also, when I couldn’t ride my somewhat extreme positioned GX, her Mixte and its more comfortable sitting position, really came in handy. At the least, having two of these things is definitely über-cool, especially since both use the same battery and the time is coming when I’ll need her battery even more than I do now.
But let me get-on a bit about my wife’s biggest gripe: I’ve forbidden her to attach a dog trailer so she can lug around our ageing killer pug. The reason I don’t want to attach a trailer is because of the way the rear axle, wheel, drive-train is mounted to the frame. To me, there are already too many connections back there. To add another connection (to the axle) in order to trailer an über-expensive dog-box with wheels, that may or may not be rejected by our killer pug… No thank you. If that sounds a bit harsh, here’s a bit more about owning a killer pug and an e-bike.
We have a dog known as Beckett, the killer pug. As you may or may not know, pugs are not very active, long-winded dogs. Even though we fight to keep his weight down and I walk him at least three times a day, these types of dogs would rather lie on the couch and try to hypnotise you to feed them all day long. That worst-said, we’ve always wanted to be able to take him along with us on short to mid-range rides. The problem is, as we learned with our previous non-e-bikes, which had a dog-trailer attached to the rear axle, the killer pug hated being put in it and lugged around. He didn’t just reject being trailered in a small, whiny way, though. When trying to ride with him he would bitch & moan so much people would call us animal abusers. Yeah, he would literally scream at us to let him out. Ever hear a pug scream? Would you believe that that trailer ended up becoming nothing more than the best bike attachment ever for lugging around cases of Kölsch or Alt (beer)? Indeed.
Eventually the trailer rusted to hell and we gave it to someone who was interested in our not throwing it away. Unwilling to accept the fact that our dog probably wasn’t made (trained?) for e-bike transport, I bought one of those dog-carry backpacks. Guess what? He rejected that, too. And so. In one last effort in pleasing my better-half, I bought one of those rack-time basket with an open wire lid–that is meant for small dogs. Although the killer pug still whines a bit here and there, he seems to have accepted this mode of transport–as long as he’s behind my wife (and not worst-moi).
And while I’m on the subject of rack-time baskets.
I also bought one of those solid plastic rack-time baskets which relegates both our e-bikes to being even more convenient for shopping and chores. Even though owning two rack-time baskets might seem like over-kill, they each serve a purpose. On top of that, they are very stable and reassuring while attached to the bikes. The black rack-time basket is great for small/limited groceries or picking up take-out. It comes with a heavy-duty strap that, once detached, makes it easy to carry around. Of course, I still use side-bags for heavier/larger groceries.
The dog basket, of course, is really only good for the dog as it’s quite a bit larger than the other basket. The only down-side to these baskets is you can’t use side bags anymore, nor can you use the the rubber strap the bikes rear rack. I’m curious about one thing, though, based on what I read during my last visit to Riese & Müller’s website and reviewing all their new bikes. Has R&M abandoned rack-time on all their newer models? If so, why? Oh wait. How ’bout this: after buying one (or two) of their bikes, there’s no money left to buy these über-expensive baskets/attachments–unless the tears of your eternal puppy dog make you do so. Or? Yeah, this $hit is expensive.
But I die-gress.
Almost two and half years old and eight thousand KMs, I’m very pleased with my über-expensive e-bike. It’s gonna be hard next year, though, if I stay with R&M or if I move on to something even more expensive.
Don’t you love it, dear worst-reader? Don’t you love it when you fight so hard to avoid all the entertainment afforded us in these days of interwebnet-galore, including all the glorious porn, facebag, puppy vids, forced early retirement, and thereby happen across something interesting that may or may not make your day? It happened to me this morn, dear worst-reader. After walking Beckett, the killer pug, I did the dishes from the night before–where I masterfully concocted a veggie curry with chick peas, cauliflower and exactly one minuscule slice too much of level eight (out of ten) fresh red chilli–set the iRobot to vacuum downstairs, refilled my tea (rose yunnan black tea, btw), then headed up to my worst-writing cave, opened all the windows to let the breeze through (what a relief from #Eurowasteland’s current heatwave, eh) and then it began (see link above). Here’s a taste:
“Imperialism brings with it corporate monopolies, a characteristic of the late stage of capitalism. It shifts power away from the manufacturing class to a parasitic class of financiers, the rentiers, whose profession, Lenin wrote, “is idleness.” The late stage of capitalism inverts classical economics. What was considered unproductive—the parasitism of the rentier class—becomes the real economy. And what was considered the productive sector of the economy—labor and industry—is treated as the parasite.”
-Chris Hedges
I’ve read Hedges (tag link) here and there. Although he’s not as contrarian as I’d like, I started reading Hedges after Christopher Hitchens died. He’s since became my go-to guy for all things knowledge when it comes to (at least) trying to understand the fcuk-up that is the $hit$how we must all live in. And by fcuk-up I mean, of course, along with my pseudo-forced expatriation from my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, living in #Eurowasteland, dealing with my past and–forgive all my worst-redundancy here–the porn that life is these days. For it is all a $hit$how–or am I wrong, dear worst-reader?
Then again, I get such a kick out reading stuff like this. Reason? As part of the Lumpenproletariat it’s always been my desire to break free. Not financially, of course. For I could give a hoot about money. (Although I’ve managed that pretty well, too.) I suppose, in part, that’s the reason I left my beloved & missed #Americant (lumpenproletariat galore)–and probably will die abroad with the delusional dream that my ashes will be thrown into some #Eurowasteland toilet after my worst-soul is incinerated knowing that at least a speck will make its way to the westerly Gulf Stream of the Atlantic and eventually bring me home. But enough about me.
Although, as I’m worst-writing this worst-post and listening to all my Radiohead albums on shuffle mode, I haven’t even finished reading the Hedges article, halfway through it it has become obvious that it is something to savour. And savour not just what Hedges so brilliantly writes. The nuggets of knowledge he provides fit perfectly in the holes of pseudo-study I’ve indulged in all these years trying to comprehend political revolution. Hedges masterfully articulates intricacies by comparing Russian and French revolutions through the mantel of Lenon, Trotsky and, of course, President Stupid–or as Hedges calls him: #Trump–and that which has lead to #Trump. But I don’t want to get into the article here. Just read it, if you dare–even if you’ve not indulged in pseudo-learning about revolutions like worst-moi is. And so. This worst-post is about the links Hedges has provided in his article. See below.
My ersatz R-Pi3b+ used for testing and fiddling, baby.
Subtitle: Thoughts on new Raspberry Pi 4
Been posting a few things here or there regarding my SBC journey, dear worst-reader. And what a journey it’s been. It all started a few years back with the Raspberry Pi. Wow, I thought after initially fiddling with an R-Pi 2. This sort of thing could finally allow me to move away from the monolithic PC/Mac world that has been a thorn in my side since the advent of cloud computing, subscription software and, of course, corporate/strategic hardware obsoletism running amok. Even though I’m fortunate enough to be able to afford whatever hardware I want, I’ve always been a minimalist when it comes to my personal digital world. Perhaps that’s a bit of contradiction considering up to late last year my digital household consisted of numerous Macs, which I ended up selling to the highest bidder so that I could reduce things. I simply wanted to reduce my hardware portfolio but at the same time maintain all the files accumulated with that hardware over the last ten to fifteen years. Raspberry Pi and SBCs have been my enablers, don’t you know.
There was one problem with the Pi, though. It was just too slow to fill the shoes of my 2010 MacPro. Every time I went into my basement and heard the roar of that old cheese-grader running twenty-four-seven and/or waiting and waiting for it to copy/backup files, my head would ache. Having fiddled with Linux, OMV and various distros on the R-Pi, I eventually realised that maintaining all my data no longer needed the oomph of a MacPro. So I waited for when/if the R-Pi could deliver more/enough bandwidth. In early 2018, out of patience waiting for an R-Pi 4, I turned to Pine64. After a few weeks of reading and research I splurged on a Pine64 Rock64 SBC. Even though there are numerous SBCs on the market, I chose the Rock64 because of its power source and the fact that it has gigabyte ethernet. The power source was important because I had a few issues with R-Pi and its micro-usb power source. This made me invest in purchasing dedicated micro-usb power sources for the two R-Pi’s that I use as media clients. Gigabyte speed is a no-brainer considering the extreme limitation of transferring files with the R-Pi’s USB 2 dependencies.
After fiddling with the Rock64, though, I faced a new reality. Although I really like what Pine64 is doing, there simply is no comparison to the R-Pi when it comes to functional software. I should also add, although I can do some top-level Linux work, pretty much everything below that is too much (tech) for worst-moi. It took till April of 2019 that I was finally able get my Rock64 running OMV to the point where I no longer have to struggle with it as my main network storage device.
Ok. Ok. If you’ve read any of my other SBC posts, I apologise if I’m being a bit repetitive here. The thing is, while on vacation on the Baltic Sea in Northern Germania last week, I was blown away by the news that–out of nowhere–the R-Pi 4 had been released. Holy krapp, I thought. I just spent almost a year finally getting my two Pine64 devices–a Rock64 for files and a RockPro64 for as a Plex media server–up and running where they’ve easily replaced my 2010 MacPro and now R-Pi is dangling not just new candy in front of me but bombshell candy. Holy double krapp, baby!
Needless to worst-say, I spent a few hours while on vacation reading and researching what R-Pi is up to. Am I impressed? You bet I am. But hold on to your lug nuts, dear worst-reader. Am I about to relegate my Pine64 devices to the bin? Not quite. As with most new tech, I rarely buy first iteration hardware, although the Rock64 is kinda first gen. Of course, the new R-Pi 4 is more than just an upgrade. The specs are mind boggling–at least they are for how I would use it. It’s exactly what I naively lost patience waiting for last year. Oh well.
That worst-said, I’m really digging what I got working/running with Pine64 right now. I also still dig the Pine64 (NAS) case and PCIe SATA card because it’s allowed me to utilise all those HDDs lying around thereby saving me a ton of money not having to upgrade my mass storage situation left over after selling the MacPro. Also, having discovered DietPi on both devices, my digital household has been zinging along without flaw. Which begs an answer to an obvious question: Uh, heck yeah, I will probably be in a bind (with Pine64) when R-Pi delivers their next version of their new monster SBC. Then again, maybe not. The Pine64 case is still waaaay cool!
Living in a golden cage, don’t you know, dear worst-reader, has its quirks. It’s a shinny place, if you can’t guess, yet not shinny enough to hide the excess. Is the gold worth it, you might ask? Oh, the ills of expatriate choices–for those of us born and reared in the privileges of The West–yet not quite privileged enough. I, for one, don’t know what would have become of me if I had NOT left my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant–when I did. Which means, there is a question (regret?) still lingering and I will most likely have to die before answering it: why didn’t I go some place else?
There is a phantasy, don’t you know, with a bit of porn as prefix, where I wish I had gone to California1. You know, instead of going East, from the mid-Atlantic coast of the US, and then to #Eurowasteland, I should have gone West. Very West. You know, somewhere between LA and SF might have been nice. Or? But then such phantasy is easily neutered considering the current state of working-stiff behaviourist I’ve left behind and yet joined anew. Oh, what they’ve all achieved–sitting on the asses of their minds while feeding their inner shit-beast perfect industry-food that is the result of mistreated nature as much as mistreated humanity but also enables and facilitates a mindset that can’t comprehend all the violence that makes it–and remember: work is not “work” it’s compulsive behaviourism–possible. Which brings me to one final question: is multiple violent death any different than single violent death?
Answer: it depends on where you live. I guess.
Yes, dear worst-reader. That’s what the article linked to below brings worst-moi to think. First, I’d never heard of Combat 18. You? I mean #1, at this point, despite President Stupid’s campaign/election, who hasn’t heard of that whole white supremacist thing? What a misunderstanding that is, eh. I mean #2, how is it that the tides of capitalism’s failure once again2 spews forth in its wake of social and cultural disparities and dilapidation, forcing the privileged few to go nowhere really fast, who all not only think but act as though all, well, is well? When I worst-say go I’m referring, of course, to where they should go in their minds–not where they should go if they chose, like me, to expatriate or stay where they are (in their minds). Instead. Stay in the comfort of the LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID. And so, the capitalists must be enjoying the $hitshow that their grandfathers enjoyed as new generations of STUPID-PEOPLE-GALORE slaughter themselves by the many AND the few–with huge numbers of bystanders slowing traffic (for the rest of us). But let me get back to the doom of my golden cage.
I’ve had a conversation or three while living abroad about the violence I left behind that is my beloved & missed #Americant. Violence being the only word most can come up with regarding all the guns. Oh how it’s permeated everything so clearly in the bosom of the privileged West, don’t you know. Yet when I try to explain that such violence has an origin above and beyond a Constitutional writ, I’m often swatted away like the measly fly I was probably meant to be. And so I continue to get trapped in the talk about violence being everywhere because of… something singular. How rare it is that some might inquire about my attitude toward #Americant –which seems to have prevailed post WW2 as the love-children of so many status-quo swingers suffer oh so much so that at least someone, some of them, may have a job.
At this worst-point in all that is life-wasted, I have to double-down on two things. The first, it ain’t the guns. The second, even if THEY somehow find a way to control the guns, it won’t stop the violence nor will it stop access to all the killing. Of course, I’m sure you’d rather have one person killed as opposed to hundreds. Or? Oh wait. #Eurowasteland would like it that way.
Take for example #Americants beloved pseudo-colony that has done so well to adhere to capitalism run amok, albeit with just a bit more socialism for the poor and not just the rich (as it is in #Americant), and, of course, the great tutor of BDSM–which is probably the only way #Americant subservient wives who either played or played-not with feminism, where able to get their men to last a few minutes longer while tickling and pecking their way to procreation having learned about it all from wet t-shirt contest and/or uncles they met at evangelical gatherings. Yes. Let’s go there. Let’s visit Deutschland.
“So what about Stephen Paddock,” I’m asked by a group of German speaking #Eurowastelanders as I raised the subject of his killing spree as an example that it ain’t just the guns.
“How can you compare what he did with a single nutcase in Hessen, Germany, who shot one guy in the back of the head,” I’m asked.
“Well,” I worst-respond, “does Paddock’s killing of 58 people in Las Vegas in 2017 really differentiate from a politically motivated execution of a single German politician–in a place that is supposed to have very strict gun laws? This ain’t Star Trek, you know.”
“Star Trek? What the fcuk are you rambling on about now, Tom,” the angry inner crowd-voice of who ever I’m talking to said.
“You know,” I respond, “don’t you remember Spock’s the needs of the many ending in Star Trek II3?”
“Tom… You’re an idiot. What are you talking about!”
And my hosts ask me to leave before I can argue the fact that I’m not, somehow, trying to justify the violence that oh-so raised/reared me but instead trying to make clear that unless someone does something against the normality that is violence that/which obviously stems out of white-people, especially white men, an extremism that is as old as the hills, if not #Eurowasteland, there’s no point in postulating whether one capitalist country and its madness is anything more or less than another capitalist country–where politically motivated executions seem to go hand in hand albeit with only fewer dead.
“If that shooter in Hessen could have killed hundreds of politicians, wouldn’t he? I mean, this only means that #Americant violence is just better endowed. Big dicks, you know. And, by-the-buy, it learned from the best,” was one of the last things I tried to worst-say.
And as I was escorted out the door to hissing and booing, wishing I could stay to enjoy yet another free meal, I added, “at this point there’s no difference between killing fifty-eight people or killing one. It’s the white male and his world that you should focus on. And if I may add,” I said while departing a wonderful evening chock full of good food and way too much pseudo-intellect, “the origin of the violence we’re talking about here is from #Eurowasteland. You guys started it all. Now go ask for forgiveness from native Americans.”
Feeling redeemed and confused because my brain hurt, I was also very hungry, I yelled as the door began to slam behind me and then made my way down the old stairs of the building, thinking about which McDonalds burger I was gonna splurge on: You’re fcuking welcome you bunch of snobs.
Before I conclude this worst-post, dear worst-reader, allow me to make this last worst-writ about the article linked below. The thing in the article that really got to me was this:
Citing sources within security forces, the paper, along with public broadcasters NDR and WDR, said the suspect had been active in extreme-right groups, including the domestic neo-Nazi National Democratic Party (NPD) and a group known as the Autonomen Nationalisten (Autonomous Nationalists), a pan-European neo-Nazi group that has adopted some Antifa and far-left tactics. -Source is link below
What the fcuk does “a pan-European neo-Nazi group that has adopted some Antifa and far-left tactics4” mean? If I’m being naive here, forgive me. If I’m not smart enough to figure this out, fcuk you. But here’s my question/issue. What “far-left tactics” are they referring to in the context of a fascist being able to execute someone? When trying to figure this out the first “far-left tactic” that came to my mind was Alfred Herrhausen. And then I said: Whaaaaaaa? That was, like, 1989 and the Cold War wasn’t even completely over yet and and and…
Herrhausen was the first person killed by a terrorist when I arrived in Germany–oh so long ago. Is the terrorism that killed Herrhausen the same as the terrorism that is white supremacy? Is that what readers are supposed to believe/think now that Antifa (the word) can be thrown around like a volleyball? Fighting against fascism is now, somehow, terror anew? I don’t know about you, dear worst-reader, this smells of newspeak.
The other failure being that which lead to the Great Depression. ↩︎
In the Wrath of Khan the Enterprise is on the verge of destruction when Spock enters a radioactive chamber in order to fix the ship. As Spock dies, and, with his final breath, he says to Kirk, “Don’t grieve, Admiral. It is logical. The needs of the many outweigh . . .” Kirk finishes for him, “The needs of the few.” Spock then adds, “Or the one.” ↩︎
UPDATE (to this post): The Rock64 with 4-bay drive enclosure (the gadgets on the left in the pic above) failed the other day. That means, this entire post is null & void. Oh how I wanted the Rock64 (from Pine64) to succeed. But I suppose, for tech newbie/wannabees like me, I’m barking up the wrong tree here. At least the RockPro64 (black box on the right), as a dietpi//Samba/Plex/Pihole server hasn’t yet failed me! That said, I can’t get the Rock64, either using OMV or Dietpi, to just work the way I want it to work. I’m soooo disappointed, don’t you know. Or maybe not. Although I’ll go ahead and leave this post–it’d be a shame to waste all the worst-writing–I’m pretty much done with Pine64 products, especially since a new RPi4 just came out. Oh well. I guess this level of tinkering is fun while it lasts. Or maybe not.
Subtitle 1: Avoiding, circumventing an industry hell-bent on the grand rip-off?
Subtitle 2: In a world of trucks or no trucks, SBC’s rule, biatch!
If you want to skip all my worst-writing about Apple and Trucks, scroll down to it’s a network station galore, baby.
To begin this worst-post, dear worst-reader, I have to express a word or three about trucks. Do you remember that schtick from Steve Jobs about the post-PC era (ca. 2012-13)? As usual, I ate it up. Well, maybe I didn’t exactly eat it up. But I certainly heeded the words of the tech-guru who changed the friggin’ world twice! (1984 with the Macintosh and then again in 2007 with the iPhone.) I mean, even though I’m not a tablet guy (yet), as in, I can’t give up on a real computer, the change that’s being forced upon us consume-to-survivors, especially in all-things tech, is too often in my thoughts. After purchasing earlier this year what might be my last Mac, the question I’m currently dealing with is this: does my tech future include Apple?
One of the questions I’m throwing around in my head is if/when I have to replace yet another device due to strategic, monolithic, corporate obsoletism, what will/should I replace it with? Even though I love my new, retail-bought 2017 MacBook (jewellery galore, eh), there’s something about the tech path that Apple’s taken in recent years that gets under my gander. The truth is: not only do I hate tech-jewellery but I also hate touch screens. (And don’t laugh too hard since my new MacBook is pink-gold.) I mean, I really hate touch screens. (But this pink-gold is growing on me.) In fact, I hate touch screens as much as I hate NAS boxes. Of course, I tolerate touch screens on my iPhone. I even still use a first gen iPad Air (that I inherited from my better-half as she’s full-on iOS) as an e-book reader and a streaming client for Plex, Amazon Prime and YouTube–the latter while I’m in the kitchen cooking. But get this! To throw things into a craze-loop, what does Apple go and do at its 2019 WWDC that confused the hell out of me–especially considering I vividly remember Jobs’ truck analogy–that I ate up? That’s right. Apple brings back the friggin’ truck. And it doesn’t bring it back slightly with, say, a tickle and a smooch. No. It brings those friggin’ trucks back with a vengeance in the form a new, über-fancy, über-über expensive cheese-grater MacPro. WTF!
So let’s recap, shall we?
Steve Jobs claimed back in 2013 (see links below) that the PC was dead. Long live the post-PC era. The gist of his proclamation is simple. We (consumers) don’t need PCs (trucks) anymore. What we need are tablets. I suppose, in a way, he was right. Right, don’t you know, for other people, of course. Me? If I choose to leave Apple after I’m done with my latest MacBook, I’m either going to join the gang and get an iPad (but only if I can accompany it with a MacMini) or I’m going full Linux. Indeed. I’m seriously digging what System76 is doing right now–even though they don’t, as of this worst-post, have a laptop with a German keyboard. (That’s right. I can only speed-worst-type with a German QWERTZ keyboard!) But that’s not all, dear worst-reader, that relates to Apple contradicting its dead hero. The Steve Jobs truck proclamation was about a few things other than just PCs. Wasn’t that also around the time when cloud-computing was getting its mojo on? You know, there’s no need to have a big (truck) PC for storing your files and data anymore cause, well, you can conveniently store it all on well-controlled corporate servers… in the cloud. Now ain’t that the ticket! (Sarcasm off.) Don’t get me wrong here. I’m using the cloud. But should it be the solution for future private data needs?
Before I get too far off worst-subject and get too far on about the conspiracy of corporate control over private data–which is all cloud computing is, really–there is one other thing that has gotten under my gander in this very confused post-PC, corporate control, krapp-touch-screen era. As I’ve said here, here and here, I hate the NAS industry. And don’t get me started on RAID (Synology, Drobo & Co., etc.) and how krappy that is. I mean, come on. With the cost of digital storage these days, why would anyone want/need to fiddle with the added ill-begotten complexity of things like RAID dished out in machines that are built to substandard, if not outdated hardware specs? For you RAID lovers out there, don’t fret. I get why you may (or may not) need it. But I remember RAID when it began. Then it was either about increased data speed or subverting the high cost of HDDs. So let’s move on.
It was a motivating factor for me to modernise a bit so I could 1) free myself and 2) live a little. Plus, I guess, I wanted some jewellery! (Sarcasm off.) The other reason I wanted to get rid of ageing hardware wasn’t because it didn’t work or anything like that. Apple computers are great even when they’re old. In fact, my old stuff ran flawlessly–and I’m sure the nice folk that bought it all will be happy with it for years to come. By-the-buy, that old friggin’ MacPro worked even when I took it with me to Bangelore, India, in 2016, where–get this!–the power went out ten times a day for the six months I lived there. With every power outage (surge?) that damn MacPro turned itself right back on and on and on. I never had one hardware issue with it. But enough about spilt milk, eh. It’s time to clean things up.
The main reason I got rid of the MacPro was because I was tired of maintaining large amounts of data (yes, for me, 3.5TB is large) on a device that needed days to move or copy it. Over the years, as stated, I’ve never had any major problems with Apple hardware but I have lost a few hard drives here and there–and the data that was on them. Indeed. The days of ripping, hoarding, maintaining multiple hard drives and waiting for terabytes of data to backup or copy are over. I’m tired of it. So it was time to prioritise, organise, get rid of the hardware, keep the data, see how it goes. And so. My personal data was about 1TB, including paper correspondence*. Media data is about 3.5TB. Since, as you can tell, I’m kinda frugal and cheap, if not bored of hardware, there was no way I was gonna invest in upping my data bandwidth or capacity. Fcuk thunderbolt & Co., and the same for 3.5″ HDDs, don’t you know!
Most of my personal files and data (1TB) was a rigamarole of duplicates and excess of worst-writing, employment data, official correspondence, etc., and I needed to dive into shark waters to clean it up. Indeed. Over a few months I weeded through it all and got it organised. I discarded all excess. And get this. It’s amazing, when you put the effort into it, to realise, like in the analog world, how much waste there is in the/your digital life. That worst-said, you’d be surprised how much digital AND analog space you can save if you put a bit of effort into getting organised–as opposed to just hoarding it all in the name of cheap HDDs that build up over the years. I was able to reduce that 1TB of personal data down to about 250GB, an amount that is easily maintainable considering the price and accessibility of portable (non spinning drive) storage. On top of that, I’m also using multiple and cheap 2.5 inch (yes, still spinning) external HDDs with TimeMachine for my remaining (2x) Macs. (At one point till mid 2018 I had five Macs running in my house.) Ok. Ok. My personal data is organised. What do I do with 3.5TB of media that I’d still like to stream–in my home media setup?
It’s a network station galore, baby. It’s not a NAS!
It’s taken a while, dear worst-reader. About two years, to be exact. Which also means I’m a bit slow (in more things than just tech). Nomatter. Starting with the genius of Raspberry Pi, I currently solely rely on single-board-computers (SBC) for all my personal home network activity, including household media streaming and, where applicable, extra data storage. With that in mind, what I’m doing here I also take with a grain of salt. I do not rely solely on this setup as a means for securing my data. Of all the old hardware that I sold late last year as a way to reduce my personal digital footprint, which was really about replacing too much old with a bit of new, this is where I’ve arrived–and it’s starting to look rosier and rosier. In fact, I’m getting more and more confidant, if all continues as it has, I will be able to heed my PC-truck-age cries: to never buy one of those stupid, fake-priced NAS boxes, e.g. Drobo, Synology, etc., that I love to hate. And. Since. Apple has contradicted its Master, let me just add: Trucks are $hit, too!
My network station setup. (Did I mention it’s not a NAS?)
In the pic above, I finally got my Rock64 (far left), that I bought in mid 2018, running OpenMediaVault (OMV). Using USB 3.0, it’s attached to my most recent thrifty purchase, an IcyBox JBOD 4-bay HDD enclosure. I got that enclosure for about 50,-€ used. It’s Stocked with 2x 2TB, 1x 3TB and 1x4TB drives, which are most of the drives left over after getting rid of old hardware. As far as OMV on the Rock64 goes, you can forget the ease–due to the variety of functional software–of R-Pi’s. These Pine64 SBC’s take a bit more effort, don’t you know–especially considering, what should be a staple on it, OMV, should work toot-sweet, even with a novice like me is at the helm. Anywho.
Rock64, baby.
My choice for a file server is OpenMediaVault. It’s worked well on the R-Pi, albeit slow and hence the reason to go with the Rock64 (which has gigabyte ethernet). After numerous tries with both release and pre-release from Ayufan, I could never get OMV to work on the Rock64. Although it would be recognised on my network, once I started configuring shares, it all fell apart. Frustrated that no OMV Rock64 builds were ready–and I’ve been fiddling with them for six or so months–I gathered one of my spare R-Pi’s (far left in the pic) to give it a go–slow bandwidth be damned. Just before flashing the R-Pi’s SD-card, though, I did another quick search for a different Rock64 OMV build. Lo and behold, I found a build via the OMV website here. I flashed the SD-card and boom, baby. Immediately the look and feel of the build was spot on. Not only that, I was able to access all the drives of the external JBOD enclosure and set up shares. It’s been purring–with gigabyte ethernet!!!–on my network ever since.
Media = RockPro64 + Dietpi.
On the far right of the pic above is my RockPro64 in its fancy-pants Pine64 NAS case. It has a PCIe sata card and 2x 3TB HDDs. It’s been my trusty Plex media server for the past six months where I am able to store and serve my old 3.5TB of media data–as good if not better than my old MacPro. Just like the Rock64, though, it was a rough start with the RockPro64. I could never get OMV to work on it which was a big disappointment. The RockPro64 sat on my shelf because of that for a few months. Again, although the R-Pi’s are stable and are much easier to setup, there is that bandwidth limitation they have with ethernet and USB, the two being combined on the USB 2.0 bus. Nomatter.
So I kept fiddling around with various other builds for the RockPro64 till I finally discovered DietPi. And don’t you know, DietPi has been the best solution so far turning the RockPro64 into an amazing media server. Although it took of bit of effort to get back into the cryptic, command line interface of DietPi, I’ve since come to think of it as fun-time whenever I have to do anything with the RockPro64. DietPi has done a great job of creating a really friendly but also minimal build that is loaded with software that all seems to work–except, of course, OMV. But that’s neither here nor that at this point. Not only does Plex run great but I’m also running Pi-hole, to rid my home network of all those stupid and obnoxious internet ads, a WordPress iteration (that I use to experiment with) and, using a single Samba share, the RockPro64 serves various R-Pi audio devices in my house that all run Volumio. I’ve not yet begun to find all the RockPro64’s fun. Yeah, baby.
The stuff in-between.
Also included in the pic above is what remains of some old but functional hardware. As you can see, I’m still an Apple Airport fan. In fact, this is my third Apple Airport still in use. I use these devices for all my WIFI thereby turning off the WIFI from those krapp routers issued by ISPs. On my top floor I have an Airport Express that serves two bedrooms and a bath. For the ground floor, living room, kitchen, atrium and our master bedroom, is a newer AirPort Extreme. The older Airport Extreme (pic above) is in my basement and still provides great bandwidth when I’m ironing, working on my bikes, or just hiding from my better half and Beckett, the killer pug. In fact, I might even buy a fourth, newer AirPort Extreme in the future to replace the Airport Express upstairs. Even though Apple has cancelled these excellent routers, I’m gonna use them till the cows come running. By-the-buy, this one also serves as second TimeMachine. You see that HDD underneath it? That is an Iomega 2TB Firewire, USB 2.0 and USB powered hub HDD. It’s gotta be over ten years old now. I know. I know. I’m waiting for it to fail, too. But it just keeps going and going and going. But don’t worry, dear worst-reader. As stated, I’ve got more than two TimeMachine backups. So we’re all good there. (I hope!)
The other HDD case (the black case to the left of the AirPort Extreme) is a 2-bay IcyBox raid enclosure. I’m not sure how old it is–but I’ve had it for a long time. It has 2x 2TB drives in raid-0, i.e. 4TB. Although I rarely use it anymore, it does have some old data on it–none of which is unique. Once I get the Rock64/OMV to meet a few more criteria for file serving, I’ll transfer all that old data to it and then retire it, salvaging the HDDs for other use.
As far as being thrifty and rebelling against an industry hell-bent on ripping us off, also being able to re-use stuff that shouldn’t be made obsolete, the cost for the SBC’s mentioned in this post, is under €300,-€. Obviously, it takes lots of time and effort to get this thing up and running and I’m sure most working-stiffs out there don’t have the time for such endeavours. For tech gurus this is a nothing-burger. With that in mind, I’m kinda joyous right now. I’ve really had fun getting back into CLI, Linux and taking some of my fate into my own hands. Kinda rewarding, don’t you know. Or. Put another way:
*For worst-moi paper correspondence is all that snail-mail krapp you get, some of which can also be kind of important, that requires space. Sick of having to provide space for it, a few years ago I purchased one of them fancy-pants document scanners (only documents, NOT one of them stupid scanner-printer thingies that have been ripping people off for decades). I digitise all important snail-mail and store it appropriately. The remaining paper gets shredded and recycled, of course.
Subtitle: My friends 2015 MacBook has been through hell.
An old friend came by the other day to mooch of an extra bed on his way to a boating thing in Köln. He does that once or thrice a year, don’t you know. I mean, wouldn’t you? He gets a nice place to sleep (saving lots of money on a hotel), a great vegetarian meal (cooked by worst-moi who makes a great fresh Pesto), and, of course, an evening with worst-writer. For you see, dear worst-reader, he’s a nautical engineer–from Holland. I know. I know. What else is there to do in Holland, eh? Of course, I have to also give credit where it’s due. Even though he’s not much into technology, he was my first intro into the then new MacBook that Apple introduced in 2015, of which I was very skeptical at the time. By-the-buy, my better half ended up buying the device a year later, i.e. its 2016 iteration. At the time I was still using my MacBook Air (i7) and loving it but was slowly coming around to the new MacBook mostly because of the screen.
When my Dutch friend mentioned that he was gonna buy a first iteration Apple product, I tried to steer him away from it. But then he went on and on and on about how much smaller the new device was after he fiddled with it in the Amsterdam Apple Store and its size would help him work. He needed something that would be out of the way as much as possible, he said. And get this, dear worst-reader, up to that point he’d been using one of those white, polycarbonate MacBooks. So you get it, right, when I worst-say he’s not much into new tech. In fact, he actually made his old white MacBook last longer than I’ve ever made a MacBook last–and in the end it was pretty beat up, too. I’m just wondering if he’s gonna make this beat up jewellery-like device last longer than my pampered and shinny 2017 version of it. Indeed.
The only problem is, even before my better half, on the fly, without consultation from her household tech guru (worst-moi) purchased her 2016 MacBook, my Dutch friend has been bitchin & moaning about his the whole time. Worst long story short, since purchasing it, he’s had the keyboard replaced twice, the battery has been replaced once, and a few months ago, he even had the screen replaced. The good news is, the Dutch Apple store did most of the work on warranty. He did have to pay for the screen, though, on account it wasn’t Apple’s fault a truck ran over it. The one thing he’s not had replaced is the case. And what a case it is. Talk about dented jewellery. As you can see from the pics above, the MacBook has been through quite a bit. It’s been dropped, chucked (as in accidentally catapulted into the air) and, it’s even been run over by van–or was it a truck? Nomatter. A few of those marks on the bottom could even pass for it having been shot. But on that note I digress.
Rant on.
-T
PS on the bottom my friend had his company logo put on to replace the “feet” saying that he need it to be more sturdy, if not sticky, while using it to input nautical engineering data while working on yachts. Cool, eh!
Disclaimer: NSFW material towards the end of this worst-post.
I dreamt of waking in a cold sweat. But then quickly fell asleep again only to dream of a place from twenty years ago where a large blonde woman stands behind me while I sit at a desk attempting to research the hell out of finding the cost of everything so that our client can cheat his way to profits. Yeah. I worked for a $hitbag management consulting company once or twice. It still grinds my conscience. You know, those organisations that never actually do anything but suck the life out of people convincing them that cutting costs for clients is an achievement. Sometimes I’m still shocked at how naive I was. For don’t you know, dear worst-reader, even well into my thirties I took the krapp-work laid out for me in stride as I wasted my best years on the two ills of life: working for The Man and, of course, his bitch, marriage. But at least, in this end, I did learn that both (work & marriage) are nothing but a transaction. And transactions can and should end or be left behind us as one learns new strides on the way to his or her end. Indeed. They should all end especially when it’s realised that you’ve lived your life for someone else, for something else, for the nothingness that is consume-to-survive. But I suppose I’m off subject.
Last night’s/this morning’s dream-in-a-dream has been haunting me lately having had it several times in the past few weeks. I think I’ve finally gotten it out of my system. I mean, I don’t think I’ll be having it again. Reason? I’ve discovered the thing that’s motivated it. In other worst-words, it’s the lying and the cheating that’s catching up to my conscience. It’s slowly being laid out in front of me–as I watch The West deteriorate further and further into blissful-ignorance galore. Or is it laid out in front of my therapist? Nomatter.
The thing is, I’m starting to be good with it all (my past) now because, well, I was able to see through it and then realise it’s time to move on. Yes. It took a while. But it’s happened. Unlike so many other things.
What the big blonde woman is actually doing in my dream-dreams is not watching over me like a corporate sage watching over a minion, thereby protecting someone’s profits, position or stature. No. She’s instead watching over me as I cheat. Again. Keep in mind. She is a minion above my minion-hood. And so. The research I’m doing in the dream-dreams isn’t about finding our clients competition’s cost structure. No. It’s about finding ways to lie. But lie to whom? Which brings us, dear worst-reader, to the links below.
Today’s newz links are about the two biggest lies that seem to never lead to truth. I mean, isn’t that what lies are about? In other worst-words, lying isn’t about the lie. No. It’s about the truth. The two lies that make up the duality of life and death are simple enough. One is nature (climate) and the other is corporatism (run amok). But let’s get back to the dream-dreams, blondes in corporate pants suits and and and, shall we.
When I read articles like the two linked below, I can’t help but associate them with my dreams within dreams (dream-dreams) that I’m either having or may eventually have. Perhaps that has something to do with all the lying I did in my short-stinted career as a corporate stooge. What lie, you ask. Well, my lies were always quite simple really. Once when I applied for a new albeit internal job at one of the many jobs I jumped, I asked a higher ranking colleague if she would have a look at my resume and then give any advice. The problem for me back then was, I did the work of PHDs. It was easy, don’t you know. For you see, back then, the globalisation greed-$hitshow was just getting under way. Corporate leadership hadn’t weened enough of the under-educated workforce yet to coerce real PHDs to lower their expectations, i.e their value. In other worst-words, PHDs were still too expensive. Corporate leaders therefore salivated all over people like me. Obviously without the proper credentials I couldn’t demand PHD wages but I must admit that I got pretty close once. Obviously things have changed as I write this twenty or so years later. Now PHDs are indeed a dime-a-dozen–and I even giggle at them every once-a-once on account, although they have their credentials, none of them have ever been able to realise what they’ve done. But on that note I should digress.
By the time I was forty years old, I had written more words than any PHD in the history of the world. It’s true. Just check my closet for manuscripts, ghost-writing and old corporate presentations. And don’t even think twice about all the consulting reports I’ve written that are locked in vaults at various clients. Yet, as the globalisation advantage for shareholders was just starting to take hold, I confused my ability to write–or my ability to write a shit load of bullshit–with actually achieving something. In fact, I was doing nothing. But let me ask you, dear worst-reader, should we minions question the fruit of our labour? Again. Nomatter.
My problem was, although I was writing stuff for others to publish, I still wasn’t published. Back to internal job seeking and, hopefully, blondes in corporate pants suits.
The blonde standing over my shoulder in my dream-dreams was actually coaching me on how to lie on my resume so that I could get a better job. That sort of thing is always cloaked in something else in the corporate world, don’t you know. As in finding cost structures of your competitors, which was just one of my many PHD-non-PHD tasks. Nowadays I’m not quite sure what they’re all up to on account, well, obviously, there ain’t much competition out there. Monopolised, monolithic organisations don’t have to worry much about competitors costs. There’s no competition. But they do need to cheat on other things. So there’s that. I guess.
When I questioned Blondie about what she was suggesting I put on my resume she simply said it is what everybody does and then added: it’s called tweaking. And so. I think of all the wasted college credits that run free through the world never realising their owners incapabilities, incompetence, mendacity, etc. Such is college in this new & improved century, eh? But they HAVE played somebody’s game well. Isn’t that obvious? The corporatists. They’ve played it, in fact, much better than I have. Perhaps that is a catalyst to all my dream-dreams. Am I jealous of all the fruit they’ve acquired for their labour? And that’s the ticket, ain’t it, dear worst-reader? All the college grads running the $hitshow, especially in my beloved & missed #Americant, are, at best, tweakers–not achievers. In the olden days, I guess, they were just cheaters. Weird how what goes around comes around, eh? Hence #Trump is such an obvious achiever… (giggle, smirk, fart, puke)
That’s one of the reasons I haven’t worked for the last twenty years–and then have odd but relevant dreams about dreams. Or is it dreams within dreams? Anywho.
It was that last resume that I ever formulated and the last time I would let someone watch over my shoulder, tweaking not just me but all of corporatism. Indeed. I realised: I can’t do this anymore. Of course, eventually, the blonde had her way with worst-moi. Yeah, that sort of thing happened a lot in my youth. Even though she wasn’t a looker, she had the right shade of pale and smooth skin. She was fifteen pounds over weight, too. That said, I kinda like ’em big. As far as romping goes, one nipple was larger than the other and both sat high on her bosom, which were quite large and extruding with heavy, gleaming under-boob. That always gave me more wood. She also didn’t mind ejaculate on her face and even told me to finish in her mouth after each romp. Even though we used protection, I assumed that such a request was so that she would be sure to not endanger her current career path with unwanted procreation via my sketchy supply of prophylactic. Or maybe not. She even blew me in her office early one morning where I failed to tell her that she still had me in her hair–twelve or so hours later. I guess a few colleagues assumed she had chunky dandruff. And so. While my marriage was ending and the realisation that I was a bad choice-maker (in life) was hitting me as hard as I was fcuking her, going back for seconds and fourths, there was one consolation within me. I was yet to be fully corrupted by it all. Again: I can’t do this anymore. Luckily, eventually, inevitably, she told me that I was boring and that I’ll regret not having taken her resume advice–but I was welcome to call if ever in town again–which is corporate code for “good luck with your career”. She giggled as best as anyone who had nothing to lose and then went about her corporatism. And so. We both said goodbye amicably. Just like the way I said goodbye to my marriage and my ill-fated corporate career. So many goodbyes well worth it.
The dream-dreams are alive and well, dear worst-reader. They are with everyone that can’t see through the rigamarole of things like what’s presented in the articles below. Even though the articles do tell a truth about something very specific, the larger lie that we all live in–or should I say you’all live in–on account I found a way out of the lie–and that makes me better than you–something is missing. So I’m wondering if the lies have become so abundant, so large, so catastrophic, there is no room for truth anymore. There are only the dream-dreams and the corporate blondes worth a fcuk or three. Wow. Life’s a hoot, eh.
Like me, dear worst-reader, Beckett – the killer pug, is getting old. Fortunately I’ve still got all my front teeth. Most of his front teeth, on the other hand, except for the fangs, had to be removed last year. I mean, have you ever had a look inside a Pugs mouth? What a mess of teeth, don’t you know. In fact, if you didn’t know, in that little skull is housed the same amount of teeth that a normal nose dog has. The upper jaw is intrinsically rowed with various molars. It’s very alien-like. As far as the lower jaw, that’s a whole ‘nother story. It’s amazing that any teeth stay in after 11 years on the lower jaw. Since most of his scissor teeth were removed, he’s having a few issues here & there holding that tongue in. In case you’re wondering, like the teeth, that tongue is just as long as a tongue of dog with a normal nose. Lots going on in a Pug’s skull, baby.
But wait! E-bikes.
Nice long weekender to Berlin recently. Panorama shot of the Olympic stadium. You know, the stadium where Jessie Owens showed ugly Adolf how sportsmanship is done.
For those not in the know, you can see most of Berlin by boat. We only used one as a ferry, though.
My better-half has been complaining about getting a basket for her Charger Nuvinci. I tested it at the shop and inquired if she wanted one with fancy colours. She said black is fine. Yeah, baby. Steal my heart with darkness. Only downside to rack-time baskets is that you can’t use side-bags anymore. Oh well. Consume-to-survive, baby.
And by-the-buy, you can actually get two days food in a basket that fits perfectly to the bike’s rack-time rack. What do we got here? Fresh white asparagus, Italian cured ham, two bottles of Grauburgunder (Pinot Gris), and a little pumpkin for the next days quiche. That’s right. I make quiche, bitch. And I make it with pumpkin, goat cheese, fresh chilli peppers, sage and, of course, über fresh Italian parmesan. (Sometimes I’ll cheat with a fresh slab of Irish cheddar.)
Rant (and ride safe) on, baby.
-T
PS Not been riding much this time of year. Weather is too crazy here. Too much rain and cold and lots of unpredictability. That’s pseudo-spring in Germania. Bummer!
The #Americant way, dear worst-reader. How to know it’s true? Just go there. I mean, go there after being not there. And while there don’t just hang out in NYC or DC or SF or LA enjoying the view(s). Check out the burbs of those places. If you can stomach it, and you should, make sure to hang out at burb local motel. They all have TVs, don’t you know. Also. Get yourself some GMO popcorn in a bag and to soothe your ill-fed soul follow it up with pre-cut cantaloupe from whatever local grocery store. Don’t forget to wash it down with a few cans of rice beer, aka Bud. Then sit back with your polyester pillows fluffed and surf the third-eye of #Americant humanism: television. Spend a few hours watching faux-newz and after that wash it down with some WWE. After you had all the popcorn and your fingers are covered with a fine glaze of chemical flavouring, if you can’t stomach the industrial cantaloupe, you can always use it as a means to wipe your fingers with another annoying smell. Then just let the Bud knock you out as your skull inevitably sinks deep into the fake pillow. In the morning take a ride in your rental car around burb-hell and then give the radio master of ceremonies, Rush, a listen.
Did you know, dear worst-reader, that Republics never recover once they fail? And the thing to keep in mind about failing Republics is that it doesn’t happen suddenly. I mean, Republics fail long before the failure is even noticed–especially by those who should notice. Hence the lie of democracy. Once the failure has occurred, though, then begins the long path toward untruth. Indeed. Of the little I’ve been able to read (comprehend), Republic failure had been considered a long time before Rome? You now, Plato & Co.? First there was the Greek empire, then came Rome. Of course, what the hell do I know? Was it even Plato that discovered the the untruth? Then again, I’ve been able to read (comprehend) only slightly more about Rome. And Rome, don’t you know, is the Republic all nation-states and their ill-governments have been based on ever since? Isn’t that what the third-reich ultimately was about? You know, restoring things to good-ole olden times? The better times–as stupid, ugly white people would call it? Rome was the first reich, Napoleon or the like the second (???), and we all know what happened at the attempt of creating a third, don’t we? Then again, there are some that say (know) that Rome never actually was a republic. It was simply a tool forever being forged to become the inhumanity-model that was/is Caesar–and those that follow him with either every stab-wound or each Ides of March. And so. The game is set for everyone to become their own little Caesar or gladiator movie-watcher with a whole lot of spite in our hearts. Am I wrong?
The problems (politics) we are having these days, dear worst-reader, ain’t so much because of Elites (who are the/a republic) but instead their hoarding of EVERYTHING–and how they all want to be Caesar. Also. One must also consider their contempt for those who don’t know the game. The poor. The proletariate. The rednecks with red hats that say… You know, those simply not born lucky enough to inherit or live off of unearned wealth and means–and who choose to stay STUPID. With that in mind, it is truly astonishing how so much support is given to the elites in my beloved & missed #Americant and at the same time elites are complained about day after day after day. Is it only because faux-newz spews criticism of elites? Am I the only expat viewing the $hitshow from thirty-thousand feet who sees this? Does one have to even be a thirty-thousand foot expat? It’s like watching a game-board, don’t you know. From so far up. But I can still see the dice. I see the crowds and the game hoarders aka players instil themselves with the game, their noses practically glued to the flat-screen that is their game-table. How is it that so many people can simultaneously be played, thinking they are playing? Oh the gift of faith.
While on the subject of hoarding, isn’t it so that war-booty is the same (as hoarding)? The soldiers of Rome, before and during Caesar, had their way with war-booty, ain’t that right? Has there been a study yet about the difference between Genghis Khan’s war-booty and that of the Roman Empire? At the least, the Roman Empire’s war-booty gave the world The Christ, his real name having the same initials as Julius Caesar. Coincidence? Which brings me around a whole ‘nother bend.
As empires die they leave a rotting slime corpse of dung for new empires to spring from (cultivate). If a few can isolate and protect that slime, it can cultivate for centuries, new & improved empires can be born. It can even birth ever new miscreants of nation-state-hood–who become empires. As long as war-booty is available there is no need to fear the reaper. And so, I’m worst-thinking now about the latest nation-state, pseudo-empire miscreant and how it came to be. Let’s go there, shall we?
Who was the biggest loser of the Great War (WW1 2)? Was it Germany, Japan? Perhaps at the time it was. Or am I totally worst-writing when I say that the biggest loser, in reality, was/is Great Britain? I mean, those fcuking wars really did put that $hithole, inbred island of ugly monarchs in their place. Yet they’re still there. But before I get too far off subject.
What I really want to worst-write about is war-booty and how it can extend and/or build an empire. For example. The Marshal Plan. The Marshal Plan was a new & and improved imperial plan that was nothing more than supplanting the British Empire and thereby freeing up space for my beloved & missed #Americant to fill the bill. We know what happened to the war-booty of Germany and Japan. But what of Britain? For didn’t Roosevelt tell Churchill after they met Stalin and while enjoying their last tee together (in Yalta?):
You fcuking twisty-speaking cocksucker. You not only ruined for years to come the money making ability of those fcuking Krauts but you almost lost it all to those retard-looking Russians. Did you know that fcuking Russians are only a half-chromosome away from being slant-eyed retards? Shut the fcuk-up Winston! Now. Listen up. You give up what remains of your greed $hitshow empire because a new player is in town and we ain’t gonna fcuk it up like you did. Here, have a fcuking banana. My boys brought it over from South America. You wanna know how to run an empire? That’s right. You gotta peel the fcuking skin off first. Twat!
Churchill, like The Dude, abided. Which brings me full-circle. A few things happen at the end of warring greed-monger $hitshows (WW2) as their Republics die:
Winner takes all (as in stuff)
Mass Impregnation (cause it’s fun)
The transfer of stuff (quite different from 1); see The Marshal Plan
In worst-short, dear worst-reader, the Great War (WW1 2) was nothing but war-booty-galore with the one caveat of dethroning the British Empire and finally supplanting it with my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant. That’s right. Technically worst-writing, the fcuking Russians won the Great War (WW1 2). But the playboys and the banker/gamblers from the US would win the glory and, hence, the marketing. And so. Considering the ramifications of dying empires, past and present, where are things headed? Or. More importantly: when will the next Empire begin to die again? Considering the aftermath of ALL fallen empires, there’s got to be a road-map out there about where things are headed. Or?
Question(s):
Is there a way through the ignorance that lead to the likes of #Trump ?
Is #Trump the beginning or the during of impending Empire collapse?
Is the blatant bigotry and spite and hate and racism of #Trump a symptom or the sickness? (And does it matter?)
How did so many otherwise smart people turn so stupid?
What is a (British) twat? (Brexit!)
Those are good questions, grass-hopper. The answer is: fcuk yes. But first, you got to get the whole Nation–as in Nationalism–to admit it’s dummer than a bag of rocks held buoyant in a river by happy coloured balloons that have penises drawn on them. How does that happen? Well, let’s get back to greed-mongering, war-booty, the complete and total control/ownership of stuff, i.e. Republics. Take for example the antecedent (if not the incestuous cousin-sister) of the Marshall Plan: martial law.
Wiki: Martial law is the imposition of direct military control of normal civilian functions of government.
For those not in the know or those hooked on OxyContin (who may or mayn’t be worst-reading this), here a few examples of martial law in my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant as of the year of (y)our Lord twenty-nineteen:
Sanctuary Cities. Recent declaration by #Trump (the executive branch of the US Government) that states and/or cities must take immigrants into their “sanctuary cities” as retaliation for the Congress (the legislative branch of US Government) not giving him his STUPID-wall is one of the scariest things yet to come out of the current iteration of #Americant’s fail-upward reality-tv $hitshow that is the LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID1.
Guantanamo Bay! Need more be worst-written about that in the context of martial law? Oh wait. Don’t forget that Guantanamo Bay, if it represents anything, is that #Americant has finally gone down the path of making martial law possible on a grand scale. Guantanamo Bay isn’t so much about fighting a war against nineteen dead thugs who hijacked planes that wrecked a few ugly buildings. No. It is the rejection of Habeas Corpus. May your God help you and all your stupid for making this happen.
Pardons. #Trump claiming that he will pardon2 the head of the agency in charge of US immigration if/when he commits crimes is also pretty scary and very reminiscent of authoritarianism if not, well, abuse of power… Oh wait. I mean, that’s kinda like martial law, too, right? Yeah, this is supposed to be about martial law.
Anywho. I’ve worst-written, rambled on long enough and just realised, in these 2,000 words, I’ve said practically nothing that has anything to do with the title of this worst-post. Does that mean I’ve lost my (original) way? Maybe. Then again. Im worst-writer. And. In order for a once great idear that is/was #Americant to get where it’s got, you can only have a Republic (failing) where there two types of people. So there.
Rant (and worst-write) on.
-T
The idear of a “sanctuary city”, in this context, reminds me of dystopian movies like Escape From New York, V For Vendetta, Children Of Men, etc., or books like 1984, The Handmaid’s Tale, etc. In these movies/stories government is all controlling, all-knowing, it is the stuff things are made of, with and for and in all of these movies there is no communist party, no socialist agenda, etc. And so. How far is my beloved & missed #Americant from anything resembling marshal law? Obviously not far at all. And there’s more. ↩︎
https://www.rollingstone.com/politics/politics-news/trump-pardon-kevin-mcaleenan-822053/ –according to this link, it seems the whole pardon thing has kinda gone to the way side. It’s almost as though #Trump has learned to play so well with just throwing things out there and to see if they stick. If they don’t stick–or if they are swatted away–then he just backs down. Hi-Larry-Us. ↩︎
In a whirlwind, dear worst-reader, It all started with the music videoThis is America. Have to admit, it did take a few viewings of the vid for me to get it. Well, get it as far as worst-writer can get it. You know, this is about politics as much as it’s about money making musical genius. As you may or mayn’t know, I’m kind of an old school liberal. You know, I be the kind that thinks he can think all things whatnot but ultimately, especially when it comes to politics, my whatnot is about living and let live. When I’m critical of politics, it’s because there are so many out there that can’t live and let live. In fact, things have gotten so bad, those that can’t live and let live, have to be called out for going even further by living on the backs of others. Such a creed, don’t you know, goes against pretty much everything that my beloved & missed #Americant is all about today. Yeah, living on the backs of others. But that’s neither here nor there.
The thing that rocked me about This is America is the message(s) embedded within it. I won’t go into the details of THE message here. That sort of thing is available all over the #Interwebnets. But I will say this: Childish Gambino is a friggin’ genius. Boy am I curious what’s gonna come out of him in the future–or will he fade as THE message fades. For as we all know, what’s right, righteous and good fades quickly to what is ugly, ugly, ugly and full of money, money, money and #Trump. And so…
A few hours ago I viewed a continuation of THE message. I watched Guava Island. Once again I was a bit perturbed with where this artist was going. Filmed in Cuba and co-staring Rihanna, it seems that Childish Gambino (I love that name) found a way to repackage and resubmit THE message in the form of a (kind of) extended music video but encased in a wondrous narrative mini-movie of love, culture and THE message. In short, #Americants have an alternative. But will they get the message?
So. Like. I’m sitting in the corner at the mall, a parking lot, a small table in a rainbow coloured sprinkles restaurant and Grasshopper walks up to me and asks: Dude, what is a fascism? (Yes, the question is posed just like that.)
Well, Grasshopper, I respond, it’s like this. Do you remember olden times when people were actually rational about their days and deeds and were extremely concerned about where they stuck their genitals? That’s right, those days are long gone–if they ever existed. But those days–or day–are somehow real, don’t you know. Anywho. In those days something interesting happened to the petty and the perturbed and the ones that would lead to #Trump, post Hitler, Mussolini, etc. The threat that was human existence had gone too far for a few people who run the worlds. But perhaps I’m getting ahead of ourselves.
In the beginning there was talk of communism. Let’s say we’re dealing with the mid 19th century. Karl Marx was the first to actually philosophise about the re-invention of a new & improved feudalism post the French Revolution. The French Revolution, btw, was the first attempt at ridding the world of not just feudalism but really, really useless kings and queens. Back to Marx. Marx’s philosophising, don’t you know, lead a whole bunch of people to question why they had so little after doing so much and few and fewer people had so much after doing so little. And so. A whole bunch of people organised and both pissed-off and scared those few people… a whole lot. In order to counter the many people that were organising, a few of the few and fewer thought about getting organised themselves. The many were the communists and the few and fewer would eventually become the fascists. The fascists would then fight and fight and slaughter the many so that, well, the few and fewer could just keep having more and more. Oh. And let’s not forget. Other than in Russia and France, those f’n fascists saved the rest of those arsehole kings and fcuking queens. Get it? (And enough of the italics.)
So the thing to remember, Grasshopper, is this: There would be no fascism if there were no communism. There would still be feudalism, though. Get it? And if I may just throw this little tangent in there which is perhaps for another worst-post: we would now have Neo-feudalism.
But I die-gress, baby.
In other worst-words, fascism is communisms counter revolution. The thing that holds both communism and fascism together–that makes them cousins, if you will–is authoritarianism. That is, the will of the few over the will of the many–in the most brutal way. And if you don’t like it, I’ll slap you arse, you useless-eating biatch. Get it?
To make things even more complicated, one can also put it like this: Capitalists also found a way to organise so that they could counter Communism, i.e. the revolution that so many were joining back in the day. The Capitalists turned to the privileged classes–from which the middle classes would eventually spring (rentier, neo-feudalism?)–among their ranks who would in-turn turn against the less privileged, i.e. the poor. The privileged classes gladly accepted the Capitalists as determiners of (their) fate as they also laughed and spit on the poor who would be controlled by government bureaucracy, the police state, right-wing media (set free by Ronald Reagan’s fight against the FCC Fairness doctrine), etc. And so. The poor simply became the breeders of more mindless and indoctrinated canon fodder–by the likes of Rush Limbaugh, faux newz, etc. And now you have #Trump. Get it?
Let me be clear about one more thing before I end this worst-post. Nazis are not necessarily fascists. Although Nazis employ fascists tactics (brown shirts, SS, propaganda, etc.), the true fascists that allied forced would defeat in WW2 were Italians and before that Franco’s Spain. I’m not trying to diminish the evils of Nazism here, though. Nazis were (and still are!) just as bad as fascists. But perhaps, when trying to understand the evils that men are capable of, sometimes it might be OK to split hairs. And don’t forget:
The Germans and Italians lost WW2 but the fascists won.
-George Carlin
A fascist is a pig in a man’s suit and who slaps you (or kills you) for disagreeing with him and there is nothing you can do about it because, well, …you love bacon?
-end-
More worst-writing on T’s attempt at understanding fascism? Try this or this or this.
Note on text: if you want to skip all my worst-writing, just scroll down to the The Pseudo Review.
As noted here, I’m not a NAS fan. The problem with not being a NAS fan is that one may still require some form of home data storage. But where to turn? Remember those days of ripping CDs, DVDs/Blurays, etc.? What to do with all that data? Even if you’re no longer into ripping stuff, there is a need to not lose all that has been ripped. Or?
A few years back I realised that my ripping days were over. I haven’t ripped a CD in years. Other than online (and free) internet-radio, I don’t consume music anymore either. If I watch a movie or a TV show, I do so by either Amazon Prime or I rent something with AppleTV. (That’s right, I don’t use Netflix and I also do not watch cable or satellite TV!) That means, the only requirement I have for home data storage is being able to back up my Macs and figuring out what to do with all my old data. For my Macs the solution is easy. I rely on multiple TimeMachine iterations. Btw, after getting rid of my Mac collection in late 2018, which consisted of a MacPro, 2x MacMini, a MacBook Air and a 12″ MacBook, I’m now down to 2x 12″ MacBooks, 2016 and 2017 respectively.
Btw, as a writer, I highly recommend the 12″ MacBook–butterfly keyboard n’all. It is, in fact, my daily driver. Obviously if you’re into video production the 12″ MacBooks is a no-go. For everything else, as I took the chance to figure out for myself, Apple’s smallest, lightest, minuscule-ness and perhaps slowest PC… is a blast! And so, my wife uses the 2016 MacBook connected to a 24″ screen as her personal desktop device which replaced her 2010 MacMini. FYI, her main personal comuting driver is an iPad Pro. But I digress.
It was after fiddling around with my wife’s 2016 MacBook–which she bought on a whim after we returned from India in 2016–that something clicked with me. And be warned: when we entered the Apple store that day to get her a new Mac, it had never crossed my mind to buy the 12″ MacBook. I was trying to steer her to a low-end iMac. But you know how the women-folk are these days, eh worst-reader? You know, they be all emancipated and stuff. The only contribution I got to make about her new Mac purchase, in the end, was that she didn’t buy the pink MacBook1. Here my thoughts on going full Apple über-expensive (pink) netbook for 2019. Anywho.
Each MacBook has it’s own external HDD which is connected as required plus there is a TimeMachine HDD connected to an AirPort Extreme in the basement accessible by our home network. I can’t tell you what a relief it is having gotten rid of all those ageing Macs, but more importantly having gotten rid of the burden of having to maintain them. Obviously–or as usual–Steve Jobs was right when he initiated the post-PC era–with his comment–even though I don’t agree with it 100%–that tablets are cars and PCs are trucks. The thing is, I’ve never been sold on tablets replacing PCs. I’m also all-in on laptop makers trying to compete with desktop. More importantly, I’m not sold at all on touch screens. No. I need a keyboard. There is obviously a burden to be shouldered in the future of PCs but that’s mostly due to a monopolised and monolithic tech industry–that Apple will hopefully threaten if it ever gets around to having ARM as processors on its Macs. But, once again, I’m off subject.
The minimalist design, ports, weight, etc., of the MacBook has in part lead to my acquiescence and further delayed my having to consider going tablet. Although I can see the future is about touch-screen devices, the MacBook I’m using to worst-type this post, might just be my last Mac. Indeed. The likes of System76 laptops is looking pretty sweet to me right now–even though I just paid twice the cost for a laptop (a 2017 12″ MacBook in pink) compared to the likes of what System76 is offering. So the only question that remains is this: can I give up the luxury of Mac? That’s a whole other worst-post, eh. Anywho–I’m still off subject.
Not only have I gotten rid of all those trucks but I’ve also consolidated my personal computing data requirements. I’ve even given in to Apple’s ill-engineering to remove things like an ethernet port, let alone modern I/O ports. In other worst-words, for my personal computing requirements, I’ve since learned that the amount of hardware I require is actually quite negligible. For don’t you know, dear worst-reader, I am a worst-typist (worst-writer), and the amount of hardware space to store year and years and years of worst-writing, just ain’t that much. In fact, in a pinch, I can get my life’s digital work onto a decent sized USB thumb-drive. As for other digital stuff, aka music, photos, movies, TV, etc., that’s another story. And here’s part of that story.
I don’t consider media stuff to be a priority in my digital life. As much as I don’t like subscription-based digital streaming (I prefer the pay as you go/view stuff), streaming is definitely the future. Hence the rigamarole of whether or not to invest stupid money into an over-priced multiple HDD system (NAS) which just adds more complications (i.e. truck krapp) to one’s life.
The Pseudo Review.
So it’s been a few months now since I’ve batted an eye or puckered an ear about avoiding NAS truck-dom and/or monopoly-monolithic über-expensive personal computing krapp. It turns out that my skepticism/cynicism was/is warranted. As of fall 2018, I’ve resorted to other means of storing twenty years of music and movies and TV–and thereby separating personal data from media2. Obviously what I’m doing is not as convenient as a NAS but at least I’m NOT having to give more stupid-money away to monopoly-monolithic tech companies. Also. The whole fiddling and figuring-out process has been (kinda) fun. And so, here’s the solution I’m currently using in order to avoid monopoly-monoliths…
RockPro64 (4GB/MicroSD/Sata-card)
Pine64 NAS Case
2x 3TB HDD
DietPi
Initially, and based on positive experience with Raspberry Pi, I fiddled around with OMV on the RockPro64, more on that here. Unfortunately OMV doesn’t work. I’m regularly checking here to see if/when it gets out of beta. That’s kind of a shame, really, on account I liked the way OMV worked on the Raspberry Pi. The only problem was/is, the RPi couldn’t stream to my home network using Plex. As a pure file server, though, OMV on the RPi worked flawlessly.
After a few initial difficulties with the RockPro64 and its fancy-pants NAS case3, I finally got it all together and working. As far as my choice of software, I’ve been happily surprised with DietPi. After a few weeks I not only got used to such a throw-back, if not archaic interface, I really started to dig DietPi. In fact, once you get used to it, DietPi isn’t as CLI/archaic as it may initially appear. It’s actually got a pretty neat and well thought-out interface, see pics above. Of course, if you like, you can just use the terminal and linux commands to do everything. I’m not a Linux command expert by and long stretch, so what DietPi has come up with has worked really well for me. The only issues I’ve had so far have been minor and require nothing more than a restart. So allow me to repeat: The thing to keep in mind is that I was looking for a way to avoid the bigshots and their overpriced krapp–and I found it.
As far as it being a server, you have to kind of piece together DietPi to get things to happen. Where OMV is a standalone server application that acts just like a NAS, DietPi is more like an operating system with various apps, some of which can be servers. I’m using Plex Media Server and Samba shares. I’ve also got a few other apps running, e.g. WordPress and Pi-hole. More on that in another worst-post. I have one RPi Plex client connected to my sound system and a flat screen TV. It’s where I watch all those old, ripped media files. I can also access it all via Plex apps on my Mac, an old iPad Air and and even my ageing iPhone 6s. So far the RockPro64 has been able to stream to multiple devices without issue. For audio I have two separate RPi’s running Volumio. I have a separate Samba share for audio files only. All in all, I’m able to stream movies, TV shows, and audio without issue to multiple devices. As far as backing up media from the RockPro64 and its internal HDDs, there’s a DietPi app to cover that, as well.
And let’s not forget the fun-factor in all this. The biggest thrill so far with being able to avoid sucking up to monolithic-monopolistic tech arsehole corporations is that OpenSource and SBCs (single board computer) have lead the way. The fact that I sold an old albeit still powerful 2010 MacPro (cheese grader Mac) with the idear that (but no proof it would work) I could replace it with an SBC, no longer seems absurd–as a lot of tech guys tried to tell me. At the least, personal computing doesn’t have to be as complicated and expensive as it has become simply because jerk-offs in the tech world have got nothing better to do than screw customers more and more. But what the hell do I know?
Rant on.
-T
Indeed. I would be the one to buy it in pink. Laughs on me, uh? ↩︎
For those interested: I utilise iCloud for photo backup, which is my only external backup source of photos. I have no other means to externally back up other media. I’m probably playing with fire but what the hell! ↩︎
I had the following issues with the case: cheap SATA cables included with case are hard and stiff. In fact, I damaged PCIe adapter while trying to wire SATA cables internally. I used superglue to fix that damage. Once RockPro64 board and HDDs are installed, cables connected, etc., the only way to access board is to dismantle entire case. You also pretty much have to dismantle entire case to remove/change a HDD. Case designer(s) didn’t take into consideration access to MicroSD card. The only way to access the MicroSD card is with a pair of tweezers or very little fingers. Routing both SATA cables and power cables in case is extremely cumbersome. To make life easier and to prevent further damage, I purchased a set of thin, light, flexible SATA cables to replace the ones included with the case. ↩︎
Woke up with a speck of Stones clinging in my heart this morning. Did I think it was a heart attack? No. But my heart hums every now and then–in the wrong musical direction. Also. The stirring had something to do with the wrong angle (of attack) from that last glass of wine last night. I have to stop drinking from the corner of the left side of my face. But that’s all neither here nor there–cause the pills don’t help either. And so. I took a bike ride after coffee this morning and when I returned my heart told me once again to nap. The problem is, I’m not listening to my heart enough these days. Either that or its speaking the wrong language. It wasn’t telling me to nap but instead to listen to this Stones song. So I did. And then I listened to the whole album and drank two glasses of oat-milk latte. Now there.
Quick ride to clear my head the other day, dear worst-reader. Didn’t work, though. In fact, I was so perturbed by the trek I’m sure it caused me a strange dream the night after. In short, the dream was thus: along with another male adult, I’m on a grassy knoll coaching four boys who are playing soccer. Oddly, I’ve never played soccer. In fact, when I was kid and when I played, it would have never come to mind to play a sport that was/is easily labelled a communist sport. I mean, come on. You can’t use your friggin’ hands? Whaaaa? Ok. Back to the grassy knoll.
The grassy knoll is next to the German A3 Autobahn on route to either Köln or Frankfurt and there’s no barrier between the grass where the boys are playing and the Germanic über-roadway. Myself and the other adult male are trying our best to keep the boys from playing their sport into the on-coming traffic. So much for coaching, eh. And so…
The boys are constantly kicking the ball onto the Autobahn and thereby stopping traffic. Let me repeat that for the worst-hearing or the unimpaired (intellects) who’ve never left the confines of not having a passport: no one stops on-coming Autobahn traffic in the land of Huns. Or? On the other side of the grassy knoll, by-the-buy, is a dense forest and with every pause from having to watch the boys, I’m looking to that forest. And while doing so, eventually, somehow, an opening in the forest appears and I suggest that we seek another place to practice. The other male adult agrees with me but the four boys do not. The boys want to keep playing/practicing where they are–and it’s obvious they will have their way.
In a rebellious fit mixed with a bit of pseudo-rage, one of the boys kicks the ball onto the Autobahn and then all four boys command that I fetch it. And guess what? I did NOT fetch it. That’s right. Fcuk that! I ran off to the opening in the forest and then woke up in a cold, blurred sweat. Awake from my rebellious dream, I immediately ran downstairs to my Jura espresso machine, which was already on and warmed-up on account I over-slept and my better-half was awake and I clicked the button for a double espresso. I drank it and then my wife commanded that I take the dog out. But get this: my dog, Beckett the killer pug, runs over to me all excited and perturbed and in his mouth is a deflated and dilapidated old soccer ball.
Confused, I look out the front window of our house while contemplating and sipping espresso and soccer and see four boys on the street staring at me, waiting for me, gesturing: where’s the fcuking ball you a$$hole! And so.
A dream within a dream very unlike Hamlet. Or? Perhaps a better question is: what does it all mean?
Nomatter.
The good newz is, there’s an east-west spectrum of riding terrain along the Rhein. If I go east, within about half an hour, I’m in a mountainous-forest area that is pure joy to ride. When going west, but adhering to the Rhein River, there are numerous spectacles of industrialisation worth riding through–and not because they are to some an eye soar, which also means that while riding there will be less pedestrian and/or bike traffic. Yesterday I rode through the town of Neuss, for example. It’s a quick twenty kilometre north-westerly ride where one must cross the Rhein via Düsseldorf’s most southerly bridge. Once across there is a short jaunt on a bike pathway that is between the river and a bunch of fancy-pants houses that all have a spectacular view. Indeed. Some of the housing that overlooks the Rhein is a sight to see. The old-money wealth that purchased its way into such a view of the river must be very proud of itself. Yes. We’re all proud of old-money, eh? I mean, not that I’m bitchin’ & moanin’ too much on account I can’t have such a view. Old money is an issue these days, eh? But I die-gress.
The moment I trekked my way through Neuss town centre and began to navigate through the industrial harbour, I felt better. Suddenly there were no more cars, no more pedestrians, no more bicyclist. And then I saw a young maiden sitting on a bench next to what looked like a contra-bass. Obviously she was waiting to be picked up and my little knowledge of Neuss told me there must be a music school nearby. Yeah, the Huns still have lots of music schools all over the place. Anywho.
After passing the harbour area and getting a good close up of some of those barges that dock at loading stations, I had to resort to some fancy-pants GPS to help me find the quickest way to lunch. I was getting hungry.
Nonevermind.
I rode through the industrial, port area of Neuss and then re-crossed the Rhein via the Rheinkniebrücke which is only a few twisty kilometres north of the previous bridge I crossed. I then rode to the Düsseldorf Altstadt and reminded myself that I would have NO Bier with lunch. I then splurged on a bowl of lentil soup at a cool little out-door soup & stew stand. While eating lunch I conversed with an old German couple, she from D’dorf but her husband was from Nurenberg. The husband was almost blind and kept asking his better-half to help him find a piece of sausage in his soup. The better-half sparked up a conversation with me after her husband mistook my bowl of stew for his own. Here’s a translation of the conservation that ensued:
“We’re biking, too,” the old lady said.
“Good for you,” I added.
“But my husband’s almost blind. Here darling, have another piece of sausage with your stew.”
“With traffic as bad as it is, biking is really the only way to get around these days, wouldn’t you agree,” I asked.
The wife shovelled another piece of sausage onto her husband’s spoon. He was eating cabbage and carrot stew with pieces of bratwurst in it. I couldn’t help but stare at the man’s thick, bottle glasses. For a moment it looked like he was so blind that he might not find his mouth with the spoon. But then he blurted out something about Hitler. That’s right. That’s how easy it happens here. I looked to his wife and she nodded and I then assumed that the old man was probably dement. But then he turned to me while chewing a thick spoonful of stew and meat.
“You have an accent,” he said.
“Yes, sir, I do,” I agreed.
“You are American,” he said. “I will never forget the Americans. It was two weeks after I turned seven years old. It was late 1945. The Americans began to occupy Nuremberg. We were still wondering if my father would return from the war. It was just my grandfather and my mother. My mother kept herself barricaded in the basement of our house most of the time. My grandfather was still in charge of the city’s electrical grid. My grandfather took me to work with him back then. The G-I’s were fixing the electric grid of the city. When the first G-I’s came to greet my grandfather at the electric station I stood at attention and yelled at the top of my lungs… Heil Hitler! But then I saw for the first time a Neger1. And this big black G-I came over to me and gave me a Hershey bar. After that I yelled Heil Hitler to every G-I. I got a Hershey bar every time. It was wonderful. My father never came home.”
Rant and ride on.
-T
Yes, old Germans still refer to Africans as “Neger” and while I’ve questioned the use of the word, most Germans then just inform me how stupid Americans are if they don’t know the difference to the slave-trade, bigoted pejorative use of nomenclature ↩︎
Note on the pics: I was able to directly compare original Bosch sprocket (black) with a different brand (dark grey). I don’t know why it surprises me that the minimal differences in the two has such a drastic outcome on performance (or lack thereof). It basically boils down to a Shimano chain being… I don’t know… a bitch.
Ok. I’m probably over doing it here with new drive train hell. Or am I? Let’s go through it together, shall we, dear fellow worst-rider?
Last fall I was informed after a scheduled tune-up that it was time for a new chain and rear cassette on my mega über-German e-bike. When I naively inquired as to why the drive train wouldn’t last at least 10,000km, I was told/sold this: chains wear out, it all depends on riding parameters and you’re lucky, with the weight it had to carry, it lasted this long. Giggle. Smirk. Pause. Oddly, the shop also told me a new sprocket in the front wasn’t necessary. I didn’t think much about it at the time as I planned to make the change after winter anywho. And so… It’s kinda after winter now, don’t you know. So I made an appointment a few weeks back and, surprisingly–as the shop is usually swamped this time of year with riders getting their wares ready for spring–I didn’t have to wait long. I brought my e-bike in yesterday morning with an appointment to have it finished within a few hours so I could be home by early afternoon to continue worstwritng.
So I dropped off my e-beast and then walked into the city for a nice sushi lunch. After that I went to an Apple Store for some WIFI and uploaded a silly worst-writer-post. I then bought a cappuccino with three espresso shots made with new-fangled oat-milk (P.S. great stuff that new fangled oat-milk). After that I tried to find a new ascot cap at a local department store. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much luck with the cap. Also. The sushi was kinda spoiled with a well intentioned gesture by the owner. The sushi bar owner–a former Japanese Mountaineer that made his way to Düsseldorf in the 1960s–brought me a serving of Mackerel sushi, aka Saba Zushi. It was a gesture on his part, I guess, because I showed grave disappointment in the fact that he had no sea urchin. Although I prefer Mackerel smoked (especially the German way, not as sushi), sometimes I’ve had luck with how it’s cured when topping sweet rice (sushi). Not the case today. Until dinner, I had that funky Mackerel taste humidifying through my system. Oh well. Nothing a glass of Syrah can’t deal with, eh. Prosit!
After killing a few hours, I returned to the shop and noticed that the mechanic hadn’t removed my bike from its maintenance rack. Usually they’ve got it ready and waiting for me to pick up. I was then directed to join the mechanic at his work station to receive a briefing. That’s right, dear worst-rider. A briefing.
First. As I’ve indicated in other pseudo-reviews, the one big thing that’s always bothered me about my Charger GX is how the rear wheel never spun freely. Whenever I spun the wheel it always came to a sudden stop because it was rubbing on something. No mechanic had yet been able to find what the problem was, i.e. brake caliper mount, brake pad springs, corroded brake caliper pistons, wheel mount, bent brake disc, etc.). Today, fellow worst-rider, there’s been a major brake-thru in this… my e-bike spinning wheel dilemma.
It seems, for the past two years, while taking care of my bike, cleaning the chain, checking the rear, etc., I’ve been doing it all wrong. What I’ve been doing is leaning the bike onto the bike’s rear mounted kickstand and then spinning the rear wheel as needed. During the briefing the mechanic told me to do the same thing but this time to lift the rear end of the bike up off the ground.
Booom, baby!
It seems that the weight and pressure put on the kickstand mount with my method of bike maintenance also puts undue pressure on the entire mount of the rear wheel. Although the pressure is ever-so slight, it’s enough to shift the wheel and make the brake disc rub the brake pads. Go f’n figure, eh. This worst-riding greenhorn still gots lots to learn, baby!
The briefing over, the mechanic told me to test the new chain. I hopped on and peddled. And then…
I hopped off the bike and looked to the mechanic. His head flinched back with surprise as he was able to only get one good, long drag from his Marlboro red while I did the testing.
“Das ist nicht gut,”he said. “Versuch anderen Gang.”
I mounted my aluminium two wheeled German engineered über-steed a second time and tried to peddle and thereby shift through a few gears. This time the clack turned to a debilitating crushing and grinding sound.
“Heilige scheisse,” my mechanic said.
Only having smoked half his Marlboro, he rolled my bike back into the shop and put it up on the rack. Long story almost short… the new chain no longer fit to the old front sprocket. The mechanic immediately hustled to put on a new front sprocket, questioning the whole time if he even had the right part available. He and other guys in the shop were also a little embarrassed at the situation as I questioned why they didn’t just order it when I made the appointment and then replace it from the get-go.
Come on fellows, I got $hit to do today.
The elderly statesmen from the shop came over to console me by saying that sometimes they just try to reduce costs for their customers. I thought to myself: seriously? These friggin bikes costs way too much to be squealing around on things like a 20,- Euro sprocket. Or?
“Nö problem-o,” the elderly statesmen said. “Nur nochmal zwanzig Euro für die Teile,” he added.
He told me I only had to pay for the sprocket and not for the extra labour that was in progress. Yeah, right.
JUST FIX IT!
Of course, I wasn’t at all interested in the cost. I’ve saved so much money by getting a car out of my life, that a few Euros here or there for something like a sprocket… Anywho. I wanted my bike back for another 7000km and I was a bit perturbed with what was turning out to be a wasted afternoon where worstwriter billing money was going down the drain.
But. There was one other problem. They couldn’t find the right Bosch front sprocket. For the heck of it–and too look busy, I guess–they threw on a different brand sprocket. And don’t you know, it didn’t work. (See pics.) The thing that really surprised me here is that Bosch (the whole bike industry) seems to think it’s OK to treat bike parts like Apple treats iPhone parts. Indeed. The whole friggin business world is about monopoly, proprietary krapp and, let’s not forget, obsoletism. But before I get too far off worst-subject ranting about what I think of this fcuked up world…
They eventually found a Bosch sprocket. But get this. When making the appointment for this stuff, I had initially requested a larger front sprocket. Not much. I wanted to go from 17 to 18 teeth. When I made the appointment, the shop statesmen told me that it wasn’t possible to change the front sprocket because of the onboard computer and then even added a short lecture on German regulations regarding 25kmh plus how thankful I should be because of the states effort in creating all the great bike lanes we get to enjoy. Blah. Blah. Blah. I’ve since also learned that Bosch is pretty hard-a$$ on dealers and shops that don’t adhere to their stringent drive-train setups. So I don’t hold anything against shop owners for following rules. On the other hand, I think it’s pretty silly how the e-bike powers-that-be don’t want people fiddling with these things on account, well, I’m sure there’s a $hit load of fun to be had by boosting them up to 60kmh. Or? But I have never been interested in that. I just thought a slightly larger front sprocket would allow me to utilise more gears while riding a MTB on flat, paved surfaces most of the time. But before I die-gress (digress)…
The only other disappointment with today’s 230,- Euro e-bike maintenance debacle is that the shop didn’t even bother to degrease and clean the parts prior to reassembly. Nor did they say/do anything about the derailleur. Am I being too much of a stickler here?
Just take my money, bitch!
I hope I’m not being too hard on my local bike shop. But perhaps it’s worth noting, even though there have been some advancement in the biking world, especially with e-bikes, something is awry when it comes to service–especially for something at this price. On the other hand, the special deal I made with the purchase of this bike, which allowed me to acquire it at a substantial discount, also requires that I have it regularly maintained by a Bosch approved shop. That worst-said, I’m committed to another year with it. After that–if I decided to keep it–it’s time to fiddle with it a bit more on my own. Or do I just finally go nuts and get a Stromer? Stay tuned for that, baby.
In the meantime think/imagine this: ageing expat with a slight weight/drinking problem, über-cruising around some old German town on two wheels at 60kmh with a cloud of electric smoke coming out of his…
But I do die-gress (digress).
The ride home with new drive train definitely felt different. Although I could clearly feel its newness, the entirety of the afternoon convinced me to blow it off till I could get a glass of wine in me. Still. The new chain and sprockets needs to be broke-in and it’ll probably take a couple hundred kilometres for that to happen. Onward ho, eh.
The only other thing worth pointing out is, after two years and 7000km, this bike has held up pretty well. I’ve yet to have any issues with things like steering stem, spokes, brake levers and/or the brake hydraulic system. I was also expecting by now to have to replace the brake discs, but they’re fine, too. Or are they? Obviously the quality of parts that help push the price of this bike upward forevermore seems to be worthwhile. Except, of course, for the drive train. After this debacle I’m remembering vividly that original conversation upon purchase about whether or not to afford the extra cost of a Rohloff, which would alleviate having to deal with chains and sprockets and mis-managed shop priorities. Oh well.
Not sure where it begins, dear worst-reader. Is it their schooling? Peer pressure? Reading too much Winnetou and Old Shatterhand? For don’t you know, dear worst-reader, Karl May, the writer/creator of old west stories of my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, never once set foot on what he wrote so much about. And even though I’ve never read a word from May, something about the way so many Das Volk in Germania speak English. Or is it how they write it? Nomatter. It’s all pseudo-soup and graffiti to me. And it’s better that way.
It was supposed to be about the wine last Sunday. But we sat across a couple from Engaland. That is, she was German and he was Cockey. Other than that, nice folks, don’t you know. But then, after an agreement on Grauburgunder there was a sudden disagreement on Monarchies. A disagreement on Monarchies, of course, lead (worst-moi) to other pseudo criticisms derived from being a failed expat. For you see, dear worst-reader, the holy trinity for the grand $hitshow that is the world we live in today is thus:
capitalism run-amok
religion
monarchs
(Note on list above: not necessarily in that order.)
The thing is, at times I just can’t help myself. I mean, of all the #Eurowasteland places I’ve been, of all the languages that confuse (for none of them do the opposite of confuse), the one place that has always fcuked with my head the most… is Engaland. Sure, I share a cousin-relative language with the Brits. I also grew up in an area of my beloved & missed #Americant that even serves (lusts for) the same kind of greasy breakfast. And then there’s the confusion of our flags. You know, the Union Jack and the Stars & Stripes. Or is it red, white and blue that makes them all the same? Wait. The French and the Dutch also have red, white and blue. Ok. Forget flags.
Here’s the gist of this worst-post. After being invited to a wine tasting that I didn’t want to attend in the first place, and then letting myself go–as I can easily do when it comes to drinking–we were savouring a joyous 2018 Grauburgunder (Pinot Noir) that tasted of slate, rose pedals and a hint of berry-galore when I turned to my new Engaland comrade and said:
Yeah, but you guys, instead of worrying about playing second fiddle to the fcuking Germans–as you always do unless the Americans come to help you beat their a$$–maybe it’s finally time to heed what the continent was able to do where and when it counts: get rid of that fcuking useless queen and her inbreds. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m not just singling out your piece-of-shit, useless monarchy. You should even help the rest of the world get rid of all monarchies. Come on. Wouldn’t that be a good thing instead of bitching & moaning about how Germans are better at everything–especially democracy, government services and, of course, making $hit? What purpose does a monarch serve these days? None. So come on, dude. Pull a French Revolution on hereditary privilege. (Long pause.) Prosit!
Anywho. The wine was great. We ordered something like 300,-€ worth of it, which’ll be delivered in mid May. And it also looks like I’ve failed my wife again at the task of making friends.
Note on the pics. The Birkenstock shoe (left foot) is still in what I consider to be its break-in period. They’re only about ten days old. Note the suede sole footbed insert. The sandal (right foot) is broke-in and is probably four months old. The only issue I’m facing with the sandals is that I’ve run out of holes for tightening the straps as the leather has stretched a bit. The ladies at the Birkenstock store said it’s easy to add another hole or two. Good news, eh. Tip to break-in the sandals: after shower wear them with undried feet.
Been having foot trouble, don’t you know, dear worst-reader. Yeah, it’s been going on for years. The origin of this trouble has been mostly due to weight and a screwed-up left achilles. It might be also attributable to the side-ways goings and comings I experience after a bottle or three of wine. But that’s neither here nor there. My foot trouble has caused me to favour one foot over the other and, who knows, might even lead to that hip replacement a few years down the road. Oh yeah. I’m having hip trouble now, too. Nomatter.
According to those in the know, the (real) problem with my feet might be the so-called cheap-o factor. How could anyone have guessed that for the last ten or so years I’ve been flying to the US, not only to visit my ageing mother, but to purchase cheap sneakers at a Rehoboth, DE, outlet mall. If you’re not in the know, dear worst-reader, get this: those outlet malls in DE are not only cheap but they are also friggin’ tax free. Which can only mean, for worst-writer, I guess, cheapness has contributed to my feet trouble. On the other hand, the Nike Free shoes I’ve favoured for the past few years, you know, the ones with the extremely flexible souls (that collect so many little rocks in the cracks) have been the only shoes I can wear for any extended period of time. You know, when walking around Paris for three days and worst-stuff like that. In fact. I haven’t been able to wear real shoes (leather and/or dress shoes) for years. They’re just too painful. If I have to wear fancy-pants real shoes, say for a special event, I plan it so that I can get out of them ASAP. In fact, until recently, I only had one pair of fancy pants real shoes. Indeed. And so. A nice new pair of Nike Free 5.0s in black go well with a suit, don’t you know. On the other hand, even when not in Paris, I take lots of walks, especially with Beckett the killer pug, and I wear out those Nikes quickly. I can easily wear out a pair of Nikes in six months. That also means the soft and un-supporting worn out footbeds end up hurting my feet even more–if not actually doing more damage. But I’m off subject.
After complaining to my better-half again and again about my feet, she suggested two things. First, change shoe brand and/or change shoe sole. Second, maybe it was time I stopped cheaping-out on shoes. She then recommended we go with what she’s been alluding to for some time: let’s try Birkenstock. She added that she’s been reading-up on the issue and that we’ve probably reached the age where it is time for a bit more foot-love.
“Birkenstock? Really?” I questioned.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Not sure I’m ready for the ultimate in Germanin preppy foot wear,” I added.
“You’re more German than all of us,” she said. “Plus, they’re perfectly engineered shoes.”
“Perfectly over-engineered,” I added.
Within three days I was wearing new Birkenstock sandals around the house. As of the writing of this worst-post, I’ve been wearing those sandals everyday, all day, for the last three months only removing them when I nap, sleep or bathe. And although the break-in period with the soles was a bit trying, after about a week of both foot pain and lower leg pain–seriously, the footbed of the sandals effect the muscles in the leg below the knee– something was clicking with these shoes. Soon I was telling my wife that my feet haven’t felt this good in years–especially considering that the last three places we’ve lived all had hardwood floors–where I’ve been unable to walk barefoot but also had never found a pair of comfortable house shoes as the wife would never agree to thick shag-carpet.
By-the-buy, I did have a pair of Crocs for a few years but I hated them from the get-go. More on that here. In fact, I’m now convinced that the reason I wore Crocs was (1) I was too lazy to get informed about my aching feet and (2) they seemed like an alternative to wearing stuff that made me look… old (but on that I could be wrong).
Long pseudo-review short, although I do remember trying Birkenstock shoes back in the late 1980s, where they just didn’t work for my feet, it seems that now there is nothing else I’d rather wear. And so. On the success of the house shoes, i.e. sandals, I’ve since really splurged and bought a pair of Birkenstock (real) shoes. The break-in period for these seems to be a bit longer than the sandals but I can say that so-far they’ve not disappointed. The shoes, by-the-buy, have the traditional footbed as an insert. I was skeptical at first if going with an insert was the right thing to do but after the first week of break-in I’m now good with it.
Just like the sandals, the footbed, it’s shape and it’s composition, is the secret to Birkenstock. If you recall, I have a protruding left achilles. That means that for most of my adult life, I’ve never been able to wear a shoe size that matches my actual foot size. The work-around for worst-moi has always been to wear shoes, depending on the brand, that are at least one size too big. I simply need the extra space for my achilles at the heel of my left foot. Either that or I suffer severe blistering. Although I have to buy the same over-size with Birkenstocks, the fact that the footbed eventually fits to my foot, is a godsend. No longer do I have to deal with my feet moving around in shoes because they are a size or size-and-a-half too big. The cork and synthetic composite structure of the footbed eventually fits (moulds?) to my foot. It’s brilliant. Why the hell didn’t I think of this fifteen or so years ago. Oh yeah. Cause I’m a cheap-o!
While I’m worst-writing about expensive $hit, the negative here is that due to all the walking I do, I don’t think the shoes are gonna last very long. As you can see in the pics above, there’s not much rubber where shoe meets ground. On the other hand, if/when I do wear out the soles, in a half year or so, the shoes are probably structurally worn out anywho. Now I’m wondering if I’ll be able to replace the sole. Also. As you’ll note from their webpage or any retailer that sells them, this level of needed comfort for those of us with foot troubles galore, means that these shoes ain’t cheap. Since my better-half approved of the purchase, all is good. The only question is, I’m now so sold on Birkenstock as my consume-to-survive go-to foot wear, there are at least two other pairs I’d also like to own. I’m thinking I’ll go with another pair of shoes without the inserts. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Time to save up the doe, baby. In a few months fancy-pants-shoes version 3.0.
Update: Article 11 is now 15 and Article 13 is not 17. Please apply as you worst-read.
Last Saturday late morning I hopped on my e-bike and trekked to D’dorf’s city-centre to pick up a loaf of the world’s greatest bread and after that consume-to-survive a pair of fancy-pants new Birkenstock shoes. That’s right, dear worst-reader. I got my first pair of Birkenstock house shoes a few months ago. After a bit of break-in (for my feet as much as the footbeds), I’m now sold on these shoes. In fact, my feet haven’t felt this good in years. So I figured a pair of outdoor Birkenstock could also be cool. As of the writing of this worst-post, I’ve worn my new fancy footbed shoes for about an hour each day and I’m comfortable admitting that when I walk around in them I actually shed a tear of joy. They are that friggin comfortable. I’m shocked it took me so long to find this level of foot relief. With that in mind, I suppose a pseudo-worst-review in the near future is worth considering. Check back on that later, baby.
After diddle-daddling around in the city it was time to get back on my trusty e-bike and head home to some worst-writing activity. While on my way, though, I was perturbed by yet another Germanin protest that was occupying the city centre. While pausing at a street corner that I couldn’t cross, I asked a fellow pedestrian what the riff-raff was all about.
“Article 13,” she said.
“Article who,” I responded, thereby also noticing her Königsallee shopping bags. She was lugging around quite a bit of stuff. It soon became obvious, as she resorted to occupying herself with her phone screen and lighting a fag, she was relieved to take a break from carrying all her consume-to-survive krapp around. For a second there I thought about telling her to get an e-bike to carry it all. Blah. Blah. Blah.
It was then I noticed the signs the protestors were carrying.
Oh, that Article 13, I recalled.
Yeah, I remember all that EU Interwebnets copyright bull$hit. Heck, I even worst-thought once or thrice about the issue. When was all this #Eurowasteland Interwebnets copyright nonsense law making bull$hit first introduced, by-the-buy? Nomatter. Luckily the street-hordeing protestors were short and sweet and I was able to get on my early-retired e-biking way soon enough. That was last Saturday, don’t you know. On Tuesday (or so) the EU finally passed Article 11 & 13 (and the whole copyright regulation bull$hit). Whup-dee-fcuking-do, eh!
I’ve actually kinda let go of the whole EU fascination of regulating the Interwebnets. Same goes with taxation–without representaiton–which all the EU can do, as well. Heck, my thoughts have been: they regulate everything else and it seems to have worked out pretty good so far, right? I mean, the EU definitely ain’t #Americant. Indeed. It’s #Eurowasteland. Still. They can’t screw things up anymore than they already are–as lead by #Americant. Or? Also. I’ve been kinda impressed with what the EU has done in recent years (GDPR). Heck, let’s see if they fcuk this up. If that sounds odd (naive), allow me to worst-explain a bit more.
As I touched upon this issue (GDPR and the copyright krapp) ever-so slightly in this post, I think it’s easy to misinterpret what is actually going on–especially when considering how my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant talks about it. With that in mind, dear worst-reader, please don’t think that I’m in anyway promoting government. You know, as in big-government. Nor am I promoting authoritarianism via whacked-out, fcuked-up government honey-suckle-ness that is the EU parliament. Indeed. In short, here’s the thing according to worst-writer that I think the EU is trying to do which also leads me to believe that the current protests are somewhat misguided–because they watch too much #Americant Interwebnets krapp.
Technology has long since facilitated the new paradigm. Like any other new paradigm, it is inevitable that the $hitshow of the greed-ringer be let loose. Indeed. In other worst-words: There is Capitalism and then there is Capitalism’s (monster) greed-ringer. As far as I can tell, the only part of this fcuked up world that is attempting to deal with the greed-ringer (legislatively) is the EU. Time will tell if the EU’s attempt at addressing Man’s worst (tendencies) will lead to his best (ill-tendencies) but until then, something has to be done about monopolies, oligopolies and $hitbag internet companies that think they own users, content and the friggin world (greed-ringer-monsters). Obviously, with its misguided and one-sided (one-way-street) capitalism run-amok, the US is legislatively incapable of addressing the ills of not only monopolies but the fact that technology itself has turned to the dark side. Although I agree with some of the issues regarding Article 11 & 13 that are raised by the protestors, the thing that makes me skeptical and thereby question the protestors is that they say (have said) very little about the power (and reach) of monopoly entities like Google, facebag, AWS, etc. Most of these protests seem to be about end users who want to upload krapp–that is not their own. Which begs the question: is this regulation about controlling end-users? From what I can tell, I don’t think it is. I think this regulation is about controlling the big guys. The big greedy guys, don’t you know. FYI. Google has long since become part of the old economy. If it makes money off of content like the old economy did, damn-right it should pay a “link-tax” for that. Should small-time bloggers and vloggers pay the same link-tax? Of course not. The reality is, Google has singlehandedly turned the fcuking Interwebnets into a krappy commercial pre-Internet television $hitshow. I mean, come on. How many ways should a monopoly be allowed to milk suckers? The entire world of technology is acting like one big monopoly with befriended and privileged (moneyed) silos. I’m good with any attempt at regulating that $hit–as long as the regulation is about the big guys and not… the nothingness of worstwriter dot com. Does that make me naive? Maybe. Btw, I only post my own krapp on this blog (other than a few screenshots from the Interwebnets here and there). The real problem is, the old economy has beaten the new economy to a pulp–and Google, facebag, other tech companies have acted and profited accordingly–leaving us users to face the consequences. The only way to deal with a so-called free-market that is obviously not free (run amok) is through government regulation. These companies have had enough time to adjust to the new paradigm that they’ve obviously lost control of. As far as I can tell, only the EU is trying to address this $hit. It might not be perfect but at least it’s something.
Rant on.
-T
Links that motivated this post (that might or might not be legal or might be subject to copyright regulation; sarcasm off):
Screenshot of the Greek origin of the word “idiot”.
I know. I know. I have to stop calling my beloved & missed #Americant LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID. But I can’t. I mean, it’s so hard, don’t you know. Especially considering that I was smart enough to jump ship so long ago after having figured out how so much STUPID would eventually rule the $hit$how. The idear of calling it something other than STUPID has crossed my mind, though. For example. LAND OF FREE TO BE IDIOT. I even looked up the word idiot–which was interesting (and applicable) enough. But then I came across the Greek origin of the word and thought: No. LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID is simpler, more applicable, prudent. It also fits better to my redneck, pseudo trailer-trash upbringing as I gallivant through early retirement waving $100bills in the trailer park of life. And that’s the worst-writer ticket, eh!
Not since The Shape Of Water have I been motivated to put up my ray-of-light sensors for more and better movies made for adults, intellects, those who prefer to think rather than have their wits dimmed and numbed by krappy, brain-dead comics come to digital albeit boring life. Yeah, I’m sick of blockbuster movies. Thank goodness my son is old enough that I can tell him I don’t want to go to the movies with him anymore. And allow me to qualify that a bit.
I actually re-watched Captain America a few weeks back. Reason? Well, I have to admit that the first Iron Man movie caused me to give all my cynicism (about comic book films) a break after all the failures I’d watched so far. The Hulk movies, the darkness of the Dark Knight series of Batman movies, the reinvention of Superman, etc. They all sucked bat balls big-time. But I got off my high horse for my son and went to the cinema to watch the first Iron Man movie. Guess what? It blew me away. It was really well done. Of course, that also meant I had to watch the subsequent Iron Man 2 and 3, which were/are mediocre at best and the left me disappointed once again. All the other comic-book blockbusters in turn also sucked. But then came Captain America. Captain America was one of the comics I read as a kid. Of all the digital comic book films made in the past fifteen to twenty years, including the surprise of Iron Man (1), the first Captain America really blew me away. For me it is the best of them all. That worst-written, obviously Hollywood has no interest in boring the krapp out of this ageing former comic book reader.
Yet, my sensors are still spread out far and wide for a great flick to watch on account Hollywood should be able to make one or two great ones a year–among the hundreds of krapp films they make. Yeah, baby. Great movies are few and far between. Or? And even though I don’t have much respect for The Oscars, I do utilise that freak-show as a kind of guide. It’s how I came to The Shape Of Water–a film I adore. It’s also how I recently came to BlacKkKlansman. Speaking of which. I rented it the other night, too, you know, thinking it was part of this years Oscars? The problem is, I couldn’t get past the first thirty minutes of BlacKkKlansman. Indeed. But who knows, maybe some day I’ll rent again and give it another try. At the least BlacKkKlansman has to go on my Oscar shit list. But. As usual. I’m off subject.
Enter First Reformed with Ethan Hawke. Wow! I watched it last night as an iTunes .99c rental. The first thing that hit me–or I should say threw me for a loop–is that it’s shot in 4:3 format. During the first few minutes of the movie I kept thinking that Apple/iTunes was sending me a funny copy of it on account I’m still playing movies using an AppleTV3. But then I realised that there was something different about what I was watching. The old TV box format was working just fine. After the movie was over and I researched it (using DuckDuckGo, of course), the odd and antiquated format was actually chosen by the director because he thought it the better format to show bodies–as opposed to landscapes–or something like that. And good for him for doing so.
As soon as First Reformed was over I stood up from my chair and started clapping. I then looked to the Hollywood heavens and praised the cinema lord. Thank goodness that these kinds of movies can still be made. That is, I’m putting it in the same movie, story-telling greatness as The Shape Of Water. Add to that the crushing if not devastating social commentary about the religious nutbaggery that is my beloved & missed #Americant that is threaded through the whole film is almost mesmerising–if it weren’t for the realities that are actually being portrayed. Whether it’s the fcuk up right-wing politics or how all of the fcuk up is intertwined with religion, Ethan Hawke manages to tell a story of woe without all or any movie kitsch.
As noted here and here, I’m having a bit of an ordeal with my home digital storage situation. In short, I’ve been trying to avoid having to purchase a NAS (network attached storage). Reason? Well, I hate stupid technology. To worst-moi, there is nothing more stupid than a monopolised industry trying to find more & better ways to rip-off consumers. But who or what is stupid in the case of over-priced hard-drives stuck in suck-cases with even suckier software? Well, in this case, I think the NAS industry is stupid. I mean. Come on. Because a NAS requires so much CPU power, due to their being pseudo-PCs, relegating the industry to being stuck in price-point-hell that, just like PCs, is also dependent on monopolies (e.g. Intel), manufacturers have chosen the cheapest possible route for making HDD enclosures masked as über smart drive bays. Yeah, that’s the NAS industry in a nutshell, don’t you know. Or am I the only one to have this sort of perspective? For example. Just have a look at the vastness of stuff out there regarding how one can avoid having to buy over-priced bling-bling NAS devices. Enter the world of SBCs (single board computers). I, for one, have been following the SBC world for some time. To my surprise (and luck) the advancement of SBCs has been the main reason why I hate the NAS industry so much. As I’ve noted here, although the Raspberry Pi is a great solution for network storage–and a great solution for many other client/server needs–it is a very limiting device when it comes to NAS function. Still, the DIY NAS has taken on a life of its own. And that has to say more about the NAS industry than what I can worst-write about it. so I’ve been riding the SBC bandwagon with great hope. On the other hand, I have to give credit where it’s due. There is the whole issue of convenience that DIY sometimes just can’t deliver. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve re-flashed micro-sd cards, re-installed OpenMediaVault, changed from one Linux distro to another, etc., all to find out I installed a 4TB HDD into a USB2 case and for what ever reason linux can’t mount it. Or I’ve screwed this or that with either incorrectly installing software or fiddling too much with hardware. Non-the-less, the NAS industry has, I guess, lowered its prices somewhat since 2018, which means there is a an argument out there for wasting Euros in order to get some convenience. Or? In fact, I recently purchased a warehouse-deal NAS. It was a frustration purchase–cause I couldn’t get an RPi to be a Plex media server. Disappointed with the purchase, though, I subsequently sent it back after realising as a piece of hardware it was just as krappy as the limited performance of an RPi. That worst-said, yeah, I’d prefer the limited performance of a cheap SBC than the the limited performance of an overpriced drive-bay. Yeah. The warehouse purchase turned me off more than it turned me on. And on that note, let me die-gress.
A few days ago I finally gave up on yet another attempt at getting OpenMediaVault (OMV) to work on the RockPro64 SBC. I just can’t get the software to work. Here’s a short-list of the problems I had with this version (Stretch Armhf 0.7.9) of OMV:
couldn’t write more than 3TB of data on a 4TB disk
raid-0 setup (w/ two drives) didn’t work
ethernet connection was constantly failing
SMB shares were not properly recognised on my Mac
ditto with AFP shares
TimeMachine didn’t work
Plex very unstable and terribly slow
Update Manager always showed errors, etc., etc.
The thing is, I really wanted OMV to work. Even though the Raspberry Pi is the SBC that got me hooked on this stuff, more hardware power is needed. The RockPro64 is probably one of the best SBCs on the market right now for just such a task. At least it is according to hardware specs. I suppose in the near future they will get OMV to work on the RockPro64. But with all the tinkering I’ve had to do without any good results, enough is enough. Or? Wait. There’s something else I’ve learned of late. Maybe it’s time to start changing my point-of-view about home storage? I mean. I’ve got a half dozen or so HDDs lying around (after selling my old MacPro). I have three or four old powered USB cases, too. Since I’m a Mac fanboy, do I really want to do things like rely on foreign file systems to save my data? And what about the whole RAID-thing? The only time I’ve ever trusted or even relied on RAID is when I’m using an old USB2 dual-bay case that has hardware RAID-0 or RAID-1 onboard–and that thing ran Apple’s file system without issue. Do I really need a NAS–as I mistakingly, confusedly indicated in this post?
Answer: I don’t know. Or. Never say never?
Continuing the tinkering, I dumped OMV and re-installed DietPi on the RockPro64. Since I was able to format and copy my media files to 2x 3TB drives (but was not able to copy the same data to one 4TB drive!) using the previous OMV install, I put those drives into the Pine64 NAS Case. Btw, there were times with all this tinkering that I thought the power source (12v-5a) was not enough to power two 3.5″ HDDs in the Pine64 case. But that’s another post.
Rethinking my need for a NAS–or giving up on the whole idear–I decided to give DietPi another try. To get things started, and to keep things simple, I just installed Plex and thereby turned the RockPro64 into a media server. Long story short: it worked immediately. In fact, between testing Plex on an RPi 3b+ and the previous OMV-Plex install on the RockPro64, I could never stream any of my movies to either my Mac or one of two RPi’s I have as media clients. That was/is very frustrating because I know that these little SBC’s have aplenty to deliver. By-the-buy, my previous media server was an old Mac Pro–which I do not regret selling it. The reason for getting rid of something that worked–and thereby replacing it with stuff that might or might not work–was the simple fact that I wanted to simplify my life. I didn’t feel like maintaining the MacPro anymore. Full of drives it weight something like 30kg. Plus it’s an energy hog. But I’m off subject.
From the get-go, the RockPro64 with Plex Media Server worked like a charm. For the first time I was able to not only stream a movie to multiple devices, but I was also able to transcode an MKV blu-ray (ca. 30GB). To push it even further, I was able to play four different video streams on four devices. The fourth device did have a few hiccups, though. To say the least, three functioning streams is good enough for me. The thing is, I finally got something to work on these little computers and thereby taking full advantage of gigabyte ethernet and plenty of storage capacity–both of which are problematic with RPi. Of course, that all being said, I now don’t really have a household file storage solution. To deal with that, I think I’m gonna just return to my trusted Apple AirPort Extreme wifi routers with attached USB drives. They will suffice as second-level TimeMachine backups–until the itch hits me again to get a friggin NAS. First-level TM backups are with external HDDs attached to our Macs.
As of this worst-post, I’ve been constantly streaming my media library to my Mac, iPad and iPhone for about two days. Other than one or two hiccups, it works. I’ve also taken the liberty of turning the RockPro64 into a pi-hole DNS anti-ad server and I’ve installed a WordPress iteration where I hope to be able to have a local backup of this blog. If this holds up, the day might come where I don’t have to bitch & moan about hating the NAS industry anymore.
