New Radio Feud

A new radio feud has appeared. Not between two radio stars but involving one county commissioner and a talk show host. Click on the link. Remember another feud with an Allen? Fred Allen and Jack Benny? This one is more hysterical.

Christmas 2008

Where we got my boyhood bathroom from.

On Christmas Eve I woke up at 8:30 like a good boy but went back to sleep. My mom's friend from church came by and visited briefly with her, my sister and myself. She brought cookies and peanut butter sticks. Another sister came later in the afternoon. I cleaned the house, emptied both litter pans, watched part of “Thunderball” and went by the computer store and presented everyone with Reese’s Cup candy canes. I went to Logan’s in Warner Robins.


After Logan’s I went to Kroger to get ice and Diet Cokes. I got home and looked at the old Christmas Sears/Wards/Penneys/etc catalogs I downloaded online. I felt a little nostalgic and a little sad. One catalog, from 1958, had a bathroom ensemble similar to ours. We put our bathroom in when my youngest sister could barely talk. That puts it at 1957 or 8. I loved the toy sections and the Eighties fashions.
I still feel a little lonely when thinking of the past.

It doesn’t hurt as bad as it did last year (Dad died that summer). At least I didn’t listen to the sad old Christmas record I listened to last year. Sometimes Perry Como, ripped from an LP, sounds very terrible. I helped get dinner ready and made the Texas sheet cake. The cake came from a box but the icing was from a recipe on the Nestle package. It calls for 2/3 cup of cocoa, a stick of margarine, three cups of powdered sugar, six tablespoons of milk, and a teaspoon of vanilla. I dislike using electric mixers because of the cleanup but in the case of icing there is no other option.

My aunt and some of my cousins came. We had barbecue from the town's favorite joint, baked beans, potato salad, chips, and tea. I also made some grapefruit/lemon/pineapple punch but nobody but I drank it. One cousin lives on my grandmother’s old place and told us about the goings on with his neighbors. His kid is going to school to learn web design.

It was the highlight of last year’s Christmas to have them over. I gave my aunt a gift certificate for Wal-Mart. My cousins gave me chocolates, my aunt gave me a hand-cranked flashlight, and someone gave me an outdoor clear acrylic digital thermometer.

I went to bed because after years of life I found that Santa Claus comes at 12AM and nobody who is awake will receive gifts. Not that this is founded in fact but it seems to be a sort of tradition I developed. I had to wake up at 1AM to wrap gifts. Sleep came at 3AM.

I got up at 11:30. My sister and her kid and grandchild came. For lunch we had Honey Baked Ham and green beans, potato salad, and cranberry sauce. Everyone but me had broccoli casserole. We opened presents I received a set of blank DVD’s, an ashtray, and a Jeff Foxworthy calendar. One sister gave me a long-sleeved tee shirt. Another gave me a metal flask (to heat water, not for liquor!) and a sheet set for the new bed. My niece gave me an address book. Mom gave me two videos- a “Why We Fight” video (mostly antiwar; not Frank Capra!) and “The Party” with Peter Sellers. An uncle came later and gave me a wireless thermometer.

We had barbecue for dinner and I worked with my wireless thermometer. It is off by three degrees on the transmitter and it takes some working with to get set up. I looked at more old catalogs and washed clothes. Before midnight struck I listened to The Waitresses’ “Christmas Wrappings” which was a new-wave song from 1981. I could swear I heard it sometime during the Eighties but could be imagining things.

I hate that Christmas is over with. The days seem so lonely. I make plans for things in my life to get better and they never do. I don’t like some things I do or how I let too many things happen when they shouldn’t. I guess I get the feeling that I don’t have control over my life. I feel I have too much room for improvement. But Wednesday morning I listened to a rendition of “It’s A Wonderful Life” on the local talk station. It made me think of how much difference I could very well have made in people’s lives. Maybe I am wrong about myself. Maybe I am not as much of a detriment, not as much of a jerk, not as much of an idiot. The boss at my shop wrote on my Christmas card that he “couldn’t have done it without (me)”.

Macon Mall in a few years

Tell the nice people who posted this at Flickr I said thanks. It's actually the Dixie Square Mall which, since 1978, is still standing. The Blues Brothers movie was filmed here not long after the Walgreen's and Jewel stores closed (the common area of the mall closed in late 1978; the Walgreen's closed in early 1979).

Macon Mall has tarps over its glassy skylights. It's such a shame the surrounding area has become gang-infested. Even more shameful is its foreclosure. A court-appointed manager runs the mall. All I can say is have fun!

Who wants to wager that the mall will close in seven years? I'm being generous. Dillard's will or won't close or is thinking about it dependent on whom you ask. An unspecified anchor tenant, according to a document associated with the foreclosure, was considering closure.

A OneEarth web article detailed how malls are dying and how cities want to avoid the eyesores like Dixie Square. Houston Mall is a sad case. The Warner Robins mall writhed in mortal pain since the Galleria opened in 1994. Offices and third-tier tenants replaced the once-thriving stores. Since Houston Healthcare Complex uses most of the space I say they should buy the mall, refurb it (one store takes up three unmodified spaces)and make money off the lessors.

Time Stamp Song

Kenny Chesney was on my MP3 player and I heard him talk about a song which brought back a flood of memories. I had a few songs which kicked the time machine into gear. Some were oddballs. One was from the Beastie Boys. There were some cuts from Michael Jackson, Madonna, Def Leppard, Duran Duran, and The Go-Gos. I can hear songs from some more obscure artists and be reminded of the way it was. I remember some good songs from the heavy-metal artists of the late Eighties. The short answer is that there is really no single song which jars my memories.

I guess it happens when you have never fallen in love, never have many earthshaking events in your young life, and have pulled yourself into a childish kind of shell.

If I have any real ideas- and maybe some I am not embarrased to share with you- you'll be the second to know. I'll be the first to know, of course.

Snags

I took June 27 and 28 off. The store was closed Sunday so that day didn't go to waste either. On Friday I stuck around home until my sister came to relieve me. I picked up a few items from Wal-Mart and went home. The bad thing about vacations is that I like to stay up and revel in my temporary freedom- regardless of what has to happen the next morning.

I went to the USFS Lake Sinclair National Forest park near Eatonton. I had been there before. I picked up a few more things before I reached the vacation site. I ate at the Old Clinton BBQ restaurant off US129. If you've watched Discovery's "Dirty Jobs" you've seen the restaurant. It was great as I would expect.

It was 3:30 or so when I reached the campsite area. I had the pay envelope with me but saw few unoccupied spots which were entirely ideal for fishing. I left the park and checked out the hunt camp near Twin Bridges. It has an area where people camp and fish. It was occupied. It seems more and more I want to keep to myself. I don't understand why and I don't like being antisocial. Regardless, the area was cramped so I returned to the park.

I picked B-29 as the campsite number instead of D-28. Gosh I seem to be getting more and more tired and frazzled as time goes by. I set up my tent and inflated my mattress. Even under the tent it was some hot! Even under the pine and oak canopy I sweated. I was glad to see the rain come. I woke up after three hours of using a sweatshirt for a pillow. I made a canopy over the picnic table with a poncho. Here I chose to meet a challenge.

The Boy Scouts, according to a book I read, will teach you how to build a fire using one match in a cold rainstorm. That seemed a little far-fetched but I couldn't see why not. I cheated a little. Not only did I find dry kindling I used two books of matches. The "damp proof" book had a damp strike pad so no matches lit. I got another one out of my pack and lit a nice fire. I found the woven poly tarp I thought I left at home and replaced the miniscule poncho with its larger blue canopy.





Then came the retarded child. As I got my food ready I had this teenager with either autism or Down syndrome come in from another campsite, seeking to socialize. I didn't feel like babysitting him. I consider mentally handicapped people like children; they must be tended to at all times. I took exception to his invading my space. So I told him I had to "finish eating". As if I was past the preparation phase of eating!

He apparently came in from some people I think I remember seeing before. They had a mini-SUV with a Bleckley county tag and spoke even poorer English than some in the bowels of the Delta. It dawned on me that I forgot a lesson I learned; NEVER go to the Lake Sinclair National Forest campsite on a weekend. Too much riffraff tends to go there on weekends.

I had my hot dogs and chips but was still thirsty. I didn't feel like drinking much because the dentist put a temporary crown after grinding the living daylights out of the upper left molar. I had to take Ibuprofen during the trip.

It seems that fishing demands too much time to set up the fishing spot. I made three trips for insect spray, the Coleman hiker's lantern, ice chest, rod and reel, cup of Joe, fishing tackle box, bait, towel, poncho, and stool. Once I got done I managed to catch a 24 foot-long log which stole my 4.00 lighted bobber and two overhanging branches. I forgot another lesson; when fishing in snags use cheap bobbers with reflective or phosphorescent tape or paint.

I was glad to end the affair even with the new MP3 player entertaining me.

Morning came and I slept a little extra. Extra meant that breakfast became a very light brunch. I had a toaster pastry out of an MRE and some instant coffee. Of course building the fire took 45 minutes and only took off with a dousing of Purel and insect spray. The retarded kid also came by but I ignored him and he went away.

I removed all traces of my being and left for Eatonton. The drive is neither long nor short. I went to the Dairy Queen and had a big burger, fries, and Coke. I had to get the manager to pour some new Coke (usually very sweet at DQ's) because the self-serve fountain had a terrible taste to it.

At that point I learned why rich people are rich. They speak up and don't accept the status quo. One old man in walking shoes and a Reynolds Plantation shirt said the Coke tasted "terrible". I concured with him and told him so. I told him DQ Cokes were "sweet as honey" and the fountain tasted like "cleaner".

I finished lunch and went home. I took item after item out of my SUV, hung what needed to be rinsed and dried, stored in my Honda what was to be stored, and brought the rest of the gear into the house. I made a trip report of items most used, items needed (Coke, tent poles for the tarp, dessert, and tin foil)in the future, and ideas for improvements.

Somehow I felt as tired or more tired from the trip. I blame oversleep, a lack of exercise, and stress. I did too much sleeping this trip.

The Fan Logo

I still want to replace the logo and the motor screws, not to mention the butchered junction box. Above you will see how I fixed the logo with Paint Shop Pro (a pain to use sometimes) But I am very proud of my fan.

I mounted the motor to bench test it and put new screws for the handle. Next comes the SOS pads to clean the bad paint job on the grille. It was all I could find at the Warner Robins Kroger. It's soap and steel wool. It's the same stuff used by the lady on the Fifties commercial at the behest of her Viking husband. Remember: "Hilda, listen to me. Listen to me Hilda". The lady then sings praises of the SOS in a baritone dubbed-in voice.

Corrections and Continuation of The Fan

I want to correct something about the fan; it has SEVEN blades, not five. There are also only TWO speeds for the motor.


That being said I did the electrical connections to the fan. I first wiped the polishing compound off with a Windex-soaked rag. I took the fan blade/hub and the handle and sprayed them with bathroom cleaner.

I removed the 18AWG lamp-style cord from the switch assembly's wires. I had to squeeze the crimp connectors and eventually twisted them off. Ah, American workmanship a la the Sixties! TV's, radios, and Hunter fans were built to last by someone in Kansas, California, New York, or Iowa. I soldered the double-insulated supply cord onto the bared wires, put wire nuts on for insulation, and applied electrical tape. I surrounded the motor wires going to the switch and the supply cord with 3/8" split loom plastic.


The fun part was fixing the box. I notched the box at three different places and the lid at two different places before I found a way to avoid yanking the wires. This was tedious. I found that the fastening nut for the switch needs to be brushed with a metal cleaner. It looks ugly. And I would love to get a thin fender washer to cut down on the switch nut's gnawing on the metal fan shell. I had to really tighten up on the two long screws holding the motor onto the shell. The thin wires weren't there anymore; the new wires were thicker.

I turned on the fan and touched the shell with my finger to see if it would electrocute me. This was a dumb idea but my finger would give less of a path to the current and I was on a wooden floor should there be stray volts. All was well. I still want to get longer screws for holding the fan motor to the shell.




Please note that I did not repaint the motor casing. That would have been too time consumptive given that the coil and shaft would have to be removed. Spraying paint with the motor in place would require an impossible feat of masking. At least I cleaned it with solvent.

I found a problem bigger than the grill issue. The Hunter grille logo, on a round badge with a simulated wood grain background, is wearing off. Other than taping over it with clear tape I can see no easy solution. I could mask over the Hunter lettering and paint the whole darned thing brown. When I sand down the grilles I will remove the badge and seek a solution. I could scan the badge and make a decal using my inkjet.

Restoring an old fan

Project: Restoring a box-type fan to near-original status
Asset: Hunter 20" box fan
Model: Unknown
Manufactured: 1968 (approximately)
Specifications: 20", 110v motor ungrounded, three-speed, four-position push-button toggle switch, single-piece plastic disk with five plastic blades, metal casing brown in color, chrome-steel protective grids front and rear of the box.
Status: Inactive for approximately six years.

I have been reading up on air-raid sirens and their restoration. I am tooting the horn about how Houston County is spending too much money on a system that can play chimes and pre-recorded messages. I would rather they use the motorized fan-type sirens which use a 220-volt motor to force air through a stator to make their feared whine.

That, and having cats enduring a warm porch, let me to fix the Hunter fan. The Hunter was my favorite fan when I was little. It stayed in my room when I was asleep and soothed me with its cold fingers and soft whirr. The fan had a white plastic handle, an 18-gauge cable, and a button to push for controlling its three speeds.

I wanted to yank it out of the shop where it lay dormant for years and cool the kitty cats under the screened porch.. Dad put it in a window of the shop for ventilation but he became too ill to stay out in the heat very long. I took down the fan and found it needed cleaning. It bore the remnants of mice, insects, and dust from various workshop projects.

So an intended cleaning led to a full disassembly. After taking the Hunter apart I decided to wait until I cleaned, painted and rewired the thing before hanging it in the cats' porch. As with the tractor and the riding lawn mower I didn't take pictures of the fan as it was prior to my efforts. Surely there are snapshots with it in the background but I can't find them as of yet. I did take a picture of it after I cleaned and partially sanded the top.



I did a coarse and fine sanding before priming the metal shell with a cheap red oxide primer. I had bought a can of Krylon medium-gray paint from Wal-Mart. I wasn't thrilled with the look of it even after two coats. I decided to go with the closest tint to the brown-gray the Hunter bore. Lowe's had Rust-O-Leum Anodized Bronze. It was a nearly perfect match.

For a really decent paint job I would say aerosol paint is a sham and a racket. Never do you get anything but specks and stripes. I was still relatively content. I gave the fan shell two coats of Anodized Bronze and a clear-coat of cheap Wal-Mart spray paint. Tonight I smoothed the coat with a rubdown of automotive polishing paste left over from years ago.

I took the Hunter's motor out and put in on a workbench. I used electrical contact cleaner to remove the crud and ensure adequate conductivity. The switch splices were in a plastic bag clipped on with a metal clip. Today fans have a plastic box for the wire junctions. I have a project box from Radio Shack for enclosing the wires. The lead from the switch to the outlet will get a new double-insulated 18AWG wire.

I will give the fan new grommets and fasten the motor to the shell using the original screws and faucet washers. The cord will be a snug fit against the frame and motor. I took the cord and bench-tested the cleaned and lubricated fan motor. It whirred right along. The blades were a pain to clean even with a Clorox solution and Purple Power cleaner. I am left with only bathtub cleaner to bare the gunk off the plastic tines. The Hunter gets the plastic handle back and with new screws.

Now if I can find out how to get the grilles restored. I have automotive chrome paint but it looked like I just painted over the rust. The grilles must be resanded and bared with steel wool.

Bibb 411 Blog

I do not endorse or object to all that is wherein but it merits a look. It is largely about the Bibb County Sheriff's Office.

This blog isn't dead

I might return to this blog as the default blog. I just don't like the new blog and think it's a pain in the rump.

I do have a question; when is Moon Family Properties going to resume work on the shopping center at Interstate 475 and Hartley Bridge Road. The hippies managed to blow the whistle on Moon for erosion issues. The developer tried to abate a washout but didn't put up a fence soon enough. Also the Altamaha Riverkeeper (environmentalist fruitcake) told his/her sycophant at the Macon Telegraph and the county engineer. The county engineer was chastized for not walking ALL of the Moon property to check for erosion. So the county has stopped Moon from turning any more dirt.

Thanks for nothing, longhair.