Lucy and her friend Ethel

Lucy and Ethel

 

The following is a narrative of a situation much like Lucy and Ethel and the cake conveyor that was on TV years ago but remains a classic.

 

During the seventies when I was working as a manufacturing engineer, I was assigned to work with another engineer on the installation of a new “stator brushing machine”. I will spare you many of the un-understandable details with the project and just hit the highlights.

 

First of all the other engineer could only get one machine building company to bid on the new machine. Others said it couldn’t be done. Red flag, Red flag!!!! I was tasked with determining the machine cycles, load and unload time and pieces per hour expected, along with cost data.

 

The gist of the operation was as follows.

1. Unload part from machine and load to pre-bake oven conveyor.
2. Load and process next part on brush machine.
3. Unload pre-bake oven conveyor and assemble to final bake oven conveyor.

 

When I compared the machine cycle to the speed of the conveyors I found that the first oven conveyor was cycling faster than the brushing machine and the final bake oven was running slower than the brush machine. This created an impossible bottleneck at the brushing machine. Neither of the conveyor speeds could be changed due to the cure time of the materials involved

 

Needless to say, a meeting was called to resolve the problem. The boss, (who was a Dilbert’s boss look alike), suggested that I change the time allowed to load and unload the machine and ignore the machine cycle. The other engineer nodded his head in agreement with the boss. I sat there with my mouth cycling open and closed but nothing was coming out .The machine, which cost $200,000 dollars never produced a piece and just sat there like the pile of iron that it was.

 

I had another project with the same guy a few years later. This time I took his “projected time” that he and the machine salesman had given me and simply multiplied it by four. He howled like a scalded dog. It turned out that I was 10% low with my estimate. The same boss gave me hell for missing the mark.

 

The factory closed two years later due to inefficiency.

 

Power wash your house

Power wash your house

 

Would you rather spend $125 or $10 to power spray wash your doublewide house??  If your answer is $125, just scroll on to the next item. You do not need the following wonderful information. The answer to the $10 wash is that it is a do-it-yourself project.  It is not difficult and if you are machoistic, you might even enjoy it.  The secret is to have the right tools.

  The first thing you need is a 1 ½ gallon sprayer.  You can get a good “bleach sprayer” at Home Depot for $17.  I have included a picture of the one that I just purchased.  Don’t be cheap and get the one that costs a few bucks less or you will be sorry.  Trust me.

  Cleaning Ingredients are Clorox, water and laundry soap.  It also helps to have some ratty clothes to wear.  You will always end up with some interesting Rohrbach blots on your clothes.  Pour a half gallon of bleach into the sprayer.  Fill the empty bottle with water and pour that into the sprayer.  Finally add a cup of laundry soap.  Add the ingredients in order as listed.  Remember that I told you so.  DO NOT TRY TO SKIMP ON THE BLEACH.  You need a strong mixture to do the job.  Pump up the sprayer and you are ready to go. (note). Buy the Clorox in ½ gallon bottles.  That makes it much easier to get the proper mix.

  Start spraying at the bottom of the siding.  Aim for the seam between the two pieces of siding.  The reason for starting at the bottom is to assure that you do not miss any spots. Keep spraying only the dry surfaces.   Only spray an area about 5 feet wide.  This eliminates frequent moving of the sprayer.  Picking a handy reference point will aid in doing a complete job.  It is VERY important to keep the sprayer wand in motion.  You are not spraying a wasp nest so there is no need to keep a steady stream on one spot.

  The only place you will need a ladder is on the gable ends above the windows.  Be sure to have someone with you when you are on the ladder.  Safety first.  Wait until the sprayer is almost empty before doing the gable.  That sprayer can get very heavy when holding it on a ladder.

  Don’t be in a hurry to wash down the siding.  Let the solution work for a while before you rinse it off.  A good rule of thumb is to wash down the completed area after you run out of cleaner and need a refill.  The time between sprayer refills is a good time to stop and have a beer, maybe two.  There is no need to rush things.

  It will take one refill, or two (2) sprayer loads of spray mix to do the entire house.  If you are a picky person, it may take three.  When you are all done, stand back and admire your work.  You should be able to do the whole house and enjoy your beer in about an hour and a half.  It is also a good idea to have another beer after you are finished

FLYING TO FLORIDA - 2021

Flying to Florida – 2021

We left Flint Michigan at 12:02 PM on November 7, 2021 and arrived in Punta Gorda, Florida at

4:42 that afternoon. A friend picked us up and an hour later we were at our winter home in

Naples. The trip was not without incident. Allow me to explain in the following essay which will

contain many truths, half-truths, and a few downright lies.

Allegiant Airlines told us that it was necessary to be at the airport two hours before our

departure. We did just as we were told. The problem is that frequent fliers know the airlines

always lie about departure times. The wise people get there three hours early and do not have

to wait in line. There were 75 people ahead of us when we arrived. Lesson learned.

When it came our turn to be checked in, we had to show our boarding passes and photo I.D. I

told the lady behind the counter that the handsome dude in the picture was really me. She just

looked at me and grunted. I interpreted her grunt as a friendly one, but one ever knows for

sure.

We followed our bags along a conveyor until they disappeared into a tunnel. There was a

huge bulge in the middle of the tunnel. I knew it was either an X-ray machine to look of knives

and guns or a hammer mill to destroy our suitcases and save the baggage handlers the trouble.

Since our bags appeared unscathed at the other end, I surmised that it must have been an X-ray

machine.

Next came the TSA check. Unloading the carry-on was not so bad but I had to go through the

scanner three times. Once for my belt buckle, once for my pacemaker, and a third time for my

cochlear implant. I can only say that I was fortunate that I was not wearing my cast iron jock

strap. Then it was back to repack my carry on. The fellow ahead of me had his satchel half full

of condoms. He must have been a condom salesman with a portable showcase. Either that or

he had a large weekend planned. And it was already noon on Saturday. The TSA lady

inspecting the items just stood there bug eyed, with her mouth gaping open. I would not

hazard to guess her thoughts.

After the TSA inspection we had to walk 4 miles to the boarding gate. There was a separate

line for Vets to get our boarding passes scanned, so we took that line. It was longer than the

regular draft dodger line. One poor guy did not have a smart phone with the Allegiant app, so

he had to fill out a form. I think that cost him extra.

Then we boarded the plane and found our seats. The lady sitting next to the window was an

interesting person. She was at least 35 years old but was wearing Levi’s with huge holes in the

knees. She was sitting there with her legs spread apart. With my vast knowledge of convection

air currents, I knew in an instant that the purpose of the holes in the knees was to cause a draft

to cool off the gates of hell. And you thought I was stupid. She had a portable video player

with an external battery. She watched a video during the whole flight. I glanced over (just

once) and saw that the video was a bunch of naked people dancing. I have no idea if it was a

porn movie or just an instructional video.

Before we took off the pilot gave a long speech about something or other. He had a Latino

accent, but I heard him mention, “Cerveza, Dos Equis, and Cinco”. I do not know if it meant

that we got five free beers on the flight or that he had had five Double X beers before takeoff.

After the pilot was finished with his speech the IOU stewardess, (Inept, Old, &; Ugly) gave her

own speech. I heard her mention “fuel oil, orange juice, and free”. She mentioned the “free”

at least 10 times. I was not able to figure out what was free, and I do not wish to speculate. On

top of that, she was wearing an orange life vest during her monologue and explained how to

use it if we crashed in the gulf.

Then we took off. The first hour was uneventful but then we hit some turbulence. The pilot

warned us ahead of time, but it was no big deal. No wings fell off because the folks three rows

ahead of us were holding them on. The fellow across the aisle from me was wearing a walking

boot splint. He got excited about the turbulence. He jumped up from his seat and started

shouting “We’re all gonna die. We’re all gonna die. I will have to admit that the IOU

stewardess handled the situation like a professional. She approached the guy and solidly

planted a knee in his groin and then a heel on the top of his walking boot, all in one smooth

action. He immediately sat down and did not un-ass his seat for the rest of the flight.

Then we landed. We taxied at least several miles until we finally stopped somewhere close to

the terminal. Many people (including me) immediately jumped from their seats and grabbed

their bags from the overhead. Then we all stood there for twenty minutes. The frequent flyers

were smart enough to just sit there and wait their turn to disembark.

As we exited the plane each person ripped off his or her mask. At the bottom of the stairs

were two TSA employees saying to each passenger, “masks on, masks on”. If I were a young

person fresh out of college, I do not think that would be a career path I would wish to follow. As

my late father used to say, “that is as worthless as tits on a boar hog”

The baggage claim was uneventful. Almost every bag was different. It did strike me as a good

idea to code your baggage. Our neighbor picked us up at the airport and drove us to Naples.

She was right on time and delivered us to our door.  Her rate was very competitive. 

A day at the links

It all started when Connie decided that I needed a bit more culture in my life.  Just because she goes to things like the “Ladies Tea” out on Marco Island does not mean that I cannot hang out with my buds.  See, everything that follows is her fault!!!

She finally bought two tickets to the third round of the “Ace” PGA tour event here in Naples on Saturday and informed me that at least I could go to a cultural sporting event.  Let me tell you, I found out it ain’t like football.  The golf event was held at the Twin Eagles golf club east of Naples.  It is an 18 hole championship course with mega-houses build around the playing field.  The great unwashed herd does not live there.  To get to the event we had to drive 6 miles east of the course to the Collier county fairgrounds.  Shuttle buses picked up the spectators there and transported them to the golf course.

As we entered the gated community around the course, the driver pointed out that some of the huge houses had as many as seven bathrooms.  The only kind of person that I could think of that needed or would buy such a house would be an Arab sheik with diarrhea.            Any way!!!

We found a comfortable place right on the ninth hole where the “B” flight would finish the day.  There were players like Tom Kite, (floppy hat and pink shirt), Craig Saddler (he earned the nickname “The Walrus”), And Benhard Langer. (Tall and skinny with big feet)  There were a lot more names that I did not recognize but then I am not a golf fan.  Langer was leading with a -11 on the ninth green.  You can always tell which one in the group is the Pro golfer.  He is the one with one glove in his hip pocket.  The pros all seemed to spot their first shot about 175 yards from the cup.  The course guide said it took a “long” iron to reach the green.  All the clubs looked the same length to me.

It seemed that everyone had a name tag or other means of identification.  There were the “Pro tour officials”, “The rules officials” and many more.  There was one guy that even had a card that read “Honored observer” (no joke).  I have no idea what was his claim to fame.  I shouldn’t brag but even I had a tag that I was required to wear.  It read “$10 off parking”.  The volunteer helpers all wore orange tee shirts.  They all took their jobs serious.   One of their duties was to keep the “great unwashed” quiet while the golfers were putting.  There was one fellow that I nicknamed the “chief Librarian”. As a golfer lined up his putt the Librarian would raise both arms in the air much like Eisenhower giving the victory sign.  He had about six minions placed around the green that took his lead and held up their hands as well.  After the putt was made, he would lower his arms and clap.  This was the O.K. sign for everyone else to clap.  If the golfer missed an easy putt it was permitted for the crowd to give a collective sigh.  Golf sure is a quiet spectator sport. 

There was one threesome that did really bad on their approach shots and putting.  It apparently was not a coincidence that there were five vultures circling overhead.  One of those guys made a “double bogie”. Apparently he must have won a prize for that.  Some of the guys would make a really bad shot that I am sure gave all the duffers in the gallery a warm feeling.  The caddies all carried golf bags the size of a 1962 Volkswagen.  The bags were all emblazoned with various sponsors’ logos as well as the players’ name.  The caddies held onto those bags all during the round unless they were giving the pro a club.  One of the pros was really a cheapskate.  He had his wife caddie for him.  No 10% caddie tip for him.  Nothing like keeping it all in the family.

One of the spectators just behind the rope made the mistake of trying to get a picture of one of the players with his cell phone camera.  One of the “orange shirts” dashed over and wagged a finger in his face and admonished him to not disturb the players.  There was one fellow there that had a camera with a lens as long as your arm.   He was allowed to take pictures as long as he hid behind one of the “orange shirts”.  There were also people that accompanied each group that carried what looked like a baseball bat covered with fur.  They also had a backpack with an aerial on the top.  Interesting.

There were other oddities like the woman in front of me that had a tattoo of a nicely decorated cross just above her ankle.  I tried to get a closer look to see if it was Christ on the cross but Connie took exception to my looking at the woman’s leg.  There was another woman in front of us that had a HUGE emerald cut diamond on her left hand.  She also had her toenails painted red.

As each threesome finished the round, they would go to the official scorer’s tent and sign their score cards.  Did you know that golf is the only sport where the individual keeps his own score?  I didn’t.  After the player left the tent there were “golf groupies” that wanted autographs.  They acted like teeny boppers at a rock concert.  On our way out there was a guy selling raffle tickets on a Cadillac for $25 each.  He asked me if I wanted to buy a ticket I told him, “no thanks, I already have one”.  So what if I lied to him.  Big deal.

Then it was time to get back on the bus.  Everyone was herded down a narrow aisle to the boarding point.  After enough people had passed to fill the bus, a cattle gate was placed across the aisle to stop people.  We got on the bus and had a nice ride back to the fairgrounds.

So much for my golf experience.      Dal

Found out that Langer won the tournament.  He got $250,000 out of a $1.6 million pot.  He was paid just about $1000 per stroke.  Wow.  Not a bad days work.

Vaccination shots

I live in a rather conservative part of northern Indiana. There was an article in our local paper that noted the decline in covid vaccinations in the past months. More worrisome than that was the fact that infant and youth vaccinations that are a custom before starting school and continuing thru graduation are also on the decline. I am referring to the series of 5 DPT shots, a polio shot, chicken pox, meningitis, and hepatitis shots. In all there are 14 shots or series of shots through 12th grade that are required. The reporter was at a loss to explain the trend.
I think the reason for the decline is rather simple. When the government sticks its nose into a person's PERSONAL health care, people become suspicious and/or reluctant to go along. Let the government get out of our health care and get back to doing what the constitution spells out.

Bock Beer

  This should be of interest to all beer drinkers out there.  I will explain the origin of Bock Beer.  But first some background:

  In the late 40s My dad had a  job as third shift boiler tender at the Centlivre brewery in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.  It was a really old fashioned brewery.  During one summer my brother and I went along to work with dad several times.  I know that was highly illegal, but what the hell??

The brewery was an interesting place with lots of different stuff to see.  The management even provided an on site tap room for the employees to toss back a few after work.  This made for a happy workforce.  My brother and I used to go to the taproom and draw off a bucket of beer and take it back down to dad in the basement.  Dad had a hot plate that was supposed to be used to heat coffee.  We would boil a pound of weenies in the beer and enjoy a 3 AM snack.

  On the way up to the taproom we had to pass some huge open vats of beer that was aging.  If you can imagine, they looked like huge mugs of beer complete with a foam head.  As I remember the vats were 12 to 15 feet in diameter and about 20 feet high.  They were made of beautiful cypress wood and held together by huge steel rings.  The construction made them look like huge whiskey barrels or a farmers silo.

Now to the bock beer.  Dad said that every spring they had to drain the vats to clean off the "scum" that had collected on the inside of the vats.  The first batch of beer that was aged in the vat was "colored and flavored" by the remains of the loose scum.  Thus bock beer.  Now you know

Birthday in July

 Birthday in July.

I was born on July forth, 1938.  It was at the very tail end of the great depression.  Roosevelt saw that things were looking up so he removed many of the programs that aided people to get back on their feet.  Unfortunately his action was premature.

  My father had just gotten a job in January just a few weeks before the bottom dropped out again.  My folks were so confident that they bought all new furniture to replace the "orange crates" .  They took out a 90 day loan to pay for the furniture.  Then dad lost his job as the downturn started.  And mom was pregnant with me.

The loan was due just before the end of June.  Since dad could not come up with the cash to pay off the loan the finance company repossessed the furniture on July first, just three days before I was born. With no furniture in the house dad had to borrow a bed from a neighbor so that I did not have to be born on the floor.  (no joke )

  My birth was uneventful and mom came through just fine.  Since the folks had no money they could not afford the $5 fee for a doctor to make a house call to perform my circumcision.

The rest is history