DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

I used to consider myself apolitical. I was Republican by default, having been raised in a household where the word “Democrat” was frequently heard at dinner, immediately following the word “goddamn!” But I had an aversion to news. I didn’t educate myself about issues, and I felt strongly apathetic about the political process. I voted in the big elections, but only because that gave me the right to complain later.

George W. Bush changed all that. The past four years have provided a crash course in the danger of apathy.

For that, and only that, I thank President Bush. He made me realise what I care about. I have watched, and to a tiny degree documented the assaults on the environment by this administration, and I realized that what strikes me as common sense — “don’t poison yourself” — is remarkably uncommon in the White House.

I’ve paid a price for this education. To date, it’s cost me a sense of humor. And a couple hundred dollars in political contributions.

Last week, my senses hit overload. Whereas a few weeks ago I hung on every word, every fake smile, every grimace of the debates, now I can’t even bear to see a newspaper headline. I have pre-election anxiety. Every time someone mentions Diebold or Florida or the GOP, my stomach lurches. I feel like I’m sitting in the lobby of the oral surgeon’s office, waiting for my name to be called.

The Daily Show is getting lots of mileage from its Indecision 2004 joke. The Onion is running a piece on the Countdown to the Recount. Meanwhile, my stomach is doing (wait for it…) flip-flops.

I remember thinking, late in November 2000, that they should just give Bush the victory rather than dragging out the counterclaims. “It’s dangerous to not have a winner yet,” I thought, and “the rest of the world must think we’re incompetent. And anyway, how bad could he be?”

…when you receive junk mail from the Neptune Society.

Lightning storm in the clouds over Rohnert Park.

November will be all about the music.

I spent Saturday rigging up all my recording gear, old and new, in the band’s rehearsal space. Ten mics, a mixing board, a small rack of effects, a laptop, a second monitor, and about 1000 feet of cable made for an impressive mess. I really enjoyed setting it up, so much so that Sunday I tore it down and brought it all home. I realized that getting good tones and consistent recordings will require leaving the gear in place for a couple weeks, and that’s not practical in a construction shop with a leaky roof and broken windows and daily foot traffic from the crew.

As of Monday morning, I’d taken over the spare bedroom, and was consistently getting the worst kick and snare sounds I’ve ever heard. I’m trying to do some inline compression, and of the five control knobs on each channel I knew how to use only one.

Tuesday morning, reviewing the owner’s manual for the mixer, I learned that my gain-setting procedure resulted in a signal that was too hot — not clipping, but distorted in other ways; for example, the mic inside the kick drum was clearly picking up the scraping sound of the damping materials against the batter head.

Tonight I made a mental breakthrough in understanding the compressor, and began getting decent sounds. Unfortunately this happened at about 10:15 PM, too late to really enjoy them (e.g. by indulging my Neil Peart fantasy one more time).

There is more studio-blogging to come…

I bought a small SKB rack for audio gear. It had the rack rails preinstalled, but no screws for mounting components. In search of fitting screws, I went to the local hardware store, carrying a sample rack screw taken from a component that came with its own mounting hardware.

The fastener aisle at this hardware store is either the best or the worst place in the world, depending on my disposition and the size of my hurry. You’ve seen these places: 600 square feet of two-by-four-inch boxes of screws, washers, nuts, bolts, caps, and spacers, in steel, brass, plastic, and stainless. It usually takes me five minutes to find anything, and although I always succeed I was happy to see a member of the sales staff there this time because I was in a rush.

“Can I help you?” he asked. I held out my lone rack screw and said, “Yes. I need 16 more of these.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t have any,” he replied. I thought he was kidding. We were standing amid 5000 different fastener products. He couldn’t possibly know that this particular screw was out of stock. He couldn’t even know what I was holding!

“Err, what do you mean?” I asked after an uncomfortable moment in which he had continued to smile and I had continued to frown.

“That’s enamel coated,” he pointed out with the authoritative tone of someone who knows the minutiae of a stock of 5000 fastener products and is accustomed to quoting it fequently to customers, to people in line at the ATM, and to dinner guests. “We don’t stock those.”

Ah. No matter. “Stainless will be fine,” I said. He took the screw from me and held it up to the light. “That’s metric,” he said. My jaw flopped open. Another joke? “How can you tell?”

“They have a different look. After a while you can just tell.” Note: no, you can’t, as would become evident.

He was chatty. It took him ten minutes to count out 16 of the screws and matching washers. I heard about his family. I heard about his hobbies. I heard that some customers don’t put the screws back into the right compartments when they’re fishing for this or that. Finally I took the baggie of twice-counted parts and jogged to the register, running late but feeling good.

Twenty minutes later I was screaming seven kinds of hell at Mr. Chatty Metric Screw Expert, for these metric screws didn’t fit my rack.

We were due at a friend’s for dinner in an hour or two, but we took an unplanned detour back to the hardware store to prevent my spleen from exploding.

How could I have left the store the first time without testing a metric nut on the rack screw I brought? Only a fool would forget that, and I’m not a fool. Or at least, not a total fool — I let the sales guy test the nut. It fit fine. 5mm metric, or whatever this was, is just a hair bigger than 10/32 standand (or whatever). The metric nuts actually fit, somewhat sloppily, on non-metric screws. The reverse, needless to say, is not the case.

So, after a nice dinner with friends, I returned home and rack-mounted my compressor and powerline conditioner. For a few moments, all was right with the world.

Later, while cleaning up some empty boxes, I found a baggie of 20 rack screws taped inside the lid of the box the rack case had come in.