Worth the paper it's printed on

 I was up around the usual time, and had time to pack two boxes, of 17 things each, and get those and all the other boxes onto the bike trailer and got them to FedEx and the post office. 

I got some groceries at 99 Ranch a little package of chicken at H Mart which I ate sitting on the little ledge in front of the building, in time-honored fashion. 

I'd called Ken from FedEx (it's relatively quiet in there and up near the front window, I'm not near anyone) and he answered, so he's alive. I asked if he's coming by tonight and he said Yes and I said "See you then!" and that was it. Of course his word is worth the paper it's printed on and he says plenty of things he doesn't follow through on so we'll see. 

Oh, and still no reply back from Pat, "Mr. Logic", on the Big Island. I think he's still trying to comprehend the idea that our disagreeing on support or being against "israel" could actually not be a logical fallacy but a simple difference of opinion. 

Oh, and while out and about, I found a phone. It was lying on Junction Avenue just north of Brokaw. I had to park the bike, run across the road and grab it on the run like those kids who grab errant balls at tennis matches, then run back to my bike. 

I got back here and put things away and tried to figure out the phone. The thing is, these phones tend to have irreplaceable photos on them and such things. I figured out the owner was employed by Terminix, OK is there a Terminix near there? Yep, just in from the corner. So I rode back with it and since no one was there, hung it, in a bag, from the door handle. It had been run over once, but if I'd left it, it would have been turned into dust by the traffic.  And it was getting messages, too, about the owner's Feit Electric door camera and such things. So he'll get his phone back, in condition to at least get the photos and data off of it. 

Update: Ken came by and I got my check for this week and last week, and I made some noise about "coming around to your way of thinking and keeping working here until I'm 67 so you can sign another lease" haha. And it started raining overnight and it's good and wet out there so I'm glad I put the cell phone in a plastic bag so it will be dry when the Terminix staff come to work in the morning and find it. 

 

 

$11 and a bag of chips

 I took off for downtown the usual time, with a load of small things for the post office, and the cornet and tip box. I dropped off the things, then went to Whole Foods and busked from 5:00 to 6:00 which is too early on a weekday but I had a meeting from 7:00 to around 9 I wanted to go to. 

It was windy, and still kind of warm so while I'd brought my fleece I didn't need it. Tips were slow, as expected, but that's OK. I could play much better than yesterday, so I was pretty happy. The thing is, this early on a weekday isn't good because people are rushing around, and haven't had time to get a beer or two into themselves. Later, they're more relaxed. But I was busking for the principle of the thing. 

At one point a guy who'd parked his fixed-gear hipster bicycle came back for it, and had a big bag of Doritos with him. I said it's a lot more fun buying "bicycle fuel" which those chips are, than buying gasoline. He said the chips were for me and handed me the bag. Cool! 

Pretty soon No Feet showed up and started begging. This didn't cut off my tips, so I stuck it out the whole hour. Then I packed up, and went inside and bought a little tub of sour cream and some fizzy water, and sat down and had my chips and dip. 

When I was done I walked back out to the bike for something or other, passing by No Feet. He muttered the same begging patter he was giving to everyone else, not even recognizing me.  He hadn't remembered our hanging out at the bus stop and talking about all sorts of things at all. OK then. 

On my walk to the meeting, I still had half of the Doritos to find a home for. There was a Black guy sitting at the bus bench, and I set them there on the bench and when he looked up quizzically, I said, "Oh yeah, this bench comes with chips!". He was glad to get them and started chowing down enthusiastically. 

(I like modern chips, because they've devised a way to make them taste salty etc., but instead of using a ton of salt, they use a thin layer of salt/flavor on the outside, so they're tasty but you don't feel crappy after eating them because it's half or less the salt as in chips made the old way.)  

The meeting was OK I guess. A few people making plans to leave the country, and medical care seems even harder to get these days. 

When it was done I walked back over to Whole Foods and bought some cilantro for my soup tonight, and thought about busking since I had almost an hour left before they close, but it was very cold and windy and there were all kinds of bums hanging around. No Feet was gone, but these were other bums. 

I was glad I brought my fleece to wear because it was rather cold. Today's freebee: 8 cans of no-sugar "Polar Seltzer" grapefruit flavor. 

 The TL;DR for this day is, Went out, Did things, Came back with $3 more in my pocket and 8 cans of seltzer. 

After dinner and some relaxation time I found and packed things until 4AM and that's enough - I'm tired. I have a lot of packages to get out, and may run one set up to the post office and FedEx, then come back and pack two large boxes of 17 things each, and run those up to FedEx. 

What I don't get is that the better I'm doing, the less I'm effectively being paid. I honestly don't know if I'll see another pay check. I'm being ghosted, as the saying goes. 

Hence my being back out there playing music, and being careful with my finances. I'm not getting any nibbles on Craigs List for my instruments, so I've got a plan. I'll see if Starving Musician wants to buy my student "concert" flute and the two glass flutes. There's a fair chance they will and although I won't get much for them it will be something. The shakuhachis and associated stuff will be donated to a store in Japantown. And the clarinet stuff, books, plus at least one trumpet book I don't really want to keep, will go to San Jose Jazz. 

I also, before coming in and cooking dinner, took a big tub of stuff I was going to donate to the Buddhist temple boy scouts, and since I'd noticed I'd have to get the stuff there at noon next Saturday, decided to just stick it out by the side of the road and see if it's all gone when I head out tomorrow. It's all the same to me, and if I'm up that early on Saturday, I'm getting out busking. 

In a Depression economy everyone's trying to sell off their stuff, so it's hard to sell stuff in a sea of stuff for sale. Busking still holds up because buskers are just about extinct here. So people are pretty tickled to see someone playing actual music on an actual instrument, and one that's not a guitar. 

Ken's supposed to show up tomorrow night and then maybe I'll get some hint as to what's going on. I'm thinking I'll tell Ken I'm really coming around to his line of thinking; that I ought to work up to my "full retirement age" which is 67. And thus am going to stick around. And thus he can sign another lease. And like hell am I sticking around here until age 67. Nope, in September of next year, my older sister back in Hawaii is going to get sick, and want me to come see her. And I will go. And I will not come back. 

Meanwhile, the most time I can spend on the horn the better. That's the one thing that differentiates me from every other poor, down-and-out bum in the upcoming bigly-est Depression.  That's another thing that irritates me about the situation here. I've been putting work before busking, but I'm getting paid for the busking and not paid for the work. 

Welcome to my wheelhouse

 Yesterday Pat, my "friend" on the Big Island, told me in an email that I've committed a lot of logical fallacies in, I dunno, I guess being anti-Israel where he's pro-Israel. 

So I said since I don't know which ones I'm committing, I depend on him to tell me which ones and how. Go! 

I haven't heard back. 

I took a college course in logic and while it was just a 100-level course, I probably know more about logic than 99% of the population now, whereas I doubt ol' Pat could tell the Pons Asinorum from his own ass. 

Then there's Tom. I last hung out with him a few days ago and as he's taken to doing, he harangued me about wearing a bike helmet. He said he'll lecture me on it every time I come by. I said that's OK, I'll just stop coming by. Because it's obvious that his standpoint is, "I make more money than you and thus I know better than you and thus I will tell you what to do, because it makes me feel better about myself". 

It's a variant of what high-on-his-own-supply Mark, who owns the Gilroy place, is on. Living there meant being a part of the Mark-Is-Cool Club. I really screwed the pooch, as they say, when I mentioned being in MENSA. It turns out Mark had tried a few times to get in and could not. He's not a dummy by any means, he just couldn't qualify. 

Hell, the only reason I got into MENSA was, someone else ponied up the $10, a huge amount for me, to take the test, and I thought it was help me get a job somehow, which it did not. The test was fun, although I was terribly hungry at the time I took it, as I was terribly hungry a lot of the time then. I was 18 and the solution to my life's woes turned out to not be MENSA but the US Army. 

So getting back to Mark, he seems to invite people to stay at his place who are hard up so he can have people around to feel superior to, then he likes to get the different people to be in conflict, kind of like a kid who puts different kinds of bugs in a jar to watch them fight. 

I guess Tom's like this too, because he befriends the most amazing assortment of bums, then gets all butt-hurt when they con him. So my interactions with Tom will now be just observing from afar. 

The only real good I'd gotten from knowing Tom was borrowing his water-shutoff tool, but if I need to shut off the water again I did work out a way to do it with two adjustable wrenches we have around here so that's not a problem. 

Getting closer to home, Ken is acting strange. I don't know why a mere $1000 he owes to the landlord is the "hill he chooses to die on" but as far as I know, he still owes it. I got that one call from him saying he'd been up late testing, and would call again to let me know if he's coming by, but then nothing and that was last week. 

His last check didn't bounce, amazingly, and I have the $360 check from the clarinet I can deposit tomorrow. 

With Ken it's got to be (a) money trouble, (b) something at his day job that really requires a lot of his time and energy, or (c) something with his health. I don't want to call and bother him, but will wait until his usual time to show up, because if he's under a lot of stress he doesn't need me bugging him.

I figure I can afford a "package" of a flight and two weeks in a hotel and that will cost about half of the $5k I have on hand. In those two weeks I can start looking for a room to rent.   Or at least find a storage unit to be a home base. 

While I was able to sell the clarinet back to the music store, due to their policy regarding student instruments bought new, I'm not getting any calls or emails about the other instruments. I'm starting to realize I'd be better off getting back into busking and just donating the instruments, than trying to sell them in this Depression economy. 

I got myself cleaned up a bit, oiled the valves on the cornet, and got my things together including some stuff to donate to the Japantown little free library, and headed out of here around 6. I stopped at Nijiya for a bottle of tea and a couple of hard-boiled eggs and a bundle of cilantro, which came to something like $9. 

As I rode along The Alameda towards Whole Foods I saw, standing at a bus stop there, no other than the non-ironically named Rabbi Magat. Yes, his last name is actually Magat. He called out "Hi!" and I sort of raised my hand in acknowledgement, but that was it.  

I started busking at Whole Foods at 7 and held on until 8. It was hard. Taking time off to drink beer every night was not a smart idea. I sounded awful. Plus it was cold and windy. Tips were slow at first but picked up, and I might have done quite well if I had been able to hang on another hour, but by the time it was 8 I was too cold and tired to even count up my money. I packed up and went to the Amazon place where I got two bubble mailers, then rode home, fighting the End Times wind. 

I counted up once I got back and it was not bad, $42. 

 

Run, run, rats!

 I was up all night listing 30 things on Ebay, and I'd called the cops as usual, who got around to this place around 4AM but it was still glorious. Seeing ho's running with their skirt flying up, pimps 'n' johns making the run for it, hilarious! 

I did discover that classical music tends to make 'em make less noise, though, and if I'm able to last out my final year and a few months here, I might invest in a "work site" radio to lay on the classical, put it in the warehouse by the roll-up door. 

The cops of course have to take care of more dire things before rousting the local whore house, but they *did* come around. People diss the San Jose cops but so far I like 'em pretty well. 

I think I'm voting for Steyer for governor, since Do-Nothing Mahan is apparently just going nowhere, Becerra is funded by PG&E, Porter is out, and Steyer although a billionaire, is at least self-funding and shows the best promise of being able to do things. Maybe he'll have some practical solutions. 

Hell I might even be able to write to Steyer and tell him some of my practical solutions. Like the idea of taking the huge halfway finished development south of this city and turning it into what I call a Happy Fun Camp, call it a place to stash the druggies and keep 'em in drugs, a vast mental asylum, whatever. The thing is, the average street ghoul just wants its drugs, and if they have a place to go with free junk food and free drugs with a doctor in the loop somewhere, their own little "tiny house" or room at least, ping-pong and laundry services and classes to finish their GED etc., a place they'd be free to leave but being druggies, will never want to, would get 'em off the street. They'd no longer be in our hair and we'd no longer be in theirs. 

Here's my solution for Cuba: Immediately reassign them to "Move Favored Trading Nation" status or whatever it's called these days. Immediate airlift of medicine, food, materials and equipment to get their electrical, water, etc., working again and then improve those. Allow Americans to visit there needless to say. If it's Communism we don't like, well, under my plan Communism will last a red-hot week, if that. This is what Obama was starting to do, but then we got our present ZOG or Zionist Occupation Government. We should be helping Cuba be the Switzerland of the Caribbean, healthy, wealthy, and independent. With, I need to emphasize, nothing expected in return. But yeah .... the Zionists would never allow it.  

I woke up at 3 in the afternoon which makes sense, having gone to bed at 7AM and being really tired from working all night. I had time to pack two large and annoying things and so I took 4 large boxes to FedEx. I forgot to ask them what their hours are tomorrow but I guess it doesn't matter because it's a holiday and I won't be shipping anything. 

You can't fucking make this shit up

 I was up all night taking things apart, and mostly finding things that were junk and only worth putting out for the bums. Old rolls of wire no one will want to buy, stuff like that. 

I got some good parts out of it though. There's always money in the junk pile. 

I finally went to bed around 8AM because I got all involved in this documentary about how Koko The Talking Gorilla really wasn't talking at all etc. 

I surprised myself by waking up around 1:30 in the afternoon, and was all ready to go. I had some black coffee and aspirin and got out of here a bit after 2. I also had the Yamaha student clarinet I'd bought new, with me. I parked the bike at Whole Foods and went right over to the bus stop. 

It took the bus a while to come, and meanwhile, up came up No Feet, my name for the Black guy in a wheelchair who has, well, no feet. He's got a good racket going, having no feet, and begging. I said Hi and hoped he'd made a lot of money, and we made small talk, and then he started shouting to someone. I could not make out the name. He said it was Stella so I did my best Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Called Desire, "STELLA!!!!" a couple of times. 

Presently an actual Stella materialized. She was maybe 5 feet tall on a good day, pug-nosed, waddling, why, it would take a Basil Wolverton to come up with an uglier personage. So I waited, with No Feet and Stella, while they made small talk, and soon I smelled a cigarette. 

I turned around and it was No Feet who'd lit up the cig. I said how funny it is that you don't smell cigarettes any more, and then we all talked about how our moms all smoked Kools, and how we'd buy cigarettes as kids, "You needed a *note*? I just bought 'em" - Me. 

Then we talked about all the other joys of growing up when we did, like riding in the back of a pickup truck, although Stella was one-up because she did it when her father, driving the pickup truck, was drunk. Perhaps in sympathy, No Feet pulled out a bottle of vodka and had a few glugs. Good times, good times. The bus came and Stella helped wrestle No Feet onto the bus.  

I got to West Valley Music exactly the 2 hours it's required to take to get from my front door to theirs, and Craig was there. He looked over the clarinet, and went in back and wrote out a check for $362.50. Then I asked about a copy of Cichowitz's "Flow Studies" but they were out of 'em and he said it's a good book to study out of. We got to talk a bit about trumpets and mouthpieces etc., and I noticed some "Chop Saver", a kind of fancy chap stick, at the counter. He said it's far better than my $1.25 Blistex, and I felt like risking the $5 or so for some. He gave it to me for free. 

So now I have the check to deposit on Tuesday. I took the bus back as far as Mega Mart, where I wanted to see if they sold packing tape. They don't. I did, however, get some fried potstickers, pork and kim chee flavor, that hit the spot. 

I took the next bus to Han Kook which does sell tape, got some cilantro and ginger and 6 rolls of tape there. 

Then I got on the bus, again, back to Whole Foods. I got a $12 bag of frozen shrimp and $50 cash back in honor of the $62.50 part of the check. That way I won't feel pressured to busk tomorrow if I don't have the time or don't want to. 

Besides the "street comedy" of No Feet and Stella, the only other interesting thing was, in front of the Sunnyvale Tesla dealership, they have one of those flailing-arm inflatable figures, but theirs is "dressed" in all black except for the face, and has one arm tied down so all it does is Elon's salute, over and over. You can't fucking make this shit up. It'd be really funny to sneak up and install a little square mustache on the face of the figure...

Now, if you're buying a Tesla these days, you're really committed because tech-wise they're behind the other electric cars, and you can't really convince anyone these days that you know nothing of the politics. So I'd say an eternally saluting Elon figure out front is a selling point for them these days. Let's get the last bit of money out of the most convinced cucks before the last of them go broke. 

Besides, the ADL said Elon's salute is by no means a Nazi salute and the reason is, Elon's one of them. He's one of the Randlords, a pun on the word landlords, but the Randlords were a bunch of rapacious Jews who swooped in and made South Africa the wreck and ruin it is today. 

If you ever wonder what the Jews have planned for the US and its people, there are plenty of videos of contemporary life in South Africa to learn from. 

 

The new regime, I guess

 Ken *did* call last night and say the reason he didn't come by the night before was he was up doing some testing until 1AM. He'd call again and let me know if he was coming by last night. He never called. 

I did something I'd wanted to get done for a while, scrubbing the bathroom floor and then putting on a couple of coats of Mop'n'Glo. It looks a lot better now and I should just have to go over it with Mop'n'Glo every couple of weeks now. 

I also took a couple of things apart, getting some parts to list on Ebay. 

I woke up early enough, about 1:30, to go to the music store in Mountain View *IF* I did nothing else, and *IF* Craig would be there until usual time, 6PM. But I called them and he was only there until 4:30 but he'll be there "all day" tomorrow which means something like 5 or maybe even 5:30. 

The reason I called was to see if they'll buy back my clarinet for half of what I paid and since it's a student instrument I bought new, they will. That will get me about $350 and since I paid with my card, they might just zap the money right back into my account. 

Meanwhile, the name of the game is to not take money out of the account if I can avoid it. I'm glad I stopped drinking beer because I was spending a LOT. 

Before I got back into drinking beer, I was getting prepared meals and especially with busking, I was being really free with my money. I thought nothing of spending $6 or $7 on a couple of hard-boiled eggs and a can of iced coffee at Nijiya to start my day, for instance. That $4 pint of beer at Whole Foods seemed OK, because it didn't seem like that much money. 

It all adds up fast, though, especially since beer just leads to more beer. I was keeping within my budget of $200 a week, but that took really economizing on food. So now I'm not spending money on beer and loathe the idea of spending a whole $6 or $7 on a couple of hard-boiled eggs and a can of iced coffee at Nijiya. 

Since going to the music store wasn't happening today, I packed 4 small things and took off at a bit before 4. I dropped off the things at the post office downtown, then went to the Amazon place where I found ONE bubble mailer. Then went to the bank and checked my account balance and it looks like my last pay check didn't bounce, whew! 

I went over to Whole Foods and found one more bubble mailer, went in and spent $12 on my customary bag of macadamia nuts, and took off. There was a Gypsy woman with 2-3 drugged-up kids begging there, lovely. Although, it was sunny and windy and if I were to busk tonight, the gyppos would be gone by then and the wind settled down. 

But this week it's all about selling the clarinet, and I'll try to work in some busking too. 

I don't know when I'll hear from Ken or when/if I'll get paid. This is why I'm in a hurry to sell or donate the musical instruments I have. I may have to jet out of here pretty quickly and I don't want to leave any loose ends. 

I can keep going on busking and selling off some of the scrap metal I've been throwing out, I guess. But I'd have to work a bit less on the Ebay stuff which would send this business into a steeper downward spiral than it's already in. 

I just don't understand how everything could go fine as far as my being paid, the utilities paid for, the rent paid, until a few months ago. But then, Ken is a fine example of Americanus suburbiensis, and among that species it's the norm to never save and always over-extend one's finances. Instead of just going along in a sensible way, putting money into savings, building up resilience, the idea is to build things up taller and taller and steeper and steeper until it's too much to sustain and some slight wind blows the whole thing over. 

I've been really hoping that Ken will get his debt consolidation thing done and that will buy us about another year, during which he'll build up more debt of course, but things will hold together, held up by ever more debt, but my pay checks will cash and I'll have another year to save up. 

While my ideal is to leave mid-September of 2027, I could leave a few months earlier and that would work too.  

One thing that's changed since the 90s is, apparently once I buy a ticket there's a "magic number" I can print out and I will plan to bring a clip board with everything I can possibly printed out, printed out, in page protectors. But it seems that these days, they just look at your passport and that tells them everything about whether or not you have a ticket, what seat, yadda yadda. That's pretty nice.  

 

Some time to think

 I had plenty of time to think about things because I had two small orders to pack, one order of 4 things, one of 13 things, and one of 20 things. So I was up all night finding the things and packing them. Whew! 

The main thing I thought was, I was looking at flight and hotel packages involving close to a month in the hotel. But, I could look them up for 2 weeks in the hotel, about half the time, which would cut the cost down by quite a bit. In two weeks I'd have my feet on the ground, have found a storage unit if I feel I need one, and then if I haven't found a room to rent I can always do more hotel time, give the capsule place a try, or something. The Y's cheap too and actually comes up as an option. 

I wanted to get the things packed because these customers have a way of adding more and more things and in the case of the 20-item order, that took a wheel box to fit all the things. It's pretty handy having a wheel and tire place nearby with customers who order big rims.  They come in nice big boxes.

Before finally going to bed around something like 7AM, I thought of something more: When I had an apartment just a block off of "the strip" in Waikiki in 2003, it cost me $600 a month which means $20 a day. Now I know that easy money to hustle up in any of a number of ways. What made me feel I was in an impossible situation was the fact that I had bought a car, thus had the expenses of the car, parking for the car ($200 a month I think it was) and the fact that having a car means only seeing the world from the vantage point of one who depends on a car. This meant passing up on a lot of places due to lack of parking, etc. 

Being here in the Bay Area has taught me how to live on very little, live without a car or running water or even without electricity if needed, and at least a dozen ways to hustle up money. 

Before leaving the place in Waikiki, I actually paid up the rest of my lease so I'd have had I dunno, several months paid free and clear. If I was going to eventually default on my credit cards anyway, I could have done it there. I'm kind of glad things went the way they did, though, as long as I can get back there. 

I woke up at 3:30 in the afternoon, actually woke up around noon but decided to try to get 8 hours' sleep so went back to sleep then got up, turned on the radio, and the latest banana republic thing going on is El Dumpo and his circle of Chosenites have rigged things where there will be zero investigation by the IRS of Donny Diaper-Filler, or any of his family or Chosenite buddies. 

Now, this should piss off we goyim. Everyone but everyone has to deal with the IRS, and a lot of us believe tax returns are public information. I know I did until a moment ago, the law was changed in 1976 to make them confidential, and 1976 is only 50 years ago, the blink of an eye, politically. So most people should be outraged and it will be interesting to see if they are. 

I took the packages to the post office and FedEx, and after getting some sliced pork belly at H Mart that I wanted to try, a bundle of cilantro, and after going around the back and getting a couple of packages of manju for free, I circled back around and searched the store and bought a "tub" of salad greens, which I've just eaten, because I found a jumping spider in the parking lot before leaving, and put it in a little jar, and want to make a nice little habitat for it. 

It's a Phidippus johnsoni,  one of the common ones around here. I don't know how long I'll keep it, but the salad tub will make a great little terrarium for it. 

I made the mistake of turning the radio to NPR, where they're telling a tear-jerker fiction about some poor, poor little Chosenite who was kept in a box for 2 years during the Hollowco$t(tm) and thus at the end his arms and legs would not work yadda yadda. 

Here's why it's horse shit: Someone kept in a box needs to poop and pee, so he was getting exercise to go out and do that multiple times a day so he *was* getting exercise, or if he were kept in a box that long and not going out to poop and pee, he'd have died from sheer despair if nothing else, and it would have been a stinky nightmare, letting everyone within a mile know they were keeping a Jew. This shit is all fiction, it's one of their many, many grifts. 

So I thought, What if, given that the US gives about $32k to every "Israeli" man, woman, and child each year, while here in the US we do without health care, public transit, decent food, etc., what if all the money taken from the US taxpayer and given to Israel were totted up, from 1948 on, how much would be the check written out to every US man, woman, and child? Might it be a million dollars? 

The Jews have money, there's no doubt. They'll cry bloody murder but they certainly have it. Chosenite Michael Bloomberg spent $500 million on his failed presidential run in 2020, which means he could have given every US man, woman, and child a check for $1 million and had a good amount left over. 

I take comfort in the fact that the dozen or more ways I know to hustle up money do not involve the internet at all. The internet is dying. It's slower than ever, my connection drops out and re-connects constantly, and regular pages are either unreadable or inaccessible. Go to any newspaper's site with the possible exception of The Guardian and it's either paywalled or covered in ads or both.

As for private pages, here are a few examples. Marvin Naylor's nice little busking blog. You have to first know to Google "Marvin Naylor Busking Blog". Then you have to know to scroll down (it's not intuitive) to click on the center "button" that says "start here". That will take you to his very first post, 10+ years ago. Which is fine but if you want his latest, the page will let you see that the first time you click on the latest in the sidebar, then ever afterward that's the latest you'll see *unless* you know to go through the procedure and then click on Marvin's name, in smaller type, above the buttons. Then you can see his latest. 

The New Orleans crackhead's blog. First you have to know how to Google for him, using specific keywords. That will get you to his page, to a post that's getting to be two years old now. You have to know to click on the "masthead" then that will take you to his latest. 

Ran Prieur: You have to know about Ran Prieur and if you don't then tough. I think he's only being publicized by word-of-mouth. He's kept his page very, very simple which is rare and refreshing. But if you don't know about him you'll never find him and if you weren't reading his stuff 20 years ago you won't know about him. 

I used to quite enjoy the Bison Survival Blog. However, Bison has realized he can do better selling printed newsletters so now he does that.