One person's loss can be another person's gain

The economy is slowing down like a trucker who popped speed and drove for 36 hours straight.

People accumulated debt and toys and parked them in storage units or along their back-fence. Previous administrations papered over the pot-holes in the pavement and the debt wasn't too big of a burden, so there the toys sat.

Even as recently as 15 years ago, when the economy slowed down people would park their campers or trailers or snowmachines or boats or murdercicles along the side of the road with a "For Sale" sign. A fellow who was patient and frugal could cherry-pick through the offerings and pick up some gently-used items for a very attractive price.

That was a much better use for those items than to have them slowly rusting away beneath the mulberry trees. 

Another factor that is coming into play is that we are "aging out". How many 75 year-olds want to hop on their quad and go zooming through the woods? How many want to hitch-up the 24' camper and tow it to a campground?

One key point about purchasing used toys is to have some cash in your pocket...or secreted somewhere safe in your vehicle. It doesn't have to be a lot of money. A desperate person might take $200 for something they had $500 written on the for-sale sign if it is cash-right-now and it-is-all-I-have. 

But we are going to get a $5000 check from Elon!

Maybe we will. Maybe we won't.

My guess is that they will talk about it for a while and then the checks, if they come, will show up in early-to-mid October. Then, if there is a 2026 "dividend" it will show up at the same time.

Why October? Because people have short memories. A big check in October will have the maximum effect on the elections and the incumbents will benefit. 

Bonus images

Consider the "universe" of businesses. Some survive on volume and others are "boutiques" that create revenue based on mark-up

Examples of businesses that survive on volume are Walmart, Dollar General and Ford Motor Company

Businesses that are examples of "boutique economy" are places that sell JUST super-expensive Tee Shirts, or baseball hats with 600% mark-up or $250 pairs of tennis shoes. On the opposite end of the automotive spectrum from Ford might be Tesla.

In an expanding economy, one would expect the upper-left corner to show growing revenues and growth in square-footage. It would come at the expense of the volume that had been going to Walmart et al.

At the beginning of a contracting economy, one expects revenues at Walmart et al to expand at the expense of the boutique business. In turn, the boutique business are extreme fragile during downturns because it is difficult to supply service and new inventory when revenue is choked off.

When the REAL economy is very sick, the revenue (on continuing operations) of the Walmart et al firms sags.

Those images are to provide a frame-of-reference for this article "Walmart predicting slowdown for 2025"

The gurus on Wall Street are puking because the cooked-numbers of the previous Administration said "Everything is fine. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." But when Walmart predicts declining revenue, EVERYBODY takes notice.

A little East of Paris: What is a Barbecue Gun?

Gwain picked up his phone as he stirred half-and-half into his second cup of coffee. Jana was reading the Saturday edition of the Washington Post.

Looking at the display, he saw that it was Dr von Tersch, the head of the Writing Department.

“I hope I didn’t catch you sleeping” Dr. von Tercsh started out, “but Debbie told me to try and catch you before you made too many plans for the day.”

That had an ominous sound to it.

“Are you OK if I put you on speaker? I am sitting with Jana, my wife and we are just finishing up breakfast” Gwain responded.

“Sure, put her on speaker and I will do the same with mine” von Tersch said, agreeably.

“Its Dr. von Tersch” Gwain told Jana in a stage whisper.

“OK” von Tersch took control of the conversation “I am here with my wife Debbie and we looked at the weather report and decided that it was past time to have a barbecue out at the ranch. We know it is short notice and that you are still getting settled-in so we will understand if you cann’t make it.”

Jana looked at Gwain and nodded her permission. She understood faculty politics and when your boss invites you to a party, you go.

“What can we bring?” Jana asked.

A woman’s voice responded “Bring wide-brimmed hats and whatever you like to drink. There will be some beverages provided but if there is anything special you want to drink, you best bringing it.”

“What about a dish-to-pass?” Jana asked.

“Tell ya what. This time around just plan on showing up and mingling. There will be folks from the Department, and some neighbors. Who knows, maybe the Dean will even show up” von Tersch said.

“Folks will start showin’ up around 2:00-2:30. Food will be served around 5:00 and we will start wrapping up around 8:30, ‘course if you have other commitments or get tired you can leave any time you want” von Tersch assured them.

That sounded like an extremely long party to Gwain.

Debbie must have intuited their hesitation. “There will be plenty to do. Sonny manages our ranch and he would love to take you for a ride around the property in the UTV. The water is a little bit cold but the bass might be biting if you like fishing. We have a veranda around the ranch-house with porch swings. Might even be a little bit of music with guitars and what-all. Once it gets dark we will light a fire.”

Gwain looked over at Jana. He REALLY didn’t want to get her overly-tired.

Jana nodded her affirmation again.

Gwain responded “We will probably show up a little bit later, maybe 3:30 or 4:00. Jana is still recovering from the surgery and I had quite a week. So we might not stick around much past the meal...if that is OK with you?”

Debbie shot her husband a dirty look. She had advised against the party but had been overridden. Putting on her syrupiest, Southern Belle drawl she said “An we-alled be glad to have ya for whatevah time you kin spare” and then sprinkled the comment with a shower of silver-sleighbells laughter.

And all was right with the world.

After hanging up on Gwain’s call, von Tersch called the Dean. “I got a hold of Professor McCampbell and he accepted the invitation to the barbecue.”

Debbie only half-heard what Dean Fuchs said in reply. His voice was low and gravely and didn’t transmit well, given the limitations of the phone’s speaker.

She was willing to bet that there was now an almost 100% chance that Dean Fuchs* would be at the barbecue.

Even though she and her husband traveled in the same social circles as the Dean and his wife Candice, the demands on the Dean’s time meant that they didn’t see all of that much of him. That had not always been the case. Fifteen years ago, the couple had been very close.

But as the years passed and both men had risen within the ranks of the University, they had both been torn by the conflicting demands of University (and by extension, external) politics and basic, human decency.

Initially, it had caused her pain and anguish to see her husband, a upright and practicing Christian, torn on the horns of the dilemmas and having to make very hard decisions.

It took years before she found peace. The leader of her Bible Study group had been instrumental in helping Debbie see that the parables of the boats and the storms applied to her husband, and by extension, to her. Life was fraught with peril and challenges. But who better to face the storm than a Godly man?

However, she had never gotten used to some of the intricate, Machiavelian scheming.

Dr von Tersch then texted Gwain the address of the ranch and included the list of clothing Debbie had suggested. Then he added one more item that they could bring.

Reading the text to Jana, he got to the end of it and asked “What is a ‘Barbecue Gun’?”

“It must be one of those gizmos that you can use to inject marinade into chicken” Jana speculated. “We can pick one up at the HEB on the way there.”

 

*Pronounced "FOX". I know how some of you guys think.

Exercise notes

I successfully knocked out another hour on the treadmill. I followed the same plan.

After a short warm-up, 60 seconds of running at 6.0mph. Then walking at 3.0mph for 120 seconds. Halfway through the walking portion I monitored my heart-rate. That routine was repeated 20 times until an hour had passed.

Subjectively, the hour passed much more quickly even though my gut felt like I had too much to eat at lunch. On the "plus" side, all of those minor, stability muscles seemed to be happy and working together without drama.

Objectively, my heart-rate plateaued at 153bpm rather than the 147bpm of the first session.

The lifting sessions are on hold for a week while I sort out the treadmill issues. It was just too much to juggle the lifting sessions every three days and the treadmill sessions every-other-day.

Seasonal flu snapshot

Waste-water monitoring for A-strain Seasonal flu. Looks like we are nearing the peak.

 

Case loading by state. Not so good for Michigan

Flu strains in 2024/2025 US cases that have been "fingerprinted"

Flu strains that WHO recommended for Northern Hemisphere. Recent research suggests that re-immunizing with identical strain "blunts" body's immune response.

Avian flu (H5) detected in wastewater monitoring. Purple dots are "Positive"

Presented with minimal comment

 

Picture on the left taken five years ago, just before the wedding. Picture on the right of the same person after popping out three kids.

A little East of Paris: Debriefing Gwain

Hank parked his Yukon in the street in front of the vacant lot next to the bungalow where Gwain and Jana were staying. He had called to make an appointment and learned that Gwain had completed teaching his classes for the week and the only way to talk to him, face-to-face, would be off-site.

Fortunately, the house was barely 20 minutes away, a hop-skip-and-jump by Texas standards.

Walking up to the house, Hank saw two women sitting on the porch to the left of the front door and Gwain sitting on a wicker chair to the right. Gwain gestured to a folding metal chair for Hank to sit on “I apologize for the inconvenience. We haven’t had much time to set up house-keeping.”

Hank shook Gwain’s hand. “My name is Hank Lewis and I have been retained by Olivia Benavidez as her personal representative.” 

Hank got the impression that Gwain's handshake that he was frail. Even though Gwain had long fingers, they seem insubstantial and is hand felt almost bird-like.

Gwain gave a noncommittal “Hmmm”.

“Do you mind if I ask a few questions?” Hank started out.

“Are you asking to be neighborly or in your professional capacity?” the old white woman asked. She was wearing a silk scarf wound around her head and clearly had almost no hair. Chemo?

“I am here in a professional capacity” Hank admitted.

“In that case, you won’t mind showing us proof that you really ARE Miss Benavidez’s representative and not a reporter” Gwain said.

Hank, in spite of himself, was impressed. There was no rancor, just a fellow professional who insisted on dotting-every-i-and-crossing-every-t.

Sitting down in the folding chair, Hank opened up his briefcase and found the appropriate folder and extracted the “Retainer of Services” form that Olivia Benavidez had signed.

“ID?” Gwain asked.

Wordlessly, Hank pulled out his wallet and extracted his Driver’s License. “I will need both of those back” Hank said.

“Of course” Gwain said, absentmindedly as he studied them. Then he handed both documents to Jana for her to look at. Jana inspected them and handed them back to Gwain who passed them back to Hank who carefully refiled them in their respective places.

“How can I help you?” Gwain asked.

“Were you a witness to any events involving Miss Olivia Benavidez yesterday? If you were, can you tell me what you observed?” Hank asked.

“Yes” Gwain answered. 

Gwain had just started on his narrative when Hank abruptly interrupted him. “Wait. I heard you say that you didn't just witness this but that you were also trapped in the office?”

“Yes” Gwain answered.

“So you were with her the whole time?” Hank asked.

“I was with Miss Benavidez from 2:15 PM until 6:45 PM when I left her at the Student Health Services medical facility where she was being held for observation” Gwain replied.

“Who do you think did this to you?” Hank asked.

“Cole Byrd, spelled B-Y-R-D, and one of his buddies” Gwain responded without hesitation.

“How certain are you that this Cole Byrd did this?” Hank pressed.

“I am 100% certain. I know his voice and he had motive...I had just given him an F on a paper and I told him that if he cheated on his next paper I would have him expelled from the University” Gwain said.

Then Scarlett piped up on Hank’s ear-bud “Cole Byrd graduated with a 3.1/4.0 GPH from RW Private Academy and scored 17 on both attempts at the ACT and 990 Composite SAT which puts him at 45 percentile. That might explain why he isn't going to school in Austin" Scarlett added, archly.

"His parents live in the Rollingwood Neighborhood of Austin and the median property value is $2.8 million” she concluded.

“Who do you think the other person was?” Hank asked.

“Almost certainly it was one of the other Frat members” Gwain said.

This was looking better by the minute. Predatory “Frat boys” don’t play well in front of Texas juries, not when they are harassing young, Hispanic women. Nor do millionaires.

Jana asked “Which fraternity?”

“Gamma-Gamma-Psi” Gwain said.

“Oh my God!” Jana said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me that they are in Texas, too.”

Catching Hank’s quizzical expression, Gwain said “Some fraternities have a reputation.”

Diane was absorbing all of this new information, not saying a word.

“Anyway” Hank said, “tell me what happened as best you remember it from the beginning…”

It took Gwain almost twenty minutes to recount the ordeal. When Hank started to scribble down the name of the maintenance man, Gwain said “You don’t need to do that. Miss Benavidez already wrote down that information. She wrote down the times, too.”

Brows furrowed in consternation “And when would she have had time to do that?” Hank asked.

“I told her to write everything down as it happened” Gwain said, apologetically. “It seemed like the only way to keep her from panicking.”

Hank folded his hands and put them in his lap. “She wrote down everything as it happened?”

“Yes” Gwain said.

Handel’s Messiah’s refrain was singing in Hank Lewis’s head as he asked “And this is something that you have a copy of?”

“I have the original locked in my file cabinet, but I can give you a scanned copy from the University’s shared-drive. I took the liberty of accepting what she wrote as a class assignment” Gwain said.

Hank licked his lips. “How long would it take for you to email me that copy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes. My laptop is old and is a little slow to boot-up. That, and I have to find it” Gwain said.

“Its underneath your new book on the Civil War” Jana informed him.

Three minutes later, Hank’s laptop pinged, informing him that he had a new email.

Opening the attachment and starting to read, the first thing Hank asked “How accurate are these times?”

“I really don’t know” Gwain admitted. “Miss Benavidez could see the screen of my desktop computer, so I imagine they are not more than a minute off.”

“Do you want me to mail you the original?” Gwain asked.

“Nope. You hang onto it until the police ask for it. Keep it locked in your files. It is a chain-of-custody nightmare if I touch the original” Hank told Gwain.

Hank thanked Gwain profusely for his help and he advised Gwain (and Jana and Diane) to not talk about his visit.

Jana assured Hank that College Professors are often privy to privileged information and knew that bringing the perpetrators to justice would be easier if they were not alerted.

Diane vigorously shook her head in the negative. “I didn’t hear nothin’. I wasn’t even here.”

The last thing Hank asked for was Violet's number. If he was lucky he could catch her before she went home. 

Gwain informed Hank that the door to his office had already been replaced. Hank wanted to pass word to the University maintenance department to not throw away the door. It was looking more and more like it was evidence to a crime. 

(C) 2025 Eaton Rapids Joe, All Rights Reserved

Running (for future reference)

I am getting antsy. I have stuff to do outside but the ground is frozen.

So I go to the gym. That way I will have stamina when the balloon goes up and I can start digging holes.

For now, the "right" amount of running seems to be one minute at 6.0mph followed by two minutes of walking at 3.0mph. Lather, rinse, repeat. That works out to twenty minutes (2.0 miles) at 6.0mph and 40 minutes (2.0 miles) in an hour.

Twenty minutes into the workout my pulse rate was 145-to-147 half-way through the 2 minute walking/recovery periods. I kept checking to see if it would creep up toward the end of the work-out but it didn't. Opinions vary, but I believe that bpms in the 140-150 region are high enough to be useful and low enough to be safe for 65 year-old, chubby mid-Western men like me.

I think that I am looking at two weeks of every-other-day to build cardiac/lung capacity and some skeletal muscle. Then I will start slowly decreasing the length of the 3.0 mph recovery periods or alternating one-minute and two-minute recovery periods.

6.0 mph seems to be a "smooth" speed on my preferred treadmill. It may have something to do with the springiness of the treadmill's bed and rubber-bumpers and my weight.