The on-going renovations at Babycakes now involve the room in which they had been keeping their WLAN router. The router apparently had to be moved.

Unfortunately, it has been moved pretty much as far back on the property as it can be while remaining in-doors. As a result, the back patio is just about the only part of the premises open to the public where one can get a good signal, though a few people have computers that can handle the signal that reaches the rear of the interior dining area. Those who do still get slow and unreliable connections.

I don't know why the router wasn't instead moved into the attic or somesuch. I've heard some dark mutterings that the new owners no longer want to support a WLAN, but I've overheard one of them explicitly saying otherwise, and they strike me as honest guys. Further, I think that they have made a practice of preännouncing every prior change that they thought might disturb customers, rather that yanking rugs out from under anyone.

In any case, after a few days of the new arrangement, I noticed that there are now far fewer people in the place at night. I cannot say with certainty that this results from the withdrawal of the WLAN, but that's my inference. It's a pity because I had noticed business picking-up significantly in the days prior to this change.

This photo was taken at night, in the yellow glow of lights illuminating a parking lot. It's of the same building that has the collapsing staircases and balcony photographs of which I've posted to this 'blog.

There was a seemingly derelict fellow on a bicycle in the parking lot as I set up to take the photo. He was amazed that I would want to photograph the building at all. I responded that the building had many interesting features. He declared that an amazing feature is that shown here: I'm not sure what sort of room is immediately on the other side of that window, but beyond the pile of stuff there is what appears to be a shower curtain. The fellow on the bicycle has decided, in all seriousness, that the pile of stuff is being thus hidden by the occupant from his friends, in a shower stall or tub — a theory which seems to imply a distinct lack of privacy for anyone previously using the shower, and that the occupant doesn't anticipate his friends ever looking into that window.

The bicyclist and I discussed the exterior staircases and balcony. He railed against the landlord, and thence against rental prices in San Diego. He opined that the Arabs (pronounced /ˈeɹæb/) might be responsible.

As I packed-up my stuff, he pedalled off into the night.

You might recall the balcony whose photo I posted on 14 August. I noticed to-day that in the last month there has been a further decline. Here, showing the bottoms of the two eastern supports, is a detail from a photo taken then: The south-eastern support was the big problem. Here's the base of the north-eastern support: Here's a photo from to-day: The south-eastern support is still the worst of the four, but look at the base of the north-eastern support: The concrete base has been moved a bit, and the wooden post has been further moved in the same direction, so that it's no longer fully on the base.

My guess is that the problem is of the posts repeatedly being hit by vehicles. In any case, unless there's some intervention soon, that balcony isn't likely to stand another month.

I ran across this (fisher) price schedule:

If the business were mine, then I would amend the table thus:

Granted that there might be a few belligerent customers who insisted on buying a count in one of the ranges for which there was no listing; these could be offered the price as per the first schedule. (Or a flat fee of $350 for any number from 1 to 99.)

In my opinion, San Diego is now seriously over-built. Condominia are going unsold all over town. But development continues none-the-less. Through-out the country, the real estate market has been driven by more than simple considerations of supply-and-demand. And San Diego is one of the places where the results have been notably grotesque.

Some of my searches on Google are resulting in a 403 error return (Forbidden) from Google itself, with this message:

We're sorry…

… but your query looks similar to automated requests from a computer virus or spyware application. To protect our users, we can't process your request right now.

We'll restore your access as quickly as possible, so try again soon. In the meantime, if you suspect that your computer or network has been infected, you might want to run a virus checker or spyware remover to make sure that your systems are free of viruses and other spurious software.

If you're continually receiving this error, you may be able to resolve the problem by deleting your Google cookie and revisiting Google. For browser-specific instructions, please consult your browser's online support center.

If your entire network is affected, more information is available in the Google Web Search Help Center.

We apologize for the inconvenience, and hope we'll see you again on Google.

This is, of course, a bit annoying. But it is also interesting, as it says that Google is acting to stop the use of their system by malware. However, I don't see how spyware per se would make use of Google.

The searches in which I've engaged which have triggered this have used the Google site operator, and have looked for a PHP-generated page. Further, the 403 error return is more likely to come after I have moved through multiple pages of results.

My inclination is to think that what Google is really trying to block is some sort of zombie searching for vulnerabilities in the sites to which it provides links.

Phillip made a surprise appearance at Babycakes yester-day. When I called him earlier, he gave no hint that he was in San Diego (as opposed to the Solipsistic Bay Area). During the course of our conversation, I walked from my home to Babycakes. I inferred from the noises from his end that he was running errands in his car. At some point, he was heard ordering coffee. Then I spotted him in Babycakes; he had ordered the coffee there.

Phillip hadn't been told of my mutton-chop sideburns, but now understands indeed what sort of change to my appearance has been effected such that a few people have since failed to recognize me. (For his part, Phillip has grown a mustache and goatee.)

Setting aside further discourse on what is and should be called the Midwest, I guess that the largest part of our conversation involved politics. (Phillip and I disagree on many issues, but neither of us looks forward to the next Administration, as we both see the two major-party candidates as each a technocratic centrist not really all that much different from his opponent.) We also talked about mutual friends, at least one of whom Phillip hopes to rope into hanging-out somewhere during his visit, about relatives, about the changes at Babycakes, about computers, and about hats.

Our conversation continued until Babycakes closed; we went thence to City Deli for a late dinner. Afterwards, we walked back to where he'd parked and talked until about 01:40.