It’s December 8, 2023, Friday. 37 F outside in Ashlandia, where the women are lovely and the men don’t brood, up from 29 F. We were encased in a gothic novel cover a few hours ago; fog, mist, and diminished gray light set a brooding stage of mysterious shadows and stifled sounds. We brought on the fireplace to help the furnace with the day’s early cold moisture, and it was cozyrama.
Our valley’s high will be 46 F. Snow flurries are in today’s weather blend.
Sis is going home from her operation and all was a success. That encouraged The Neurons to light up the morning mental music stream (Trademark bamboozled) with Ten Years After at Woodstock with “Going Home”. It’s a powerful old-time rocker for an early Friday morning before I’d had coffee and my mind segued to their song, “I’d Love to Change the World”. When I used it back in 2019, I wrote,
Ten Years After released “I’d Love to Change the World” in 1971 as a response to the violence, protests, emerging counter-culture, resistant establishment, and war. Gosh, does any of that have any echos in today’s world? Naw, probably just me.
Like most of TYA’s offerings, the song features some powerful Alvin Lee guitar work, which is always good to hear. Beyond the rock essence of guitar and dream, these lyrics, and how they’re presented in the song, plaintive, accepting, and reflective, spoke to me as a fifteen-year-old when the song came out, but still talks to me as a sixty-three-year-old.
I’d love to change the world
But I don’t know what to do.
So I’ll leave it up to you.
I’ll leave that up there, adding that the other line resonating with me is, “Tax the rich, feed the poor, till there are no rich no more.” Guess I’m getting more revolutionary as I age.
Stay positive, fight injustice, remain strong, help others, and lean forward. Give me more coffee and then I’ll do the same. Here’s the video. Gotta go; cat wants in. Rock on.
Rain showers the street and sidewalks outside the coffee shop windows. Between the clouds and rain, gray smothers the day like swaths of gray flannel.
The coffee shop is cold. It’s always cold when the sun ain’t cracking through to brighten and warm us. Despite wearing a fleece jacket, I’m shivering, and my hands are cold. My wife, who suffers Renaud’s disease, would be in misery.
And I had to pee again. I finally decided to seek the answer about why I pee more often when I’m cold and did a search.
“Cold-induced diuresis,” thenakedscientists.com on the net informed me, basically an increase in urine due to more blood being filtered due to vasoconstriction to conserve heat, more or less.
At least I know the reason now. At least my laptop’s keyboard warms my fingertips a little. How we artists must suffer.
It’s Thursday, Dec 7, 2023. I looked out. Rain clouds parted. My eyes drank in sunshine. Alexa said it was 37 F out but would reach 44 F. My weather system already said it was 43 F.
The clouds close. Rain falls. It’s aunter (a variation of autumn and winter) in Ashlandia, where the weather can be vexing, just as it happens in many world regions.
December 7. No need to think much about that date. Can’t say that all in the US remember December 7 and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and the Pacific Fleet, a step which pulled the US formally into WW II. Oh, people will pretend to remember, doing little ceremonies to solemnly recall history and what happened. I can’t guess what people remember of WW II in the US, not when they throw words around like fascism and socialism with little understanding of what they mean and what they are, not when NAZIs and white supremacy is openly embraced with greater frequency by one of our political parties and its leader, not when that leader openly talks about being a dictator. How can his supporters remember their history lessons when he calls for exterminating his political opponents and applauds dictators as smart, good people?
After all, these are the ones who declare us a Christian nation and fight against the separation of church and state. This was supposed to be a nation of freedom and equality. No, it was not born that way; women had few rights and were generally second-class citizens. For blacks, it was worse, as they lived as slaves and were horribly mistreated. Indians received even nastier treatment as their people were killed and their land was stolen, and immigrants from multiple places were pilloried, stripped of rights, and treated as if they were not human. No, it was not a pretty beginning, and there’s still a lot of shit going on. Witness how often police kill with impunity, and worse, how often those killed are Blacks. Witness how people trying to escape persecution in other countries are treated. Witness how many right-wingers treat LGBTQ+ citizens as undeserving of rights and security as fellow citizens, and how eagerly they throw people in prison.
But we were trying as a nation, making some progress, sometimes sliding backwards, but mostly managing to claw forward. Now the GOP and its wannabe dictator, Donald Trump, are striving to drag the country backward, away from freedom and equality no matter religion, sex, or the color of your skin, to a land of warped christianity, twisted history, and perverse values. Trump supporters — the MAGA — hungrily embrace his efforts, gleefully spreading lies and denying history, showing aggressive willingness to undermine and dismantle democracy regardless of the means, regardless of what the US Constitution and Bill of Rights might say, or the rule of law. “There’s no one like you,” I think of them, but I know there are millions like them, and millions more around the world.
No wonder The Neurons dragged “No One Like You” by the Scorpions into the morning mental music stream (Trademark imperiled). “There’s no one like you,” they sing in the song. I could hear them singing that about Trump in a disparaging way. No one like you, lying and cheating, misleading and whining, squealing with hate against justice, opponents, and anyone who is different than him, claiming everyone is being mean to him. No one like you, MAGA supporters, bleating about how great Trump is, ignoring all the disasters and failures which pepper his existence, the rapes he’s been accused of, his affairs, or his constant lying. Except there are others emulating Trump in DeSantis, Abbott, the ‘Moms for Liberty’. There are GOP legislators around the nation eagerly banning books, dismantling the education system, disenfranchising voters. There are too many like those close minded, repressive individuals.
Sunshine breaks out but rain is falling. Traffic streams by, throwing up small wakes. A long, thick, wide black cloud is coming over the northern mountains, darkening the land below it.
I didn’t mean to get on to this bandwagon today, but after the GOP ‘debates’ last night, my irritation was renewed.
Be strong, stay positive, and lean forward. The coffee is going down nicely. Think I’ll have more. Here’s the music. Cheers
It was a grim task set before me. I, not a fan of tasks and less enamored of those tasks of the grim variety, didn’t relish taking it up. But duty, right.
All were assembled around the table. Leaning forward so they could see me, looking around, I loudly said, “I have a question for you.” I waited for silence, which came fast and cast another check on their attention; all were regarding me. “Do you wear socks in the shower?” I asked.
Staring followed, then questions. What, what are you talking about, and say that again was heard among the ten facing me, along with some sputtering, uncertain laughing.
“Do you wear socks in the shower?” I repeated.
“No,” several responded, and then a few inquired, “Why are you asking that?”
“Well, my wife read an article about bizarre things people from different states do, and she read that people in Oregon like to shower with their socks on. Then she asked me, ‘Have you ever heard of this?’ No, I told her. She said, ‘I’ve never showered with my socks on, but I don’t shower.’ I told her, ‘I shower, but I don’t wear my socks.'” Then we talked more and realized, maybe people do this but don’t talk about it because it’s a normal routine for them, so they see no need to speak about it. So, I said that I’d ask you guys, my beer group.”
“No,” all chorused, fully laughing now. “None of us wear our socks in the shower.”
Satisfied that the grim task was done, I sat back and sampled my ale. It was very good.
Cruoof(floofinition) – An intense fatuation with an animal. Origins: Internet, 2022
In Use: “After arriving as a rescue dog at Sara, the senior lab immediately developed a cruoof on the kittens Sara was fostering, inviting them to cuddle and play with him, and watching over them when they ate.”
In Use: “Butterscotch had a cruoof on Mocha, always running to him when she saw him, and grazing beside him as he ate.”
Recent Use: “Lisa developed a cruoof on her aunt’s Bernese Mountain Dog, Samwise, and within a few minutes, the dog seemed to have the same feelings for the four-year-old as the two spent the rest of the day side by side.”
Do you ever imagine that invisibile beings surround you, watching what you’re doing when you’re in your home alone, commenting on it to each other?
They seem to come in three flavors: aliens from space, time travelers from the future, and deceased individuals — especially family — returned as spirits. What they say and how they watch varies, depending upon which group they’re in, and their intentions.
So, for example, aliens crowd around you in the kitchen as you clean up, remarking upon the cultural significance of your routine, applauding your efficiency (or lack of it), comparing it to their own processes and habits.
It’s foggy in Ashlandia again. Fog closed in on our fair town, where the mountains are low and the valley is narrow, yesterday afternoon. The for went away for the night and returned this morning, along with a doughnut sprinkle of rain that’s expected to keep up intermittently for the day. It’s all part of the season called aunter, which falls in the last third of fall, bringing dampness, dark days, and cold air, and winter, when the snow is summoned.
But look out. It’s 45 F now but we’re gonna get warmer, even broaching the sixties, maybe, they say, maybe getting as warm as 66F. Not bad for a aunter day.
This is Wednesday, December 26, 2023.
I was in a Dollar Store with my wife yesterday. She’s planning a holiday gift for her exercise class instructor. My spouse has been going to this class since 2005. The instructor is 78 and has been telling people what to do to music since the early 1980s. She’s quite popular. My wife became friends with her over exercising and books. My wife and two others, who were then known as the Woo-Woo girls, started talking about books they were reading as they warmed up before class. Soon the instructor joined, and then a few others, giving rise to the Ladies’ Most Excellent Book Club, which became the book club. They limit it by vote to ten people, and they’re serious readers. We’ll be going to the instructors’ house for a traditional Swedish smorgasborg later this month.
Anyway, as part of the holidays, my wife has started a new tradition of collecting money and signing a card for the instructor. The instructor rarely keeps the money, either donating it to families who need it, or to local causes with the food bank. My wife likes going to the Dollar Store for supplies. It might be a Dollar Tree store; I don’t pay attention. I know they’re no longer a store where things are a dollar or less. But yesterday surprised me.
The dollar store has restaurant and big box store gift cards, along with iTunes gift cards. Many were for $25 or $50. I didn’t bother asking the busy staff it the cards sold for a dollar. They’ve probably heard that joke, and nothing on that end cap display said, “Olive Garden $50 Gift Card: One Dollar”.
It’s just more evolution for the dollar store trio who combined into one business entity a few years ago. I remember first going to one of them thirty years ago after moving back to the United States. I was like, everything in the store is for sale for a dollar? Why, yes, that was exactly the premise: a dollar or less. Being in the military, not getting paid much, and liking a bargain, we went frequently to the Dollar Tree or Dollar Store to get household cleaning supplies, notebooks and paper supplies — including greeting cards — and whatever little bargains we found.
Sad that the stores have changed their philosophy, but that’s how progress works. I guess. At least we’ll someday be able to tell future generations that there used to businesses which sold things for a dollar. They’ll probably ask us, “What’s a dollar?”
An apartment building neighbors us not too far away. With the leaves out of the trees, I can see some of their upper windows from my backyard. Yesterday, I saw a cat in one of the windows. It’s not the first cat I’ve seen in the building, so it’s not that remarkable. This was a fine looking cat, young and slender-appearing, sitting erect as a statue in that graceful cat manner we so often see. White with calico spots, it was intently watching me. I wondered if the cat was lonely and I hoped that it was’t.
That tiny reflection invited The Neurons to offer a song to the mental music stream, where it continues in the morning mental music stream (Trademark nutty). “Only the Lonely” by The Motels, not to be confused with “Only the Lonely” by Roy Orbison, came out in 1982. So it’s for that cat and the other floofs alone and watching that this song is offered as Wednesday’s theme music.
Stay pos and strong, and lean in. Coffee has arrived at the brain center, exciting The Neurons. Here we go, off to start the day. And here’s the music. Cheers
Don’t be misled by the misleading headline for this breaking news. Tuberville still maintains a chokehold on promotions for four-star generals, which are generally (ha, yeah, couldn’t be helped) the most critical senior leadership position.
He’s still a terrorist posing as a Senator, undermining the nation at a critical time as nail-biting situations continue around the world.
“I’m releasing everybody. I still got a hold on I think 11 four-star generals. Everybody else is completely released from me.” Tuberville told reporters. “But other than that, it’s over.”
What bull. What absolute arrogance. He should have never been holding these promotions up. It was political grandstanding and hypocrisy at its worse.
Wish the Florida-living senator from Alabama will get voted out of office but he won’t because he was a college football coach, and Alabama loves its football. He’s an empty head, parroting MAGA points, standing with Trump in calling the 2020 POTUS election “stolen”, and fighting against climate change legislation because he doesn’t think it’ll amount to anything for the next 400 years. Just like Trump, he knows better than the military; he knows better than the scientists and refuses to believe any evidence presented to him.
So just remember Tuberville when the extreme weather increases and causes more damages and deaths, when hurricanes ramp up faster and become more intense, wildfires strike more states, and drought causes more water shortages and crop loss, and thank the voters of Alabama.
Michael Seidel, writer 