Author: Michael Seidel

Science fiction, fantasy, and mystery writer. Singer (sorry, no shows) & nudist (in my home). Beer, cat, cheese, coffee, pie and wine friend. Left IBM and Silicon Valley for the southern Oregon life but I miss the ocean. We're too far inland. Gotta move.

Mundaz Theme Music

A thin grey cloud layer is sliding in. Eastern sunshine sings off the dwindling golden leaves hanging on the neighborhood trees. Autumn has a firm grip on Munda, November 3, 2025, in Ashlandia. 50 F, showers are going to visit amid an attempt to reach 62 F.

Sis made stuffed green peppers with the final harvest from her garden. The peppers were smallish, she said. Gave two to Mom with mashed taters. Mom ate one pepper and all of her potatoes, so she was rewarded with a cookie for dessert. Mom has been sharper, and sis, conversing with Mom, reports that Mom barely recalls what happened in the week in which Frank died. Mom acknowledged to several of us that it was a deeper shock than she realized. I think she’s happy to be out of the house where she and Frank spent more than twenty years together between their dating and living arrangements. I know from losses that every look around a corner and usual routine delivers a stab of painful realization about the loss. I’m like Mom so I believe that’s what she was feeling. And that pattern rocks emotions and disrupts focus. Prying her from her home was a good move. I think Mom even is beginning to realize that.

Sis is talking about putting a stair glide in her house for Mom. Sis’s house is a split level. Mom is in the lower level. A stair glide would provide her with more independence. While true, I worry that more independence and movement will also provide Mom with more falling opportunities. Fingers crossed, I’m wrong if the stair glide is installed.

Today’s theme music is “Blue Monday” by New Order. You must address questions about it to The Neurons. I was minding my own business as I went about the biznez of breakfast when The Neurons put it into the morning mental music stream. Here’s the part that was bumping through the MMMS.

How does it feel
To treat me like you do?
When you’ve laid your hands upon me
And told me who you are?

I thought I was mistaken
I thought I heard your words
Tell me, how do I feel?
Tell me now, how do I feel?

Those who came before me
Lived through their vocations
From the past until completion
They’ll turn away no more

h/t to Bing.

Been a full month since the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 began, hasn’t it? Sure, started October 1, 2025, didn’t it? Trump has been too busy golfing and partying to end this shutdown. It’s like he’s channeling the spirit of his old smirking partner, Jeffrey Epstein.

As Donald Trump said about a shutdown before:

I mean, problems start from the top and they have to get solved from the top. And the president’s the leader and he’s got to get everybody in a room and he’s got to lead. And he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t like doing that. That’s not his strength.

Like a stopped clock, Trump is right: the problems of this country start with him. He’s not a leader. It’s not his strength. He can’t even get everybody in a room.

I read about Trump complaining about the NFL’s revised kickoff rules introduced last season.

“I HATE WATCHING THE NFL’S NEW KICK OFF RULE,” Trump wrote.

“IT’S RIDICULOUS — TAKES THE PAGEANTRY AND GLAMOUR AWAY FROM THE GAME, AND DOES NOTHING FOR SAFETY.

“THEY SHOULD CHANGE BACK TO WHAT IT USED TO BE. HOPEFULLY COLLEGE FOOTBALL WILL NEVER MAKE THIS RIDICULOUS CHANGE! IN THE MEANTIME, I’M GETTING READY TO WATCH PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP (ME!) ON 60 MINUTES.”

Well, one, it’s RIDICULOUS HOW HE TYPES IN ALL CAPS. Two, if it’s so offensive, turn it off. As I did you, on 60 Minutes.

Does Trump have a point about the NFL kickoff rules. Well, I bow to his extensive football career.

Donald J. Trump football record by position, including regular and post season, professional, amateur and coaching, by year and results.

(This space intentionally left blank)

It compares favorably with his RIDICULOUS MILITARY SERVICE RECORD, doesn’t it?

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Very impressive.

Gotta go on to other things. Watching for peace and grace’s arrival through the front window. Should be here any minute now. I’ll just have some coffee while I wait. Cheers

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Rattlefloof

Rattlefloof (floofinition) – An animal who behaves in a flighty or silly manner. Origins: 1707, from The Book of Floofs & Other Mysteries.

In Use: “Just as the house settled for a quiet post-dinner reading and talking, the rattlefloof known as Digit galloped into the room, leaping over tables and chairs and non-stop talking before sprinting away with the sound of claws scrambling for traction on the hardwood floor.”

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Tech Phone

Suzanne’s post about her phone trying to … Well, I don’t want to spoil it. Her post had me laughing with sufficient joy that I had to share it with my wife. Partly it’s because Suzanne is a wonderful writer and this is hilarious, but also because we’ve experienced these things with our phones and Alexa and other computer and technology that’s supposed to be helpful but often seems to be messing with us. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Calling Jeff Goldblum
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Who We Are

I awoke with these words in mind, after a dream about robots and yardwork.

There’s a time for everything in this life

A time for living

A time for dying

A time for being

And one for seeing

A time for hearing

A time for bearing

A time for song

A time for bong

And for some, a time for pong

A time to be rich

A time to fade away

A time to laugh, love, live,

A time to run away

A time to come up

And a time to go down

A time for expression

A time to act like a clown

A time for understanding

And a time for listening

And a time for speaking

A time to stand up

And a time to sit down

A time to eat, sleep, and breathe

And a time to stop it all

And sit like dirt in the ground

And fly like dust on the air

And lift yourself out to go somewhere

To live and breathe along the stars

And at last discover

Who we are.

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Sundaz Theme Music

November 2, 2025, has taken hold. It firmly established that today’s season is autumn. Golden leaves are becoming golden brown leaf drifts. Naked branches shiver with the wind. 45 F now, worry not because today’s high will zoom to 57 F. Must say, yesterday’s 68 felt like a faux offering.

We lit a candle for Steve at 5 PM yesterday, per his widow’s request. That flame called to mind Frank, but also Chuck. Chuck is Bonnie’s hubby. I met him but twice, I think. Now he’s into hospice. Mom, meanwhile, has bounced back in a strong way. Physical therapy is being scheduled. This is Mom’s way, to bounce back, gain confidence and strength, only to be zapped by some new fall, injury, or organ issue. Been going on for a decade. Each time she bottoms out, it’s a little deeper, and the crawl out is slower and more energy consuming. We talked together about an actor dying when they were 100, June Lockhart. Mom said, “I don’t think I’ll get anywhere near that,” with glum introspection.

Today’s music is another gift of The Neurons. “I Wouldn’t Want to Be Like You” is a 1977 Alan Parsons Project creation. The song popped up in the morning mental music stream as I read about Trumpy’s Halloween gala, the one thrown while so many sink deeper into food insecurity.

Here are the lyrics, offered up by Songmeanings.

If I had a mind to
I wouldn’t want to think like you
And if I had time to
I wouldn’t want to talk to you

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

If I was high class
I wouldn’t need a buck to pass
And if I was a fall guy
I wouldn’t need no alibi

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

Back on the bottom line
Diggin’ for a lousy dime
If I hit a mother lode
I’d cover anything that showed

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

I did a glance of the news. Did Trump recall the time he landed on the moon? He was the first one there, took the first steps for man, “Beautiful steps,” he said, “everyone told me they were the most perfect steps. They couldn’t believe how perfect they are.”

I imagine that somewhere in Trump’s altered reality, he’s a great friend to people of color and a champion to the poor. Bet he remembers marching across the bridge and standing for integration at Selma. Bet he recalls a time when he landed at Normandy and fought the Germans, who, he thought, “Were pretty good guys, really, just working hard, doing their jobs.” Trump believes with a glint of teary eyes, he is as persecuted as Jesus, nailed to a cross. Then he wipes the tears away, visits his new cold, black and white, dull, creativity-empty bathroom, beaming at its wonderful hard angles and linear symmetry, and then goes out and golfs, because he deserves a break. MAGAts everywhere breathlessly applaud, then hurry to buy meat before the prices go up, happy they have an extra freezer to store it because it’s gonna get pricy, they’ve heard the fake news, scowling at the homeless, stepping around the poor, reminding themselves to clean the house, because cleanliness is next to godliness.

Meanwhile, is that Epstein in the clouds, smirking at Trump, remembering how they used to run together, shaking his head with a laugh and whispering, “Oh, that Donnie. He never changes. He just gets more Donnie.” Perhaps someday they’ll meet and Trump will regale Epstein with details about how he starved the poor during the Great Epstein Government Shutdown of 2025. “You should’ve seen them, Jeffie,” Trump says, then launches into a mocking imitation of a person begging for food. “Please, we’re starving.” The two bodies shake with merriment.

Hope grace and peace find us today and every day. Even for just a nano. Coffee has found me and is shaking hands with some Neurons, making plans. I’m sure they’ll let me know what’s going on in a little bit. Cheers

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Satyrdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

Here it is again.

Yes, it’s a day that ends with the letter y. That means that PINO Trump is letting loose with another fact-free, incredibly stupid text. In this case, Trump is declaring that he as 47 has won the Nobel Prize in Physics. This is so mind-jarringly freakin’ insane that I had to vet it several times.

How Trump just subtly claimed a Nobel Prize in physics

In a post on his Truth Social platform Thursday, Trump appeared to take credit for the Nobel Prize in Physics, which was awarded to physicists John Clarke, Michel Devoret and John Martinis earlier this month for their discoveries related to quantum mechanics in 1984 and 1985.

Trump cited a statement, attributed to Energy Secretary Chris Wright, which appears to give the president credit over the experiments conducted decades ago.

See, Chris Wright is not the name of any of the physicists who won the Nobel Prize in Physics.

But Trump in his alternate reality thinks one of them is named Chris Wright. Chris Wright, a former CEO. Crazy Donnie’s statement states, “Chris Wright: ‘A former Lawrence Berkeley National Lab scientist won the Nobel Prize in physics for work in Quantum physics. Quantum computing, along with AI and Fusion, are the three signature Trump science efforts. Trump 47 racks up his first Nobel Prize!!’”

Chris Wright.

John Clarke, Michel Devoret, John Martinis.

Those names are not at all similar. To claim it as an honest mistake is all kinds of BS.

Further, though, and worse, Trump chalks this up as a victory for himself. He had nothing to do with any of it. What a liar and a fool he’s proven himself to be once again. But as Nan put it, yet, yet, yet, Trumpets are quite satisfied with this idiot leading them.

What unthinking, foolish sheeple they are in MAGAland. But as we’ve seen, they don’t care until they’re personally affected.

Then, of course, it’s too late.

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Disappointment

I was visiting my sister at her house. She, her husband, my wife, niece, her boyfriend, Mom, and I were chatting. All present are Democrats at the least and progressive for the most part. Liberals. Most of our previous conversation included invectives aimed right at Trump and the Trump Regime minions destroying our nation. Then, lo, sis said, “I’m okay with him destroying those boats and killing those drug dealers.”

I was so horrified.

She went on to say, “They know who those people are.”

“Really? The people we were just talking about ‘know’ who those people are in those boats? Those people we just talked about? The ones who lie about anything and everything? You trust them to correctly and intelligently inform us that the people they’re killing in those boats are drug dealers just on their word?”

That was just the opening salvo. Yeah, I ranted. I pointed out that the U.S. military isn’t supposed to be used as wholesale executioners, killing non-combatants or civilians who are not actively attacking United States troops. Pointed out that this takes a huge step around due process and justice. Depends on the single word of a single individual to declare who is a criminal and who is guilty, all without presenting any evidence. And that person who we’re trusted that process to is a well-known liar, an untrustworthy individual named Donald J. Trump. That on its own is terrible but what it does as precedence for the rule of law is monstrously worse.

Further, I added, cuz I was not done, further, haven’t we learned from history? This is the start down the same path of pseudo warfare and lawlessness we pursued before as national policy, policy which ultimately culminated with the attacks of 9/11 that killed thousands of United States citizens, attacks which were then used with manipulated evidence to attack the nations of Iraq and Afghanistan. Where did that lead us? What did we gain from attacking those nations and killing those people and sacrificing so many of our own citizens in fruitless war?

“I don’t care,” sis said. “I want those drug dealers dead.”

Yeah. Disappointed. Angry.

Sad.

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