Humpda’s Theme Music

The cat agrees with me. It’s a nice day to rest. Allergies have me nose snorking. My throat feels a little sore and inflamed. I wonder over whether it’s allergies or some other new diseases encouraged my Trump’s feckless management.

Trump is quite the feckless person these days, pivoting from idea to idea. Feels like we’re being guided by a two-year-old who is just discovering words.

Outside, the weather is better than my mood. Sunshine skips between clouds. It’s 50 F but feels warmer. Springier. A mild wind sometimes lashes nature into movement. It might touch 70 F today. I had plans but my whining side is undermining them.

I smirk as I read news of Trump supporters like Joe Rogan, Ben Shapiro, et al, barking and whining about Trump’s tariffs. Will he listen to the shitheels? Questionable. They encouraged him to be who he is. Supported him all the way. Told others to do the same. That’s probably confusing and irritating to puppy Trump and the pack. “Why’d you vote me in when I told you I would do this, only to turn around and tell me not to do that after I’ve been voted in?”

Painful as this is, we wouldn’t be enduring this pain if those people — those ‘influencers’ — thought more about what was going on and what was going to happen. But oh, no, eggs! So ‘pensive! Border! Fear! Kamala is a woman! Female POTUS — so scawy!

Now look at their worry and fear. Who let the dog out?

Reading these things, pondering them as coffee warms my throat, The Neurons bring “Mad World” by Tears for Fears into the morning mental music stream. That makes total sense.

Yes, coffee is warming me but it’s giving little comfort. Trump’s supporters are turning on him but that’s also offering little comfort. GOP reps are supposedly resisting Trump’s budget and tariffs. That gives me little comfort. They’ve proven themselves to be feckless and spineless. Like that Mitch McConnell, basically declaring with a pout, “Oh, no, he’s going too far.”

You created that monster, fool.

My wife passed “Death of the Author” to me after she finished reading it. She said, “You’ll thank me later.” I think I’ll go read a book.

Cheers

Twosda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

I had an interesting exercise a short while ago. On a writing break to stretch my butt and water my mouth, I perused some NYT to chill before returning to my regular scheduled writing plan.

This really caught my attention. It’s the articles trending in the NYTimes. I noticed it when I finished reading an article about the Jeju aircraft crash that took place last December.

It’s quickly apparent that Trump’s moves are dominating stories at this venue. Ponder those titles. They reveal the divisiveness, uncertainty, and chaos Trump is causing. Those few stories that try to spin Trump’s actions as a ‘good thing’ are written by conservatives. Surprise, right?

BTW, that piece titled, “Opinion: Trump Has Everything Under Control” is the regular Gail Collins and Bret Stephens piece. It is not a positive piece about Trump.

Gail Collins: OK, Bret, I know you can’t tell the future, but give me a prediction. Will President Trump’s tariffs go down as one of the 100 worst decisions in presidential history? 50? 10?

Bret Stephens: As an economic matter, possibly the worst presidential decision ever. Say what you will about Herbert Hoover, but he was an honorable public servant who didn’t have the benefit of hindsight when he signed the Smoot-Hawley tariff into law in 1930. As a foreign policy matter, it’s at least in the top five worst. It’ll be a few months before we see the full consequences in terms of reciprocal tariffs, broken alliances, destroyed trust and an America that has dethroned itself from global economic leadership. And don’t be surprised if it leads to war, as global economic upheavals often do.

Other than that, Gail, it was a great week. Like millions of other Americans, I barely noticed losing a big chunk of my net worth. Can’t wait for all the price increases to kick in.

As for many other articles in this list, they often feature conservatives now bemoaning what Trump is doing to the United States and world economy. None of these stories were long. I read them all. What emerged to me was how many were still coping with Trump’s chaos as if this was a surprise. Come on, man, where were you people getting your news?

Twosda’s Wandering Thoughts

I’m in shock.

I tell my wife, “I’m wearing over eight hundred dollars worth of clothes.”

She looks me over. “Gold-plated underwear?”

“That wouldn’t be comfortable nor practical.” I reconsider the gold-plated undies for a few more seconds. “How would that work?”

“Why are your clothes so pricy?”

“My socks,” I admit.

I’m wearing my compression stockings, as the medical ‘they’ likes to label them. I received a statement about them last night. Review, sign, return. Custom made in Germany to help me cope with lymphedema, the statement reveals that each stocking costs $366.

I explain this to my wife. “Good thing that they’re paid for by Medicare and Tricare for Life. I would have never bought these on my own.”

“No. You’re not comfortable with a pair of shoes that costs over a hundred dollars,” my wife says.

This is true. Fashion doesn’t interest me. I like to be practical. Today’s shoes cost me about sixty. They’re several years old. My jeans are a pre-COVID purchase. Forty dollars. My shirt was bought at an outlet store for $25, I think, over ten years ago. My Columbia fleece is even older. I think I bought it for $40 on sale. Other than the stockings, my undies are the newest things on my person.

Four more stockings are on the way. $366 each. I think about getting a safe to keep them safe.

I begin typing on my computer. Goldplate underwear for men is available at Kohl’s, a search result says. I click on the link. It comes up with gold-plated stainless-steel chains.

Just as well. I don’t think I’m up for gold-plated underwear.

Twosda’s Theme Music

The weather disappoints me. Sunshine awoke me. That’s faded. Clouds rolled in. Yesterday afternoon turned into a rain marathon. I hoped it rain itself out.

It’s not raining now. It’s just not my idea of ‘nice’. That term for weather has gained a narrower scope as I age.

Not just the weather disappointing me. Papi fractured my sleep with his complaining and in-and-out capades. “Are you getting revenge because we took you to the vet yesterday?”

The cat miaws back. Not his usual sound, which is an extended, “Eeeeppp.”

“I didn’t want to do it,” I tell him. That’s true. “It was for your own good.” Just as Mom used to tell me about almost everything upsetting me as a child.

The vet wants us to have the cat’s teeth worked on. “She’s aggressive about having his teeth worked on,” my wife says.

“She was the same with Tucker.” Tucker had all his teeth removed. “Poor Tucker.”

“He was happier after his teeth were taken out.”

Papi’s teeth estimate is $1900. It shocked us. “Should we do Papi’s teeth?” I ask.

“Let me think about it.”

That’s just how Mom used to say no.

Besides those things, recent SCOTUS rulings have me wringing my hands. Also, I read an article about how surprised financial advisors and stock brokers were that Trump actually went through with the tariffs.

“We’re stepping into the most pro-growth, pro-business, pro-American administration I’ve perhaps seen in my adult lifetime,” gushed the hedge fund manager Bill Ackman in December.

“I don’t think this was foreseeable,” a mournful Ackman posted on X on Monday. “I assumed economic rationality would be paramount.” What an odd assumption to make about a man who bankrupted casinos.

But it was foreseeable. Those of us who didn’t vote for Trump readily foresaw it.

I’m disappointed that Ackman and his kind didn’t foresee it. I’m disappointed that he didn’t believe us when we told him this was going to happen.

BTW, this is Twosda. April 8, 2025. It’s 52 F outside. Partly cloudy. It might rain.

The Neurons are playing “Lithium” by Nirvana in the morning mental music stream. The song was released in 1991. I was still a military member then. Just arrived back to the U.S. in Feb. that year after almost four years in Germany. I was assigned to Onizuka Air Station in California. Some good years were had there.

Nursing coffee, I hear a squeegee sound. The cat runs his wet pads on the door glass when he wants in. “Swqueek swqueek swqueek swqueek.” Sunshine is up. So is the wind. I let in the cat. He turns to me and says, “Merow?”

It’s One or Another

Daily writing prompt
If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?

I write fiction. I love writing novels. I don’t work so much on publishing them afterwards. Writing them is the fun of it. Fiction writing always lets me be other characters.

Today was typical. As I worked on the novel in progress, I was several characters. A mashup of genres, I told the muses that all genres are welcome in this tome. So, today, one of the principle characters in the scene was the talking dog, Sly.

Sly is a small dog. His name is short for Sylvester. Besides talking, he’s a thought reader. His owner is Instant, a rock and pop star who uses magic to enhance her performances and control her fans. They live on a starship named the Stellar Queen.

When Sly was introduced chapters ago, he came in to give specific warnings and revelations. When I thought about his voice and tone, I began imagining my father’s words coming out of Sly’s mouth. Thereafter, Sly’s behavior model is my father. Later, I realized with a start, Dad’s nickname among some of his friends is Sly. Kind of trippy. I named the dog before ever thinking about his behavior.

I think my favorite character in the novel, though, and the one who I would prefer to be, is Ari Four. As part of his modelling,another fictional character inspires him. That’s Uhtred of Bebbanburg, son of Uhtred, played by Alexander Dreymon in a television series called The Last Kingdom. The television series is based on a series of novels by Bernard Cornwell. Uhtred is based on some history, and Cornwell’s distant forebear. Besides sometimes acting irrational, staunchly adhering to principles when others urge him to abandon them, Uhtred is bold, loyal, and decisive. He’s willing to fight.

Ari Four is always urging, “We must do this now.” He speaks forcefully, as Uhtred would. If someone else is about to pull a sword, Ari Four will pull his first. That’s the thing about fiction writing. Like fiction reading and watching movies, plays, and television shows, you can let yourself be someone else for a while.

Even if it’s just your father, the dog.

Munda’s Wandering Thought

I visited Ashlandia’s Rite Aid. I haven’t been there in months. My Neurons go on an Easter egg hunt to remember when I was last there. “Before Christmas,” they suggest. They’re not sure.

The Rite Aid feels like a perfect metaphor for Ashlandia. It was doing well. Then they decided to modernize it. They enlarged the space. Stock was added. Alcohol and frozen food sections tripled in size. The store is adjacent to an Albertson’s, and across the street from two other stores which provide these offerings at low prices. Apparently, Rite Aid, with its consistently higher prices, thought they could grab some impulse buys from their pharmacy business. It’s only one of two pharmacies in town.

I think Rite Aid guessed wrong. A graveyard silence greets me when I enter. I seriously wonder if there’s anyone else in the store. Ideas of finding a pile of dead bodies come up. I finally see another person. They don’t look like a killer. Neither did Ted Bundy, I hear.

Many Rite Aid shelves are empty, same as my last visit. A solid offering of wines is available. Decent prices, too. I don’t have any wine needs. I move on.

I’m not here to shop. Our household has a continuing need to get rid of used things. Batteries, light bulbs, paints, and outdated prescriptions are part of that list. We have meds that haven’t been used since Obama’s first administration. Containers holding them line several shelves in a hall cupboard. Getting rid of these things is another first world blues matter for us.

My wife initiated this visit. “They have new drug disposal drop off locations. Blue boxes. There’s supposed to be one in Rite Aid. We should take a look.”

I volunteer to do it while I’m out. Missions like these are milk runs.

Using store layout knowledge, I find the blue box without problem. Instructions are provided. Open door. Drop in meds. Close door. Easy peasy.

The door won’t open. I look for releases and additional instructions. Try again. And again. Three tries are a charm, I hear.

A pharmacist comes over. “The box is locked,” he says. “You need to see a store employee to drop something off.”

Very convenient. Not. “That’s not what the instructions say,” I say. I point to the sign.

“Each store is given discretion to handle it as they want.”

“Shouldn’t some instructions be put up that you need to have an employee unlock and open it?”

“Probably. We had to do it. People were putting trash in.”

No probably about it to me. That would be good customer service. I look around the empty store and thank the pharmacist. He returns to his fortress.

I think I’m starting to see why Rite Aid has so many empty shelves.

Munda’s Theme Music

Munda’s arrived, spinning to a stop in April 7, 2025 in Ashlandia. Springy wet weather still holds here. 51 F, sunshine is having it way, but clouds are galloping in, narrowing the sun’s effect, filtering the light, darkening the day. Rain is expected. ‘They’ say our high will be 68 F. That’s what we were told yesterday. 61 F was the highest effort clocked at our house.

Quite a Hands-off turn out on April 5, 2025. These were protests against Trump’s policies and actions thus far. He’s been racing into oligarch/dictator mode since Jan. 20 of 2025. That’s when he uttered, “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.” Since then, he’s been doing anything but that. He’s ignored judges and rulings against him. He’s deported people without due process and is ignoring our system of checks and balances. So people went out there and spoke up to tell him that they don’t approve. Initial estimates said 3.5 million turned out. That’s been upgraded to 5 million.

I believe Trump went golfing in response.

BTW, Trump said in an interview that the protests have got to stop. Which means, they must be kept going.

The Neurons have parked “I’m Bad, I’m Nationwide” by ZZ Top in the morning mental music stream. That song was brought out of my mind’s dusty recesses when I was thinking about the nationwide protests. Ah, hah! See how clever The Neurons are? ZZ Top are a favorite group of mine. Saw them several times in concert. My enjoyment of them was kicked off with high school art class in 1973, when I was starting my senior year. We were permitted to listen to music as we did our projects. Scott brought in Tres Hombres. I never stopped listening.

Coffee has been re-introduced to my biosphere but more may be needed. Our ginger floof has an appointment to see how he is responding to treatment. Right in the middle of the bloody day. Oh, well. Gotta roll with it. May your day be right in all the good ways. Cheers

Stopping You There

Trump Said Auto Emissions Don’t Affect the Environment. That’s Not True.

President Trump announced on Monday that he planned to relax limits on pollution from cars, saying that the move wouldn’t “mean a damn bit of difference to the environment.”

But decades of science show that the pollution from automobile tailpipes has harmed the environment and public health, from the days when leaded gasoline sent neurotoxins into the air and soil to the carbon dioxide emissions that are heating the planet right now.

No need to read any further. ‘Decades of science’ means nothing to PINO Trusk. Those are facts. Facts do not count in Trumpworld. We’ve already seen that with vaccinations and COVID-19. Measles and vaccines. Anything and vaccines.

Trump’s vision for the United States is a dark and poisoned place.

He’s just a monster.

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