Thirstda’s Wandering Political Thoughts
Once again, without much urging, I think, what fucking idiots.
Unfortunately, I’m in that frame of mind many times as I read the news. This time, the fucking idiots are lawyers.
Lawyers are supposedly smart people. That’s what I’ve always been told. Admittedly, the few lawyers I’ve personally encountered did reduce my appreciation for lawyers’ intelligence. Now, after watching the news for the last five years, I feel that they standards have been steadily dropping. Did you read their arguments about the ‘stolen election’? Did you see their performance in Trump’s trials? Did you read about the Roberts Court decision that Trump has immunity for his acts as POTUS? Sure, they tried to write around it and explain that it’s not absolute. You can bet your ass that Trump is thinking, “I’m President, and I’m making these decisions, and the Supreme Court said that I can’t be tried for that.”
Yes, it was a stupid fucking decision.
I’m telling you, lawyers are dumbing down. Soon, the requirements for being a lawyer will be, “Do you speak English, have five million dollars, and will vow allegiance to the great and mighty sacred god, Donald Trump? Here you go: you’re a lawyer.”
The kickoff for this new round of low regard for lawyers was a New York Times headline:
Law Firms Made Deals With Trump. Now He Wants More From Them.
“To avoid retribution, big firms agreed to provide free legal services for uncontroversial causes. To the White House, that could mean negotiating trade deals — or even defending the president and his allies.“
Absolute fucking fools, I think. Fucking idiots. Have these lawyers not been awake and aware of Donald fucking Trump for the last twenty years? He lacks honor. Has gone back on his word several times, describing it as being ‘flexible’. His only principle is, “How can I further enrich myself?” Secondary to that is, “How can I make others pay for making fun of me and not worshipping me as the greatest ever?” The man is a documented liar. He violated his marriage vows with affairs. He will cheat these law firms out of every fucking dollar and shred of dignity they have.
Capitulating to Trump is not the answer. Reading and thinking individuals know this. Michael Cohen warned us. So I want to know: how did these lawyers get their degrees and pass the bar without being able to fucking read and think?
Thirstda’s Theme Music
The cat and I agree. It’s not as warm out as we expected from eyeballing the scene. The full sunshine just isn’t cutting the notorious north wind playing in the trees. Papi, ever hopeful, keeps making the trek out through the door, only to beat the window within ten minutes, his cat signal to get back in. I don’t blame him. That batting wind inspires a change in my dressing plans.
It’s Thirstda, April 17, 2025. 59 F and sunny, 72 will rise on the thermometer before the day’s end. I think the wind will have me rethinking how it feels, though.
Our city is going through some budget wrassling. Parks and Rec, as ever, wants to hire more people, buy more land for parks, develop more parks. A continuous battle has been transpiring between Parks and the City and citizenry for years. Parks wanted to be given all tax monies gained from the local sales tax. Oregonians are anti-sales tax. Ashland’s sales tax is often cited for reasons why others in the area won’t eat in the town. It’s only prepared food that’s taxed. Five percent. Outrageous, the anti-sales taxers cry.
Things came to a head last night with Parks and the City Council. Parks wanted $9 a month tack onto every household’s monthly utility bill to pay for more Parks stuff. They threatened layoffs, closures, and cutbacks if that doesn’t happen. The city itself is already planning cutbacks in services because of a budget deficit. The populace is already balking at a lot of this. Ashland’s water rates are already high. Hikes are planned to build a new water treatment plant. It’s a quite contentious thing.
Of course, the city’s plan for its new water treatment plant take a huge step backward this year. Trump cut FEMA plans and fundings. Ashland’s water treatment plant was due to receive a $50 million grant from FEMA’s Flood Mitigation Assistance Grant Program that was created by Congress as part of BRIC. Trump ended that program. “Wasteful,” declared the orange White House occupant.
Today’s music is from Bon Jovi. I’m not particularly fond of “Wanted Dead or Alive”. I think the lyrics are a little silly with lines like “a loaded six string on my back”. What is a loaded six string? Well, Jon Bon Jovi wrote the song. He explained that this song is about the rough rock star touring life. How exhausting it all is. His lyrics were inspired by comparisons with ‘wild-west outlaws’ and the Bob Seger song, “Turn the Page”. So I cut the song some slack.
Not caring about any of that, The Neurons have the song going in the morning mental music stream. I tried to pin them down on their reasoning. That’s like trying to get an explanation from the cat about why the food he loved last week is not acceptable this week.
I’ve had some coffee and I’m feeling alright. Hope some magic comes your way and makes good things happen for you. Time to work on making Thirstda real. Cheers
Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts
It’s Wenza. Middle and high school are in session. You know what that means.
2:03 PM, the murmuration of children begins. Noises double in decibels and echo like we’re in a gym. Screeches, shouts, laughter, blow out my ear drums in three second sound bites.
Cliques form. Tables and chairs are hunted. Backpacks are dumped. A line snakes out from the counter. Drinks are ordered, picked up, shared, consumed.
Happens every Wenzda when school is in session in Ashlandia.
Oddly, today, besides the sounds and visuals, the school children bring in smells of a lunchtime cafeteria. It could be roast turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s just memory of another time making itself known.
Wenzda’s Wandering Political Thoughts
Time Magazine offered us insights into how world leaders reacted to Trump’s tariffs.
Reading of some intelligent responses to what’s the madman in D.C. is doing was uplifting. The excerpt from Sweden had me head nodding.
Sweden’s Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson said in a Wednesday statement that Sweden is “well prepared for what’s happening now.” At the same time, he underscored: “We don’t want growing trade barriers. We don’t want a trade war. That would make our populations poorer and the world more dangerous in the long run.”
“Free enterprise and competition have laid the foundations of the West’s success. That’s why Americans can listen to music on Swedish Spotify and we Swedes can listen to the same music on our American iPhones,” Kristersson said.
Ulf Kristersson clearly gets it. He sees what the trade war and tariffs would do to the global economy and why that’s probably a bad idea.
Jealously bites me in the ass. Why can’t we have an intelligent and capable person like that leading us in the United States?
Yes, I know that this is a thumbnail sketch of Ulf Kristersson. He’s conservative. While he’s reasonable about tariffs, he might harbor strange, dark view about other matters. At least he seems to have principles. That’s more than I can say about conservatives bending their knee to Trump.
The House Dream
I dreamed my wife and I were setting up a business. But we needed a place for that. Someone overheard us and said that they have such a place available: their house.
So, we, with the couple who owned their house and several of their friends, went to the people’s house. My wife and I walked around it. Beautiful place. Several levels. Large, off-white, a modern design, resembling something Frank Lloyd Wright may have designed in the way it used light, space, and materials, it was well-appointed with expensive furniture, appliances, and paintings.
My wife and I were impressed. The owners showed us a central rectangular room where they’d set up a small factory. My wife and I agreed, “This would be perfect for us.” Yes, others agreed. The way they said it cause some suspicions. Realizing that, the others tried reassuring me. My suspicions remained but I inquired about buying the house. It was agreed that we could buy it right then and move in.
The original owners had another house on their property. We were now neighbors. People had to go through our property on foot to reach the other house. My wife and I invited friends over for a small gathering. Our cat was with us, exploring the new home and giving its approval. We sat with our friends in the living room, talking, having drinks.
A man burst in through a door. Large, middle-aged, he was armed with several knives. He was also drunk. I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his side. Then I wrangled him onto a sofa and shouted to my wife to grab the knives while I held him. She came over but did nothing. I repeated what I’d told her but she barely responded. Finally, exasperation seizing me, I held the man’s wrists and pried the knives way.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked my wife. “Why didn’t you do anything?”
She moved away and sat. It seemed like she was in shock.
I held onto the man’s shoulders and told him, “Don’t even think about running away.” Drunkenly grinning, he agreed. I told others to call the police.
The man looked familiar. A friend said, “Don’t you recognize him?”
I asked the man, “What’s your name?”
He said it, and my friend said, “He was an NFL quarterback.” I asked for confirmation. Beaming, the drunk guy replied, “That’s me.” Then he jumped up and ran out of the house. I started giving chase but stopped, thinking, WTF?
A large number of people were outside, moving like ants toward the other house. They were expensively dressed. I asked one, “What’s going on?” She explained that they were all invited to a party.
They were a quiet crowd. I guess several hundred were there. I organized them into a line along the path, although I don’t know why I did that. The bottleneck was the front door of the other house.
Dream end.
Wenzda’s Theme Music
“Meeyouow,” the cat says.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand what that means.” I guess, treats, water, outside, attention, scratching, Lassie’s in the well? Papi keeps talking. He’s a chatty cat this morning.
I’m less so but have been talking to my computer. My computer doesn’t say much but it’s a good listener. Never interrupts. Most of my words are sentences of disbelieving comments about some of the things I’m reading. There is some spirited cursing thrown in. Like, the thirty thousand eggs the White House is using in this time of high egg prices has me saying some things to my monitor. Poor optics, as if the man gives a shit ’bout optics. He wants the eggs.
“They were saying that for Easter ‘please don’t use eggs. Could you use plastic eggs?’ I say we don’t want to do that,” Trump said earlier this month during remarks announcing a new tariff policy.
Yes, so, there you go.
It is Wenzda, April 16, 2025, 64 F, and sunny. Yesterday clipped 79 F. That’s a good temperature to enjoy when it’s a hot sun and cool breeze. Nice combo. I’ll probably order that regularly once we’re living in virtual reality and ordering our weather. Snow still whitens some higher peaks and ridges, such as Mt. Ashland. The green trees and white mountains dazzle in the sunlit blue sky. I went out and pulled weeds. The front area is a weeded, cut and trimmed. The back yard is a tall grass, weedy, bee and pollinator paradise. We’re seeing few bees so far this year.
Today’s theme music is “It’s Good to Be King”. This is a 1995 Tom Petty song. My Neurons slotted it into the morning mental music stream after reading many of the things Trump said and do. Yes, he acts like the American King which our founders warned us about.
Coffee has landed in my gullet again. Time to rock on through another day, though it might be a slow-paced rock. Hope the best for you. Cheers
High-Level BS, Starbucks Style
Yes, Starbucks is a corporation and has the right to establish a dress code. But don’t try to justify it with such grade school logic.
BTW, we know that what matters most to you is the bottom line of profits and loss. Don’t kid a kidder.
Floofweg
Floofweg (floofinition) – Chief navigable space, such as a path through a room, which constitutes the boundary line between clowders, herds, flocks, and packs. Origins: High Old Floofman, from tailswag.
In Use: “The dogs had their beds, and the cats had their trees, boxes, and beds, forcing Ali to follow a careful floofweg when she had treats to ensure the delicate balance of power wasn’t disrupted.”
In Use: “The established cats and dogs expected the floofweg to be respected but the kittens spilled across the boundary with careless, exuberant energy.”
