The Loop of Inanity
Once again, the Loop of Inanity swirled through my life. If you’re not aware of it, the Loop of Inanity is part of the Cycle of Enshittification.
Cory Doctorow coined enshittification for us. Miriam-Webster expanded on its meaning:
“Enshittification is an informal word used to criticize the degradation in the quality and experience of online platforms over time, due to an increase in advertisements, costs, or features. It can also refer more generally to any state of deterioration, especially in politics or society. Similar forms include enshittify and enshittified.”
As part of enshittification’s decay process, many companies will invoke the Loop of Inanity. The Loop of Inanity is recurring cycle in which an organization or system produces contradictory or self-defeating actions because its processes operate without shared awareness, accountability, or context.
In example: American Family Insurance provided my home and car insurance for several decades until a few years ago. A letter was received that they were no longer insuring homes in my area, southern Oregon. Oh, and since they weren’t insuring my home, I was no longer ‘bundled’. Therefore, my car insurance rates were increasing.
In response, I shopped for new home and auto insurance and canceled my policies with American Family Insurance.
Yet, here was a piece of mail from American Family Insurance asking for my business. Urging me to BUNDLE AND SAVE, they also assured me that I WAS PRE-APPROVED FOR THEIR INSURANCE.
Bite me, I said, tearing up the mail and tossing it.
American Family Insurance would have to be the last insurance company in the world before I’ll give them my business, because I don’t like how they gave me the business.
It’s all part of the enshittification of modern life.
Friday’s Theme Music
It’s a day of conflicting signals. Friday, February 6, 2026. Ashland began at 37 F at my house. Yesterday was gorgeous, dry as summer, warm as spring. Today has the southern sky hazy with a little gray with blue commanding the remaining vista. Highs will escalate into the mid to upper 60s.
Papi and I enjoyed sunshine in the back. He rolled around in warm grass while I cheered, declining his invitation to join him rolling around. Returning inside, I offered him some of my morning coffee, which he declined with a mild golden-eyed gaze.
I perused the news with a little edge of worry about what might have happened overnight or in the early hours. Yes, there was more bad news.
Trump posted an immature video on his social media account depicting former President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama as monkeys. After immediate and widespread criticism, the video was removed and a staffer was blamed.
Unfortunately, I think it undermines Trump’s assertions of being a unifier or peace president. Consistent, emerging patterns keep showing Trump as the opposite of peace and unity. His silence since matters as much as the initial posting, as a unifier would be out front, apologizing and taking responsibility.
Some probably theorize that Trump was trying to reinvigorate his base or that sharing the video was an effort to distract from the growing Epstein noise, or the less than impressive TrumpRx rollout. They may be correct, for all I know. Trump remains opaque and transparent.
The Neurons ended up feeding me “December” by Collective Soul in my morning mental music stream. I sang along, “Don’t scream aloud, don’t think aloud, turn your head, now baby, just spit me out.” A song written out of hope and frustration, it feels like a fitting song for today, after Trump disparaged the Obamas, who offered hope when they loved in the White House.
I hope Friday finds you safe and healthy. May peace and grace hold and carry you.
Cheers
The Brown Cougar Dream
My wife and I arrived at a resort hotel, meeting our friend, Bob and his wife. Real-life note: this is not the same Bob from my previous dreams, but a friend and co-worker from my military days. The wife in this dream wasn’t his real-life wife.
Bob, who was prematurely bald, had thick black in the dream. My wife and I had just arrived. Bob and his wife came by to greet us and make plans.
I noticed some filth on the ceiling. It disgusted me so I looked for something to clean it up. I found some spray and sprayed it all over but then needed a ladder and rag. A young hotel worker asked me what I was doing. I explained myself. He shook his head and reassured me, “Don’t worry about it, we have it covered. It’s not your problem.”
I went back into the room and noticed the spray had already made the ceiling mess almost invisible.
Bob and I ended up outside, where it was like a desert after a rainstorm. He was carrying a young animal he’d rescued. Noticing a young brown cougar down the hill, I followed behind Bob to protect him from the cougar and found a large stick to use as a weapon.
Waiting on a porch for Bob’s return, I saw the cougar watching me. As that registered, the cougar approached. Raising the stick, I yelled and made myself big.
Sitting down, the cougar asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m making myself big and making noises to scare you away.”
The cougar chuckled. “Did you really think that was going to work?”
“That’s what they tell us to do.”
“Anyway, you’re safe for now,” the cougar said, “but you scheduled to die tomorrow, and I’ll eat you.”
I was appalled and vowed not to let that happen.
The cougar shrugged. “It’s going to happen. It’s on the schedule.” He indicated a bright pink and blue poster. I read the poster but saw nothing about my death on it.
Back in the hotel room, I showered and cleaned up. Bob came by to see if I was ready. I told him that I needed to shower. I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower and then realized, what am I doing? I already showered.
I was now naked downstairs and needed to up to my room. Entering the stairwell, I caught a reflection of myself and found I was astonishingly good-looking — much younger, lean and muscular, with a thick head of dark brown hair swept to one side. As I started up the steps, a young woman entered.
“Eek,” she said, pretending to turn away. Covering her face with a hand, she looked at me between her fingers. “A naked man.”
I laughed and apologized, continuing up the steps, and encountered another woman. “Locked out without your clothes?” she mused.
“Yes, that’s what happened.”
She chuckled. “We’ve all been there.”
Now dressed, I joined Bob and our wives in another area of the resort. I saw the brown cougar in the crowd, watching me. I realized that I’d forgotten something in the room and needed to go back. Bob drew up a complex map, showing me where we were and how to get back to my room, 1004, at the top of the building. Although his map was detailed, I felt bewildered and said, “I’ll never find my way back through that maze.”
Bob said, “Alright, let me go with you, at least part of the way, until you know where you’re at.”
Dream end.
Bob and the House: Just Dreaming
My dream patterns have been disrupted. I dreamed but remembered little for several days. In fact, the only thing remembered for three days in a row was a friend’s appearance. Each night featured a snippet of Bob showing up.
In the first dream, I was busy with something, looked up, and saw Bob walking toward me. I said, “Hey, there’s Bob.” Bob walked past me without saying anything. I mused, “I wonder where Bob’s going.”
In the second and third dreams, each on separate nights, I saw Bob approaching. “Hey, there’s Bob.” Both these times ended up with Bob walking up to me but not speaking as the dream memory ended.
I told Bob about that last night. He responded, “Boy, I’d really like to explore that more.”
Meanwhile, I have a full and sharp memory of a dream from last night. I was at a house with my wife and familiars who may have been cousins. I think it was a wealthy aunt’s house. The resident was gorgeous, a place that celebrated wealth and luxury.
Yet, as I walked around, I noticed horrible details: toilets were full of urine and toilet paper. Showers were filthy with mold. They had a huge, beautiful driveway made of brick and cut stones, but a grimy black layer covered much of it.
Appalled, I began looking for cleaning supplies to address these things. Doing so, I opened cupboards, drawers, and closets. Supplies were found in chaotic piles. Separating pieces, I found rags, sponges, and cleaners.
My wife came by and asked, “What are you doing?” I explained, showing her the filthy toilets and showers, then took her out to the driveway.
As I talked about the driveway to my wife, I noticed a young woman cleaning part of the driveway with a pressure washer. Interrupting her work, I clarified what she was doing and then asked her to wash some of the black off another part. She responded, “I’m not supposed to work on that part.”
I said, “Can you do me a favor and wash it off a little so I can confirm what’s under it?”
She did, confirming what I thought. I showed my wife and remembered, “This part is really bad because they used to have an RV parked here. I’m going to get a power washer and clean it off.”
That’s where the dream ended.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Sunshine lit up the room today. It’s Thursday, February 5, 2026, in Ashland but the weather defies that date. Papi and I went out to the back patio and enjoyed sunshine.
“It feels balmy out,” Papi noticed.
“I agree,” I answered.
Oh, wait; reverse that. Papi agreed to me, or so I thought from how he threw himself down and rolled around, inviting a belly rub and purring.
62 F online, my home says it’s 69. White pulled-taffy clouds have a small footprint in the dominant blue sky. Highs might crest 70.
Talking with friends last night, we agreed, nice weather but worrisome for the coming summer’s water needs. Meanwhile, sis sent me photos of her glistening snowclad yard, pretty but 22 degrees.
I showed sis’s snow photo to my wife. “Yes, it’s pretty until it melts,” my wife offered. I agreed.
My wife mentioned that TrumpRx was launching tonight but didn’t think it would do well.
Trump certainly has a chaotic and checkered history that sets his efforts up for doubt. As for TrumpRx, we’ll see. Only time and facts will reveal the truth.
The Neurons pulled a strange song into the morning mental music stream. “Kings and Queens” by Aerosmith came out almost fifty years ago. I knew it from their album but I don’t think I’ve ever heard it on the radio. Yet, there I was, singing it to myself in the kitchen as I fulfilled Papi’s feeding needs.
I suspect the song came up because I’m serving Papi and thinking about recent political developments.
Onward into the day’s mettle with hopes that peace and grace find and carry us. See you on the other side of the coffee cup.
Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Political Thoughts
Once again, I read news that made me want to scream
Super Bowl LX will be this Sunday, February 8. The game will coronate either the Seattle Seahawks or the New England Patriots as the NFL’s champions.
Part of the annual spectacle is the halftime show, which expanded from marching bands in early years to a huge production with significant musical headliners. This year’s show is headlined by Bad Bunny and Green Day.
Bad Bunny is one of the current era’s hottest young entertainers. The Bad Bunny choice has agitated conservatives. Many decree Bad Bunny as a bad choice because they want an American, and they don’t like that he sometimes performs in Spanish.
I was floored. A Puerto Rican, Bad Bunny often performs in Spanish, because that’s a natural language in his area. I want to scream at them, “Don’t you understand that Puerto Rico is part of the United States? Bad Bunny is an American.”
Their ignorance is probably one reason Bad Bunny performs in Spanish.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Dry but cold and sunny, Wednesday, February 4, 2026, has begun its 24-hour Ashland residency. 50 – 46 – 37 F are Ashland’s temperatures, given by Alexa, online, and home. Sunny, with blue skies and no clouds that Papi and I can see. A high of sixty-something is projected.
I’m thinking about beats today. Give me a beat, we got the beat, we were beat, they beat him down.
Every day — every hour — has its beats. Sometimes they come out sharp and clear. Today, they’re muted background noise for me.
Reading a novel for a bit doesn’t reveal the day’s beats. Nor does reading the news. Yet the beat goes on.
Papi has his beat, moving with private style, a cool and graceful study in orange fur. Bit jealous, watching his steady gaze as he sits, looks, washes.
It’s only February and already the news beat has been manic with news that has me gritting my teeth, bracing for worse. The Neurons have offered up a Foo Fighters tune to blanket the noise. “The Pretender” plays in the morning mental music stream, driving me forward a new, harder beat. The song reminds me, same ol’ story, waiting to see what happens, waiting to hear their defense, waiting for a change back to the nation I knew.
Sample Lyrics
What if I say I’m not like the others?
What if I say I’m not just another one of your plays?
You’re the pretender
What if I say I will never surrender?
The song fits my mood because I often ask of Trump, who are you to issue decrees like a pompous king? And I ask of the MAGAs, who are you that you believe where Trump leads, not just accepting, but supporting and encouraging it?
The morning circle is done. Hope peace and grace find you, me, all of us, and take us tightly through this day and into a better tomorrow.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 