Sunday, September 6, 2026. Ashland, southern Oregon.
I went out with Vee — our visitor cat — to check the weather situation. Heavy gray asserted itself overhead, especially to the south. 48 F, one small cup of blue sky was visible and sunshine was lost behind the clouds. “Doesn’t look like it’ll be sunny today,” I said.
“Yeah, feed me, please,” Vee answered.
‘Bout ten minutes later, rain fell. Ten minutes after than, sunshine crashed through the clouds.
Bottom line for us, it’ll be 68 F as our high, with clouds, rain, and sunshine. More springlike weather on this late summer day. Autumn is on the way.
We can use more rain. Not far away, Emigrant Lake is down to just 4% of itself now because of the long drought and the lack of snow last winter.
All quiet on the family side of life. Last I heard from any of them was the other day, when sister Gina was caught in heavy downpour in Pittsburgh while taking her grandson, now a high school student, home from his clarinet lessons. Winds blew down trees and power lines. Streets were flooding, forces many route changes. But they made it safely. Bonding with weather, I can imagine them remembering this together when he has a family and he’s visiting grandma.
Meanwhile, the White House is pushing forward to stop voting by mail, challenging recent court setbacks in the Roberts Court. I wouldn’t be surprised if they rule that Trump can proceed, 5-4, with Roberts again dissenting, questioning the legality.
Trump’s approval rating remains anchored to about 35% of the nation’s voters. The rest of us disapprove of him. So it’s no wonder that Trump is trying to game the system. That’s how he’s always gotten ahead.
Trump Approval Rating: Underwater in the Newest National Polls
I’m basically drifting right now, waiting for the Roberts Court’s ruling, waiting for the next evolution in the Iran War, waiting for the midterms, waiting, waiting, waiting. I can’t wait until Trump is gone. He’s a pox on civilization.
I ended up with Stevie Nicks and “I Can’t Wait” in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons put the 1985 there because of the song’s title. But Stevie is singing about a different kind of anticipation when she’s waiting.
Sample Lyrics
I can’t wait, I can’t wait Sometimes she talks to him Sometimes, well, she’s only dreaming Then, when she wakes up Somehow, well, she still believes him Yes, I know you Though we’ve been out of touch Yes, I know you To be continued, it’s too much, well
Although that final line, “It’s too much”, does fit.
May your day proceed without waits to find out what the hell is going to happen. Be strong and go in peace.
I was stripping off my clothes this evening when I spotted a peeping tom at the bedroom’s sliding glass door. Eyes big, they watched everything that I was doing.
Then I saw that it wasn’t a tom — it was Vee, the cat who likes visiting us. She’s not a tom. She’s a queen!
I went over and let her in. Giving a friendly chirp, she popped in and wound herself around my legs.
Knowing the ritual, I headed for the treat bag. Vee trotted alongside, veering right to rub up against my wife’s leg for a moment.
“Who is this?” my wife teased.
“Peeping tom,” I replied. Picking up the treat bag, I gave it a shake and jogged to the back door.
The peeping tom beat me to there. Back outside, I gave her treats, scratched her ears, and admonished, “Now stop peeping on me, girl.”
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, September 2, 2026.
Autumn landed in Ashland. Temperatures dropped. The heat came in. Thunderstorms and rain dominated the afternoon.
It was a hard rain — big silver drops falling in rapid succession. Not Portland or Seattle hard, and certainly not monsoon levels, but hard for us. 56 F now, just short of our 60 degrees high. 99% chance of rain today. Moving the needle a little back toward summer tomorrow, the high will be up to the mid 60s. Meanwhile, I am enjoying this rain.
I surfed the Tangle email this morning. In covering the Roberts Court decision to let Trump keep building the Epstein ballroom, they included a section about what conservatives are saying regarding the decision. They include Matt Margolis in PJ Media. Margolis compared Trump’s White House changes to those done by previous presidents, trying to make it seem like the same thing.
Which it isn’t. In all the instances Margolis cited, Congress was involved in approving the funding and construction. Margolis cites FDR’S swimming pool — oh, look, nobody complained about it! They’re treating Trump unfairly!
But FDR’s pool was built with private donations. And the Congressional Record makes this point explicitly: FDR was willing to accept the gift provided Congress authorized acceptance of it. Congress then passed the resolution.
Did Trump do that with the ballroom? We know the answer to that.
Margolis also wanted to compare Obama move to change the tennis courts to basketball courts, conflating it with $375M being spent and two years of construction. Except the records show the money was appropriated for Congress for a project approved for the Bush administration. President Obama just continued the project. And the basketball court didn’t require two years and millions of dollars. Nor did he destroy part of the White House to have it made.
This is all about Trump Double Standards and how MAGAts and Republicans attempt to justify them. Trump makes a mess of things, cutting down trees, removing art, breaking treaties, disrupting alliances, tearing down the White House, screwing up the economy as well as the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, fucking up the military, starting another war in the middle east, trying to rewrite American history, denying rights based on sex, orientation, and hiding Trump’s involvement in the huge Epstein mess. Much of this is happening while the GOP pantomimes see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil and gives way to Trump.
Watch how it will turn if the Democrats take control of Congress. Republicans will all suddenly be crying about law and order and precedence. If a Democrat is elected POTUS, the GOP will eagerly clamor for checks and balances. Meanwhile, the Democrats will be the ones fixing the Trump mess. Reverting names to what they were, addressing the rocketing national debt, pushing to address the growing measles outbreaks, coping with inflation. The GOP will demand cuts for the social safety nets but not for the wealthy.
That is their MO.
Meanwhile, Trump is making it clear to Republicans that he only cares about them if he needs them. For the most part, he’s dismissive of them, not willing to spend any campaign funds on them while collecting more — for what?
Today’s song came from thinking “bloody right”, as in that damn irritating US right wing. I’m sure they say similar about the left, Democrats, and Progressives. *smile* Anyway, as I mumbled to myself about the bloody GOP — I watch a lot of Brit and Aussie television — The Neurons powered up “Bloody Well Right” in the morning mental music stream.
Supertramp came out with the song in the early 1970s. (Pause to think, wow, fifty years ago. Unpause.) The song has a sharp anti-authority tone to it.
Sample Lyrics
So you think your schooling is phoney I guess it’s hard not to agree You say, “It all depends on money And who is in your family tree”
Right (right), you’re bloody well right You got a bloody right to say Right, you’re bloody well right You know, you got a right to say
Write your problems down in detail And take ’em to a higher place You’ve had your cry, no, I shouldn’t say wail In the meantime hush your face
Sounds suitable for now.
May purrs of joy fill your ears and good companionship carry you through whatever tribulations you’re enduring.
Saturday, August 29, 2026. Ashland, southern Oregon.
A chilly, cloudy morning. Rumors of rain are trickling around conversations. The sky is mostly blue, hazing toward white and gray as clouds collect. 58 F now, today’s high is expected to top out in the mid 70s.
I’m off to a late posting start because I instead wrote in the novel. Had been thinking about a series of scenes last night. Today, they were just there, so I sat and wrote three thousand words before I did anything except feed the cat.
Mom has responded to my texts about her house and accomplishments by first, thanking me. Her texts then devolved into complaints about how I’m her only child who will talk to her. Then she demanded that I come and visit her. She finished with complaints about the assisted living facility and staff and wished she ‘woke up dead’.
On to news, where it’s here we go again, on the hideous Trump merry-go-round.
Possible cover-ups are in line with the Trump and his administration’s standard functioning. Exhibits offered as evidence:
The Epstein files
White House ballroom
The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool
Hush money to Stormy Daniels
USS Abraham Lincoln
Trump and his cabinet insist that everything is great, but they go through acrobatic gyrations whenever they’re challenged. Threats escalate fast on their end. They blame others and insult whomever questions them. They pull credentials, threaten to sue, bluster on social media, and give hostile interviews in which they insist they’re right and everyone else is wrong.
Meanwhile, Trump’s ideas of democracy, freedom, is fully on display. He clearly doesn’t think much of serving We the People. Just wants the power of the office. Nor does he care much about history, treaties, and laws.
Trump has now announced that he secured ‘majority US control’ of much of Venezuela’s oil reserves. This comes after Trump removed Venezuela’s president by force. We the People who pay attention to history remember how regions around the world evolved into dangerous and unstable regions because nations went in, established themselves as the de facto rulers, and then began plundering their national resources.
The United States has long moved toward away from these policies, pushing for democracy. Success is erratic because it’s a messy process, involving wealthy, power, and people. Additionally, the US continued to secretly use the military or CIA to kill. Trump, though, has escalated it, and is doing so blatantly, oblivious to how these policies affect world opinion of the US.
History has shown, these kind of moves often bite us in the ass. For evidence, just look how things have played out in Iran with US intervention.
Today’s theme music is “You Talk Too Much”. This was a hit for Joe Jones in the early 1960s. I was about five years old when I first started hearing it, I think. A popular song, it achieved a lot of air play. It was also song which Mom sang while doing things around the house. She would also sing it to my sisters and I when we were trying to ask her for something. Frankly, that was very irritating.
Sample Lyrics
You talk too much You worry me to death You talk too much You even worry my pet
You just talk… Talk too much
You talk about people That you don’t know You talk about people Wherever you go
You just talk… Talk too much
You talk about people That you’ve never seen You talk about people You can make me scream
The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream in honor of Donald Trump. He talks and texts, often before engaging any brain cells. This week after thinking he can change the name of Lake Ontario with the stroke of a pen, he went on to talk about changing the names of other places in like ways.
What Ding Dong Donnie doesn’t understand, either, is that by having the US flex its powers and just do things on whims, he encourages other strong-armed nations to do the same.
What’s funny, though, is how Ding Dong Donnie doesn’t see what he’s done to the world order. He thinks other nations are jealous of us. He was angry — and probably still is, as he is one who likes to indulge in deep sulking — when other nations refused to participant in his Trumped-up war on Iran. He didn’t understand and doesn’t see that he’s burned so many bridges which were carefully build through years of diplomacy, negotiations, and practices.
I correct myself: more than not understanding, Trump doesn’t care.
Trump’s legacy of ego and failures is stacking into one of the world’s ugliest historic periods. Meanwhile, I wish he would shut up. He’s become like a dog barking all night long without reason.
I wish you the best of the best days in every way which you and I can think of.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 28, 2026.
Another cooler day graces our valley with temperatures rising from 70 now to the low 80s later, all Fahrenheit. Signs of autumn are creeping in beyond temperatures as maples are already shifting colors.
Mom finally responded late yesterday to tell me she’s feeling much better, a relief for my mind.
We did grocery shopping yesterday and then went out to see the lunar eclipse. Success, as I saw it twice, once in the evening, and again in the middle of the night. I took some tme to imagine how our ancient ancestors viewed these things. Cool and clear, being out under the stars, watching the moon felt rewarding.
Then it was a night of dreams and a morning of texts with my sisters. My sister, Gina, is going through all of Mom’s letters from Mom’s mother, and it’s a revealation. Gina photographs and texts the letters to us. I honestly don’t recognize many of the names my grandmother writes about. I never met those people and never heard about them.
Vee also visited last night and today. Vee is for visitor, but my wife calls the gray and white tabby because of the lining around the cat’s eyes.
Saw on the net that some are calling for Dolly Parton day. I support the idea. Dolly left a solid impression of what a good person can be. She’s someone worth celebrating and emulating.
Meanwhile, down on the other end of people and personalities, we have Donald Trump. Trump has established himself as Exhibit A in multiple categories of what They Tell Us Not to Be: a liar, greedy, womanizer, racist, hateful, sexist, hot tempered, and a bully. Besides showing poor math skills and cheating on contractors and wives, he craves attention and hates criticism.
This week, continuing to break norms, ignore treaties, and playing a wannabe dictator, Trump declared Lake Ontario would be known as Lake America.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Trump has half of what he says it takes, because people keep giving him pens.
Trying to rename Lake Ontario is another of Trump’s Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! distractions to me.
Continuing a year of failures, he has the mess at the White House, where he screwed up the lawn and demolished the East Wing for a ballroom. First he claimed that ballroom was ‘needed’. Then he said it was a monument for himself. Also, he kept insisting donors are paying for it. Then, oh, no, that ballroom is for national security.
Take his tariffs — please. Up and down, off and on, insisting how great they’re making the economy. But boom — unemployment is level but so is employment. More Americans should be working, and they’re not. Further, thanks to Trump, we have price increases, and a national debt that’s past $40 trillion for the first time in history. Way to go, Trump!
The national debt isn’t just Trump’s fault. The Spend Without End GOP shares a huge share of responsibility. They let Trump blow through money without employing any checks and balances. So long as Trump is in office and the GOP lets him get away with it, the national debt will worsen. Mind you, that’s despite Trump’s claims that he’s cut so much fraud and waste.
Part of that Republican spending spree is on the useless, unneeded war in Iran. Not only is it costing the world in terms of lives and energy, but it’s costing the United States in tangible and intangible ways. Tangibly, we, the world’s most powerful military, has managed to do little but kill people and blow things up. That’s largely because Trump attacked Iran with little planning and no tangible objectives.
On the more intangible side, other nations like China and Russia are noting how inept the military is under Trump, encouraging them to make moves with hard and soft power.
But Trump babbles on, and the GOP stands in line behind him.
What’s worse is the effect of the current situation. We have rising prices, rising bond rates, rising mortgage rates, flat unemployment, rising national debt, anemic job growth and the spectre of rising AI use. Stacked with Trump’s war in Iran, Trump’s erractic behavior and pronouncements, and the upcoming midterms, we’re facing a very uncertain future in the US.
Then add in climate and the expected super El Nino this winter, and brace yourself. This could be a wild roller-coaster ride.
With all this going on, Les Neurons have “Life During Wartime” playing in the morning mental music stream. The 1979 Talking Heads song is about surviving in a dystopian period. Such survival to extreme changes requires a lot of adaptation, and that might be where we’re heading soon.
Sample Lyrics
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit? Heard about Pittsburgh, PA? You oughta know not to stand by the window Somebody see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter To last a couple of days But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no headphones Ain’t got no records to play
Why stay in college? Why go to night school? Gonna be different this time? Can’t write a letter, can’t send no postcard I ain’t got time for that now
Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock We blended in with the crowd We got computers, we’re tapping phone lines I know that that ain’t allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives Or in a suit and a tie I changed my hairstyle so many times now I don’t know what I look like
You make me shiver, I feel so tender We make a pretty good team Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving You ought to get you some sleep
Burned all my notebooks, what good are notebooks? They won’t help me survive My chest is aching, burns like a furnace The burning keeps me alive
May this day and the days to come treat you with peace and grace as you ride the roller coaster of life.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, August 24, 2026.
Damn hot today: 100 F, but it feels warmer. A red flag warning is in effect. We are expected to cool down again on Wednesday.
I’m off to a late start, courtesy of some animal fight at 2 AM. Woke us up. Went out, gathered our critter, who came in all puffy tailed, although he didn’t seem to be involved.
We decided to keep the cat in. That ignited his determination to go back out. Everything was done to convey that determination: beating on the door, meowing, beating on me. I finally succumbed after an hour and granted freedom. Then, though, I worried: was the cat safe? AAARGH!
I didn’t get up until after nine and had some calls scheduled which proved to be time sucks. Then, off to shower, dress, coffee and writing. Now I’m back home. Just finished lunch, finally posting the theme music.
Really, it’s my own fault for 1) having a cat and 2) for letting the cat worry and control me.
That led to “Wrapped Around Your Finger” in my morning mental music stream. This is a 1983 song by The Police. Charted around the world, so you may have heard it before.
One of them is barely recalled. It’s one of those episodic dreams I sometimes have, where there’s no one who I recognize as me. It’s just a story being told, like a television show.
I remember just part of a second one. Three other men and I were traveling together in an early 1960s something Cadillac convertible. We drove through sunshine with the top down. I was very impressed for some reason that there were four of us, two blacks and two whites. I believe we took turns driving.
We wore a uniform, and I knew we were on the same team but have no idea what team. From what I remember of the uniforms, they were white with dazzling embroidery, like something Elvis Presley would wear in concert.
Hungry, we stopped at a place where we decided we would pretend to be lawyers. We thought that ruse would gain us some food because we didn’t have any money. That didn’t seem to work so we drove cheerfully on through a winding orange canyon to another town.
We decided this time to claim that we were reporters. Women were running this place. One large, barrel-chested blonde woman was in charge. She mocked our claim that we were reporters, but they fed us anyway.
Dream end
Third dream involved family and food. I was with my sisters at some gathering at someone’s home. We were outside for most of the dream, where, weirdly, my sisters were baking. Besides them, there were many children. I barely knew most of them and didn’t recognize them from real life.
I needed an engine for some reason and ended up with a V8 engine with headers, a high rise manifold with a single four-barrel carb. The engine block was painted bright blue, and the air filter cover was chrome plated. After I got the engine, I realized, “I don’t need this.” But I wanted to save it. So I picked it up and put it in one of the rooms. I thought, I’ll leave that here for now but I’ll need to move it later.
My sisters and I talked a little politics. Then one announced, it’s time to eat. We got trays and loaded them up.
As I did, I went to cross the patio. Four tiny, perfect silver and black tabby kittens were playing. They’d found something and pounced on it, batting whatever it was with furious energy. I swear, these kittens were no more than three inches long.
My older sister asked me what I was doing and I showed her the kittens. She watched with me a bit, then I moved the kittens so they’d be safe.
The children and I decided to watch television. I wanted to watch football. I knew it was Sunday and games should be on, because of the time. No games were on, confusing me. I did the math: back home, the games start at 10 AM and it was almost 1 here, so there should have been a game on.
I went back to eat more cookies. My youngest sister was still baking. I walked along long tables mounded with food and wondered, laughing, why is she baking more? I ate a few cookies, which was delicious.
One brother-in-law, the Trump-loving one, was present, stretched out on a dark-brown sofa, talking. I wanted to hear what he said, but a plastic cocoon formed over him, sealing him in. I could hear him still talking but it was only a rumble of sound, and couldn’t see him at all.
Getting another cookie and eating it, my little sister demanded in her ominous ‘mom-voice’, “What are you doing?”
Laughing, I replied, “Eating a cookie? Why are you making more? Do you know you how many cookies there are?”
I saw her move the V8 engine which I’d move. I went over and picked it up to take it away, but then didn’t know where to take it.
It wasn’t one of the places she lived in real life, but I knew it was her house.
No one else was there. The place was messy in many places, totally opposite of anyplace I’ve lived or visited where Mom was in command.
Getting there, I found a narrow bed. White sheets, pink blanket, pillow, but unmade. I decided to sleep a bit.
A long-haired gray and white cat joined me. I talked to it in the way we do with animals, telling the cat, a male, I knew, was very handsome. The cat then *ahem* indicated that it wanted to have sex with me.
Full-blown horror lashed me. I rejected that completely, telling the cat that was sick and disgusting. I added, “You can sleep with me but as a cat, not a sexual partner.”
Unable to sleep after that, I got up and walked around, taking notice of the mess. Part of it on one end was a pond with rocks. Water fed into it but the water was scummy, full of plants and crap. Deciding I would clean it, I went off, found rags, buckets, tools.
My sisters arrived, chattering and laughing, before I could clean it but after a sort pause, I did. In dream fashion, it was miraculously fast and easy.
I showed the others. Everyone was impressed by what I’d done. Two turtles emerged from the pond. My youngest sister exclaimed, “I knew there were turtles in there.”
One turtle puked. Examining that, my sister announced with happiness, “It’s pregnant. I am so happy.”
Mom arrived shortly afterward, the middle-aged person I knew for most of my life. Her hair was blond and she was wearing black slacks with this black and white polka-dotted frilly shirt that she often liked to wear. Smiling and happy, she came in, saying hello to all of us.
Though I can’t say where or for who, nor anything like that. Wasn’t anything out of real life.
I was a mid-level manager, mostly working alone. Our corporation was merging with another, a larger one. Although it was labeled a merger, the partner would subsume our company.
I’d ended up providing some important information to make it happen, things which were requested at the last minute. I’d worked fast, long, hard, alone, to make that happen.
Now the merger was taking place.
I went outside. Early dusk was falling over a spare, sort of rocky desert landscape with spiky green plants, along with some thick, squat bushes. Meandering out there, I spotted a wolf.
It saw me.
I cautiously moved back. The wolf closed on me. I moved slowly. As the wolf came closer, I saw it was a husky.
The husky and I regarded each other around bushes, wary and curious. I drifted back into work.
Celebrations about the merger were beginning. Cake was being serves, which was fashioned after NFL teams. My cake was based on the Steelers and had black frosting.
I ate my cake and enjoyed it, then wandered. Speeches were being made. The CEO walked by to make a speech, pausing to slap me on the shoulder and say hello to me.
I moved on, encountering a pair of young men. They were by a pipe. Light lime green water gushed out of the pipe into a large square bright metal pan. The two men sat by it watching. One said to me, “They were asking who you were.”
“Do you mean me?” I responded.
“Yes, they were asking, who are you?”
“Did they mean me or you? I think the know who I am.”
“The new people wanted to know who you were because you were mentioned a few times. They wondered why.”
Shrugging that off, I went back outside to the same landscape. As I walked, I saw orange stripped cats doing different things. A clowder of dark gray kittens were playing at another place. I wondered where the husky was and if the cats were safe.
Bandon, southern Oregon coast. It’s overcast here, chilly, a mere 60 F. A sea breeze takes the feel of that down a few degrees. Whatever the temperature, I love the fresh sea smell here.
We’re heading back home to see if Papi missed us. A wary orange boi, he’s always reserved in his opinions.
Sickening and repugnant how Trump dismisses We the People’s concerns. While the scope of deprivation and problems are still being vetted on the USS Abraham Lincoln, the fact that they’ve been awake on an extended deployment is not contested.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Let’s imagine Trump out there, serving for months at sea. Imagine how he’d be whining about his sacrifice. Imagine him having to go without McDonald’s, without golfing. Oh, the humanity. How we would be hearing about his suffering.
Likewise, Trump gives a rat’s ass about the rising gas prices. Oh, it was so important to Trump and the MAGAts back when Trump wasn’t in charge. Oh, how Trump eviscerated President Biden about the price of things.
“For you to pay a TINY little bit more for your gasoline, you’re doing it so that a very evil country cannot have a nuclear weapon. Remember that when you’re paying $4. I’ll never apologize.”
Trump is also threatening to ‘bomb the shit out of Oman‘. I file this under Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Things are going badly for Trumpy and the MAGAts. They haven’t had a hit in months and there’s talk that the band is breaking up.
All of this is just more ordinary Trump posturing. Ordinary in the sense, Trump is always doing these things. But they’re deadly, with serious, long-lasting consequences.
Trump is never one to understand that, though. He’s absolutely shameless. For example, look how he used to talk about Epstein as a friend. Then Trump declared that he would release the Epstein files. Now Trump desperately wants us to forget the Epstein files.
Today’s music is “Ordinary World” by Duran Duran. The Neurons have it playing in my morning mental music stream in light of Trump’s recurring ‘ordinary’ reactions — ordinary in the sense that this is how he always does things. To the rest of us, Trump’s behavior is anything but ordinary. No, words like sick, mindless, and depraved is what usually comes to mind — at least to my mind.
Sample Lyrics
Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed Here today, forgot tomorrow Ooh, here besides the news of holy war and holy need Ours is just a little sorrowed talk
Have a great day of peace, grace, good health, and good fortune.
Michael Seidel, writer 