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.
Bandon, southern Oregon coast. Saturday, August 15, 2026.
We’re in Bandon to do the Circles in the Sand walk. Back then, it was about 60 F. Clouds played keep away with the sunshine. I dropped my wife off at the Face Rock Wayside at 8:15. Then I drove back to the hotel and walked back to do the walk with her. We finished the walk at 10 AM, then I walked back, got the car, and picked up my wife. So it was a refreshed, relaxing morning by the sea.
Back in the room, I spoke with the house sitter. She and Papi are old familiars so he’s comfortable with her presence.
After that cool morning, it’s a gorgeous afternoon — 61 but feels 71. Sunshine washes over the coast.
Now:
The labyrinth — well, a third of it, from the parking lot overlook:
A few news headlines attracted my afternoon attention.
These aren’t news headlines so much as they’re affirmations of who Trump is, and how his poor decision-making and aggressive power moves are backfiring on him.
Trump and his administration refuses to learn or change course, so we keep going in circles. Trump attempts the same policies; they’re taken to court and are often denied or overturned. Trump then tries another tack to see if it’ll stick.
Over and over again — round and round in circles.
Meanwhile, the United States economy is circling the drain, along with many political norms.
Not surprising that between Trump circling the drain and walking the circles in the sand, The Neurons put a song about circles in the morning mental music stream. “Circle in the Sand” was released by Belinda Carlisle in 1977 and was a global hit.
I signed my name at the beach. The tides will erase it by tomorrow, but I have the photograph and memory — as long as they don’t fade…
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 12, 2026.
Cooler day today. 86 F is projected as the high while it’s 71 F outside my house right now. Wind is pretty calm and the sky is pretty blue. Pretty sunny today, too. And clear, although Oregon has many fires still burning east, north, and west of us, and California to our south, has some major fires.
Papi and I went outside a short while ago. Vee — my name for Papi’s frequent visitor — was out there. I petted her, gave her treats, and ensured she had water. Papi tolerates her. Vee is a young shorthaired gray tabby with white legs, chest, belly, and paws. Very sweet, friendly, and social, with a silent meow. I think she lives locally, and her people put her out when they go to work, as she arrives at specific times again and again.
A breeze kicked up while we were out there. Honestly felt and sounded like autumn.
The Year of Trump Follies continue. Trump apologists are digging in hard to avoid facing the truth.
“Everybody but Trump” is the GOP chorus when things go downhill, as so much of it is. “It’s all me,” Trump declares when it’s going well, especially when he had absolutely nothing to do with it.
It’s like, they’re resist facts and learning. Trump’s latest Executive Order about vaccines is another facet of their foolishness and ignorance. They’re changing something which has worked for decades to bow to misinformation about autism and vaccines. But hey, that misinformation is popular with the MAGA crowd.
This is double weird given what happened with military recruits and mandatory vaccines in June, just two months ago. The mandatory flu vaccine was dropped; it was now voluntary. Lo, a flu outbreak immediately rose, affecting training and readiness. The mandatory flu vaccine was reinstated forthwith.
Triply weird, when MMR vaccinations are down and measles outbreaks are increasing. Not Trump’s fault, the fools shout. No, it’s not Trump, it’s open Borders! It’s Fauci!
With all the things Trump — and his GOP — have done, he’s now out there trying to scare up more fools to support him. That’s why I have “Find Another Fool” in my morning mental music stream. This was a top twenty hit for Quarterflash in 1981.
Sample Lyrics
You pulled this once… you pulled it twice It’s time you listened to my advice… oh, baby
I’d never take advantage of our love I can’t imagine what you’re thinkin’ of You’re over due… you think this storm is through. Well, baby, I’ve got news for you
When the season of Trump finally ends, it’ll be like recovering from a major storm. So much will need to be fixed, rebuilt, and changed. I’m looking toward the MAGAts to be part of it. They seem beyond being reached at this point. Maybe, someday, that will change.
Not holding my breath.
I hope this day finds you in good health, good times, and good company.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, August 10, 2026.
Our August cooling trend continues. Today we’ll see low 90s with blue skies and sunshine in our valley. Last night saw the temperature fall to 58 F in our area. I had to go around closing windows to keep the house from getting too cold. Poor us, right?
Mom and Gina, my sister and Mom’s Power of Attorney, continue their cold war. I don’t think peace will come again, a change from how I was viewing it. Something about the conflict has triggered both, hardening their attitudes. Each instantly react angrily. Invectives and accusations fly.
Got Food & Friends deliveries today, along with a medical appointment this afternoon, so it’s another brief post. Somehow, most of my reading ended up being about Trump and the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. The story reminds us that Trump first claimed how resilient the fix he installed was.
“In May, for example, Trump said the lining was “so strong, so powerful” that it couldn’t be cut with a knife. He even drove his motorcade across it while it was being installed to inspect the work.”
Then, somehow, a vandal or group with knives managed to cut and tear that ‘so strong, so powerful’ lining.
“We have photographs, or tapes,” he said, making a circular gesture with his hands. After a pause, he pointed to the cameras recording him and added: “Like moving cameras, right?”
Except, oh no, after Jeanine Pirro announced that they were dropping prosecution of the one vandal they’d arrested, Trump now claims there is no evidence:
“There was substantial other damage to the Reflecting Pool, also but, unfortunately, there is no video or proof, other than the damage, itself,” Trump wrote on Truth Social on Sunday.
Anyone following the story knows the truth and has seen the evidence: the one who screwed up the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is Trump. And the one lying about it is also Trump.
The thing is, too, as it’s been often noted, the cover up is frequently worse than the crime. If Trump had just let it go, admitted he made a mistake, or anything like that, it would have already disappeared as a story. Instead, Trump dug in, refuse the facts and the truth, and made it worse.
But that’s Trump: lying, then lying about his lies, digging deeper and deeper holes. Did it with the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool; tariffs and the economy; the Epstein files; and the war he began with Iran.
A little over a year ago, I used the song “Basket Case” by Green Day as the day’s theme music. Trump has just attacked Iran for the first time. At that time, I wondered if June 21, 2025 and the attacks on that day would go down as the day that World War III quietly began?
Trump declared that mission enormously successful.
Three days later, he walked back those claims. February of this year, he attacked Iran again. And the war has been going ever since, off and on, widening and creating death and destruction. Time and again, Trump gives different reasons for that war, not calling it a war to avoid being held in check, and has claimed different levels of results and success.
And that is why “Basket Case” is playing in the morning mental music stream today — again.
Sample Lyrics:
Do you have the time to listen to me whine? About nothing and everything, all at once I am one of those melodramatic fools Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it
Sometimes I give myself the creeps Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me It all keeps adding up I think I’m cracking up Am I just paranoid or am I just stoned?
Papi has settled in for the day. He’s ready for a day of relaxation. Hope you are, too.
I was in the living room, doing light exercises and watching the television.
It was 10 PM. The temperature had hit 101.5 F at our house. Now it had dropped to 80. I’d gone around, opening the windows to cool us off.
Strong skunk smells began coming in with the cool air. Cursing, I went around closing the windows I’d opened about ten minutes before.
As I was doing this, my wife came in. “I heard something knock over a garbage can.”
“Our garbage can?” I asked. It’s behind a fence so –
“I don’t know where it was. I think it was on the street.”
Confirming that Papi was safely inside, my wife went to the front door. Picking up a flashlight, I joined her, turning on the porch light and unlocking the door. She did a little start. As I went out, she took hold of my shirt and followed.
I shined the flashlight along the dark street. Sirens were rising. Emergency vehicles raced along the main road about a hundred feet below us.
“See any trashcans?” my wife asked.
“Just that one.” I shone the light on a bulky shape across the street.
“That trashcan has eyes,” my wife said.
“It does,” I agree.
At that point, we knew it was a bear. Black bears are common in our area. Down on all fours, the bear looked about four feet tall at its shoulders. It casually turned and took a few steps toward us.
My wife took a few steps backwards.
I laughed.
The bear disappeared behind some bushes lining the street. “Let’s go in the house,” I suggested.
“Okay.” As we went in, my wife said, “I was ready to give you a quick push and then shuffle backwards into the house.”
I chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. I know I’m faster than you.”
She laughed.
I looked back with the flashlight. The beer loped up the street.
Michael Seidel, writer 