I was in the White House. My role there was to escort Jackie Kennedy to an event where President John F. Kennedy was expected to also attend. I was young; they were white haired and elderly.
It was a kind of chaotic scene. We left the formal White House. There were about thirty of us. Using a secret corridor, we went into an annex. White walls and floors, with white lights, it was like a warehouse but it was completely empty. There seemed to be two levels as well.
I ended up chatting with the first lady. Just chit chat. Then finger sandwiches were served.
By then, JFK arrived. He and the first lady walked across the space and embraced. Both were using canes. They looked like they were in their nineties.
We then engaged on our reason to be there: flying model airplanes. One was a sort of large model biplane. Red, with yellow wings. It was slow and easy to fly. We took turns with it, flying it through the large space, around a corner and down another corridor and back.
The second model aircraft was a gray B-52. Smaller than the biplane, it zoomed around with a fighter jet’s the speed and agility. It really impressed us all and I had a ball flying it. It was very easy to control.
After a while, we were tired. Boredom got its fingers into us. We ate more and napped on the floor. Then I was awakened. Mrs. K was ready to leave. She wanted me as her escort. The President was already gone.
I walked her out of the annex and back to the White House. Then I left. I later saw her on the street. I waved at her but she didn’t see me.
Sunshine and warm air is spilling throug Ashlandia once again. 61 F now, Thirstda, May 8, 2025, will overtake the gorgeous day known as May 7, 2025. 80 F will be bestowed on us. Sure, it’ll be windy, that but’s okay.
The cat is happy, if I’m judging his tail right. Standing upright, like a sundial gnomon, we could use it to tell the time but he won’t stand still long enough. After eating, visiting, and grooming, he resumed his back fence residency.
Being out back depressed me. Wasn’t the sunshine. No. That’s fine and welcomed. It’s the lack of bees and butterflies. No humming birds, either. Also missing were the regular Jay visitors. All have desserted us. I hope they come back soon.
We discussed politics last night at the beery thingy. Like, re-opening Alcatraz. Such a gennyus move…not. Only a simpleton would think it is. Right now, simpletons are running the nation.
I’m late to posting this because of computer issues. I suspect it’s update stuff but basically, I’ll be busy doing stuff and thump, the computer gets
Four songs hover in the extended morning mental music stream. A common theme threads through them: small towns.
From 1975: “My Little Town”, Simon & Garfunkel. “Billboard described the song as “a good, nostalgic Americana style song that builds throughout.”[4]Cash Box said it has “catchy piano beneath historic harmony growing into a brass hook ending” and that “you’ll remember the melody by the third time you hear it.”
From 1985: “My Hometown” by Bruce Springsteen. This was a sad reflection on the demise of small towns in the United States, the end of mills, the end of jobs, stores closed up and boarded up. Reflected in the lyrics are the tensions experienced in the 1960s over segregation and integration and the violence which resulted.
1985 also brought us, “Small Town” by John Mellencamp. “”I wanted to write a song that said, ‘You don’t have to live in New York or Los Angeles to live a full life or enjoy your life.’ I was never one of those guys that grew up and thought, ‘I need to get out of here.’ It never dawned on me. I just valued having a family and staying close to friends.” h/t to Wikipedia.org
Then, from 2023, “Try That In A Small Town,” performed by Jason Aldean and written by a committee. In a review of Highway Desperado for Allmusic, Stephen Thomas Erlewine stated “All its success was based on how the single and video deliberately pushed cultural buttons; strip those away, and ‘Try That in a Small Town’ is just another in a long line of crawling, glowering, arena-country from Aldean.”
Chris Willman of Variety called it “the most contemptible country song of the decade [and] the video is worse”, saying that the song “is close to being the most cynical song ever written about the implicit moral superiority of having a limited number of neighbors” and is “a list of hellishly dystopian tropes about city evils that seems half-borrowed from Hank Williams Jr.‘s ‘A Country Boy Can Survive‘, half-borrowed from the Book of Revelation“. He said that the video “conflates the act of protesting with violent crime”.[7] Marcus K. Dowling of The Tennessean wrote that “online critics highlighted the following song lyrics as emblematic of songs heightening pro-gun violence and lynching sentiments upon many in his rural, small-town fanbase”.
Tennessee state representative Justin Jones tweeted “As Tennessee lawmakers, we have an obligation to condemn Jason Aldean’s heinous song calling for racist violence … What a shameful vision of gun extremism and vigilantism.”[24] He explicitly referred to the song as a “heinous vile racist song” which attempts to normalize “racist, violence, vigilantism and white nationalism” in a later interview on CNN.
Kevin M. Kruse, professor of history at Princeton University specializing in 20th-century America, called out the song for “calling for people who aren’t law enforcement to mete out violence against people who haven’t broken any laws,” a callout to “law and order” that is “actually lawlessnness.” h/t to wikipedia.org
For me, the subject of small towns arose as my adopted small town copes with growth and development, rising costs and diminishing prospects. We’re wrestling with the need to change but can’t agree on how to change. As with many small towns, few want to abandon ‘what worked before’. That leaves us stymied about what to do and how to do it. As exhibited in “Try That In A Small Town”, the professed preference is to gut the other side.
I’m aware I do that a lot about the MAGAs myself. We don’t see eye to eye. We lack agreement about what are facts and history, and cause and effect. The polarization depicted in the last of these four songs is becoming the norm. Part of the background noise is about gun violence. As part of the left, I’m tired of hearing about thoughts and prayers and the need to arm teachers and increase security at schools, fairs, airports, malls, and other places whenever another mass shooting takes place. Put forward is this video is the threat to escalate violence.
How do we bridge these gaps?
It’s interesting, to, that the right wing is pushing to return to the values of previous years. To what year do they want to return? To the 1960s, when civil unrest and protests swept the nation and the small towns’ death rattles began? To further back, like the 1950s, when the United States entered into trade and defense agreements and taxes were high on the wealthy? Or earlier, when lynchings of Blacks were not uncommon, women lacked rights, and deaths from back street abortions were high, and the young died from measles and other diseases.
Let’s pause, perhaps, and remember how those big box stores, like Amazon, Walmart, Lowe’s, Home Depot, grand supporters of Trump and the GOTP, drove a spike through many small town businesses. Yes, and Starbucks and Costco, too.
The day is ending. Hope it was a good one for you. It was pretty good for me. Let’s do it again tomorrow. Cheers
A misty veneer keeps the sunshine under wraps. Mists devour the greenery, truncating the world view to a small circle of existence. Rain keeps everything looking wet. A secure house with a little heat keeps it all cozy.
It’s Saturda, May 3, 2025, and 46 F. Not far off from the tops of 50 F.
Our ride home yesterday was uneventful. Traffic was light and moved well. Fascinating to leave the coast and arrive in a warm and sunny day in Roseburg. We stopped for gas at the Costco station there and then zipped on down I5. Total travel time was 4.5 hours, with a stop to eat egg and cheese croissant sandwiches we’d bought at a bakery that AM, and the stop at Costco for gas, using the restroom, and wandering around that Costco for a few to get a taste of it.
We did have one close moment. A semi began moving over on us. Think he saw a ramp ahead where traffic was coming on. Didn’t see my silver SUV in his mirrors alongside him. Fortunately, we had shoulder room. I snapped us left and punched the loud pedal while my wife let out a large gasp. Looking back, I saw everyone slow down behind the truck. Took a long time before people began passing that truck again.
Today’s music was inspired by AKing. They reminded me in comments of Rory Gallagher and “Bullfrog Blues”. I first heard Canned Heat do the old blues song in the 1960s. I had it as my theme music back in 2019. You know, during the first Trump administration.
Well, did you ever wake up With them bullfrogs on your mind? Well, did you ever wake up With them bullfrogs on your mind? You had to sit there laughin’ Laughin’ just to keep from crying
And many of Trump’s bellicose, Constitutional contrary, authoritarian wannabe whining texts have me shaking my head. So it’s an apt theme song for today’s political atmosphere where you have to sit there laughing just to keep from crying.
Here’s a copy of Canned Heat performing “Bullfrog Blues”.
Then here’s a tape of Rory Gallagher and his band doing a rousing performance of the same ol’ tune.
Both renditions have me remembering and grinning.
Coffee has been reintroduced into my biosystems. Neurons are beginning to fire in order. Hope your weekend rockets you to good state of mind. I’ll do my best on my head. Here we go. Cheers
Chilly. Rainy. Foggy. Those were yesterday’s descriptors. It didn’t get to anywhere near the theoretical high of 51 F around my zone of life.
Today is sunny. Windy. Warmer. 52 F. Clouds and blue sky mingle like it’s a company holiday party. The high will be 62 F.
Today is Sunda, April 27, 2025.
My wife and I are setting up for a trip to the coast. Our usual house sitter is available. Reservations have been made. We have worries. This will be Papi’s first time being alone. He knows the house sitter. Doesn’t run from her. Let’s her pet him. But with spring pointing toward summer, the wildlife has grown busier. Raccoons come by. Coyotes, bears, cougars are out there, along with opossums and skunks. Rats and mice. We’ll set things up as best as we can and cross our fingers.
Today’s music is “Bloody Well Right”. 1974 song. Supertramp. I was singing it to myself after different topics traversed the sticky gray zone this morning that I call thinking. Not much of it was of import. Just the usual forays into novel writing, fiction I’m reading, cat, family and personal matters, health, politics, news, government, dreams, and memories. I’ve been experiencing a wealth of dreams, for instance. What does it all mean? And I’ve set up a dental appointment for some overdue work. Then there’s house repairs. Call to Dad. Text to Mom. Mother’s Day card and gift. Flowers, candy, food, or…what? It’s all underlined by what is perceived as a time of drastic change in the country.
Coffee is singing its songs to my cells. Sunshine is shining. Plans are underfoot. So is the cat. Hope you have an awesomely solid day, devoid of crises and problems, and maybe with some good food. Here we go.
Clouds have moved into Ashlandia. As neighbors go, they tend to being quiet but flighty. They’re also large but I don’t want to body shame anyone.
With the clouds, we get warmer nights but colder days. Last night only slipped down to 51 F. Today’s high will be 61 F. Will it rain? Let me consult with my digitized Magic 8 Ball. Magic 8 says “It is decidely so.”
Today, BTW, is marked as Friday, April 25, 2025. One third of 2025 is about to end. Despite all of PINO Trump’s promises, preening, and bullying, the Russia-Ukraine goes on. The government is in miserable shape and not saving any money. People are losing 401K money because the stock market and bond market are waaayyy worse than under the previous POTUS. Tourism is down. Talk and worries about empty shelves, increasing unemployment, recession and even economic depression is increasing. Pundits already call it the Trumpcession.
PINO Trump responds to it all with glee. “Look how much money my billionaire friends made.” He alternates that with, “What, me — worry?”
I have The Outsiders performing in the morning mental music stream. The song is “Time Won’t Let Me”. Released in 1965, it grew into a hit and radio staple. That led to its purchase as a 45 RPM offering. The record became part of the basement playlist in our neighborhood. We usually did that over at Tracy and Carolyn’s house, as they had a finished basement.
The Smithereens did a cover for the 1994 movie Timecop, starring Jean-Claude Van Damme. I admit, I prefer the original song.
Coffee has come to my aid again, fortifying my psyche for reading the news. Hope you’re all well out there in streaming land, cuz here we go. Cheers
The n’umbers are adding up. Several fours reside in today’s date: 04/24/2025. It’s Thirstda. The week’s fourth day. Depends on how it’s counted.
More eerie is the temperature. It’s 47. The high today will be 74. The low will be 47. All in Fahrenhei.
Alexa’s recital captivates me with all those fours and sevens. I graduated high school in 1974. Childhood was over. Joined the military. Went on my first flight. Slept with 49 other guys in two open bays for the first time. Had my head shaved to peach fuzz for the first time. Shaved off my mustache for the first time.1974 was a year of many first times.
I listened to a melange of radio rock and pop in 1974. I was driving a 1964 Mercury Comet sedan. Stout as a Sherman tank. Forest green. Automatic. 289 V8. And a cheap AM/FM stereo with after market speakers mounted on the parcel shelf behind the back seat. Awesome sound for untutored ears. Delivered diversions by Al Green, Deep Purple, David Bowie, the Eagles and the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Joe Walsh, Elton John, Queen, Harry Chapin, the Doobie Brothers… The list of performers and music goes on. Good time to be young and listening to pop music.
The Neurons disappear into 1974’s dark storage in my brain. Remember those bellbottoms? And that paisley top? Oh yeah, and the worn brown leather spur boots and the white high-top tennies painted dayglo orange on a whim? Heck, yeah. My girlfriend and I often ate at Dairy Queen. It was the only place that was close, and even it was miles away. We married the next year, after she graduated. Still together.
The Neurons come out with Elton John and “Benny and the Jets”. We loved singing that refrain with EJ, “B-b-b-b-b-Benny and the jetssssss…” So here we go, reliving the past all over again.
Sunshine and clouds are waltzing ogether. Alexa said we’ll get rain showers. The clouds look like they’re willing to back up that prediction. Coffee is settling into my 2025 body. The kid from ’74 never saw it comin’. Here we go, rocking on into another year. Cheers
The Ashlandia spring churn has us in her grip. Chilly to cold nights. Depends on your body’s personal heating and cooling system. Was 39 F in the night. Now it’s up to 54 F. Heading to 68 F. Wind loaded with mountain iciness regularly clocks in. It’s sharper in the shadows.
I’ve been cutting stuff, pruning plants, weeding, trimming back grasses. Papi has taken to nesting in one of those spaces. Early sunshine washes it for a few early morning hours. Used to be Tucker’s spot. Before that, it was Quinn’s, and before them, it was the Scheckter spot. I think I still sometimes spot their ghosts curled up, sunning there in the early hours. I’ve always called it the cat’s sun nest.
Man, it was a clear and gorgeous night here last night. I traipsed out midnightish each to taste the chill and discovered a star filled black sky. Serenely quiet and fresh, a briskly solitary moment. After I was there about three minutes, Papi called out to me and trotted along to rub against my legs. “What do you think of the stars?” I asked. He purred.
Music today comes from the Beatles. The Neurons have “Helter Skelter” playing in the morning mental stream. Kicked off by a dream. I had the same dream before, but the dream went into an extended edition. Awakening, realizing it was a repeat — dream repeats already, so early in the year — The Neurons cranked up the song’s lines that go, “When I get to the bottom, I go back to the top of the slide, where I stop, and I turn, and I go for a ride, till I get to the bottom and I see you again.”
The song always called up ideas about going through the same thing again, again, once more, one more time, etc. A repeating dream was a natural dive board for The Neurons to use to jump into the song.
The song got stronger as a I read news accounts for Trump lies and declarations. “I never said that. I’d never do that.” Etc. Here we go again.
This video is Paul McCartney playing it in concert sans the other Beatles. I saw him perform it in Germany once. It’s lively energetic song.
That’s my opinion. Loads of friends and family were not “Helter Skelter” fans. When I played it on the stereo and cranked it to close to stadium levels, my little sisters’ expression looked like they’d just eaten candy covered with dog fur. “What is this?” the older asked. I laughed.
Coffee is lifting me higher again. Hope something is lifting you. Here we go, rocking and rolling on into the future. Then we’ll do it again. Cheers
At 4:07 AM, the cat announced, “Let’s go!” Yes, he batted and chatted me awake enough to sleep walk to the door and release him back into the wild. He didn’t stay in the wild long. Cold, wind, and hunger drove him back in. “Not that wild, are you?” I asked him. He meowed back.
Thus began Twosda, April 22, 2025, much as many other days begin. Twosda and Thirstdas are the worse for me in this regard. My wife gets up early on Mun-Wen-Fri to attend exercise class. She deals with the cat between 6:30 and 8 AM on those days. But today has Papi testing the limits, in and out. I suspect he has two twins and they’re taking turns at this.
It was 39 F at 4:30 AM. If you trust Alexa. I asked it the temperature after Papi came back in. I was curious because it felt cold to my half-naked body. Like Sun & Mun, today features a clear blue-sky sauce and a glaze of sunshine with a tincture of wind and mild temperatures that lose their punch in the mid to upper sixties.
Trump continues to pile instability on instability, crazy on crazy, losses on losses. Like all great leaders, he sets ridiculous goals using ideologically-driven data, fails to take many details and factors into account, and then pretends it’s going great as everyone else prepares to get out the toilet plunger because this shit is overwhelming the crapper. He is consistently terrible and proud of it. Living in a Teflon-coated bubble, he’ll probably never recognize his insanity and the disastrous, negative impact he delivered to millions of people.
Unless, of course, his secret goal is to completely undermine and destroy the United States. That’s also possible. He could well be in collusion with Russian and oil oligarchs and are busy setting the table up to establish a powerful global cabal. Makes as much sense as any other shit he spreads.
They say that the Roberts Court is finally getting a backbone. “They’ll reign Trump in.” Ha. I think Trump is already smirking at the Roberts Court as he says, “Hold my Big Mac.” Harvard and other universities are suing the Trusk Regime. He doesn’t care. He’s already destabilized and disrupted our education systems and research programs. A third of the national NOAA weather offices have lost their leases. We’ll see what that does to the ability to warn about weather disasters. Then, Trump and Noem have been dismantling FEMA, so when these disaster squat on communities and drop a load, the state and community will struggle to recover and rebuild. Meanwhile, DOGE is raiding personal data and will probably weaponize that on behalf of Russia. He’s truncated international alliances and friendships that effectively worked for over half a century, isolating our nation. Besides all that, he’s been running due process over with a golf court.
And Trump and his supporters think this is just great. Anyway…onward.
When I first heard this Led Zeppelin song when I was thirteen, I thought, holy fucking shit. That was a startling development because I’d never sworn before that. That’s when I took up coffee, too. It all seemed to go together.
The song — “How Many More Times” — is in my morning mental music stream for reasons which The Neurons have sealed. They have better security than Kristi Noem and keep secrets more effectively than Pet (Pete) Hegseth. Not saying much, given how terrible and sloppy the Trump Regime has demonstrated itself to be, outside of the Musk-driven DOGE dogs.
Here is the music. When I listened to it today, my inner thirteen-year-old sat up and said, “Holy fucking shit.” This is a recording of a live show. Anyone familiar with Zep knows it’s gonna be a jam and will vary a bit from what was on the album.
Coffee has again insinuated itself into my body’s systems. I’m prepared to rock another day, at least until nap time later today. Hope your day is as purpose-filled as you need it. Carpe diem. Cheers
Spring has sprung for loads of pastels in Ashlandia. Enjoy it while you can. Summer is rocketing toward us. For today is Saturday, April 19, 2025. It’s 62 F and feels colder due to cloud cover. Those clouds menace with rain, but the weather seers say that isn’t the case for us in Ashlandia today. Instead, it’ll stay mostly cloudy with some sun and spring up to 71 F.
The weather displeases the cat. Giving up on consistent sunshine and warmth, he’s accepted shelter in the living room where he resides on the Malabar chair. This is his favorite site. He does move around and can surprise us with his location.
Fer instance, I awoke at 4 AM. Did I hear something? Was it the cat?
The bladder said, “Hey, I can use a break.”
Grumbling about giving my bladder a break in the middle of the night, I used the required facilities. My mind was awake enough to wonder if the cat was in or out. If he was out, did he want in?
I looked around the bedroom, dining room, hallway, and living room. No cat in sight. He wasn’t at the front door. I changed direction for the backdoor. As I walked, I became aware of a padding noise at my side.
“Where do you come from?” I asked the cat.
He rushed to the door. “Let me out.”
Today’s song offering comes out of my mind’s old song vault. The Neurons pulled it up after I read news stories and wondered if I was in the right reality. Sometimes I think that someone pulled the old switcheroo on me and changed reality without telling me. Maybe they’re doing this as a prank. It’s not funny to me, but I can see how others could be secretly watching and laughing. Maybe aliens did it. They were tired of abducting and probing us, so now they’re switching realities on us. It could explain a lot.
Aware of these thoughts, The Neurons dragged out “Unreal Reality” and dropped it into my morning mental music stream. This is a song by The Kinks that came out in the 1960s. I’m surprised The Neurons could find it.
Here are the words. Feel free to sing along. It’s an unusual piece for rock ‘n roll. h/t to Lyrics.com
All that I see, seems so unreal to me,
Is it the truth or is it only fantasy,
Is it a dream or is it unreal reality?
All around me is such unreality,
Optical illusions as far as my eyes can see,
Is the whole thing a fake, or the ultimate reality?
That house is so big that it reaches right up to the clouds
It's got hundreds of windows, so the people inside can look out,
And they look down below and wonder what it's all about.
Look at that lady she got silver all over her face,
Is she a human being or a creature from outer space,
Is she authentic or phoney, I guess it's just a matter of taste.
Oh because they can feel it, it's gotta be the real thing,
Because they can touch it, it's gotta be reality.
If they say it's real, it's gotta be the real thing.
See that fella, looking all spick and span,
Is he a tailor's dummy or is he a real man,
Is he genuine, or straight off the assembly line.
All round me is such unreality,
Optical illusions as far as my eyes can see,
Is the whole thing a fake or the ultimate reality?
Is it a dream, or is it the real reality?
Reality or not, the coffee is in me, summoning energy from the depths of my being, which, admittedly, are pretty shallow. Hope your reality works out well for you. Here we go, one more time. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 