
He’s swore to protect and defend the Constitution. Instead, he’s ignoring laws, and breaking his oath of office and the nation. Impeach.
Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not

He’s swore to protect and defend the Constitution. Instead, he’s ignoring laws, and breaking his oath of office and the nation. Impeach.
Hey, jewels and gems, it’s Munda, August 11, 2025. Today features clear skies and heat. Didn’t cool much last night after we pegged 104 F at my house. Only dropped to 71 in the nocturnal hours. Now it’s in the upper 70s and rushing toward 103 F. Fire warnings abound.
While not too cool, the moon was full and bright. Papi and I enjoyed the moment together. Only sound heard were crickets and the rush of machinery up the asphalt river called I-5, several miles away.
Reading today’s headlines, I’m furious with Trump and the GOP. Ignoring laws and truth, that gold-plated Offal Office buffoon ordered troops into D.C. to restore law and order, a law and order that had no problem, except one of his DOGE boy toys was victimized by crime. It’s brought on a full-throated whole-body GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR out of me. Can’t imagine this going over well with anyone but the Project 2025 Christian white supremacy gang and the most deeply immersed of the MAGAts. For me, it shows Trump’s deep desperation to play king and distract from the growing pile of things going wrong and matters worsening in the United States. He’s also trying so damn hard to keep his MAGAts and everyone else from thinking about him and his relationship with Epstein and the many crimes which may be exposed when that file is released.
Today’s music is credited to thinking about Trump. Precisely: how Jeffrey Epstein introduced Trump to his third wife at one of Epstein’s debauched affairs, the ones with the details in the Epstein File.

Trump partying with sex offenders Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell and his third wife, Ivanka.
Donald Trump, with his new girlfriend and future third wife, and several convicted sex offenders.
As I was thinking about that meeting, Der Neurons rewarded those thoughts with an Eddie Money beat as “Shakin'” from 1982 opened into the morning mental music stream.
She was shakin’ (oh-oh-oh-oh)
Snappin’ her fingers (oh-oh-oh-oh)
She was movin’ round and round (oh-oh-oh-oh)
That girl was shakin’ (oh-oh-oh-oh)
So, this Mundaz theme song is owed to those BFFs, Donald Trump and the late Jeffrey Epstein.
Had some coffee. Off to deliver Food & Friends. Hope your day is awash in peace and grace. Cheers
Greetings from Ashlandia. We’ve gotten to another Frida. It’s been predestined to be called August 8, 2025. Last night was a sharp, clear night in Ashlandia. The fullish moon unloaded buckets of light. Stars crowded in like Swifties at a concert. Cool air sweet with freshness took the house’s heat out of it. Now dawn has broken. Sunshine has bulled out over the green land. Heat is coming up. Today will scale to 90 F. Tomorrow, red flag alerts are out as we push past 90, and Sunday, we’re expecting 102 F.
I called Dad and spoke with him and his wife for over an hour. He’s back home and doing well. Both were in good spirits. Trump’s actions and behavior deeply disturbs Dad. He’s worrying and wondering what the country will be like in four years. Other than that, we chatted about other family members and heating and air conditioning. That last was triggered by a task I’m doing: going up into the attic to switch the blower fan for the A/C and put it on high. I really should get a switch installed for that. It’s no fun at all climbing into the attic above the garage to deal with the horizontally-mounted blower for the central system. And I need to do it in the morning in the summer, before it get’s blazing hot in the attic. Complain and moan, that’s me.
Worrying about tariffs, I did order a new computer. It’ll arrive in a few days. Nothing fancy, just something for TSPG: typing, surfing, posting, gaming.
I surveyed a blizzard of news a little bit ago. Court cases the Trump Regime won and lost. More speculation about the Epstein files. Canyon fire growing in California. Troopers shot in PA. New record temperature in Arizona. These are all Trump era trends.

Reviewing some of Trump’s recent lies, The Neurons came up with a Queen song, “Liar”, from 1974, in the morning mental music stream.
And, fueled with coffee again, I’m off. Hope peace and grace finds you today and everyday. Cheers
Another cool, blue-sky deal rolls into Ashlandia. It’s Sunda, August 3, 2025, and 68 F. Claims are being staked that it’ll be 86 F with thunderstorms later today but I’m living in the now. We’re enjoying this streak of average normal summer. Been a few summers since we’ve had an extended streak, knock wood. Meanwhile sympathies and thoughts to all the places enduring floods, fire, wildfire smoke, and other disasters.
The morning joke between my wife and me is, “What has he done today?” We worry that the mango Offal Office occupant will launch a nuclear strike because he had a bad day at golf or more information about him and his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein was revealed. We joke without humor, “Did he raise tariffs 1,000 percent on food and rooster about how much we’re winning?” We’ve not seen any of his ‘wins’. Prices are still up and climbing. When prices aren’t climbing, it’s often because companies are giving you less for the same price they used to charge.
We were looking at online photos of his White House ‘improvements’. A huge, tacky gold-plated ballroom, with none of the grace of the building that houses the President and their family. Sickening. And look at that paved over Rose Garden. It demonstrates such a bare, empty vision. Yes, that is PINO TACO.
Today’s music came from dialogue with my spouse. We were talking about health issues. I was helping her with putting something on. “Easy, easy,” she cautioned. “Sorry, I answered. “I’ll try to use more care.”
The Neurons snatched that up like a dog going for a dropped piece of bacon. “Handle with Care” by The Traveling Wilburys was soon bouncing through the morning mental music stream. The Wilburys were a pop rock group formed by well-pedigreed pop rock musicians: George Harrison, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and Bob Dylan. Each claimed to be a Wilbury brother. Their music was fun and relaxed, people with little to prove doing the thing that they loved to do.
“Handle with Care” was the group’s first effort, and it’s most commercially successful. Originally intended to be the B side of a song George Harrison was releasing, record company execs thought it too good for that purpose and suggested the group expand its efforts and make more music. And it all came about with serendipity. George needed another song. He met with Jeff for dinner, but Jeff was already dining with Roy, so the three of them dined together. George invited Jeff to help him with the song, and Roy asked if he could come along. A studio was needed; George remembered that Bob Dylan was local and had a garage studio. Sure, you can use it, Bob said. George needed his guitar, which was over at Tom Petty’s house. Tom asked if he could join because he had nothing else going on.
I mean, come on. What a neighborhood. Much better than mine, where we nod and complain about weather, politics, and prices. Maybe we should start writing songs about that stuff.
Time to rock on. Hope your day finds peace and grace, and perhaps something tasty to eat for your neglected taste buds. I’ve got coffee. Here we go. Cheers
The work week is at its end. That’s what we used to call the Monday to Friday gig. Don’t know if that’s still the handle.
Yes, today is Frida, July 18, 2025. Today in Ashlandia, we’re at 73 F and expect a high of 95 F under skies that go on forever blue and steady sunshine.
More sucky news fills the cyber pages. I’m one who prefers to skim the net and read the news rather than turning to streaming or OTA tv. A news piece touched me with serendipity. From the 1440 Daily Digest was a summary of a new procedure to reduce disorders in newborns.
Mitochondrial disorders, affecting about 1 in 5,000 births, are transmitted via the mother and can cause vision loss, diabetes, and heart issues. Six of the eight babies showed a 95% to 100% drop in mutated mitochondrial DNA, while two showed reductions between 77% and 88%. All eight remain healthy; one experienced and recovered from an irregular heartbeat.
I had read the news elsewhere before. On the same day that I read the news, Jill Dennison shared the song, “In The Year 2525” from 1969. One stanza struck me from the song in connection with this news:
In the year 6565
Ain’t gonna need no husband, won’t need no wife
You’ll pick your son, pick your daughter too
From the bottom of a long glass tube, whoa
I guess my point is that I have always felt that’s the general direction we’ve been headed: manufactured people, whether it’s through cloning or genetic manipulation, or some other technology. I always think there will be dire unforeseen and unintended consequences. Time will tell, right?
My morning mental music stream music is much lighter than that other song. “Take the Money and Run” by the Steve Miller Band, is a 1976 offering about robbery and murder, but with a peppy pop beat. I’s about whims and things that go wrong, and how the consequences. A detective chased them and they remained on the run forever. But to me, the song was always about opportunistic criminals, like those populating the current GOP. Do what you can and need to get yours and screw all others. Yeah, you knew I’d turn this political. LOL. That’s me. At least, that’s why I think The Neurons put it in the morning mental music stream.
Have the best Frida you can. That’s my goal. Here we go again. Cheers
Happy Wenzda. Jumped out of bed (it’s an expression), and went to the windows and —
“Alexa, what’s the air quality?” I asked. Because looking west, smoke sheathed the view. What fresh hell was this?
Alexa told me the air quality was good. Yes, I did not smell smoke. Windows were open. Cool 66 degree F air was flowing in. But that smoke was turning the blue sky gray. Must be from one of the nine fires burning west of us. Or one of the several blowing along mountain ridges from the fires burning south in northern California.
Supposed to be 97 F today. That’s what we saw yesterday. Ashlandia summer is in place.
I can become obsessive about things. My routine soon incorporate sniffing the air for smoke smells and looking out the window to see if the smoke was becoming better or worse. Some crow was yelling something the whole time. Another was responding from further away. I don’t know what it was about. I don’t speak crow.
Reading about Trump’s irritation with the Epstein files. While he’s still burning down the U.S., his base is upset about the Epstein List. Trump, being true to his core of caring only for himself and lying and throwing aspersians at others when he gets upset, lashed out on a lie-filled text. I read a good rebuttal with a timeline and a reminder, Presidents Obama and Biden didn’t have anything to do with it. It was during Dubya’s administration and Trump 1. Staunch Republicans Barr and Acosta were involved. Indisputably, though, Trump and Epstein were runners together. Photos exist. Trump talked about Epstein in glowing terms. No doubt, Trump is in that file.
Today’s music is a 1998 Eve 7 offering, “Inside Out”. The Neurons had it playing in the morning mental music stream for a bit, slowly turning the volume up. Finally hearing the part that goes, “I’m not as
Ugly sad as you. Or am I origami folded up and just pretend, demented as the motives in your head.” Knowing some lyrics makes the modern net useful for finding the song’s details. Once those details were rehoused in my awareness, some memories about where and when I often heard it — in the car, driving around the bay area, Alex — stacked.
Now I’m feening for coffee. Off we go. Have a most excellent day, as we used to say. Cheers
Yeah, look how Trump has ‘made America great again’.

This is a classic Trump product: rolled out with great fanfare, but basically a piece of shit.
So that’s Trump’s thin, shallow idea of greatness. Build crappy places. Abuse other people in the name of religion and patriotism. Sell cheap goods for marked up prices. Tear lives apart. Destroy and enshittify. It’s mindless. Senseless.
The right wing likes to call out TDS: Trump Derangement Syndrome, a perjorative whenever people label Trump’s actions and words as negative. But the real TDS is their inability to see the truth. Or, with many, their preference for what he is doing: tearing down; destroying; enshittifying. Dehumanizing others. Dehumanizing themselves.
Why do that to a nation you profess to love unless you’re deranged?
Welcome to Smoky Satyrda in Ashlandia. The smoke isn’t heavily visible but the smell of sodden wet wood hangs in the air and shifts my sinuses into overdrive to flush the crap back out. Yeah, poor me, right?
It’s 77 F now in Ashlandia with 99 F projected. The local troposphere looks up to it with blue skies gleaming down and a mighty sun raising up. Wouldn’t surprise to break 100 F; that’s the forecast for the valley overall.
A friend has fig trees on her land and gifted us with about five pounds of fresh, ripe figs. These things are huge and gorgeous. I’m married to a fignatic. We just spent $11 for a pint of figs the other day. They weren’t the best of figs but my house’s fignatic was happy to have them. You can imagine her joy from this gift. The figs are also a great addition to my morning diet. Yum. Pairs well with bananas. No so good with coffee.
I subscribe to multiple newsletters about books, writing, and publishing. One email subject said, “New Horror for your Summer”. I was like, no thanks, I have enough of that crap in the MAGALand daily news. For instance, when Trump’s gestapo rounds people up, their pets are often left alone in homes and apartments to die of thirst and starvation. This is Trump’s United States: cruel, mindless, thoughtless, heartless. Should I add greedy? That’s pretty fuckin’ self-evident when Trump brands and hawks new trinkets and consumer goods every month. Beyond that, there’s climate change and growing natural disasters around the world. As a couple nations war on each other and the wars threaten to engulf more geopolitical regions, TACO cuts back on the State Department and retreats.
Trump also announced he’s rolling out new tariffs. Will he or won’t he? TACO loves getting attention from making these announcements. Project 2025 goons installed in his regime loves him to do it, as they continue to operate under the distractions he generates with his blithering dithering — or is it dithering blithering? Trump makes announcements as the world burns and crashes around him, and the MAGAts clap in approval.
All that brings me to the morning mental music stream offering. After a surprisingly restless night and just one remembered dream (but a good dream), I found myself in the kitchen with a specific chorus echoing in the MMMS.
“Never free, never me, so I dub thee unforgiven. You labeled me, I’ll label you, so I dub thee unforgiven.”
Yes, that’s Metallica with their 1991 offering, “The Unforgiven”.
The Neurons were dubbing ICE agents as unforgiven. The entire damn Trump Regime is dubbed unforgiven, as are those senseless MAGAts who rolled this mess into existence. They’re unforgiven.
Have the best Satyrda you can. I plan to do the same. Cheers
It’s Wenzda, July 9, 2025. It’s a difficult day for people like me, who like to complain. I have so much to complain about. I’ll start with weather, although it’s not bad now, 77 F, soon to be 88 F. No, it’s the thunderstorms from the other day, which torched multitudes of fires. The storm was like Jesus making more out of nothing. Smoke now tints the blue sky and white clouds with ugly shades of dirty, old concrete. You smell the burning wood; it’s inescapable. The air quality isn’t bad now, 67, enough jab your eyes into itchiness, tease your nose into irritation, stuff your sinuses into running, and bully your throat into scratchiness.
Neil Creek is the closest fire, right off I5 at mile marker 10. Ashlandia’s first northbound exit is 11. One southbound lane of I5 is closed for two miles.

We’re also trending up in our temperatures. TV weather guy gleefully told us we’re going into the low 100s this week, well over the historic average, but not as bad as last year, when we were running 108 plus. It’s the prototypical 2020s Ashlandia summer. I’ll have a lot to complain about.
Over in politics, it’s a complaint smorgasbord. A complaintasbord.
Like, Trump promised 200 trade and tariff deals by now. He has 3. He’s batting .015. If he was a major leaguer — no, if he was batting that on any time, he’d be pulled from the field and find himself fast out of the game as a never was, never will be. That abysmal performance doesn’t keep the MAGAts and GOP that fill his Greedy Ol’ Trump Party, known in its shorthand as the GOTP, from declaring his Donnie the greater player ever, even greater than Babe Ruth. They don’t mention people like Hank Aaron, because, their heroes are only white.
So easy to complain about Trump. Donnie boy makes ridiculous speeches. He sends ridiculous letters. Transmit absurd texts. Like his latest embarassment he sent out to other countries regarding tariffs. If he was a businessman, people would trash it or post socially about it, mocking it. Oh, yeah, they did.
Another complaint about Trump is the promise of how little he cares, how little he pays attention. Texas was struggling with death and destruction from flash floods. He went off to golf. Said he’ll visit there Friday, a week after it all unfolded. FEMA finally got there. It surprised me that the Trump Regime FEMA bothered to show at all. But it is gerrymandered red MAGALand.
I simply must laugh and complain about Trump being nominated for the Nobel Peace prize. International war criminal Netanyahu nominated the convicted felon and genuine idiot for the prize. If Trump is awareded that prize, the Nobel Committee might as well close up shop and slink away in disgrace. The black mark against them won’t wash off for generations.
The Neurons called up a dedication for Epstein and Trump. Trump wants us to forget about his relationship with Epstein and the parties they attended together. Says he barely knows the guy. With his weaponized DOJ loaded with MAGAts to defend him, the Epstein List suddenly vanished. What a Trumpian way to handle things. Why didn’t he just say the dog ate it. Oh, probably because dogs don’t want to have anything to do with him. They’re too smart.

So, this song is dedicated to Trump, Epstein, Maxwell, and their shared past. Fresh out of 1997, here is Marcy’s Playground with “Sex and Candy”, from my morning mental music stream to yours.
Coffee is being consumed and the writing position is being assumed. May your day give you all you need. Cheers
A new scam is out there. “Scattered Spider” is behind it, according to the FBI, and they’re targeting airlines and airline passengers.
The FBI said the hackers, known as Scattered Spider, use “social engineering techniques” like impersonating employees or contractors to convince the target company’s IT help desks to grant them access to internal systems. “These techniques frequently involve methods to bypass multi-factor authentication (MFA), such as convincing help desk services to add unauthorized MFA devices to compromised accounts,” the FBI said. “They target large corporations and their third-party IT providers, which means anyone in the airline ecosystem, including trusted vendors and contractors, could be at risk.”
I first learned about it a few weeks ago. Friends reported they’d been scammed. After struggling to get airline tickets, they called the airline. On the phone for about forty-five minutes, they finally were able to purchase their tickets.
None of it sat right with them. They called the number back and got air, so they decided to go to our local airport in Medford and address it at the ticket counter. There, they were told, “You have seats but no tickets.” That confused the agent as much as my friends. Further research was pursued with phone calls at the airport, and then the agents leaned in to my friends across the counter and said, “I’m afraid it appears that you’ve been scammed.”
Since that first time, two other people were scammed in similiar ways. All thought they were dealing with the airlines; but they’d been redirected without their awareness. People pretending to be the airline helped them out. The end, except it wasn’t.
Credit card companies were contacted. As their credit card numbers were now out there in con artists’ hands, new cards were needed.
All of this may or may not have been the ‘Scattered Spider’ group. Could be copycats or just others acting in parallel. It’s a messy, ugly world. It doesn’t look like it’s getting any better.