We were high-school classmates. Graduated in 1974. I haven’t seen him since 1979, when I was home from the military. He was a good friend for the times, at the time. But we have all changed, haven’t we?
I dreamed I encountered Keith at a store. Don’t know what kind of store. We were both the young people we were in high school. Someone else was with him, hanging back in the shadows, behind him. I don’t know who they were. Keith told me he was running for office. I was very surprised. Keith, reserved, a little shy, with a sharp mind and a dry sense of humor, didn’t seem destined for politics. I asked why he was doing that. He gave me a detailed response about problems he’d had with several local businesses. He’d felt cheated but everything the businesses had done were legal, so he was running for office so he could change things. As he gave his response, he showed me his phone, where there were records and newspaper and media articles about the businesses and Keith’s issues. I said something about him using his phone as evidence. He replied, “Good lord, no. I have too much porn on it to ever show anyone my phone.”
This is it! November’s final day. Yep, it’s now Sunda, November 30, 2025. Like yesterday, it’s chilly. Up to F at my home. Fog took the day off though. We’ll break the fifties again, temp wise. Yesterday shifted in temperature and inclination sufficiently for me, out walking, to say, “Hey, it’s not bad out here.” Certainly is better than those places being buried in snow.
The ‘We Ain’t Buying It’ campaign rocks on as protest agin the corporations aiding and abetting the Trump Regime takedown of U.S. democracy. That right-wing campaign seems to be fumbling and flailing as Dizzy Donny hisself likewise stumbles, fumbles, and flails. Courts outside of the Roberts Court consistently rule against Trump decisions. Doesn’t matter. Enabled by Republicans in Congress, backed by a weaponized DOJ, supported by billionaires and the Heritage Foundation, Dozy Donny presses forward.
A stench floats from the TACO Regime. Look at what they’re doing. There was the Trump Epstein shutdown and the Epstein files. Constant grifting, whether it’s Trump phones, Donny T crypto, Melania schemes, the regime works hard to make money for the Trump mob. Meanwhile, they’re rewriting history to discount what anyone other than white men did. Overseeing the destruction of the actual White House building. Presenting a shambolic Russia-Ukraine ‘peace plan’. Flip-floppin’ over tariffs and wreckin’ the economy. Guttin’ of the Federal agencies and programs approved by previous Congresses and administrations. Wantonly, randomly disappearing people, including legal immigrants, including American citizens. That’s just a short, high-level list.
This is Trump’s vision in November, 2025, after eleven months. People are no longer overlookin’ this crap. Scales are droppin’ from people’s eyes. Polls are rolling in: they disapprove of Trump and what he’s doing. FAFO stories are spilling out as MAGAts, happy to do unto others but unhappy to have it done unto them, complain about what Trump is doing to them. All I can say is, ’bout fuckin’ time.
A bevy of dreams again last night. One was about me being a bear protecting other people. In another, I was flying some kind of ship, protecting people. I awoke, thought them over, began cleaning up and dressing. After considering the weather and picking out my clothes, I began singing a song about getting my blue jeans on. At first I thought it a song which I’d made up for myself once upon a time. Then instrumentation slipped into the song. By then, I thought it was a faintly remembered tune, dug up by The Neurons, slotted into the morning mental music stream. Using the little I remembered, I discovered “Jeans On” by David Dundas, from 1976.
Time to coffee up and head out. Hope peace and grace find us and does it soon. Till then, hang on. Cheers
Ashlandia had another foghold morning. Temps were in the 30s on the F scale. They’ve now punched up to 41. Most fog has done an Oregon goodbye. Sunshine, blue skies, and thin clouds have slipped in to serenade the weary autumn landscape. 55 F is the hoped-for high. This is Satyrda, November 29, 2025.
The Neurons have been busy with dreams when I sleep. So many, and many are very long and richly detailed, it takes a while to mentally review and catalogue them each morning. The dreams seem to be churning up other thinking and memories. A song I don’t recall hearing in a long time is in the morning mental music stream. The song is “Never Been Any Reason”. It’s straight outta the 1970s. I enjoy the song’s vocalizations and harmonies, and its changing tempo. But The Neurons couldn’t answer why they were playing it in the MMMS today or who the group behind it was. I could only remember something about a head. Had to look it up to learn it was Head East.
Juan Orlando Hernández was accused of receiving millions in bribes and partnering with cocaine traffickers. He was convicted in Manhattan in 2024 and sentenced to 45 years in prison.
President Trump announced on Friday afternoon that he would grant “a Full and Complete Pardon” to a former president of Honduras, Juan Orlando Hernández, who, as the center of a sweeping drug case, was found guilty by an American jury last year of conspiring to import cocaine into the United States.
The news came as a shock not only to Hondurans, but also to the authorities in the United States who had built a major case and won a conviction against Mr. Hernández. They had accused him of taking bribes during his campaign from Joaquín Guzmán, the notorious former leader of the Sinaloa cartel in Mexico known as “El Chapo,” and of running his Central American country like a narco state.
The judge in his case, P. Kevin Castel, had called Mr. Hernández “a two-faced politician hungry for power” who masqueraded as an antidrug crusader while partnering with traffickers. And prosecutors had asked the judge to make sure Mr. Hernández would die behind bars, citing his abuse of power, connections to violent traffickers and “the unfathomable destruction” caused by cocaine.
~snip~
‘Shock and surprise.’ After Dizzy Donny pardoned all the J6 criminals, I’m not at all shocked and surprised by this one. Hernández was called “a two-faced politician hungry for power”who masqueraded as an antidrug crusader while partnering with traffickers. That description defines Donny T quite effectively. The proof is that he keeps saying he’s against drugs, attacking Venezuelan ships without providing any evidence that there are drugs or smugglers onboard, and then releases actual convicted drug dealers and criminals. That’s life through TACO’s looking glass. Claims he’s the law-and-order president who regularly breaks and law, claims he ‘backs the blue’, and then releases people who killed actual police officers.
Peace and grace haven’t shown up yet. Maybe they’re waiting for just the right moment. Till then, I’ll coffee up for one more sally into the world. Here we go. Cheers
Sunset was turning the day into a purple cloud darkness. I was getting into a large, shiny black SUV. My wife was with me, and some others, but they’re unknown. As the mechanics of starting the vehicle and guiding it out of a parking lot to a road was finished, I realized that something was on the vehicle’s front end. That something progressed fast from ‘something’ to a full-grown cougar. With that registering, I stopped the car and told the rest what I saw, then stepped out of the vehicle to cautiously approach the animal. Alive, it clung to the front with its claws. I told it, “Shoo.” To my amazement, the cougar departed its space, trotting away from me, amusing, mysterious, bewildering.
Returning to the vehicle, I drove for some time. Arriving somewhere during daytime, my wife and I left the vehicle to shop in some little stores. Not particularly interested in shopping, I found a cushioned bench where I sat. Feeling drowsy, I laid down to nap. I awoke after some unknown time because a small stripped tabby cat was curled up against me and purring in my ear. Fully awake, I put and scratched the sweet, loving animal. It trotted off, tail high, after a short time.
My wife came and I told her what happened. She was marginally interested, annoying me. We went out and found ourselves on the top tier of a large sports arena. Some football game was underway. I gathered this was a college or university. Skirting the game, my wife and I went down to register for classes. When I walked into the administration building, a large cougar leaped into my arms and held onto me. I was so astonished and a little wary but the animal wasn’t threatening. After some seconds of holding the cougar as it held me, a female administrator came by and told the animal to leave me alone, which it did, trotting off down a hall, disappearing through an open door.
After talking about classes, my wife and I, accompanied by a female friend, went out to walk some trails that crossed the campus. These took us into some small, rocky mountains. The day grew hot under a bright sun. My wife decided to sit and rest. I went on a bit. Looking back, I saw that she’d fallen asleep so I laid down to nap. I took off my pants, leaving me in a shirt and underwear, but covered myself with a light blanket. The friend came up. She teased and flirted with me, suggesting she wanted to join me. While I rejected her, I also wanted her, and found the entire encounter intensely erotic.
Hello World. We’ve stepped into another Wenzda. This is November 26, 2025. Sunshine is warming Ashlandia. The clouds have stepped out. Fog has eased off. It’s 48 F with pretentions of reaching the mid 60s. The winter edge has filed away, and it feels like a pleasant autumn day out there.
The Neurons are offering a melody by The Offspring in the morning mental music stream. “The Kids Aren’t Alright” entered the stream as I scanned news, shook my head, and wondered, “What the hell is going on?” That plays right into the song’s lyrics.
What the hell is going on? The cruelest dream, reality
The song was written in response to one of the band members seeing first hand how the ‘American Dream’ failed his home town. From Wikipedia.org:
Dexter Holland wrote the song after visiting his home town, Garden Grove, California, and discovering many of his old acquaintances had faced serious problems. Holland stated: “The neighborhood looks like Happy Days, but it’s really Twin Peaks,” while guitarist Noodles said that the song subverted the idea that “you grow up hoping you and your friends have a bright future.”
How many of us have seen something like this transpire? You meet these little nephews, nieces, neighbor kids, etc., and think, “Gosh, what a bright and talented young person. So intelligent and precocious.” Parents rave about how great the child is. Then, a few years later, you hear about the child’s growing problems. Some of the problems are derived from school, some from family, even parents. And you think, “What happened?” in wistful wondering tones. Kind of like many do with this country, particularly under the Trump Regime. What happened? WTF is happening? Especially to the cratering of norms, institutions, and structures under Dizzy Donny’s guidance, and the twisted priorities he pursues to glorify and enrich himself. Dozy Donny is such a broken toy.
Call out and reminder, We Ain’t Buying It this weekend. Annie presents a solid reminder of the whereins and whyfors for us. It’s about money, power, responsibility, and living with choices. Check out Annie’s post, if you will.
Big Business is a substantial target as we enter a Big Business Weekend. The coalition behind “We Ain’t Buying It” began with Black organizations that started boycotting Target when it dropped its DEI policy to appease Trump’s White Nationalist agenda. That boycott continues.
The opposition now includes many other supportive groups. As explained below, the emphasis is on Target, Home Depot, and Amazon,and the boycott is for the weekend that begins on Thanksgiving Day, moves to Black Friday, and concludes with CyberMonday.
You can read all the details in Indivisible’s description. As they say, it’s simple. It’s also a building block for the economic measures that will be necessary in the near future.
~snip~
On to coffee! The first sip is with the nose. Since grace and peace haven’t deigned to be here, I’ll just carry on widout ’em. Onward, into the world. Cheers
I was in a store with friends. This clean, mostly white, and well-lit place was like a fancy grocery store. No friends from real life were present but the people there were all known to me as friends. I knew that we were there for the second time. The first time, we’d made minor purchases. Liking the place, we returned to buy more.
So, we’re in line to pay, and we’re comparing how much our purchases will probably cost. Most of what we’re buying is food, especially cheese and bread, it seems like. The owner, a young and petite white woman with black curly hair and red lips, is behind a counter ringing up purchases.
I estimate to my friends that I’m buying several hundred dollars of food. Then it’s my turn and I step up to pay but the owner waves me off. She tells me that she knows who I am, that I’m a writer that she admires, and that she loves my books. I’m perplexed as I’ve only self-published a few books and had a few stories sold, so I tell her that I think she’s thinking of someone else. No, she insists, she knows me, knows who I am, and I will never need to pay for anything in her store. Her insistence stirs guilt in me; that’s not the way the system is supposed to work. I’m also flattered but doubtful. We talk more; she stays on point. I surrender and walk out without paying.
Good morning. We’re here in Fog City on Twozda, November 25, 2025. It’s a sweltering 41 F outside, and it’s gonna get hotter! As the sun and fog tango and clouds move in and out, we’ll crest 55 F. All this continues a pattern of unusually cold and foggy weather for us, weather that’s colder than normal for Ashlandia. Still, we’re not seeing the heavy rains crashing into the northeastern part of the state, so, thanks, weather gods.
Speaking of the state, Oregon’s governor declared a state of emergency.
Oregon Gov. Tina Kotek declared a state of emergency Monday to ensure that enough fuel arrives to the state while the Olympic Pipeline, which supplies more than 90% of the state’s fuel, remains shut down due to a leak ahead of Thanksgiving travel.
Kotek’s declaration is intended to keep enough fuel arriving to the state by ships and trucks partly by waiving certain regulations on how long commercial drivers hauling fuel can operate, according to the governor’s order.
~snip~
Oregon officials said they did not expect a fuel shortage in the state or at Portland International Airport with the emergency measures but cautioned that drivers might see an uptick in prices because of the more costly delivery methods.
In Washington, where Gov. Bob Ferguson declared a similar state of emergency last week, the shutdown is starting to slow some air travel in Seattle ahead of Thanksgiving.
~snip~
Oregon often has a price higher than most states. This is generally driven by a combination of factors, including state taxes and the challenges of importing gasoline and other fuels into the state.
Today’s music is a hit by the Four Tops, “Standing in the Shadows of Love“. This is all dream related. As the dream faded, I moved into a shadow. Had nothing to do with love at all. But as I reflected on the dream, The Neurons started playing the song in the morning mental music stream. The song came out in 1966, when I was ten, and was a powerful and repetitive presence on AM car radios. My older sister also bought the 45 when it was available and it was inserted into the song rotation she and her girlfriends played on sis’s little portable record player. So, yes, I have a strong familiarity with the song.
One of the more interesting things about news yesterday was a story that slowly disappeared. Early on, I read a story about DOJ resignation letters under Dizzy Don TACO Trump. I read about that on three sites at that point, including CNN and CBS. When I went back to read the articles again later, the CNN and CBS sites had removed the story. I don’t know why. But I can reasonably speculate that this is part of the mainstream media caving to the Trump Regime and shying away from stories TACO might find too critical or truthful. TACO has a thin skin, dontchaknow, and the media is fearful of his anger and what he might do to them.
Former Department of Justice officials who were either forced out or resigned in protest of President Donald Trump’s administration left some scathing resignation letters for their bosses, and a new organization is seeking to preserve as many of the letters as possible, according to a new report.
Since Trump took office in January, about 5,000 employees at the Department of Justice have either quit or resigned, CBS News reported on Sunday. Meanwhile, a cadre of those former employees is banding together to create a public display of the messages the former employees left for their bosses. Those employees have created an organization called Justice Connection that is organizing and posting the messages, the report added.
Stacey Young, a former civil division attorney for the Justice Department, is leading Justice Connection. A spokesperson for the organization told CBS News that they are working to preserve the messages because they “show what is happening in our country at this moment.”
The repository includes messages left by high-profile former employees such as Maurene Comey, the daughter of former FBI Director James Comey.
~snip~
I found it a compelling situation and admired the sentiments and principles these people espoused. I wholly recommend checking it out.
Peace and grace are still maintaining a low profile. Hope they find us soon. The fog is blotting out less of the sun and the coffee is hot and fresh. Guess I’ll just flow with those positives. Here we go, once more into the day. Cheers
I dreamed I was at Mom’s house. We were all younger, and this was all pre-Frank. Mom’s beau never showed in the dream. Lots of others did. All four sisters. Wife didn’t show. Many, many friends throughout the years came and went.
The first stage was a big party. Mom and my sisters were present for that. Then they left, having had to go away somewhere for a day or two. With them gone, the party got bigger and crazier. Heaps of food were being consumed, along with beer and wine. Music and laughter boomed. Then the party wound down. I began cleanup. One other, a generic skinny old gray white guy, was there helping. Then he disappeared. As I walked around, cleaning, where the heck did he go? Then I found him, asleep in a chair that was flipped over. Well, let him slept, I thought.
Meanwhile, so many leaves were present.The levels astonished me. Drifts and piles of leaves were everywhere in the house. A gray and white kitten went through them, playing, then pranced outside through the open back door. I followed, peeking out to ensure it was a safe place for a kitten. It was a fenced yard with pea rock at the bottom. Tiered with cinder blocks, plants were in neat, ordered arrangements. I identified green peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, and realized, this is my sister’s garden. I then left the door open for the kitten to go in and out and resumed cleaning, taking a vacuum cleaner hose around to suck up leaves.
My friend woke up and apologized for falling asleep, explaining, “It was just a long day.” He began helping. At that point, Mom and my sisters arrived back home. There were still leaves to clean but they were hungry. I looked for leftovers to give them. My older sister asked for coffee, and I began making a bot. Mom asked if I’d checked the mail, which I admit, was the furthest thing from my mind, and then continued asking people, did anyone get the mail?
That’s where the dream ended.
In the waking aftermath, the dream amused me more than anything. I thought it about life and change, and considered it very heavy-handed of my Dream Neurons to present so many leaves, thinking they represented the days gone by and the leaves of change.
I was in charge of a small law enforcement unit, part of a national agency. We were all casually dressed, not even up to casual Friday standards. The people I led were young and inexperienced but eager. We’d been working on a case. Now we were closing in for the arrest. I was cautioning them, “But we don’t want to arrest them too soon. We are still gathering evidence in other aspects, and we want them to think that they’re one step ahead of us. In reality, we’re one step ahead of them. But we need them to be overconfident until it’s time to make all of the arrests.”
We were arresting a small gang of middle-aged individuals. No idea what their crime was. At this point, the dream evolved into us arriving at a place, waiting for the criminals to arrive, then ‘accidently’ revealing ourselves, letting them get away, to our feigned frustration. We did this five times before the other units announced that all traps were in place, and then we sprang our trap and arrested them. Only then did their leader realize that my team had been conning him. The look on his face was priceless.
It’s Thirstda! I’m glad about it because The Neurons kept telling me that yesterday was Thirstda. I accused them of being out of sync and reality deniers, much like Trump. Man, they fumed with indignation after that, sputtering about how wrong it was for me to compare them to TACO, who is deeply and grossly embedded in an alternate reality, in The Neurons’ opinions. “We’re not like that,” they kept telling me until I finally acquiesced and gave a half-warm fake apology about being sorry for comparing them to Trump. That mostly shut them up but they still sulked for a while.
Today’s numbers are 11/13/2025 and 60/64/56 for month/date/year and current/high/low temperatures in F. Wind is busy teasing the poor trees and leaves into mad waving and racing. It’s the kind of wind that has me checking to ensure nothing has blown away. Papi came in after I’d spotted him huddled hard against something, head down. Soon as I opened that door, he bolted in. Then he gave an angry look back, like he was swearing vengeance against the wind, and launched himself into a hard house gallop. Besides the wind, it’s sunny now, but it did rain and more rain is s’posed to be dropping, even if it doesn’t look it now.
I know I mentioned it before but I will reiterate, having my gallbladder removed has left me feeling amazingly better. I sleep better, have more mental and physical energy, with better focus. I feel less angry, anxious, and emotional, and less troubled and more confident about the future. I’m wary about what I eat as I slowly re-engage a wider range of offerings while keeping the fat down, and monitor my body’s response. I do miss being able to fully exercise. While I’m jogging, I’m restricted from lifting more than 20 pounds. Pushups and planks and wallsits are all out for now.
I had two terrific dreams last night that I recall. Both had me laughing as I recalled them. As I finished working over the dreams, I want into thinking and writing my novel in my head and ‘lo, the muses came and gave the writing neurons some sweet little details to insert. It’s great when things like that work out. I’m eager to get into it later today.
Today’s music is “Blind Spot” by Bruce Springsteen.
I’m not certain why The Neurons have “Blind Spot” in the morning mental music stream. The clue might be in that chorus. “Everybody’s got a blind spot that brings them down, everybody’s got a blind spot they can’t get around.” Was I thinking of blind spots? I don’t know. It appears that the reason behind The Neuron’s song choice is…ahem…hidden in a blind spot.
You saw that coming, didn’t you?
Well, the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 set a record but ended. Now we’ll see what happens with the Epstein files. There have already been some interesting emails leaked up about Trump’s involvement. May the leaks become a flood.
Hope peace and grace find us soon. Meanwhile, coffee is giving a pep talk to The Neurons about the need to be alert, active, and optimistic. Here we go, once again. Rock on. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 