Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
This week, Linda Hill’s prompt was sweet for the Saturday Stream of Consciousness. Here we go.
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Sweet, I thought, go to the coast, get away, enjoy the weather and eat something different and just be someone different somewhere doing something different watching waves, breathing the air, smelling it –
Hope it all goes well. Why shouldn’t it? Well…yeah. Life.
Maybe I should eat something. Cookie? Scone would be nice. Blueberry. Lemon.
Time to go home.
From the beginning of Trump’s run for nomination, he’s made promises, and then broke them. Ignoring laws, experts, and history, he’s followed his own path. Experts warned about the consequences. History informed us about what had happened the last time the things he’s trying were tried. Laws were made to check power and ensure We the People were heard.
Trump ignored it all. The consequences are accelerating.
Trump began his term as 47 suggesting the United States should add a 51st state.
Puerto Rico? Washington, D.C.? Guam? All are natural choices, since their citizens are US citizens.
No. Trump scorned them. An advocate of states’ rights when it suits his agenda, Trump wants the Federal government to take over D.C. Says, “I think that we should run it strong, run it with law and order, make it absolutely flawlessly beautiful.” You know, like the USPS is doing under him. Or any of his bankrupted businesses.
No, Trump meant Canada should be the 51st state.
Canada balked against the idea. Then they got pissed. Basically flipping the bird at Trump and the United States, Canada reacted to Trump and his threats and tariffs by withdrawing business from the US. Canada’s purchase of US alcohol has dropped 63%.
Using cell phone data, economic analysts are reporting that Canadian tourists boycotted coming to the United States for business and vacations more than is generally reported. When they did come, they stayed for less time and spent less money.
Pivoting under Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, Trump suggested Greenland would be a great 51st state.
Then, deciding that law and order meant whatever he decided it meant, Trump used the US military to kidnap Venezuela’s President and his wife. Trump later suggested, maybe Venezuela should be our new 51st state, bringing WTF frowns to many people’s faces. Many frowns deepened when he’s shifted to talking about Panama as a 51st state.
The bottom line from Trump’s rash behavior is the US lost a valuable trading ally in Canada. Canadian tourists are staying away. That’s contributing to declines in tourism to the US. Most of the money being spent on travel in the US now is by US citizens.
Meanwhile, Trump’s military has been spending so much money that they now must save money. How will they do that? Why, by cutting training. Yes, sir, nothing works better to keep the nation’s military strong and ready then cutting training! How very Trumpy logic it is.
Part of the reason why the US military is cash strapped is Trump’s war with Iran. Trump had Iran attacked in June 2025 to stop their nuclear program. Trump declared that military operation was successful.
Yet, in February of 2026, Trump had Iran attacked again. To stop their nuclear program. In April, he declared that Iran’s military was ‘decimated’.
But here we are, more than two and a half months later, with Trump threatening to attack Iran again as Operation Sledgehammer because Iran is still fighting back.
As part of Trump’s war on fraud, waste, and abuse, he created DOGE. Headed by billionaire Elon Musk, DOGE trampled constitutional norms and arbitrarily decided what was waste, never mind what Congress had decided. That campaign led to over $100,000,000 in funding for 1,400 grants to the National Endowments for the Humanities (NEH) being cancelled or terminated.
A year later, a judge has ruled what many of us said a year ago: Trump lacks the authority to cancel these grants. The people he authorized to do so employed specious reasoning when they cancelled them. That Trump and Musk worked through two twenty-year-olds without experience in grants or the humanities, people who did not bother to review the applications or grants, was just another demonstration of the Trump administration arrogance, recklessness, and due process.
NEH is expected to restore the funding. We’re waiting to see if Trump’s DOJ will appeal.
Eric Trump, son of Donald Trump, was caught blatantly lying by Jen Psaki. Jen Psaki noted that Eric, a citizen entrusted with running the Trump business while his father is in the White House, went to China with Dad. Eric said it was because he was an adoring son. Psaki said it was because he was doing business with China and was on the board of Alt5. Eric denied having anything to do with Alt5 and threatened to sue Psaki and the network. Psaki pulled up the information about Eric Trump being introduced as a board member of Alt5 last year.
BTW, Eric Trump is cozying up to the Chinese to build Data Centers in the US with a Chinese chip manufacturer.
Eric, like Dozy Donnie, thought he could lie with impunity. He and Donnie both forget we’re in the information age. Fact checking is easily available if you have the time and interest.
Trump’s backward thinking is catching up with Trump and his family and supporters. It’s a slow-motion crash, but sooner or later, the tipping point will be reached and it’ll all fall over.
Many events are on the horizon which could cause the tipping point:
My question is, how bad will the fall be for the nation and its people?
Four women were chatting at a nearby table at the coffee shop. Appearing similar in age to me, two women dominated the talking. One was short and slender, with fair skin and dark, bobbed hair. The other was tanner and smaller. Smiling a lot, her silver hair fell around her shoulders.
They were talking about toothpaste. Looking up from my writing, I tuned in as the first woman said, “I put a pea-sized amount on my brush.”
One of the other women, heavy, with dry brown hair that came to her shoulders, loudly, sharply scoffed. “That’s not enough.”
The first woman replied, “That’s what the directions say to use.”
The brown-haired woman snorted. “Everyone knows you’re supposed to put toothpaste on all the bristles, from one end to the other.”
The conversation fell still for several seconds. “Anyway,” the first woman resumed.
I returned to my writing.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Thursday, May 14, 2026.
It’s blue out there, full of sunshine. Clouds are absent. 50 F with a high in the mid 70s today.
Thunderstorms looked possible yesterday but it didn’t happen. Just as in the previous days of forecasted activity. After the winter snow drought, May is at 3% of its average rainfall.
Our snowpack is at about 7%. While the reservoirs are above 80%, without snowmelt to replenish them, it’ll be a hot, dry summer. Stack the El Nino predictions, many of us are bracing ourselves for a rough year ahead.
Mom’s state is not good. She wasn’t responding to my sister’s texts. Sis called the assisted living facility, Heritage Grove, to ask about Mom. They said Mom went to bed before dinner and had not felt well all day.
On the optimistic side of the board, two neighbors are reportedly interested in buying Mom’s house.
My wife and I had new tires installed. For the record, we replaced a set that we’d bought in 2019. Got 35,000 miles out of them. Not great, not bad.
We bought them at Costco and had them installed there, shopping while we waited. As we were in the Medford area, we decided to eat out and chose the Texas Roadhouse Restaurant. My wife likes the salmon they serve there.
We couldn’t eat there. The way was blocked by ambulances and firetrucks. Wondering what’s going on, we took to our phones to learn. Nothing at the fire department, alert system, social media, or local television stations could give us that info.
This duplicated a Tuesday incident, in my mind. Driving home from writing at the coffee shop, one lane of traffic was blocked off in front of an SOU building on Siskiyou Avenue. What happened? I searched for information after I got home and couldn’t find anything. 24 hours later, the answer came: a woman had driven across the median strip, up a walkway, and into a building, breaking a gas meter along the way.
Miserable headlines fill my feed. When will there be good news? I’m not sure what I mean by good news at this point. An end to wars would be nice, along with a return to normalcy. Normalcy to me is let’s take action against polluting our air and water. Action against climate change. But the cynic in me says that PINO Trump would take credit for whatever and enough brain-dead people would slurp that down and bray about how great Dozy Donnie is that I’d regurgitate everything taken in during the last three days.
But here’s the state of things in the United States nation in one sharp observation someone else made:
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Paraphrasing, Trump lies, says this isn’t so bad, Biden! Because that worked well previously under Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
Enough people with brains are responding, screw you.
You started a war, Donald J “No new wars” Trump.
The economy is a mess, gas prices are rising, all the prices are rising, Donald J “We’ll cut prices on day 1” Trump, and the country is going in the wrong direction.
And you, DONALD J TRUMP, YOU ARE THE REASON WE’RE IN SIX MILLION MESSES WITH NO WAY OUT EXCEPT TO FIRST GET RID OF YOU AND YOUR CRONIES.
Now stop building the damn ballroom and release the damn Epstein files so we can feast on your political corpse.
The Neurons inserted “Mind Games” by John Lennon into my morning mental music stream. This actually came about from Papi’s state of mind this morning. I played with him and his favorite nemesis, the red dot. The play began abruptly. As soon as he engaged, I stopped for about a minute. He kept peeking left and right, waiting for it to reappear. Just as he started walking off, I blinked it back on. Off Papi went, chasing it across the room, then stalking it.
I hope your Thursday brings you some good news and fair winds, assuming you need winds to get somewhere. Like you drive a sail car and need to have wind to blow you along the Interstate.
Have my coffee now. Cheers
I was younger, traveling with my wife and a small group. We were in separate vehicles. I knew I was traveling with a group but none of them stand out in memory.
There was a snowy mountain involved. My wife and I were leading the way, driving in an SUV, heading to a site of four cabins partway along our journey. The cabins weren’t our destination but just a stop.
I was driving and we were well ahead of the rest. My wife and I arrived as dusk began. It was on a slope, heavy snow, with large bare and fallen trees. I felt that some paths and parking for the others were needed and set to work doing that. While I made progress, time was limited, and I needed the proper equipment, so I went on.
Reaching a large conference center, I gathered my people. They were a small group – six to seven, I think. A larger conference was going on. I called my people together to talk about what I’d already done and also to note that we needed equipment to clear out the snow around the cabins, but we also needed to move some stuff.
That last seemed important to me. While I don’t specifically know what I was moving, I knew it was big, heavy stuff. Challenging for a small group, I was hoping the other conference’s attendees would overhear us and offer some help.
That didn’t seem to happen. I went back to the cabins with my wife. Arriving there, I now had a red piece of equipment to move the snow away. While I started doing that, I thought I saw some trees smoking.
I examined the trees. They turned out to be short, gray wooden statues carved from tree stumps. I confirmed they were smoking to me and went back to get my wife’s opinion but also to call it in.
She confirmed what I saw. While we were talking about it, a large group of teenagers arrived. They began climbing on the statues. I went over to warn them that I thought the statues were smoking and might be on fire. As I told them this, I pointed out the smoke to them, and then spotted open yellow flames on one of the statues. I then made everyone move away. I also spotted a statue that had turned into smoking black char, telling me that had been happening for a while.
My wife wanted me to go get help. She said she’d stay there but I felt that was unsafe for her and said, “No.” I explained my thinking and she accepted that.
I then went back in and got on a red telephone to call someone for help with the snow removal, getting the students to safety, and putting out the fire. It was both a friend and an authority in charge of such equipment. He began talking, assuming he knew why I was calling. It was noisy and hard to hear. My wife was with me and I told her, “He’s assuming things.” Then I told him, “No, listen to me. That’s not what’s happening. There are three things going on here. Pay attention.”
He promised to pay attention and then said he’d send help.
Dream end.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Tuesday, May 12, 2026.
It’s 66 F in Ashland. Clouds have painted a thin white veneer over the blue. Thunderstorms are forecast, along with an 87 degree high as spring moves toward summer.
Papi and I went out back. As I was stretching and yawning, I looked down and saw him doing the same. I laughed. “Nice stretching, oh great fur being.” He sat down and began grooming places that I groom in the shower.
News from home is that Mom is sick again. Details are shared. Her sciatic nerve has flared up and she’s back in her wheelchair. Also suffering from diarrhea. Sis says that’s been going on for a week.
My sister has been in content with estate sellers. Familiar with them? They buy the contents and then sell it to the public. They really want to know if there’s anything there besides furniture. Yes, there’s all the things you’d find in house where someone lives. I know that there’s a new movement on about ‘vintage’ stuff. Corning Ware is very popular now. Old clothes. Mom has all that stuff.
Strange and humbling to think simultaneously of all that stuff being bought, used, and sold to others. Decisions made about each purchase. I’d rather that someone else finds and uses the stuff rather than having it going to trash or recycled for its materials.
Today’s music has a two-prong inspiration. One, Jill Dennison recently played ELO’s song, “Turn to Stone”. A good song, it brought to mind another song called “Turn to Stone”. As soon as I read “Turn to Stone” on Jill’s blog, The Neurons introduced Joe Walsh’s “Turn to Stone” song.
I also remembered that I once read that Walsh said the song was about frustration. In true ‘net spirit, Wikipedia.org has a good quote about that from Walsh.
“‘Turn to Stone’ was written about the Nixon administration and the Vietnam War and the protesting that was going on and all of that. It’s a song about frustration. Also, I attended Kent State. I was at the shootings. That fueled it, too. In those days it felt like the government’s priority was not the population. They had an agenda that was about something other than doing what was necessarily good for the country.”
That last line echoes through Trump’s agenda. Driven by ‘right-wing values’, also known as racism, sexism, and greed, and orchestrate by the Heritage Foundation and Project 2025, Trump’s agenda is about him and not at all anything necessarily good for the country.
As Joe sings, “Read the writing on the wall.”
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Inflation news grabbed headlines this morning. Driven by Trump’s non-war in Iran, inflation jumped 3.8% in April. Rising gas prices were a big factor.
Trump’s disapproval rating keeps climbing. The NYT’s page summarizing polls and their Trump ratings are a column of red, showing net disapproval in every poll.
One another piece of news was that Epstein survivors are testifying in Florida. Standing by for another salvo from Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL to distract us from these pieces of news.
On to the music. Hope your day is full of good intentions and good results.
Got my coffee. Time to fly. Cheers
The dominoes are falling over…
Trump is panicking. Disapproval is rising. Failures are stacking up.
Get ready for some audacious Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
Just got a text reminder. I’m due to receive my next dental implant on June 25. That’s exactly a year since the molar and cyst were removed.
Since then, I’ve had my gallbladder removed. Stones and sludge in there, you know?
That was about a year after my ruptured tendon surgery. About two years after my broken arm, itself about two years after my kidney stones emergency room visit, which was about two years after my obstructed bladder emergency.
Now I’m due for Transurethral Resection in my bladder to remove cancer.
On June 25.
Damn, what are the chances that those two things would end up scheduled for the same day?
I’ll need to change the implant appointment. Although I’ve waited a long time to get that completed, facts: the bladder cancer is a greater priority, and it’s harder to schedule. I began noticing blood in my urine in March, and there’s been long periods between blood tests, examinations, CT scans, cystoscopy, and surgery. I don’t want to extend it yet more.
From the half-full point of view, though, I’m fortunate to be able to get any and all of this treatment. So, sure, I’m whining, but it’s first world blues.
It’s way worse for my wife, who has had to visit me to all these different appointments and help me recover. Don’t know where I’d be without her and her support.
It was a complex dream, shifting as ocean waves with a brisk wind. As I thought about it, I distilled it into these general scenes, but it wasn’t quite this linear.
Younger, I was sometimes in the military, sometimes in some other work, seamlessly moving from one to the other from scene to scene. Most of the background was dark, but as if I was in office buildings.
At one point, a guy came by and gave me a silver computer. “Your instructions are on here,” he said. I nodded, understanding, ready to go to work, confident about how to proceed.
Opening the laptop, I brought up the guidance and sat back in surprise. These instructions were different. No worries; I’d figure it out. Probably just take longer.
I was called into another area. It was a small space, and dark. In there were two high-ranking Air Force general officers, small but slender and fit. I wasn’t there to see them. Passing behind the higher ranking one, I heard him describing someone.
I said without thinking, “Oh, you’re talking about – “
I stopped myself from finishing the sentence because I felt I’d overstepped. Then I apologized.
The general gave me a sharp look and then nodded once. “You’re right. Good job.”
Leaving there, I went back to my dark office space and reclaimed my seat, reading to resume my work. Two other people came by. They’d received their instructions but weren’t sure how to do it.
Laughing, I gave them some insights about how to proceed. We chatted for a few more seconds before they left and I resumed work, pleased about what I was doing.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, May 10, 2026.
Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers in the United States. Oh, what the heck, make it to the mothers of the world, no matter your religion, nationality, or species.
It’s 65 F in Ashland with light clouds mildly blocking the sunshine. Our high will hit the upper 70s, giving us pleasant holiday weather.
I’d written a post earlier. Edge crashed, taking the post with it. WordPress hadn’t ‘autosaved’ it, so there was nothing to show that I’d been typing and thinking. Foolishly, I hadn’t saved it myself.
After that, I decided, I’m taking a hiatus from thinking about the news today and commenting on it. Do a MDB: Mother’s Day Blackout.
That’s when the 1995 Van Morrison song entered the morning mental music stream. I retired from the US Air Force in ’95. I heard this song on the radio in one of the first few days of life after wearing a military uniform for twenty years.
I wasn’t employed for the first time since 1974. Wasn’t really looking yet, either; I had my retirement pension. My wife was getting antsy, though. Still, I’d decided to take time off for myself. There would be other days for work.
That happened in early November. By December, I was employed and was fortunate to remain employed for another twenty years.
Today has a similar vibe to my memory of that 1995 day. Look at how over thirty years have passed, and here I sit, feeling like I’m at another threshold. Then again, every day is another threshold.
Remembered Lyrics
When you don’t need to worry there’ll be days like this
When no one’s in a hurry there’ll be days like this
When you don’t get betrayed by that old Judas kiss
Oh my mama told me there’ll be days like this
When you don’t need an answer there’ll be days like this
When you don’t meet a chancer there’ll be days like this
When all the parts of the puzzle start to look like they fit
Then I must remember there’ll be days like this
Hope your Mother’s Day is a good day for you and yours, no matter your sex, gender, whatever. Just celebrate the day, rejoice in what is, and make something to build in.
Coffee is here. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 