Category: humor

A Coffee House Moment

Coffee house hissing, loud laughter, and boisterous conversations swam around me. Waiting in line, a barista prepared quiches and burritos and told me about her cat until I reached the register.

Jessie, the cashier, has grave eyes with a welcoming but cautious smile. As she rang up my order, I tilted my gaze to a cheap-looking white ring on her third finger.

Wondering if it had symbolic meaning, I suggested, “That’s an interesting ring.”

Holding her hand up, Jessie regarded the ring and chuckled. “My sister-in-law lost her wedding ring in the ocean one year. I started worrying that I’d lose mine, so now I only wear my wedding ring on special occasions.”

Turning the ring on her finger, she looked off and smiled to herself. “I wear rings like this instead. I have a bunch of them and let my daughter pick them out for me. She’s say, ‘Today, you’ll wear pink.’ Or, ‘I think you’ll wear orange.'”

We laughed together. Walking off, I imagined her daughter giving her a pink ring to put on her finger.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Tuesday slid into Ashland under a cloud. 46 F out, rain and sunshine are expected today, January 27, 2026. Our high will be in the mid-fifties.

Buoyed by a powerful dream, I’m in an upbeat and optimistic mood today. I know a lot of crap is going on in the world and many people have it bad. That weighs on me and yet, I feel empowered today.

A friend sent me an interesting video. It’s all AI. My Neurons urged me to use it as today’s theme music. I’ll do so. It’s a catchy punky-influenced tune, made with AI’s help. The chorus has found a home in my morning mental music stream. From Sean Hayes at Scaredketchup, here is, “ICE, F**k You”.

I hope you’re in an upbeat, optimistic place despite the world load, and that it leads to a happier place for all of us. Cheers

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The Price of the Prize

In an old news story — two weeks ago, ‘old news’ in the smash and grab Trump news cycle — María Corina Machado, 2025 Nobel Peace Prize recipient, gave her prize to Trump.

I suspect she was secretly paid to give her prize away.

An effective front man for the executive branch’s growing lawlessness, keeping him placated is paramount. Otherwise, he began obsessing on losing the 2020 elections again.

Frustration was high. Nothing seemed to lift Trump’s mood. He wanted Greenland but Denmark wasn’t selling, even though he’d threatened more tariffs. His ballroom’s construction was mired down. ICE’s growing violence was driving his popularity and approval ratings to new lows, and the issue about affordability just was not disappearing. Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos were calling almost every day, ranting, “This is not what we paid for!”

“We need to meet,” Vought hissed to Trump’s cabinet. “Something needs to be done before senators and representatives start growing some balls because they’re going to lose an election.”

“Well, I’m out,” War Secretary Hegseth said. “We already abducted President Maduro from Venezuela. I thought that would make him happier.”

“I know,” Noem said. “We’re doing everything we can over in Homeland Security but now judges are growing a spine. Who do they think they are?”

“I agree,” Miller said. “I thought adding Trump’s name to the Kennedy Center would make him happier.”

“I have an idea,” Bondi suggested. “Let’s approach Machado and see what her price is for giving Trump her Nobel Peace Prize.”

Vice President Vance nodded. “A Noble Prize, yes! That sounds like the perfect pacifier for him.”

Feelers were put out to Machado. Their pitch was basic. “We’re in charge of Venezuela now. We can put you into office. Support you with the strength of the U.S. military. Fund your campaign. All you need to do is give Donald Trump your peace prize as a gift. Come on, what will it hurt? You said that you thought he deserved it. And the record will always show that you won. It’s a win-win.”

Officially, they said Machado came up with it on her own, perhaps in an effort to gain Trump’s support.

As far as they could tell, it worked. Other than another diatribe at Davos about losing the 2020 election again, Trump stayed on track.

“It’s still early days,” Miller reminded the rest at the next meeting. “I think we need to do something bigger, something to really put a smile on his face.”

Everyone’s shoulder’s slumped. “Think,” Bondi encouraged. “What can we do? Doesn’t anyone have any idea what will make him happier for a little while, at least until the midterms?

“Arrest Biden?” Miller said with wide-eyed eagerness.

“Too much,” Hegseth answered.

“What about this?” Bessent said. “Let’s have a Trump coin minted.”

Trump’s cabinet and advisors held their breath in thought.

“That’s more tangible,” Miller said.

Eyes bright and large over a grin, Hegseth exclaimed, “No living president has their name on a coin.”

Vought reached for the phone. “I’ll call our legislative lackeys and get them working on it.”

“Make sure it’s gold,” Bessent said.

Vought sneered. “Of course. We know that Trump is a fool for gold.”

“Okay, I think we’re done for today,” Bondi said. “Americans are getting angry. New polls will probably show that.”

Miller scowled. “That’s because he’s so great, misunderstood, and underappreciated.”

“Anyway,” Bondi continued. “We need to get ahead of the curve.”

Vought smiled. “Of course. Let’s get to work on those memorial gates he keeps going on about. We need some kind of TrumpCares program, too. Doesn’t matter what it does.”

“I’ll take that on,” Kennedy replied. “I know how he thinks.”

Relieved, the group filed out, feeling happier about the future for the first time in days. “It’s good to know to have a direction,” Vought said to Kennedy.

Kennedy nodded. “I just hope it makes Elon happy.”

Vance piped up. “By the way, has anyone seen Trump today?”

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Not my snow; photo from sis in Plum, a suburb of Pittsburgh, PA.

It’s Sunday, January 25, 2026, in Ashland — if I’m reading my computer right. I trust my machine to tell me the truth but as things evolve into greater complications, it’s not always trustworthy.

We have dry weather, sunshine, and blue skies. The temperature gap has returned. My home system shows it’s 25 F. Online cites the temperature as 29 but Alexa says it’s 40. High temperatures in the fifties are expected.

Two different issues draw my attention as the massive winter storm takes on most of the United States, and Minnesota deals with unrest after another ICE shooting. Fortunately, I have a cat.

Papi’s weather focus is extremely limited. He shows more interest in food, although, power to him, he really likes helping me with yardwork. If I’m out cutting things, pulling weeds, and so on, Papi’s steely green-eyed gaze inspects my work. Both annoying and cute, because I worry about him getting hurt.

He and I went out to salute the sun in the back, our habit going back for years. We came in, I fed him, then began preparing my breakfast. Through the kitchen window, I watched my neighbor across the street. Every day, he walks to the end of his driveway, faces the sun, and stands, eyes closed, for several minutes. Today, with this cold, he was returning to his house within two minutes — about the same amount Papi and I did.

Sis’s on-the-scene report from Pennsylvania said everything is closed, finishing, “Been snowing since it started, middle of the night. ‘Ooo, baby, it’s a white world,’ is the official song.” She sent a photo of her front view, with her son-in-law’s car parked in the driveway. The snow is expected to keep falling through Monday.

Eight southern states are suffering power failures from ice due to the storm. Hope people are able to stay warm and safe.

Likewise, I hope everyone in Minnesota is safe, and stays safe.

Today’s song was inspired by Papi and my wife. Papi wanted food and attention. My wife wants assistance with some running around. The Neurons responded to the exchanges by playing “I’m Your Puppet” by James and Bobby Purify. I admit, I looked up who performed it and turned it into a hit that I often heard on my transistor radio when I was young.

These were the lyrics in mind when The Neurons took the song to my morning mental music stream:

Your every wish is my command
All you gotta do is wiggle your little hand
‘Cause I’m your puppet
I’m your puppet

The lyrics were modified from hand to paw for Papi.

Let peace and grace finally track us down, stay a while, and restore some sense of optimism for the future. Cheers

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Remembering Dad Again

I was in the coffee house, deep into writing, when a casual coffee shop acquaintance stopped and said hello. Now a choir direction, he’d spent most of his life as a master mechanic. Cars somehow became the topic.

I mentioned that I was a sporting car kind of person. Car ownership was about BMWs, a Porsche, Mazda RX-7, along with a Camaro and a Firebird.

His response pivoted me to remembering Dad’s cars. Dad mostly drove Corvettes, Mustangs, and Thunderbirds. Aging, he also began driving a pickup, and then a Cadillac. Both were so unlike him.

That’s just like me. Those car choices were ‘needs must’ decisions, exactly why I now drive a compact SUV.

After finishing the conversation, though, I realized that this was the first time since Dad died on the last day of 2025 that I remembered him without grief. Instead, there was fondness and a reflective smile.

Dad was an interesting guy.

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Just the Facts, Please

A headline drew me in this morning.

Francis Buchholz, Scorpions’ hurricane-rocking ex-bassist, dead at 71

I enjoy the Scorpions and their music. They had many hits, and a good friend of mine was a power fan of the group.

Poor guy, I thought, thanks for the music, and gee — just a little older than me.

I opened the story and read, stopping at this paragraph:

Scorpions had already been going for years with another bassist when Buchholz, who was born Jan. 19, 1950 in Hanover, West Germany, joined.

Hold on. If Buchholz was born in 1950, how in the world of math is he 71?

I searched his name for the answer. One article said he was 75. Other places said he was 71, born in 1954. At least that math works.

I wondered, what are the facts? It reinforced my worry, erroneous information spreads too easily on the net.

No wonder we seem confused and polarized. In the digital age, you can’t always be sure of the facts — even when you look for it.

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Friday’s Theme Music

It’s Friday, January 23, 2026. Eight more days, and 2026’s first month is done.

Ashland’s weather is again blue sky, sunshine, and 36 to 46 degrees F, with stagnant air. I guess the weather isn’t into changing much around here.

Reading of the advance of that big winter storm smothering the eastern U.S., I’m happy with my weather today. Snow, ice, freezing rain, sleet, and record cold temperatures are aligned to strike. All of you in that weather’s path, take care and hang on.

Tell me you don’t know the difference between weather and climate without telling me

It’s sad that people like Donald Trump don’t understand the difference between weather and climate. I don’t think it’s a failure of education as much as it’s lazy thinking. As they say, weather is your mood today; climate is your personality.

I’d like to insert a courtesy reminder that today is a Day of Truth and Justice. This is to remind us that an ICE agent killed a person, Renee Good, earlier this month. Since then, ICE has increased its presence and violence in Minnesota.

While official-sounding reasons about immigration sweeps are announced, the primary reason seems to be retaliation. That explanation fits with the pattern to date under Trump 47. Minnesota is blue and Donald Trump is levying vengeance on any state that he didn’t carry, in much the same way that he’s trying to bully other nations to do whatever he thinks is best.

To counter Trump’s tactics and strategy, a general boycott to support Minnesota and those suffering from ICE’s attacks on Americans is in effect today, January 23, 2026. If you care, don’t buy, please.

For me, that means staying at home to write and not spending any money for anything past what’s already committed for health, safety, and security, such as electricity and water.

The Neurons inserted a song by The Smiths in the morning mental music stream, “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now”. The trigger for the song’s recall was, “Why do I give valuable time to people who don’t care if I live or die?”

I believe it’s a general reflection that many of us are trying to improve everyone’s life. That includes some people who don’t care about others living or dying. Some even have expressed it online with lines like, “Die Liberal Scum”. It’s enough to make you wonder, as The Smiths did.

My hope for you today is that you’re safe, healthy, and warm. Happy would be nice, too, if it can be managed. For now, I’ll accept coffee. Cheers

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A Car & Its Driver

I paced the room, waiting for word about my wife’s 2003 Ford Focus. The car was recently stopping on its own, unsafe and inconvenient.

I resisted thinking it was a battery at first. The car cranked up and fired without any issues but then died.

My wife didn’t think it was a battery. “It starts up. Nothing dims, and it doesn’t have that weak, sluggish sound when it starts.”

I agreed in principle. I checked the battery, confirming, no loose wires or cables, intact and clean. A date on the battery’s side, 05 20, surprised me.

Telling my spouse about it, I added, “I didn’t think the battery was that old.”

We reminisced about buying it. Delivering Food & Friends alone because the COVID pandemic was underway, her car died enroute. She called me to rescue her, which I gleefully did to escape the house.

I reminded her, recent ‘high-discharge’ batteries don’t show the same dying battery symptoms we grew up seeing. Then I recalled, it was cold when the car died on her a couple times this week. Cold affects how much energy batteries can deliver.

I decided, checking the battery was where to begin. An appointment at Les Schwab, a mile away, was made for 10 AM this morning.

I started the Focus without any issue; it died five seconds later. I started it again. Death came five seconds later.

Three times was a charm, but I worried about the car dying as I drove to the appointment.

The Les Schwab tech confirmed, bad battery. “One cell is completely dead,” he said.

That fit, to me. A couple hundred dollars later, we believe we have the problem solved.

Whether the problem is truly solved won’t be clear until the car has been driven normally a few times. I have high confidence it’s fixed, though.

But — knock on wood.

Just in case.

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Floofmulus

Floofmulus (floofinition) – An animal’s private secretary or personal attendant. Origins: Floofman, from Flooftin for servant. First use noted in print 1854, “The Travails of A Royal Floofmulus”.

In Use: “Two days after adopting a rescue cat, Becca realized she was a floofmulus, scheduling checkups and planning meals while ensuring she’s safe, comfortable, and entertained.”

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

Today is Thursday, January 22, 2026.

Ashland continues a weather pattern of cold nights, warming days, blue skies, and air stagnation. Blue skies came, went, and returned yesterday. Like yesterday, today’s highs will register over 50.

I’m happy to report that Alexa, online, and my system closely agree that it’s cold this morning. Alexa calls it 31, my system tells me it’s 27 F, and Ashland’s temperature online says, 32. Rejoice!

It looks warmer out there, an illusion of golden sunshine on majestic but naked oak branches lit against sky blue. Stepping out, as Papi will tell you, is a different matter. He did his business and hurried back in to work through breakfast.

Mom and sis each report adjustments have been made, and acceptance of their new relationship is growing. Each still complains about the other but in gentler terms, with more compliments for one another sprinkled in. Hope remains alive that Mom living at sis’s house will eventually thrive.

Sis says they’re preparing for a big winter storm in Pittsburgh, up to twelves inches of snow. She stocked up on baked goods to prepare.

It’s always interesting how things change and stay the same. Weather is one, Mom and sis are another. Trump is a third.

Trump wants Greenland ‘for the United States’, threatening eight allies with tariffs. Global markets responded with fast drops based on worries about a trade war. Whether that impacted Trump’s thinking, he withdrew the tariff threats on those eight nations.

We wait to see what Trump will do next. He promised to cap credit card interest rates by January 20. Didn’t happen.

“We’re going to issue a dividend to our middle-income people and lower-income people, about $2,000,” Trump told the press Nov. 10. “And we’re going to use the remaining tariffs to lower our debt.”

Nobody has received that check. Trump didn’t remember making that promise when people asked about it.

And, let’s not overlook the Trump phone. Promised in 2025, there were rumors of about 600,000 pre-orders. None have been reported as received or delivered.

I’ve heard whispers from some that maybe a tipping point was reached with Trump. I’m not sure that’s so and won’t let myself get optimistic about it.

Thinking about what they’d seen, The Neurons brought up Green Day and their song, “Waiting”.

Now, time to chug coffee and head out to the repair shop to deliver my wife’s vehicle and await their verdict. The car sometimes completely dies without warning. It’s over 20 years old but in good shape, so we have our fingers crossed that something quick and easy will be found. Taking a book with me, in case it’s a long wait.

I hope positive energy fills your day and good things come your way, today and every day. Cheers

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