Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

A high school couple were seated beside me at the coffee shop. I began by writing, ‘a young high school couple’, but isn’t that redundant? It does stimulate a story beginning: ‘An old high school couple sat beside me discussing their course workload and death choices.” Don’t know where it advances from there.

This HS couple rose to leave. She made a comment about Pink Floyd. He, looking directly at me, replied, “I know. Dark Side of the Moon is such an amazing album.”

I thought, funny, but I was about their age when that album was released. About their age when I went to a concert and witnessed Pink Floyd performing songs from Dark Side of the Moon.

I said nothing back, but I was pleased. It’s good to learn that appreciation for some things goes on.

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

This is a first world issue. First world blues. It’s about the ‘do-nothing’ loop. And enshittification.

We have an Epson printer. Bought it about a year ago. Replaced the big old Brother printer we’d had for over a decade. We often struggled with it. No; it often struggled to do what we wanted it to do. We wanted it to print on demand. We thought that’s what it was designed to do. Now I know otherwise. These printers aren’t designed to print. They’re designed to bring in revenue as products when they’re sold. After that, fuck you, you’re on your own.

So, Yellow-Magenta-Cyan are not printing on the Epson. That’s essentially the basis of color printing. I’ve gone through updates. Nozzle power cleans. Test printing to a sickening point. Nothing changes the YMC outcome. Yes, there’s ink in there. First thing I checked.

The enshittification really begins with the support. It’s a beautiful do-nothing loop. If it doesn’t print, clean nozzles. Then test. If it doesn’t print again, turn off for twelve hours. Try again. Here are some more helpful things.

None of the ‘more helpful things’ offer an iota of help. They’re just not what’s going on with our printer. And clicking on some just take me

Okay, let’s ask them for support. To get support, I need to the serial number.

Where is the serial number?

On the bottom of the printer, of course!

It’d be too damn easy to put it on the front, top, rear, or other two sides. No, no, no, let’s go full enshittification. Let’s put it on the bottom. Because, see, printers have ink. They shouldn’t be turned upside down. So, that makes it very difficult to get the serial number required for support, so win-win for them, they save on support costs!

What enshittification geniuses!

Hmmm, let me see what AI says about turning my printer upside down.

WTF kind of answer is that, oh great AI?

Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

It’s a sign of the times! My spouse and I ventured into a Dollar Store for a 2026 calendar. Despite computers and phones, she still tracks things on paper calendars. Anyway, there in a Dollar Store aisle was a machine attached to a pillar. “Price Checker” said a large red and white.

A price checker. For the Dollar Store.

Well, yeah, as we all know because the Dollar Store announced it, inflation has caused the Dollar Store to start charging more than a dollar. In this case, the Dollar Store calendar was $2. Made in China, I expect the price to go up.

Sundaz Theme Music

Summery wisps are present for Sunda, October 5, 2025, in Ashlandia. Now 57 F, sunshine and blue skies say summer but the trees’ scarlets, oranges, golds, and yellows remind us, no, we’re turned the seasonal corner. Still, 75 F is our projected high. Good day for getting outside for yard chores. Papi approved, to judge from his floofverbals — tail up, eyes slitting in appreciation as a sun pool is turned into a floofspot. He commences a lazy spruce up of his whiskers.

Several interesting articles were read this AM. One is an Adam Gabbatt analysis in The Guardian addressing Trump’s increasing strange behavior.

The president is unhinged’: Trump’s online behavior grows increasingly odd

The column highlighted Trump’s AI use to portray Rep. Hakeem Jeffries as Hispanic, a strange and silly ploy which drew Hispanic anger against Trump. That was stacked atop the right-wing conspiracy about med beds shared in a Trump tweet (later deleted), his unfounded ideas about pregnant women using Tylenol, and Trump’s pingpong attention span. Trump went from the Michigan synagogue shooting, where he promised to keep people updated and then never posted about it again, to bragging about the tacky gold decoration he’s added to the Oval Office to his dissatisfaction with an NFL kickoff rule. Then he talked about how presidents walk.

“America is respected again as a country. We were not respected with Biden. They looked at him falling down stairs every day. Every day, the guy’s falling down stairs.”

Trump continued: “I said: ‘It’s not our president. We can’t have it.’ I’m very careful, you know, when I walk downstairs for – like I’m on stairs, like these stairs, I’m very – I walk very slowly. Nobody has to set a record, just try not to fall because it doesn’t work out well. A few of our presidents have fallen and it became a part of their legacy.

“We don’t want that. Need to walk nice and easy. You not have – you don’t have to set any record. Be cool, be cool when you walk down, but don’t, don’t bop down the stairs. That’s the one thing with Obama, I had zero respect for him as a president, but he would bop down those stairs, I’ve never seen – da da da da da da, bop, bop, bop, he’d go down the stairs, wouldn’t hold on. I said, it’s great, I don’t want to do it. I guess I could do it, but eventually bad things are going to happen and it only takes once, but he did a lousy job as president.”

Those of us who regularly Trump watch were wearily unsurprised. No, we’re more amazed that the GOP cynically not just accepts Trump’s surreal behavior but actually celebrate and support it. Meanwhile, Trump grows more violent, more eager to use the military every day. Attacks against Venezuela have escalated without any checks being offered by Congress about WTF is going on. And Trump regularly drools over chances of sending in military, even threatening to use the 82nd Airborne, into American cities run by Democrats.

The other article catching my attention was more direct about Trump and his growing wars.

Trump’s phony war on Venezuela — and his larger war on reality

That’s the heart of the matter, isn’t it: Trump is conducting a war on reality, and bringing his alternate reality and self-created facts and history into our reality. That’s the old square peg in a round hole problem. Trump reality is wholly at odds with truth, facts, medicine, and history, and often wars with logic. This piece is by Andrew O’Hehir in Salon. O’Hehir writes,

This war on the world has both fictional goals and real ones, and the fact that those are incompatible is, once again, not a fundamental problem for Trump’s courtiers or adherents. There’s no hypothetical version of global equilibrium in which the United States is simultaneously the dominant superpower and also an isolationist fortress-state with zero immigration. I would guess that Trump loves the sound of that but doesn’t follow the logic too far, while the people who intend to outlast him just “yes queen” along and roll their eyes. Their goal is more doable: leveraging American power to ensure the continued dominance of the billionaire elite for at least as long as our planet remains habitable. (They’re aware that it probably shouldn’t be advertised that way.)

This is how many of us have viewed Trump and MAGALand since early days. I recommend reading the entire article.

The summer/autumn blend has The Neurons feeding me a song about summer. Called “Summer”, by Calvin Harris. This video of young people at a show having fun was amusing to me to watch. Hope it doesn’t something for you, too.

Coffee has again answered the call. Peace and grace are still hanging back, despite my naked dance under the moonlight last night. Hope peace and grace get here soon. Till then, cheers.

Me Against the Machine!

TL/DR: I lost again.

I received a paper check in the mail. After posting it to the wall for action for ten days, I launched myself to the credit union to make a deposit at the ATM. After processing it all, pressing the right buttons, and answering their questions, the machine told me with an exclamation point, “Invalid Transaction!”

“How the fuck is that an invalid transaction,” I muttered at the screen. It didn’t answer.

Well, one failure is a fluke. Two is a coincidence. Three is a trend as a failure. I did it four times. Fed the check into the machine four different ways. Always came back, “Invalid Transaction!”

It’s not me, I consoled myself. Has to be the machine. Still, it did sting to walk away a failure.

Satyrdaz Theme Music

Dreary sunshine and bleached skies say hello when Papi and I step out to inspect the morning. It’s 49 F in Ashlandia today, Satyrda, October 4, 2025. A high of 60 is anticipated. The furnace was turned on to dispel some of the morning chill, as it was just 67 F in the house. Despite these clouds, rain is not a worry for us. Personal note, today is the 51st anniversary of when I swore my oath to defend the Constitution in the U.S. military.

All my appointments went very well Thursday. Texted Mom to tell her we’re coming to Pittsburgh for her 90th birthday. She says she’s looking forward to seeing us but is busy painting the kitchen cupboards right now. Dad remains in rehab in Texas. Spoke to him, and he was in terrific spirits and sounded strong, healthy, and alert.

Trump’s Venezuelan body count is 21 after U.S. missiles destroyed another boat. That’s number four. What’s the body count over/under for a Nobel Peace Prize?

The Weariness Meter is in the upper ranges today. I feel I’m flagging over the news. Think I’ll take a time out from keeping up to date. That general malaise striking me had me thinking about past and present. 1974, when I graduated from high school and joined the military, still appears as a decent year when I look back through time’s long lens. This year, 2025, feels like a terrible year on multiple levels. Reflections have me treading on a path of thought about how much we’ve regressed in my lifetime. Most of that came in the last 20 years. Hell, most of it came with Trump’s takeover of the White House in 2025. Much of it is due to Russ Vought and Project 2025 and their effective use of Trump as a dupe.

The Neurons decide to cheer me up with “Here’s Where the Story Ends” by Sundays in my morning mental music stream. Sample lyrics for you from Songfacts.com.

Crazy I know, places I go
Make me feel so tired
I can see how people look down
I’m on the outside

Oh, Here’s where the story ends
Ooh, Here’s where the story ends

It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes my eyes feel sore
And who ever would’ve thought the books that you brought
Were all I loved you for
Oh the devil in me said go down to the shed
I know where I belong
But the only thing I ever really wanted to say
Was wrong, was wrong, was wrong

It’s that little souvenir of a colorful year
Which makes me smile inside
So I cynically, cynically say the world is that way
Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise

Here’s where the post ends. Hope grace and peace pop up for us someday soon. Got my coffee. Time to motor. Cheers

1982

Daily writing prompt
Your life without a computer: what does it look like?

I’ve lived without a computer before. It actually wasn’t terrible. Yes, I’m now spoiled. Personal computers have been life changing.

But jump back to 1982. I was in the U.S. Air Force, stationed at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa, an island that belongs to Japan. Commodore’s VIC 20 had us abuzz about computers. While we could easily see how it would make many things easier, shopping wasn’t yet on the menu. Nor was getting news updates. It was only toward the end of 1983 that I began learning about the concepts of ‘bulletin boards’, the Internet, and the worldwide web.

So back then, we watched television. Movies were watched via VHS tapes. That was the latest, greatest tech move for us, and such devices were still running close to $1,000. But we had one to help us weather the lack of entertainment inherent in being overseas. Remember, this was before satellite TV, too, for all practical purposes. All that stuff was just coming out, as were microwave ovens. They were also huge, bulky, expensive machines, but we purchased on of those, as well.

It’s hard to believe how fast everything changed. In late 1983, I bought my first CD player. It played one CD at a time. Returning to the U.S. from Japan, we gave our VHS player to my wife’s parents, and bought ourselves a new, smaller one with more features, including a remote control. That was the same year that I bought my first computer, a small but heavy Kaypro. Running at 4.77 megahertz, with a tiny green screen, it ran on CP/M and offered minimal RAM and two floppy drives that used 5 1/4 inch disks. It was a wild scene. We learned how to add RAM, make things faster, and double our floppy disks’ storage. Ten megahertz machines were being touted as possibilities, along with 64K of RAM and a 5-meg hard drive and 16 color monitors! Wow!

Back before that, we read. A lot. Books were checked out from the library, and research was done at the library. I subscribed to multiple magazines, such as Writer’s Digest, Autoweek, and Road & Track. Went for walks, played sports, read newspapers, which were delivered daily. When I lived in San Antonio, Texas, I subscribed to both the San Antonio Light and the Wall Street Journal. Even with the computer and VHS player coming along, and the CD player, and DVD players, most of that didn’t change. We still visited malls to shop, and used Sears and Spiegel catalogues to make orders, calling in to toll free numbers to put the order in. Board games like Risk, Life, and Monopoly were popular with us, along with Trivial Pursuit, and card games like Tripoli and King on the Corner, and Solitaire.

No, the big change came when the Internet finally fired up. My experience with it began in 1991, when I came back from Germany. Slow as hell, to be sure. Connections through modems which had to be hooked up. LOL. That changed fast, too, as built-in modems came along. I was both a Compuserve and AOL subscriber. Email was a new, exciting idea.

Then, suddenly we went to 256 colors and beyond on our monitors. The mouse became popular. 100 megahertz machines were being sold. I remembered buying and installing a 100-meg hard drive, and laughing. How was I ever going to use that much storage? It seemed so excessive. By then, our floppy drives were down to three-inch little colorful things. Now, we’re like, floppy drive? What the heck is that?

Going online was a wild scene back in the mid 1990s. Weren’t many websites in those early days. The games were something else. Research, news, and sports all became much more accessible. Then, boom…social media. That’s when things really flipped.

I’ve gone a few days in 2025 without my computer and without the Internet. Like before, we read, played games, and went for walks.

Just like it was 1982, just forty years ago, when I was younger, and so was the personal computer.

Social Media Sez

Trump’s BS isn’t going over well in the socialsphere. The right-wing bubble might be lapping it up but here in the real world, mocking Trump is growing as a pastime.

Some straightforward truth…

A little history…

In closing…

Laurence Britt’s list was displayed in the holocaust museum

And something from Trump’s alternate reality…

Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

Hurt myself today. Yep, totally self-inflicted, and I was totes sober and drug free. Goes like this.

I was walking fast into the bathroom to get into the business of shaving, teeth brushing, and showering. A million things were heading through my mind. I’d just come from the living room, where Papi, by sole floof, was sweetly sleeping on a chair. But as I walked into the primary bath, I heard a loud, sharp meow behind me.

I knew it wasn’t Papi. Not his meow.

Whirling around, I simultaneously turned my head to go the other way and plowed straight into the door jamb. I fortunately hit with my forehead. Being hard-headed can sometimes help, and this is one of those times. Had my head been up, I could have easily broken my nose or given myself a split lip or black eye.

Staggering back after bouncing off the frame, I held my head and said, “Jesus, Michael. What is wrong with you?” Remembering the meow, I looked up.

A small gray and white feline visitor was staring at me through my patio door. I’d never seen the critter before. As I said, “Hello, who are you,” it whipped around and dashed away.

I peered outside for any more sign of it. Seeing none, I checked my damages in the mirror. One thing really still bothered me.

What caused that cat to meow like that?

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