The Trump Administration offered an updated food pyramid this week.
A woke exercise, they stood against ultra-processed foods, just like Michelle Obama did. Unlike the former First Lady, Trump advocates eating lots of fat.
Trump’s food pyramid became a mocking exercise after Brooke Rollins suggested that you can have your fat and eat it, too, by suggesting a really, really, really cheap diet — which she also claims is healthy.
Tortilla, broccoli, ‘a piece of chicken’: US agriculture secretary mocked for ‘money-saving’ meal
In answer to questions, Brooke Rollins said,
“I think the question you’re asking, and it’s a really important one, is while we’re asking Americans to reconsider what they’re eating, are we actually asking Americans – especially those who are living on the margins – are we asking them to spend more on their diet?
“And the answer to that is no,” she continued. “We’ve run over 1,000 simulations. It can cost around $3 a meal for a piece of chicken, a piece of broccoli, you know, a corn tortilla and one other thing. So there is a way to do this that actually will save the average American consumer money.”
Trump claims everything is going so great, he jokes about canceling the elections. My question becomes, if it’s all going so well, why is the Trump Administration running simulations for how Americans can eat cheaply?
Tell you what. Let’s see Trump walk the talk. Let’s see him live off the $3 meal of chicken, broccoli spear, corn tortilla, and ‘one other thing’.
My sense, given Trump’s previous responses to things, is, he will say, “Why should I? I don’t have to.” Because that’s how he works and thinks. “More for me, less for you,” is his overarching motto.
Besides, Trump knows as much as we do that the suggested diet is absolute bullshit.
It was the weirdest damn thing. I backed out of my garage and drive this lovely Saturday morning. As I straightened the car and drove down the street, a gray Tesla 3 pulled from the curb, preceding me. We were close enough and angled right that I noticed the driver — an older-looking, white woman, short gray hair.
She went down and stopped at the hill’s bottom. As I pulled in behind her, another gray Tesla 3 cruised by. Hand to Dog, that Tesla’s driver looked just like the first two.
The Tesla ahead turned left, falling in line with the first gray Tesla. Gasping with delighted surprise at such serendipity, I pulled up to the stop sign. Another gray Tesla 3 went by with another white, female, gray-haired driver.
No way, I thought. It was almost like a surreal dream.
Settling behind the three gray Teslas with their gray-hair white drivers, I wondered. Is this a trick of my mind, or triplets driving identical cars? I also imagined that an elaborate ruse was being pulled, but who was the intended victim?
Temptation arose to follow them and see if the three cars ended at the place and if the drivers really looked alike. But coffee, writing, and routine called, and I peeled away, leaving the mystery to be solved by another.
Frida finds our Ashland home peaceful. Alexa says it’s 55 F outside, but my systems put it at 38. Other locations report it’s 48. The invisible fog has lifted, leaving sunbeams a clear path to spread warmth and light through the blue sky.
Today is January 16, 2026. 60 is our projected high, kicking off a week of days in the low to mid 60s. We’ll see if that holds, given weather’s changing ways.
Whatever the temperature, Papi is in good spirits. Patio sunshine glows off his white and orange as he grooms after breakfast.
After a night of a long series of dreams, I’m in a very good mood. One had me with Jerry Seinfeld and George Constanza going to a small, intimate open-air comedy festival. I was with Jerry, who was driving, while George followed in his own car. Although an interesting time, I lost my sunglasses. I kept thinking I’d lost them in the water but consoled myself, it’s only a dream.
I also feel very good with where my health is — today. I’ve kept my lost weight off and still run and exercise. My feet, legs, and ankles stay almost pain-free, with twinges sometimes remarking on what I’m doing. Aided by supplements, my abdominal discomfort and bloating have diminished. I remain careful about what I eat and always give myself time to digest before thinking about eating something else.
While I continue to percolate with dream details, feeling healthy and peaceful, I’ve avoided looking at the news. Trump has a habit of making a good day bad, and a bad day — worse. I’ll eventually scan headlines, hoping that ICE violence isn’t climbing, the U.S. hasn’t attacked another nation, or measles aren’t spreading.
Looking at Trump statements over the last several years, remarks made by him counter history or demonstrate a weak grasp the government. I calculated that Trump has been alive for about 32% of the United States’ age as a nation. You’d think he would’ve picked up that information by now. He is college educated.
Now, for no particular reason at all, The Neurons are playing “The Passenger” in the morning mental music stream. Iggy Pop wrote, performed, and released it in 1977. As it plays, I think, here we go, off on another daily journey.
Hope your journey today is happy and carefree, graced with peace and hope. Cheers
Invisible fog continues to blanket Ashland. Alexa declares that it’s foggy in Ashland, 36 degrees F. I see 30 on my system and only blue sky, sunshine, and hard white frost outside. The difference between what she reports and what I see annoys me. I like things to be upfront and clear.
One other clear point is that our local snow-free winter continues. I’m not a snow fan. Yes, it can transform a landscape into a beautiful, magical white land, but problems arrive, too. It’s beautiful in the short term but melding snow often sometimes refreezes. Commutes become sloppy and hazardous. Deliveries are held up, and people run out of home supplies, and store shelves
I’ve been thinking about those invisible weather forces as I consider the skein of Trump’s affordability announcements. Trump often frames affordability as a ‘Democrat scam’ or ‘Democrat hoax’. But he’s spending a lot of time addressing it. Much of what he’s offering is splashy and excites his supporters.
What Trump offers does not provide answers, but bandages to symptoms. Root causes — low wages, high prices due to product availability, including housing supply — are untouched.
Peering out my window, thinking about the invisible forces giving me clear skies and sunshine as Alexa tells me it’s foggy, reminds me that nothing Trump is proposing will address the invisible forces driving our economic issues. Perceptions of even potential war trigger protective, ‘just in case’ behavior. Credit dries up, interest rates — including mortgages — rise, and supplies decrease.
Just as I can’t see the big picture on what goes on behind Alexa’s weather observation, Trump seems inure to the big picture behind global economics. It’s not that I’m an expert, but these are things I’ve witnessed during my life and read about in history books.
The Neurons eagerly insert “Invisible Touch” into my morning mental music stream after these early morning thoughts about invisibility. Phil Collins wrote the song, recorded and released by Genesis in 1986. A playful song, “Invisible Touch” summarizes the way another person can sometimes get under your skin in ways you can’t see, but you can feel.
Coffee is up. The first few sips are hot and fresh on my tongue. Neurons clamor for some of it, and I smile.
This is Thirstda, January 15, 2026. Time to go meet the day and find our way through its touch, invisible and otherwise. Cheers
Wenzda, January 14, 2026, settles onto Ashland like invisible fog. Alexa insists fog is out there but blue skies and sunshine meet my little eye. It’s in truth, very pleasant appearing outside the windows. But dress right; my system warns that it’s 35 degrees F. Alexa actually agrees with that part. We hope to see the low to mid-fifties today, but it depends on where you’re at in Ashland, I think.
Despite the sunshine, rising violence in the United States undermines my hope and optimism. Digby posted several excellent posts about Customs and Border Patrol’s confrontation guidelines, and Trump’s plans to add Greenland to the United States.
Trump keeps circling back to controlling Greenland, suggesting the United States should either buy or invade it. Trump declared the United States is safer against China and Russia with controlling Greenland.
I’m frankly surprised. The United States is about to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the nation’s beginning without Russia or China invading us through Greenland. To be sure, it’d be a circuitous and challenging route to take to reach the United States.
Worries about a Russia/China attack also seems to undermine the U.S. Navy and Air Force’s power and global reach. Geography matters, yes, and firepower doesn’t erase its strategy, but it does limit it, especially when nuclear deterrence is considered.
Greenland is Denmark’s territory, and Denmark is a NATO member. U.S. Attacks on Greenland would probably trigger a NATO response, which is where Digby’s post helps. Digby shared information from Malcolm Nance, former naval intelligence officer, foreign policy analyst and pundit, about the consequences of a United States attack on Greenland.
My perception of Trump is that he thinks that attacking Greenland would be quick and easy for the United States. Despite Greenland’s statements that they would resist, Trump seems to think that Greenlanders want to be part of the United States. I don’t know how he arrives at that conclusion.
To me, Trump’s framing regarding control of Greenland reflects pre-nuclear, industrial-era thinking, and not modern reality. Regardless of a NATO military response, an attack on Greenland would severely damage the global economy, destabilize peace, and increase the threat of nuclear war.
It seems like Trump is omitting or downplaying the political, economic, and military cost of forecefully taking Greenland. As far as buying it, Denmark and Greenland have both declared that it’s not for sale. Unfortunately for them and us, Trump often doesn’t accept rejection.
All of this thinking led The Neurons to fill the morning mental music stream with a rock song about truth. “Tell the Truth” is a Derek and the Dominos original, included on their album, Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. Like “Layla”, Eric Clapton’s love for George Harrison’s wife, Patty Boyd, inspired Clapton.
More importantly for me is the chorus about telling the truth.
Tell the truth, tell me who’s been fooling you? Tell the truth, who’s been fooling you?
Who has been fooling Trump? Or is he trying to fool us? Probably both, right?
That’s where I really flail with Trump, his plans, and his support. Either some other reality guides their thinking and planning, or they’re lying. I wish they were more straightforward with the facts and truth, instead of making bellicose statements.
Anyway, on into the day and its invisible fog. No great plans for me other than writing, reading, and visiting with my wife and cat. My wife surprised me yesterday by asking if we could have Indian food tonight. So, we’re going out to a local restaurant, House of India. Truthfully, I’m looking forward to it.
Hope truth finds its way to you and carry you forward into the rest of this year, and peace and grace join. Cheers
Sunpudoze(floofinition) – An animal or group of animals, especially housepets, sleeping in a puddle of sunshine. Origins: 1909, Middle Floof floofmanteau, from sun +puddle +doze, initially appearing in Poor Fido’s Floofmanack.
In Use: “Eastern sunshine often poured into the pillowed space. Almost every morning, Soaps, Duds, and Laundry jumped up there, spending hours in a sunpudoze, where the dog and cats gently snored, making Suzanne smile in happiness and envy.”
Standing and stretching from my coffee-shop table, I said, “Hi, Kim.”
Hair red as a cardinal catching attention, Kim grinned. My coffee-house writing friend. Three novels out there and counting.
“Hey, Michael. You leaving?”
“Yes, the table is yours if you want. It served me well.”
We laughed. I was giving up the corner table, the best for writing, offering comfort, privacy, and stability. Certain tables rock when typing. Precious as we are, the rocking disrupts needed writing rhythm.
Kim went on, pointing over her shoulder, “I was over there but that table is just too low. It makes my back and neck hurt.”
A grin overtook my face. She was as particular as me. “I know! It really makes it hard when you’re hunkering down for a two to three hours.”
Packing up my gear, I vacated the space. She swept in. “Happy writing,” I offered, then went on with a smile.
It was a good writing day for me. Hope it’s a good one for her, too — though, with that table and her talents, it’s bound to be.
I was in the coffee shop on a writing mission, nursing a stiff neck. Falling asleep in a chair the other night, my head slipped out of position. I’ve been doing micro movements almost absent-mindedly to loosen it.
So, there I was, eyes closed, flexing my neck and head back and forth. A Steve Miller song, “Keep On Rockin’ Me, Baby”, floated out of the speakers. Without thinking about it, I was moving my head side to side in time with the music.
When I opened my eyes, a small pair of blue eyes were watching me—blonde hair, rosy cheeks, pink plastic boots. She began copying me. Eyebrows lifting, head tilting, she mirrored every little motion.
I grinned, and she laughed, and so did I. For a moment, it felt like we were performing a tiny, accidental duet—two strangers connected by rhythm, movement, and the music of another time.
Michael Seidel, writer 