Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was deep into a writing day at the coffee shop when I happened to look up. Across the room was a young girl—maybe six. In her hand was a huge chocolate croissant. I swear the pastry was as large as her head. She kept attacking it with her tiny mouth, trying again and again to make inroads into the dough.
As I smiled to myself and glanced around, I noticed others doing the same. We all seemed to feel it: the quiet pleasure of witnessing a sweet moment—a sweetie going after a sweet.
The rain has ceased and it’s warmer.
Hi. Today is December 24, 2025 in Ashlandia. Just one week of 2025 remains.
It’s 45 F right now. Quite pleasant. The fog left for a while. Yesterday, buzzing around town on errands, brought beautiful vista of long silvery gray fog snakes crawling around the hollows and valleys, and scaling the mountainsides. Clouds blocked the sunshine, lending the scenes an intensely dark backdrop.
Writing neurons immediately pictured the fog snakes as sentient creatures crawling through our presence, perhaps stealing pieces of us. Not all fog snakes are the same; some feed on memories. Others fog snakes still physical presence from us. More nibble away emotions or thinking. Where does it go from there? Give me some coffee and let me think.
While it’s 45 F now, the weather forecasters are warning us that temperatures will be dropping.
News headlines bring us tidings of destruction or recovery of destruction in other parts of the world and nation. I was with friends last night, toasting our friendship, talking about the season’s plans and plans for next year, and addressing political issues. All present believed Donald Trump’s strength is ebbing. That aligns with several articles I’ve recently read about Trump’s weakening influence.
President Donald Trump’s job approval rating stands at just 36 percent in the latest Gallup poll, the joint-worst rating of any U.S. president at the end of their first year in power of the last 50 years.
The other man? Himself – at the end of the first year of his first term in December 2017 – when he picked up precisely the same score.
For comparison, his predecessor Joe Biden was at 43 percent at the end of his first year in the Oval Office in December 2021.
Happy Holidays, Donald Trump.
Today’s song, “Here Comes Your Man” by the Pixies, comes by way of dog watching. I was examining the morning through the office window. Sunshine! Blue sky! No fog! A dog walker was coming up the street, big black dog trotting alongside on a leash. Sudden deep wagging broke out on the dog. The woman walking the black pup called out something. A man strode down the street. The dog began joyous leaps. Letting the leash out, I heard the woman say, “Here comes your man.” Man and dog rushed one another and showered the other with affection.
As I smiled and went to turn away, The Neurons plugged “Here Comes Your Man” into the morning mental music stream. It’s a very pop tune sound, very un-Pixie, almost anti-Pixie. The band themselves resisted releasing it because it was so pop to them. But here we are, playing it 37 years later. Life. Technology. Perspective.
Coffee is served. Sun is still shining. Sky remains blue. A decent day may be brewing, at least for an hour or two. Hope peace and grace is on its way. Have the best day possible, today and every day. Cheers
Twas the day before tomorrow
And all through the land,
Was a man on television,
A person who many couldn’t stand.
Blustery and yelling,
Threatening to be harsh and mean,
Much of what he said made no sense
To those watching the scene.
“Affordability is a hoax,”
He shouted again and again.
“You just watch me, I’ll make it end.
“I inherited the worse job in the land.
“But it’s getting better,
“Just close your eyes and pretend.
“Start buying less of what you want,
“Prices will go down,
“Ten thousand percent, twenty thousand,
“So much! It’ll astound!
“You’ll be much happier
“With one room instead of three,
“If you work harder,
“Eat less eggs and meat,
“Play with less dolls,
“And watch less Teevee.
“You’d better be peaceful,”
He added in a rising voice,
“Or I’ll bomb you all
“Because you give me no choice.”
He finished up with a scowl and a smirk,
And stumbled away with a twitch and a jerk.
Then we read his holiday texts as day went into night,
“I’m the best ever.
“Give up! Don’t fight!”
With Trump involved, so many ways to contemplate this news evolves.
Will they be gold plated battleships?
With Trump trying to turn back time and erase history, how many masts and sails will the Trump class of ships have?
Will the Trump class of battleships be as successful as Trump Steaks, Trump Air, Trump Institute, and Trump University?
Which will be finished first: a Trump class battleship, the Trump ballroom, a Trump cellphone delivery, Trump’s next impeachment trial, Trump Ocean Resort Baja Mexico, or Trump’s funeral?
Is the Trump class of ships as real as Trump’s ACA replacement plan?
Are Trump’s promises and assurances about this new class of ships named after him any more significant than his promises to reduce inflation on day 1?
Does Dozy Donny’s statements about this new class of ships carry the same weight as his promise that “Mexico will pay for the wall?”
Dizzy Donny is referring to it as the ‘Golden Fleet’. Is it possible he’s thinking of ‘the golden shower’, like the one he had in Russia?
“The U.S. Navy will lead the design of these ships along with me, because I’m a very aesthetic person,” Trump said.
Yes, sure. Just look at what he’s done to the White House’s East Wing, Oval Office, and Rose Garden. They’re sooooo aesthetic.
Not.
I was in the coffee shop, writing the current novel in progress. In fact, I was writing the newest ending to it. This one was not an ending which I’d envisioned, although it was a path that veered from that planned ending.
As I typed, one of my coffee-shop writing friends came by. “I can see you’re deep into it,” she said. “You have the writer face going.”
She and I laughed and she went on. In truth, I was ready for a break because writing butt was settling in. One cheek felt numb and the other was sore.
But you probably know how it is. There was more to write. Hungry, thirsty, pressed for time, I kept going, writing like crazy till I finally took a breath, sat back, and said, “Done.”
We’ll see if I’m done, of course. If the novel is done. Finished.
We’ll see.
“Hello, you old geezer.”
That was my opening to Dad when I phoned him today. My opening was part of a routine we’ve been doing for five decades, except I used to refer to him as ‘old man’. In a previous call, I’d explained to him that he’d graduated from being an old man to being an old geezer.
Dad responded as expected. “Boy,” the nonagenarian said. “I can still kick your butt.”
I laughed. “Sure, if I hold your cane for you and keep your oxygen on hand.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Lots of laughter and teasing followed. It was a good conversation.
34 F today in Ashlandia as winter takes over. My sister told me she likes it when it gets that warm in winter. LOL. It’s Munda, December 22, 2025. Cloudy but they’re light, torn cloud shards. No rain is expected. Fog might crown some parts of town, according to reports, but it’s clear outside my windows. Today’s high might stretch to 50 F.
Our solstice dinner went well, thanks. We picked up frozen garlic Naan to go with our chosen soups. My wife went with cream of mushroom, which she declared with a mild shrug, “It’s okay.” I had a spicy and satisfying vegan chili. Naan went well with it. We complemented the meal with raw carrots, celery, and radishes.
Mom texted me that she’s very busy trying to get cards out to all her great- and grandchildren but she also had an upset stomach. There’s been no talk of war between her and sis, knock wood. Sis’s grandson turned seven so there was a party where the theme was six and seven. The children apparently found that hysterically funny.
I was speaking with a friend I ran into yesterday. Quickly talking about politics, he mentioned how the Trump Regime was causing so much pain to several family members in different areas of the nation. One of them was a MAGA sister who is shocked by her premium increases. I think he said she lives in Arizona but don’t hold me to that. A nephew he mentioned is a liberal and a farmer who was really bleak about next year. I mentioned in response that Trump is the King of pain. That inspired The Neurons to project “King of Pain” by The Police in the afternoon mental music stream. It carried over to the morning mental music stream.
We’re off to do the Food & Friends deliveries. Swish some coffee down my throat first. If peace and grace show up here, I’ll give them a drink and tell them to go see you, yeah? Here we go. Cheers
Floofteel (floofinition) – An animal who exhibits high class, or aristocratic mannerisms and behavior. Origins: 1603, Flooflish derived from Flench, itself originating with Old Flooftin, floof, meaning a furry creature. Traced to ‘gentle floof’ which grew into its current form, floofteel.
In Use: “A long-haired floofteel, Cora received guests visiting her owner, JaMykael, like she was a queen meeting subjects there to pay homage.”
The latest Trumpshit that really annoys is the continued withholding of energy funds to blue states and cities. This has been going on for months. The Trump Regime is withholding the funds because those states didn’t vote for him. The Trump Regime is actually framing it like that to the courts. Once again, Trump is trashing the U.S., spiting the Constitution and the law because of his vindictive nature.
That energy funding was passed by Congress and previous administrations. Yes, it’s being argued now that the TACO Regime’s actions are unlawful.
But, again, Trump can’t see the bigger picture.
Withholding this funding will affect technological development, putting the U.S. further behind other nations. As they advance, we’re regressing.
The funding provided money for projects. Those projects provide jobs. Yes, Trump has abundantly proven that he cares nothing about anyone but himself so the argument automatically beings failing. But growing numbers of unemployed people costs the government and craters the economy. Lets be reductive so he might grasp it: less money in pockets means less money to spend. Less money to spend means less things purchased. Less things purchased means less manufacturing and services, which cut into the gross national product.
I know, I know, this is all beyond the comprehension of a person who thinks starting a lawnmower is overly complicated. Maybe that’s where Trump’s cognitive testing should begin. “Mr Trump, can you open this door by using a handle?”
Assuming Trump does manage to open the door, we can then test him with a series of devices. “Mr Trump, can you start this lawnmower? Can you turn on this dishwasher?”
On the other hand, the TACO Regime is betting on the Roberts Court, who has bailed them out via shadow dockets and breaking with Constitutional precedence to protect Trump’s actions.
Also, as demonstrated over and over again, Trump and his minions love crapping on the United States. They actively hate it and show it through their actions every day, attacking American history, American cities, and American citizens.
This time, Trump is attacking ISIS. This is of course in retribution for the deaths of three service members.
“This is not the beginning of a war — it is a declaration of vengeance. The United States of America, under President Trump’s leadership, will never hesitate and never relent to defend our people,” Hegseth said on social media.
~snip~
Yes, that dim beam of light known as Hegseth thinks that changing a word reframes WTF is going on.So, Pete, question: would that be a ‘declaration of vengeance’ against ISIS, which Trump claimed he’d 100% eliminated back in 2019?
“We just took over … you kept hearing 90 percent, 92 percent, the caliphate in Syria. Now it is 100 percent. We just took over 100 percent caliphate. That means the area of the land. We have 100 percent,” Trump said.
“We did that in a much shorter period of time then it was supposed to be,” he said. “It was supposed to take — I will not tell you what a certain general told me. But I went and met a couple of other generals. And they said how long do you think it could take, general? One week, sir. One week? I heard two years. One week, sir. Let us do it the way that we want to do it. I said: General, do it.’ And if so, what happened. We had the whole thing.”
~snip~
That’s a perfect summary for Trump. Lying and boasting, working on the same issues that he claimed to have completely solved. Or pretending it’s a hoax or fake news. Always resorting to lies to escape accountability, always depending on bullying to get ahead.
Trump & Hegseth remind me of someone else who said and did something similar.
What’s that expression about learning from history again? Something about not learning from history and repeating it.
Why, he’s just telling it like it is. * Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more, say no more *
I’m in, Kerry. I’m in.
Satyrda, December 20, 2025 finds us under a blue sky marbled with fine white clouds. Sunshine licks the land with lavish light. Not much warmth, though, as we find ourselves floating through the low to mid-thirties right now. Highs in the low to mid-fifties have been cast.
The storms up north in Oregon and Washington abated for the moment but a parade of storms are forecast for them, all part of the atmospheric river. Send energy their way that the disaster doesn’t deepen and become even more tragic for them.
The December calm continues for Mom and sis. Each are privately giving credit to me in their texts along the lines of, “I don’t know what you said to her, but she’s being much nicer to me.” I only suggested that both of them are trying their best, both are frustrated, and please, find some patience and sympathy for the other. Although they initially snapped at the advice — “I am being patient, it’s her!” — I think they went off and thought about it. Or maybe it was just serendipity that I gave that advice but other things intervened to change their moods. Who knows? I’m just accepting the fragile peace with hope that it grows, deepens, and develops into something more sustained.
I read of Trump’s asinine suggestion for his Trump Games. Another distraction from the shallow thinker. Upon reading of it, I wondered if someone joked to him about it with The Hunger Games in mind and he jumped on it as a great idea, “The greatest, most beautiful, most patriotic games EVER!!!” Christ, I hope no one mentions Running Man to him.
In Trump’s honor, The Neurons suggested the 1980 song “Games People Play” by The Alan Parsons Project for the morning mental music stream.
Where do we go from here now that all of the children are growin’ up?
And how do we spend our lives if there’s no one to lend us
I don’t want to live here no more
I don’t want to stay
Ain’t gonna spend the rest of my life
Quietly fading away
Games people play
You take take it or you leave it
Things that they say, honor bright
If I promise you the moon and the stars
Would you believe it
Games people play in the middle of the night
~snip~
h/t to sonichits.com
I’m personally impressed with the song choice The Neurons made. Trump does all his game playing at night, diddling on Truth Social, ranting and raving, promising money to people to curry their support. Then he betrays them faster than an eyeblink.
By the way, going back to the Trump Games, did he mention building a new stadium for it yet? Bet that’s bubbling in his tiny noggin. Yes, he has said he wants an NFL stadium renamed in hizzoner. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t instead have something torn down to have a giant stadium constructed in his name. Donors would pay for it, of course *cough cough gag gag*. And it would be “THE BIGGEST AND MOST BEAUTIFUL STATIUM IN HISTORY!!!” Probably have Trump’s name in gold everywhere, along with his portrait. Likely built with ‘illegal immigrant’ labor. He’ll give them a deal. “Build my stadium for room and board and I’ll reward you with U.S. citizenship.”
But as we know, it’ll all be lies and broken promises in the end.
Coffee has appeared in my cup and is making the traditional way to my innards. Hope peace and grace slip out from their spider holes and show up in our lives sometime soon. Till then, peace out. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 