Wenzdaz Theme Music

Blue sky. I see blue sky and sunshine. It looks so different today, Wenzda, November 19, 2025, then it did on Twozda, November 18, 2025. It’s only 40 F out under that blue sky and sunshine. Fall’s full impact has arrived as we shift toward winter. Dead leaves are browning, curling up and resting everywhere, like sayin’, done. Gonna be up to 50 F, so wear shorts.

Today’s song is one by The Wallflowers called “The Difference”. The Neurons gifted it to me because I was walking through the house and thought, something looks different. Then I stopped and puzzled through WTH looks different. Nothing came to mind but as I walked off, The Neurons began “The Difference” in the morning mental music stream.

Off I go to another medical appointment, some ultrasound for this or that, or maybe the other. One of those NPO things. I’m hungry and thirsty and keep automatically reaching for things to put into my mouth, forcing me to chastise myself, don’t eat that! Don’t drink that. Put that down! Bad boy.

I’ve been thinking about the economic bubble we’re in. This is the AI bubble. Look how much investment is attached to it. It’d driving employment, production, and growth plans. Big thing about it that I can see is that companies like Amazon are salivating over the idea of hiring less people. The GOP, especially Trump, is drooling over this. I guess they’re thinking, let’s use AI to hire less people so we can build more things that less people can afford, thereby increasing the wealth gap yet more.

Of course, others think, we’ll use AI and its predictive and analytical processes to more precisely predict weather! Except the Trump Regime cratered many of the satellites used in weather forecasting. He’s gonna turn them over to Musk’s companies. It feels like a bad idea, like it goes against that proverb, don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Seems like as robotic manufacturing and AI management grows, less people will be working and more people will need assistance for things like food, medicine, and housing. As the GOP doesn’t want to give those things, it feels like we’ll then have greater homelessness, more sickness, and higher levels of deprivation and starving. But given that the GOP is erecting the means for the wealthy to live isolated and insulated from the masses, most of them won’t know. They don’t care but not knowing will help them sleep easier, and don’t we all want the wealthy to rest easy? Isn’t that why we cut them deals on their taxes and give them freebies, hmmm?

Sorry, the inner cynic broke free of his moorings and tossed around on the cynical sea. On to other things. May peace and grace find you, if you can afford it. Way it seems to be going, only those who can afford it will know peace and grace. At least I have coffee. Thank dog Trump lowered the tariffs that he raised on it, right? Of course, that doesn’t offset all the other things driving up the costs of food and coffee, does it? But what do we know? I know; let’s build some AI so we can ask it what we need to do. Then we can ask AI what it thinks of tax cuts for the wealthy, tariffs on imported goods, using the military on your own citizens, separation of church and state, climate change, things like that. Man, it’s getting to look like a fugly future.

Wish I could sip some coffee and mutter to myself over this, grumble grumble. Have a better one. Cheers

Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

I thought EB was in love with me. She’s a very sweet small dog with wavy caramel and white fur. Her people say, “She’s a bit of every cattle dog you can think of.” I thought EB was in love with me because of the way she was staring up at me.

Her person said from beside me in the coffee shop, “I’m sorry, she has a staring problem.”

I laughed that off. What soon became apparent was that EB loves attention and people love to bestow it on her. Every other person going by stopped to pay an EB fee, loving on the small, sweet pup.

Then Sugar entered. Sugar is a ‘service dog’. Says so on her vest. She’s a coffee shop regular. The staff knows her and spoils her with treats.

Sugar and EB met nose to nose, tails going with enough propellor motion that take-off seemed imminent. After permitted to converse a bit, Sugar was led across the room with her people where she rested by a table.

Didn’t end there. Sugar and EB eyed one another across the floor with a quiet wistfulness, like teenagers longing to know one another. “Why are they keeping us apart?” their eyes asked.

Both eventually gave up, settling down to sleep under tables, part of the brisk and lively coffee shop scene.

Guess it was just another case of puppy love.

Twozdaz Theme Music

All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray outside my window, today, Twozda, November 18, 2025. It’s a bleak and dark look which does little to inspire the mind, body, or spirit to move. Our present temperature is 42 degrees F but it’s gonna surge to 45. Rain? Maybe, in the realm of a quarter inch or less.

Papi the orange floof dislikes this change of meteorological circumstance. He went out several times. Dissatisfied with his experiences, he’s sulking in the living room on his favorite chair, thinking of sleeping.

I ran two miles yesterday afternoon. Felt quite good after that, all lubed up and flexible, if you will. Supremely satisfying to having pieces working in rhythm with a thumping heart, heaving chest, and dribbles of sweat finding their chaotic paths down my skin. The warm shower afterward felt oh so good. With time’s passage, I’m now permitted to wash my incision sites, and gave them the first light cleaning they’ve had since the operation on Nov. 5.

The Neurons have provided me with “Stormy” by the Classics IV from 1968 as my morning mental music stream entertainment. I felt they offered this on Papi’s behalf, as The Neurons kept repeating, “Bring back that sunny days!” I’ve gone with the 1979 Santana cover.

Trump continues pursuing an altered reality which is only accessible by putting his head up his ass. He’s joined there by people who eagerly endorses his warped ideas on humanity, civilization, and society, such as the Heritage Foundation, purveyors of Project 2025. As Heather Cox Richardson explained, it’s all about having a world for the wealthy supported by the poor. Different rules apply for the wealthy. White men have major roles in keeping it organized and civilized. Ms Richardson tells us that we’ve gone through these before, with southern ‘gentlemen’ in the mid 1800s, and such business ‘leaders’ as Carnegie and Mellon, who seemed to have very low opinions of anyone who wasn’t wealthy and didn’t think those people worked hard enough. Sound familiar? You should read the whole thing.

Letters From An American

I don’t know if peace and grace are going to show when it’s so gloomy looking outside. I don’t really blame them, as today’s weather is not an inviting presence. I’ll make do with coffee again. Here we go, once more into the breach. Cheers

Ineflooftable

Ineflooftable (floofinition) – An animal who cannot be avoided, resisted, or changed. Origins: Circa 1623, first noted in print, 1801, The Ineflooftable: How Animals Change Lives & Free Humans.

In Use: “Many talk about the ‘cat distribution system’, wherein an ineflooftable feline shows up and decides, ‘you’re my human’ and makes themselves at home.”

Mundaz Theme Music

Munda, November 11, 2025, has shown up in ugly shades of gray. Fog, rain, and clouds mix it up, leaving no room for sunshine to run. It’s 44 F, will get up to 46 F with rain coming and going.

Back from a follow up with the surgeon who removed my gallbladder. Was scheduled for 9:15. I arrived at 9. By 9:15, I was driving back home. My incisions all are healing fine, I’m reporting no issues, he’s noticing no issues.

Today’s music is “Vasoline” by Stone Temple Pilots. The song is about being stuck in a messed up situation. “Flies in the vasoline we are, sometimes it blows my mind, keep getting stuck here all the time.” Thinking that while reading of Trump craziness, I thought, “We’re going to be stuck here in this messed up situation for a while.” “I hear you,” The Neurons responded, and dumped “Vasoline” into the morning mental music stream.

Trump was calling the Epstein files a Democratic hoax. Claim there’s no there there. Ordered DOJ investigations into it to see what connections are there between Dems and Epstein. Twist and turn, twist and turn. Then, like a child, he’s pivoted. “Go ahead, release them, I don’t care. I’m taking my ball and going home.”

Then there’s the tariffs. On. Off. On. Off. They’re there for national security. To protect ‘Muricans. No, they’re there to pay off the national debt — which, BTW, is gaining bigly under Trump. A trumpzillion has been added to the debt since Trump took over. Next, there’s China. “They will buy soybeans.” China: “Soybeans? What are you talking about?”

The Trump Regime is announcing ICE surges, national guard deployments, and military operations. Twist and turn, flail and burn. Hence, the song, “Vasoline”. We’re stuck in the vasoline of Trump’s altered reality. If it doesn’t blow your mind, you’re not paying attention.

And ‘member that DHS raid of the Chicago apartment building in the dark of night on September 30, 2025? The Trump Regime crowed about those dangerous occupants. From Crooks & Liars:

Horrific DHS Raid In Chicago Was A Violent Propaganda Scam

Stephen Miller, a senior advisor to President Donald Trump and an architect of his “mass deportation” policy, said that the building was “filled with TdA terrorists” and that the raid had “saved God knows how many lives.”

Read that whole report. ProPublica followed up on the raid. No terrorists. Barely anyone with a parking ticket. Just another example of the TACO Regime attacking Americans, breaking laws, trampling the Constitution, instilling fear, and sowing chaos.

May peace and grace find us soon. Till then, I’ll coffee up and struggle through the vasoline. Cheers

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