Munda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

See the news on the new Air Force One? Course you have. You’re not living under a rock.

First, it’s like saying you got a new car when it’s 14 years old. Also, it’s like a deal from a friend of a friend. People, including me, are questioning the legality of this. I’m pretty sure by now that the Trump Regime will do what they want and dare the rest of the nation to stop him. Republicans won’t. DOJ sure as hell won’t. So, you know. There’s gonna be new used Air Force One.

I was more interested in collateral ideas. I’m sure the Secret Service, FBI, CIA, and others will check it over for surveillance equipment. Will they also check to ensure it can’t be taken over from afar? Remember that Trump comment about a ‘killswitch’ on the F35s the US was selling to other countries?

Do US F-35 jets have a ‘kill switch’? European countries forced to deny claims Trump could cripple air force

Feels like Trump stirred that pot long ago, but it was only a month. I know, in Trump years, one month equals five years . I base that on the feeling that I’ve aged about twenty years since he took office.

I wonder if Qatar ever considered adding a killswitch to this aircraft gift to Trump — I mean, the United States. Could you imagine that scenario? “Fed up with Trump’s mangling of the global economy, the Saudi royal family pressured Qatar to employ the killswitch on Air Force One. After the aircraft lost power and control, it crashed into the Earth and exploded into a fireball. There are no reported survivors.” I can see a movie or novel in it.

On the other hand, Qatar, the country giving Trump the plane — sorry, the country giving the United State the plane — is telling everyone, “Hold on, this isn’t a done deal. We’re just thinking about it.”

We’ll see. You know how it is with Trump. One minute, he says he’ll never change his mind. Next thing you know, he’s saying, never say never. The aircraft news might be old news by next month.

Ponflooficate

Ponflooficate (floofinition) An animal’s manner of expressing themselves in a pompous or floofmatic style. Origins: 15th Century, first noted in The Flooferbury Tails, a collection of stories written in Middle Flooflish by Rex.

In Use: “Henry the Bassett Hound always walked into the room’s middle and ponflooficated in loud baying until he was floofcated with treats and attention.”

In Use: “Sadie could teach a master class in ponflooficating, the way she sat down and miaowed about the world.”

Sunda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

A friend shared this on Facebook. I felt it deserved wider dissemination.

Sec of Education (????) Linda McMahon and the Trump administration gave schools 10 days to gut their equity programs or lose funding. One superintendent responded with a letter so clear, so bold, and so unapologetically righteous, it deserves to be read in full. PLEASE READ, to see if this makes sense to you

April 8, 2025

To Whom It May (Unfortunately) Concern at the U.S. Department of Education:

Thank you for your April 3 memorandum, which I read several times — not because it was legally persuasive, but because I kept checking to see if it was satire. Alas, it appears you are serious.

You’ve asked me, as superintendent of a public school district, to sign a “certification” declaring that we are not violating federal civil rights law — by, apparently, acknowledging that civil rights issues still exist. You cite Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, then proceed to argue that offering targeted support to historically marginalized students is somehow discriminatory.

That’s not just legally incoherent — it’s a philosophical Möbius strip of bad faith.

Let me see if I understand your logic:

If we acknowledge racial disparities, that’s racism.

If we help English learners catch up, that’s favoritism.

If we give a disabled child a reading aide, we’re denying someone else the chance to struggle equally.

And if we train teachers to understand bias, we’re indoctrinating them — but if we train them to ignore it, we’re “restoring neutrality”?

How convenient that your sudden concern for “equal treatment” seems to apply only when it’s used to silence conversations about race, identity, or inequality.

Let’s talk about our English learners. Would you like us to stop offering translation services during parent-teacher conferences? Should we cancel bilingual support staff to avoid the appearance of “special treatment”? Or would you prefer we just teach all content in English and hope for the best, since acknowledging linguistic barriers now counts as discrimination?

And while we’re at it — what’s your official stance on IEPs? Because last I checked, individualized education plans intentionally give students with disabilities extra support. Should we start removing accommodations to avoid offending the able-bodied majority? Maybe cancel occupational therapy altogether so no one feels left out?

If a student with a learning disability receives extended time on a test, should we now give everyone extended time, even if they don’t need it? Just to keep the playing field sufficiently flat and unthinking?

Your letter paints equity as a threat. But equity is not the threat. It’s the antidote to decades of failure. Equity is what ensures all students have a fair shot. Equity is what makes it possible for a child with a speech impediment to present at the science fair. It’s what helps the nonverbal kindergartner use an AAC device. It’s what gets the newcomer from Ukraine the ESL support she needs without being left behind.

And let’s not skip past the most insulting part of your directive — the ten-day deadline. A national directive sent to thousands of districts with the subtlety of a ransom note, demanding signatures within a week and a half or else you’ll cut funding that supports… wait for it… low-income students, disabled students, and English learners.

Brilliant. Just brilliant. A moral victory for bullies and bureaucrats everywhere.

So no, we will not be signing your “certification.”

We are not interested in joining your theater of compliance.

We are not interested in gutting equity programs that serve actual children in exchange for your political approval.

We are not interested in abandoning our legal, ethical, and educational responsibilities to satisfy your fear of facts.

We are interested in teaching the truth.

We are interested in honoring our students’ identities.

We are interested in building a school system where no child is invisible, and no teacher is punished for caring too much.

And yes — we are prepared to fight this. In the courts. In the press. In the community. In Congress, if need be.

Because this district will not be remembered as the one that folded under pressure.

We will be remembered as the one that stood its ground — not for politics, but for kids.

Sincerely,

District Superintendent

Still Teaching. Still Caring. Still Not Signing.

The writer ably exposes the Trump’s Regime regular use of doublespeak. They expose the flaws Trump and his minions use in their logic. They expose Trump’s tactics of bullying, his administration’s empty rhetoric, and his deliberate cruelty and lack of empathy.

Trump’s United States is not my United States. I learned from teachers like the nameless superintendent who wrote the letter. I know more are out there. I hope they stand up and speak out.

As they taught me to do.

Sunda’s Theme Music

Sunda, Mai 11, 2025, has arrived, per schedule. Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers who celebrate it on this day. Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers even if you don’t celebrate it on this day.

I ordered Mom’s Mother’s Day present in April. It was delivered before the requested delivery date. I wasn’t overly concerned by that, except that Mom’s house was victimized by a wind storm that took out her power and caused her an electricity-free week plus of suffering and coping. I reported to my sister that Mom’s package was delivered, and if she has a chance, see if it’s there. I also told Mom, and repeated that message today. I didn’t call Mom but texted her. I didn’t call because she tends to drop into free verse laced with bitterness, anger, and suspicions, and doesn’t like talking on the telephone any longer because she can’t hear. Frustrating situation, as anyone who’s experienced things like this can attest.

I reminded Mom about how it used to be in my texts. Back in the day when travel was easier and less expensive, before the enshittification of so many travel aspects. I would have loved to go back there for Mother’s Day. We used to take her for brunch. She had her favorite places. In her later years, about the time she turned 70, she started eating dessert before main course, surprising me, cracking me up.

I haven’t heard back from her.

Ashlandia’s weather pulled a Trump on me. Flip flopping about the weather, one thing was promised and another thing was delivered. In the weather’s case, spring promised sunshine and warmth. Instead, we find the wind has fashioned wintry inflections. Instead of hyping “Summer is coming,” it’s singing, “Winter is coming,” ala Game of Thrones. Although it is 57 F outside right now, clouds are gathering and darkening, encouraging the wind. Today’s high will be a meager and un-Ashlandia May temperature of 64 F, if that.

Papi started today’s music. His nemesis came around last night. Gray and white, with a sneering attitude and chunky body, the interloper wasn’t moved by Papi’s loud demands for the other to surrender or leave. I went out and encouraged Papi to return inside. Papi loathed doing so. When Gray & white trotted away, Papi wanted pursuit. Finally, he surrendered to me and returned to the house’s safety.

Happening at pitch black AM, recalling the confrontation this morning invited The Neurons to add music. The music was “Surrender” by Cheap Trick. The song came onto the pop rock scene in 1978, when I was but twenty-two. It’s kind of an odd rock song as it addresses who his mother was before the narrator came on the scene versus who she is now. Then, reveal, Mom and Dad still have a wild streak that’s bared toward the son’gs finish.

But why that refrain? “Surrender, but don’t give yourself away”? Doesn’t it seem contradictory? Yes and no, to me. I think the surrender part is about giving up on some puzzling matters but leave your core values intact. But hey, it’s music. It’s rock. It doesn’t always necessarily make sense as long as it sounds good.

Coffee has been served and drunk. Shopping is on the horizon for my wife and I. Hope you have plans. Remember, doing nothing is still doing something. Cheers

Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

I was out for a walk. A beautiful day embraced me with warm air, an immensely hot sun, and a consisten breeze that worked on softening the heat’s edge. Moderate success was enjoyed.

On the corner was a park. Within it, a gaggle of geese milled and ate. Not far from them, a flock of cyclists enjoyed a picnic break by a sycamore tree. Forty feet out, a quad of deer ate and digested in an Oak’s shade.

Saturda in the park in Ashlandia.

The Kennedy Dream

I was in the White House. My role there was to escort Jackie Kennedy to an event where President John F. Kennedy was expected to also attend. I was young; they were white haired and elderly.

It was a kind of chaotic scene. We left the formal White House. There were about thirty of us. Using a secret corridor, we went into an annex. White walls and floors, with white lights, it was like a warehouse but it was completely empty. There seemed to be two levels as well.

I ended up chatting with the first lady. Just chit chat. Then finger sandwiches were served.

By then, JFK arrived. He and the first lady walked across the space and embraced. Both were using canes. They looked like they were in their nineties.

We then engaged on our reason to be there: flying model airplanes. One was a sort of large model biplane. Red, with yellow wings. It was slow and easy to fly. We took turns with it, flying it through the large space, around a corner and down another corridor and back.

The second model aircraft was a gray B-52. Smaller than the biplane, it zoomed around with a fighter jet’s the speed and agility. It really impressed us all and I had a ball flying it. It was very easy to control.

After a while, we were tired. Boredom got its fingers into us. We ate more and napped on the floor. Then I was awakened. Mrs. K was ready to leave. She wanted me as her escort. The President was already gone.

I walked her out of the annex and back to the White House. Then I left. I later saw her on the street. I waved at her but she didn’t see me.

Dream end.

Saturda’s Theme Music

Papi and I weren’t synced this morning. At some ridiculously early hour, he banged on the pet door. I let him in. He thundered through the house in a burst of spring energy. I stumbled back to bed.

Minutes later, he thumped to come back in. The pet door was on because of smoke. Controlled burning was the smoke source. Controlled burning is a lot like vaccinations. There’s some immediate reaction but benefits to doing it are established.

I took the pet door off and let Papi back in. He returned within minutes, banging to come back in. I talked to the floof about it. Showed him the door was off and the pet door was open. Reminded him how it worked. He galloped away as I was speaking.

So went Saturda’s dawn stage on May 10, 2025, for me in Ashlandia. A cooling trend has been embraced. Dropping our high to 79 F today. It’s 71 F and sunny now. Visibility for a long way and more. Clouds are negotiating with the blue skies and sunshine. I’m unfamiliar with their negotiating skills, so I don’t know how it’ll turn out.

Anyway, after that, I hung in bed for a while, revisiting a dream. Papi kept coming back to see if I was going to provide him fresh food and affection. While I finally acfloofesced to his antics, a song started playing in the morning mental music stream.

“Bang on the Drum All Day” is by Todd Rundgren. Came out in 1983. It’s a lively and happy song about the urge not to work. Don’t know if you’ve ever had that urge. It had a strong grip on me today. Probably because my sleep was floofrupted.

More stories about Trump’s United States are emerging. How ’bout those Newark airport radar failures? That’s some reassuring shit. Fits right in with the trend of increasing aircraft accidents. Many more accidents than in last year. So air travel was safer under President Biden. To channel my inner Trump’s voice, “Air travel is a LOT WORSE with TRUMP as President!!! This could be the GREATEST year for DEADLY plane crashes than ANY TIME in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD!!!” An ongoing shortage of air traffic controllers doesn’t alleviate MY worries about air travel in ‘Merica.

But, PINO Trump’s Regime is on it! Yes, the team that fired people and then rehired them because they found out they needed them is going to hire more air traffic controllers. Gonna supercharge the system, they claim. This is being brought to you by the same regime with Defense Secretary Hegseth giving away secrets on unsecured systems. The same gang who declares NOBODY IS ABOVE THE LAW while they elevate PINO Trump to a position ABOVE THE LAW. Same folks who think empty ports are great because then we’ll lose less money! Same people destroying the national parks system created through decades of work by people from both parties. Yes, tattoo me as cynical, but I don’t think that Trump Regime is up to fixing the air travel problems.

Coffee has engaged The Neurons. We now return to our normal programming. Hope it all goes well for you today, tomorrow, and so on. Here we go again. Cheers

Some Light

Some Light

Tell me all your secrets

I’ll share a few of mine

We can talk and have coffee

Or maybe a glass of wine

You can tell me about your first love

And what you do for fun

About your first kiss, about your last love

And how that came undone

We can walk together under stars

Mention all the past

Or remember funny movies

And laugh until we cry

We can shake hands before we go

Or maybe kiss good night

I’m not looking for that much

I’m just searching for some light

~ m.w.seidel

Proflooftiate

Proflooftiate (floofinition) – To gain or regain an animal’s favor or goodwill. Origins: Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanack, 1752.

In Use: “There was a reason for Spitfire’s name. Once she was upset, Shirley could only proflooftiate using Spitfire’s favorite treats until Spitfire relented.”

Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts

This just in:

Trump calls emptying U.S. ports a ‘good thing’ despite supply-chain panic because ‘that means we lose less money’

“We’re seeing as a result that ports here in the U.S., the traffic has really slowed and now thousands of dockworkers and truck drivers are worried about their jobs,” a reporter said in the press briefing.

“That means we lose less money,” Trump said. “When you say it slowed down, that’s a good thing, not a bad thing.”

I agree with PINO Trump.

I have found that having my bank account, refrigerator, freezer, and pantry all almost empty is a good thing. Without money, I can’t buy replacement stuff for my pantry, refrigerator, and freezer. Things like food, and “eggs”, as PINO Trump likes to write it.

Having less food is so much healthier. Thanks to less food, I’m losing weight. With less food, I have less energy, so I’m sleeping more. That keeps me more sated with doing nothing, so I’m not out there, spending money, contributing to the local economy, accumulating stuff which I’d just need to get rid of. Thanks to having less money, I’m using my car less, buying less gas. With others like me also buying less gas and things, we keep prices down. Since we’re buying less, businesses are able to fire employees. That means those former employees are also buying less, staying home more often, and sleeping more. Win, win, win!

We’re also helping to save the environment. We don’t have the cash or means to go places. That keeps the air, land, and water, free from our cars’ pollutants. Since we don’t have money or energy, we also go on vacation less, further keeping the air clean of pollutants from aircraft. It all makes sense, in an Alice-in-Wonderland way that I’ve never realized before.

What a stable genius PINO Trump is. I so admire his brilliant logic.

This snark was brought to you by coffee. Coffee: it’s what’s for breakfast, and writing.

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