Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Yes, a large part of our press is all about monetizing the news. Monetizing it means excitement is needed. What’s more exciting than a horse race!
This is just one example of how the press fails the nation (and world) by playing meaningless whataboutisms, and doing sloppy, superficial comparisions between the parties, candidates, and so on, in a tortured effort ‘to be balanced’.
Last night, a group of us met to have ‘a beer’ and talk.
Politics came up. They always do. One of my friends was very excited about an idea he had: what if Liz Cheny was nominated to be House Speaker?
This is in reference to the Republican mess now going in the US House of Representatives. Rep. McCarthy, an R from California, was voted into the office in January of this year. It took fifteen rounds of voting and many promises from him to win the office. Less than ten months into the year, another Republian, Matt Gaetz of Florida, decided that McCarthy should be removed.
I’m simplifying. The GOP is a fractured party these days. I read that there are now six factions. One faction isn’t interested in governing; they just want to make life difficult for everyone until Donald Trump is POTUS again.
The latest fracas which brought down McCarthy was the battle to fund the government and avoid a shutdown. McCarthy ended up making a deal with Democrats to pass the legislation. That angered Gaetz and others. Thus Gaetz made his move.
Former representative Liz Cheney, R out of Wyoming, daughter of career politician Dick Cheney, was voted out of office for her stand on President Trump. A Republican, Trump won the election to be POTUS in 2016 as a bombastic outsider. He’s a polarizing person. He’s been documented to be a serial liar. History has shown him to cheat contractors. He’s constantly in court, suing, and counter-suing people and businesses. Trump made promises that he didn’t keep. He’s been married three times and has been known to have several affairs. All in all, his character, as seen by the public, is less than shiny. Yet, he manages to keep a base of supporters who will do anything for him.
Democrats decided to start impeachment proceedings — twice. The second was initiated after Trump escalated declarations that he hadn’t lost the election to remain POTUS, but had it stolen from him. He made speeches to that effect and claimed there was overwhelming evidence. That ‘evidence’ was presented to courts sixty-one times. No court agreed with him. The SCOTUS refused to hear any cases about it. Yet, Trump persisted. The riot in the Capital on Jan. 6, 2021, was the breaking point for many when Trump refused to take action to mitigate the escalating violence.
Liz Cheney was one of the few Republicans who thought Trump may have broken the law and violated his presidential duties. She agreed that it was incumbent on the House, as a body of government used as part of the checks and balances on executive power, should investigate the facts. Most of the rest of the GOP didn’t agree and Cheney ended up outed from office.
My buddy’s idea is interesting. Everyone agreed that Cheney is ethical and would probably be effective as Speaker.
But could she ever be voted in in the first place? Doubtful that Republicans would; they made little to save her from being voted out of office before. She was derided as a RINO – Republian in name only.
And it’s unlikely that Cheney would pick up votes from Democrats. While she’s considered ethical by most, she still had many positions which Democrats won’t accept. When in office, she voted for and supported Trump’s policies and positions. She was, in effect, a Trump enabler, which is what led to this mess.
Why would Democrats want to restore such an enabler to a position of power? I don’t.
So I told my friend last night.
It was The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly in our backyard, if that movie was done by cats.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is a 1966 spaghetti western film. That name, ‘spaghetti western’ was given to a series of western films based on the US west, but generally written, directed, and produced by Italians and filmed in Europe. Sergio Leone was one the leaders of this movement. With a string of successful films, he became influential in how westerns were made. This film was one of his masterpieces and judged by film critics to be significant.
Clint Eastwood starred in several spaghetti westerns, including this one. The movie’s morally complex story is that three gunfighters are searching for stolen gold during the American Civil War. The gold is supposed to be buried in a cemetery. The three men are searching and fighting for it while coping with the war going on. They eventually find the cemetery. A final showdown is set up.
It’s a climatic scene, delivered with long shots of the three gunfighters interspersed with tight close ups of the squinting and sweating sunburned men as flies pester them. These movies were always gritty and tense, with impressively realistic details. A music box is playing – yes, it’s part of the story – along with the titular theme song. When the music box finishes, the gunfight commences and finishes the tale.
My cats, Papi and Tucker, aided by a stranger, recreated the scene in the backyard. A jay provided the background ‘music’. Standing in an equilateral triangle about eighteen feet apart, Tucker and Papi faced off against a gray and white stranger.
Tucker is a black and white long-haired/short-haired mix with crazy long, white whiskers. There looks like some Maine coon in those whiskers, along with his ears and face shape. He used to be a fierce fighter but has finally chilled as he’s aged. Papi, the ginger blade, is years younger. He’s been in a few fights – he was in one just last night – including at least twice with Tucker, but prefers to not fight if fighting can be avoided.
A strong wind was blowing. Tucker was in sunlight on a small knoll on which three trees are perched. Their branches blew wildly over his head. The stranger was back by the wooden plank fence between two bushes. Papi was in shadowed dark green grass. The only movement I saw on the three floofs were small eye slides and ear shifts.
Though Tucker isn’t the right ‘colors’ to be Eastwood, his expression was worthy of being Clint’s character. I could easily imagine a cigar in Tucker’s mouth as he stared down the other.
A few minutes into it, Papi slowly settled into a more comfortable watching posture. Tucker followed suit a couple minutes later, encouraging the third cat to do the same. They stayed like that for about three minutes. Then, Papi, I guess growing bored, looked around and discreetly walked off. Tucker lowered his head down for a nap. The stranger carefully shifted, and then went up the fence and away from the scene.
All very anticlimactic. While it reminded me of the famous movie scene, none of these three participants were ugly. I can’t speak for the stranger, but my two can sometimes be good, or bad. Come to think of it, they’re as morally complex as the gunfighters, and just as entertaining.
Mood: rebellious
Mornin’. It’s Wednesday, October 4, 2023. At least that’s what my coffee said.
White marshmallow clouds blanket us from horizon to horizon in Ashlandia, where the tourists are dwindling and the locals are arguing. Blue sky and sunshine are chiseling through the clouds but it’s an uneven venture. 58 degrees F now, they’re seducing us with suggestions that 71 F is possible today. Looking at the clouds and feeling the air’s chilly fingers, my visage is askew with doubt.
As far as plans and activities for today, I’m still an avid spectator of the NY v. Trump civil fraud case. I am progressive and not a Trump. The proceedings are engrossing as Trump tries bullying the judge and intimidating others, and fascinating how Trump’s lawyers are working hard on the appeal angle, as though the trial’s results have already been shown.
Likewise, the ousting of McCarthy as Speaker of the US House of Representatives holds my attention. I was wondering what Rep. Gaetz was trying to do when he initiated these proceedings. It seemed like a petulant child’s demand. Ousting the current speaker without having another in line seems like poor judgment, politics, and organization. Conversely, one of the GOP’s continuing strains is to show the Federal government is ineffective, giving them grounds for more dismantling, so he might be thinking this was a good way to make government more inefficient.
But — it could also be that this is just another hardline GOP tactic to undermine President Biden’s ability to govern and/or tank the economy to make him — and the other Democrats — more vulnerable in the upcoming 2024 elections.
Finally in my mind, this could be a ploy to create an opening to make DJ Trump the Speaker. I was wondering how many Republican representatives would actually support that idea. Something to research later.
Also drawing my attention yesterday and today was Kari Lake’s demand that all Republicans cease their campaigns and throw all their energy and efforts into supporting Donald Trump. In her eyes, the election which he lost and the way he’s now being treated as a citizen facing investigations and trials is cruel and unfair. (Sob, sob, so sad.) She called it a line in the sand.
Between her rhetoric and Trump’s rising sharp calls for different people to be shot (such as retiring general Mark Milley) or attacked, it really makes me wonder where Trump and his supporters really want to go.
BTW, did you see Mr. Trump’s call for shoplifters to be shot? Pretty dramatic for small crimes, isn’t it? Bit of overkill, perhaps? Not more than a little ironic for a man accused of and on trial for multiple much more serious charges. At least he’s able to defend himself in court, whereas he called for police to shoot shoplifters as they leave the store. So much for those Bill of Rights and the presumption of innocence.
It’s interesting, too, that Trump is basically calling for shooting white people. A study I read of shoplifting arrests show that over 70% of shoplifters are white, which is significant because the US population is about 58% white (back then). This info is from a 2014 study in the American Journal of Psychiatry, so it’s a little dated.
Which is weird, isn’t it, his call for shoplifters to be shot? Because white voters make up Trump’s base, right? At least that’s the presumptive assumption.
Although we who watch and read what Trump does and says, and his low awareness of truth and reality are not surprised; I’m certain Trump is assuming that shoplifters are people of color.
BTW, that same study showed that females are more likely to shoplift than males.
All those spectacles somehow inspired The Neurons to play some Talking Heads. Der Neurons are specifically cranking “Road to Nowhere” from 1985 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark embittering). I found a nice video of David Byrne performing it live. Hope you enjoy it.
Listening to the music prompted me to question, are we as a nation on the road to nowhere? Or is it the GOP, tearing themselves apart with political theater because their only policy is to ban, overturn, and throwback policies and ideas to a long ago decade?
Much more coffee is needed on my part to understand these things. Be strong, stay positive, test negative, and carry on. I’ll try doing the same. Here’s the music. Cheers
Revision continues. Read. Change. Correct.
Two complicated chapters slowed progress. They remain in need of fixes. But I think their changes should be addressed in context of the entire story. So I press on into the next chapter. Read. Revise.
Those were complicated chapters. And important because of the revelations they delivered. So going through them meant patience and diligence.
But I felt that I lost some of the thread. I wondered if I was confusing myself with attempting too many changes to improve the flow. So, I want to let those chapters slip out of mind and see how they read the next time they’re approached in their natural order.
Page 306 is under scrutiny. The main protagonist is enduring an unidentified illess. Going through the prose affects me. Empathizing with the character, nausea and lethargy overtakes me. Dryness spreads from my lips, invading my mouth, takes over my tongue, slipping into my throat. My eyes grow weary. I want to stop.
But there are goals. There must be discipline. The goal for today’s session is to reach page 330, a completely arbitrary number presented to the pscyhe because I work better with order, structure, and goals, a condition of my personality and my work history.
After page 330 is reached, eighty pages will remain.
First, I’m going on a break. Stretch. Walk in the sunshine. Breathe in, as the character tells himself, breathe out. Like the song “Machinehead” by Bush: breathe in, breathe out.
I’m not looking for perfection. I just want to be happy with the story.
Floofspotting (floofinition) – Amateur pastime or hobby of looking for animals, done by animals and humans. Origins: London, 1861, when Zoey Chandler began recording a diary of animals she’d spotted, including the date, time, local, and description.
In use: “Michael was an avid floofspotting fan when he went for walks, with an eye out for deer, cougars, bears, and foxes, along with cats and dogs spying from windows in houses.”
In use: “Sharry, a birdwatcher, was amused when she discovered her fiancee enjoyed ‘floofspotting’, which she’d never heard of (and privately considered a little silly). But his enthusiasm soon caught her up, and she soon declared herself to enjoy floofspotting, though, unlike him, she didn’t record the sights.”
Mood: retrospective
Good morning. It’s Tuesday, October 3, 2023. 52 F outside, it’s foggy and wet. A light rain falls in Ashlandia, where the water is limited and the optimism is eternal.
A prepondence of Ashlandia trees have embraced autumn and show its effects in their color stylings. This isn’t true in my neighborhood slice. I guess the trees here are late adopters. All immediately outside my window remains verdant with a wet sheen. We’re warm and dry in the house, and the domino effect is that it’s a cozy fall morning. Coffee has brewed, embedding the ambiance with wistful nostalgia.
I’m happy that it’s still shorts weather.
Meanwhile, the cats take opposite approaches to the fall weather shift. Papi, the young ginger blade who likes being outside, came in from the rain and colder temperatures. Right now, he’s posing on the master bed, looking calm and majestic in the soft grey light through the windows. Tucker, a big old cat with thick back and white fur, has headed outside and is curled up and asleep by the front porch cairn, protected from rain by the eaves.
While it’s cool now, we’re going to work our way up to 69 F. People aren’t doing much of the work; the sun, wind, and air do the heavy shifting today.
I tried Amla — Indian Gooseberry — powder today. My wife is always searching for healthy additions to our diet and habits. She’d read about amla and ordered the powder off the net. I added a serving to my oatmeal this morning. The gooseberry powder infused the oatmeal with a sweet berry flavor that I much enjoyed. I’ll be on watch for its impact on my health.
I have “City of New Orleans” as covered by Arlo Guthrie in the morning mental music stream (Trademark screwy). The Neurons selected it because I was reviewing a bill last night from the City of Ashland. This is a utility bill – water, electric, sewer, storm drain, street and street lights. $104 for the month. Half of it is services, fees, and taxes. Part of that is because the electricity charges are offset by our solar panels. 2K, I had them installed back in 2010.
I see clearly how The Neurons were thinking: City of Ashland = “City of New Orleans”.
While I searched for a video version of the song I wanted, I discovered a fascinating video of Mike Campbell explaining how “Boys of Summer” was written. I’ve always enjoyed that song and had wondered who the guitarist was when it was first released. Turned out to be Mike Campbell.
Campbell, who played with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, also backed Don Henley and Stevie Nicks. He’s a guitarist who I’ve long respected for his clean and simple playing style, so hearing this tale was a treat. It was also a fascinating reveal of some modern rock history, and an engrossing explanation in how he and Henley wrote the song, “Boys of Summer”. Many obstacles and near disasters were overcome. Check it out if you have a moment.
Campbell’s closing remarks reverberated with the writer in me. “When you hit a stumbling block, you gotta keep going. Don’t give up. Keep pushing, pushing, pushing, and working till you get it right.”
Stay pos and fresh, strong and optimistic. Coffee has been guzzled on my end. I’m ready to commence the day. With a morning like this, I’m expecting to have a good day.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: hopeful
Welcome again to Octmonedai in Ashland, where the bears are large and the pets are wary.
Octmondai comes four to five times each year. These are the Mondays (Monedais, or Moon Days) in October. We’ll have five this year. Many people observe these days by getting out of bed, dressing, and rushing off to work, meetings, or schools. I celebate by drinking black coffee. Salute.
It’s October 2, 2023. Over 75% of the year is done. Ninety days remain. The clock’s digital numbers are running on anything you want done in 2023.
It’s fifty degrees now, that’s Fahrenheit, under a spotted white and blue sky. Sunshine has arrived but doesn’t seem too interested in getting warm. Today’s high will be 64 F, and rain will come this evening. I still keep my fingers crossed that a pleasant Indian summer will be enjoyed this month.
I’m in a hopeful mood today. That’s brought on by some news last week. Judge Engoron’s ruling regarding Donald J. Trump’s real estate valuations said — paraphrasing a little — they would be more at home in Dungeons & Dragons and other fantasy existences rather than the real world. Score one for justice. Trump’s civilian fraud trial begins in New York this week — today! — and is expected to go on to December. Knock wood and fingers crossed, justice will prevail.
In other news regarding Donald Trump’s indictments, one of his co-defendants, Scott Hall, plead guilty and has been sentenced in the Georgia election racketeering case. One down, eighteen to go.
A temporary funding extension was achieved for the US government. The process behind it demonstrated the lack of a Republican will other than to generally support Trump (and ignore anything bad said about him), a great deal of party infighting, and their inability to govern. That, combined with the poor showing that was the GOP debate to find their presidential nominee, reveals a narcissistic and confused political organization.
We went to the AIFF outdoor showing of E.T. the Extraterrestrial last night. The event’s organization was a bit sloppy. Starts at 6, they said. Well, no, playing the movie didn’t start until 7. Multiple food trucks were due to be there but only one was now available. They offered Carribbean food, and weren’t ready to serve food until almost 6:30. There was beer, wind, and popcorn for a small donation, but they seemed sadly unprepared for children. Only popcorn for them and water for them.
E.T. was as I remembered it, solid pacing, with an interesting basic story and plot. The dialogue in the movie’s first quarter seemed lamer than what I remember; my wife reminded me that it was a different time back in 1982, and that might account for that dialogue. Drew Barrymore was definitely the best actor on screen. The temperature grew colder as the film rolled on, with a sharp northern wind visiting us as we sat chairs, but we were zipped up and under blankets, with gloves on, and endured.
I have “Walk On” by U2 ringing out in the morning mental music stream (Trademark reckoning). I don’t know what prompted The Neurons to call it up and put it on repeat today. Although the song has noble intentions (Aung San Suu Kyi’s fight for democracy and her house arrest for her activities), the 2001 song left little mark on me. I prefer the live version much more than the studio rendition. Live version is more energized and uplifting.
Stay pos and strong. Chase the day and lock it away. Coffee drinking is finished until the next roun in about an hour. Here’s the music. Cheers
A woman in the coffee shop accosted me today. We’re both regulars. We see each other there, sometimes nodding. I’m always at a table, using a table to write. She’s a few years older than me and typically buys something to eat, checks her phone, and reads a book.
Today, we said hello. I was in the midst of revising a page. She asked, “I notice you always a wear a green hat.”
I do; it’s a Tilly. I nodded.
“Is there a reason for why you wear it?”
Deeply seriously, I replied, “Yes. It has a foil lining built into it.”
Puzzlement folded into her expression. “A foil lining?”
“Yes, you know, to protect me.”
She studied me. I think she was trying to decide if I was joking. Smiling and nodding, I returned to my writing.
Been some months since I’ve had a military dream. I was in the military for twenty-one years, and the military formed my life structure for those years. I first joined in October, 1975, so I shouldn’t be surprised that The Neurons are fostering dreams about that segment of my life.
The dream found me a young man again. I was traveling in my office work blues with my fruit salad on my chest, and going alone. I’d arrived somewhere to make a connection with a civilian airline. I was expected but needed to get to the airline counter to check in, pay for the ticket, receive the ticket and boarding pass, and check my bag.
In a line to enter the terminal with others, I thought I heard my last name called. I looked around at the twenty-something individuals outside doing things. Some seemed to be looking for something but that’s not indicative of anything in an airport. No one called me again. I decided I’d imagined it.
Then I heard it again. Twice. Looking again, I called out, “Did anyone call Seidel?”
People weren’t paying attention. Raising my voice, I repeated my question. Others shook their heads.
By now, the line into the terminal had moved on without me. My flight time was getting disturbing close and I was way behind where I wanted to be.
I heard my name called again. It seemed like it was right behind me.
I whirled. A woman in a marigold shirt was there. I asked, “Did you say something? Are you looking for someone?”
She replied, “I said, ‘sigh’.”
‘Sigh’ sounds just like the first syllable of my last name. “Why did you say that?” I asked her.
She gestured at the scenery beyond the airport. Blue skies, and an ocean vista of whitecaps and splashed sunshine. “Look how beautiful it is. How can I not sigh?”
A young woman exited the building. Walking up to me, she said, “I’ve been calling you.” She handed me my ticket.
I was dumbfounded. “I thought I still had to pay.”
She shook her head while backing away. “It’s already paid for.” Pivoted, she went back into the terminal.
Pleased with that development, I rationalized that I must have been hearing my name on a PA system, although I didn’t see any speakers. No matter; one problem was solved. I just needed to check my bag and head for the gate.
Another woman had set up a taped off area on the land with red masking tape. For some reasons that I don’t understand, I decided that was for getting my baggage ready to be checked.
I went over and spread the bag on the ground and repacked it. The woman came up and asked me what I was doing. Apologetically, I explained. She waved that off and pointed to where I should take my bag.
That’s where the dream ended.
