Twosda’s Theme Music

Today is Twosda, Feb. 4, 2005. It’s 33 F outside in Ashlandia and ‘they’ are suggesting our high temp will be in the upper thirties.

You want snow? We got snow. Wet, heavy snow. Eight to ten inches of it surrounds my house. Far as I can see across the neighborhood, that’s the same for them. It’s like Nature had a to-do list to deliver snow to us in January. Then, realizing that hadn’t crossed off the list, made up for it with one super load. More snow is falling as I write.

Trees and bushes are bending the knee under the snow’s oppressive weight. Trees have gone down, taking power lines. We endured two short power outages. Each lasted just long enough to reset everything. Others were not so lucky and missed power for four or five hours. More disturbing, shelters weren’t open for the homeless. Reasoning for that varies: no volunteers for it said one place while the city shelter said, it’s contracted to an outside organization and is only open at night. Because, it said, other places like the library are open in the day. That’s the kind of irritating thining that has us rubbing our faces and sighing. I remember this discussion and the objections, but what if the library and those other places are forced to close? That was tutted aside. Sure, let’s plan for the best scenarios, and not the worse.

We also have multiple vehicle accident and stuck vehicles. Been a while since we’ve had snow and it shows. While we have four snowtrucks and drivers to plow the roads, little of that seemed to be done yesterday.

Schools are closed and classs are canceled, if you’re wondering. Not even doing it over the net. And I will also stay home. Write here, if I can. Well, I can, but sometimes *ahem* my household’s other occupants are oblivious to the writing process *ahem*. Yes, I’m whining. I’ll endure and get sumpin’ done.

The Neurons have pulled up a 1992 song and slipped into into my morning mental music stream. I played it once before, in 2021, during COVID shutdowns, when we were social distancing. “These Are Days” is by 10,0000 Maniacs. It’s a song about things happening that you’ll remember and look back upon. It’s an upbeat song about having happy times and remembering them.

Ironically, of course, the song came to me as I perused news that sickened me about what’s being done, supposedly to counter ‘woke’ ideology’, by the Trump administration. ‘These are they days.’ Decades of progress, plans, actions, and history are being chewed up and spit out because it’s ‘not aligned’ to Trump’s values and visions. His efforts are about as misguided as the invasion of Iraq over WMDs that didn’t exist, attacking them over Iraq’s part in an attack on the U.S. that they didn’t do, and is as deep in understanding as relabeling French fries as ‘freedom fries’. I remember, too, that George Dubya Bush claimed afterward that they never said there was a link between Saddam Hussein and the 9/11 attacks. Rewriting history. Look at the toll of that war.

And here we go, down another dark, more twisted rabbit hole.

And cue sigh. Here’s the music.

Two last comments before closing. One is about the War in Iraq. I had a friend who commented a few years after the war, they had us all fooled.

That pissed me off. No. They did not. There was a large segment of us who were not fooled. We raged against the war. We marched in the streets, wrote letters, held vigils, and tried to tell the rest of you. You laughed and dismissed us.

The other comment is that many disparaged President Biden’s efforts to address COVID-19. They raged that President Biden was destroying the United States. Yet, we ended up in better shape than most, with fallig unemployment, an improving economy, and a rising stock market (for what that’s worth). But Trump cheerleaders bemoaned the price of eggs and how much it took to fill the gas tank. And they fooled enough people that here we are.

Twenty years from now, I hope I’m here to look back and remember what was said and done, because I think a lot of people will work hard to re-write history. Hell, there is a small chunk of Americans who think that Trump was a great POTUS and did everything he promised in his first term.

So. We’ll see.

Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

“It sure is coming down,” my wife declared a while ago. It’s an expression we heard often from our parents. I don’t hear many say it any longer.

Watching the snow, she chose to walk to her exercise class. It’s about .6 miles. She caught a ride back home.

“How was your walk?” I asked.

“Slippery! It’s very slick on the sidewalks. The roads don’t look too bad.”

That was three hours ago. The roads have gotten worse. Snow hasn’t ceased. The temperature continues to hang around 32-33 F. All of this triggers memories of snowstorms I’ve endured. It’s good to have experience but one thing that you learn from experience with this sort of weather conditions is that anything can happen without warning.

You gotta remain vigilant.

Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

Snow was falling, and I was walking through it. No wind was bothering us, and the temperature is hovering around 33 F, so it’s not too cold. I enjoy walking in general but walking in snow is special. Snow affects all the senses for me. As it collects, it muffles sounds. Falling, it alters light. Snow flakes feel different, too, because each is as unique as a person, animal, or leaf. Everything seems magnified, walking in snow.

At the intersection of all these sensations, I fall back into memories of being a child, walking through snow. Tasting snowflakes with my tongue. Watching air condense as I breathe out. Examining the world as a new cover falls over it. Snow often drove people into buildings, and my walks outside were rewarded with solitude. Sometimes, semi-profound observations visited, but I mostly just walked, holding hands with nature.

Soup Time!

Daily writing prompt
What’s your favorite thing to cook?

I’m gonna tell you in full disclosure, I’m not a cook. I cooked more when I was teenager, and it was just Dad and I. Pulling out the cookbook, I made Yankee pot roast, did different things with chicken, concocted meat loaf, scalloped potatoes, and stuffed green peppers, along with the usual breakfast fares and pasta dishes. Now I’m all about the soup.

Soup is fun and easy to me. I have six go-to recipes that my wife found for me. My current favorite — because these things change, you know? — is the fall roasted root veggie soup. Quarter five pounds of small potatoes. I like to use a medley of golds, purples, reds. Cut up a couple stalks of broccoli and carrots. Drench an garlic clove in olive oil and wrap it in aluminum foil. Spread the veggies across a couple baking sheets with the garlic clove in the middle of one. Drizzle olive oil over the veggies. I don’t add salt because of sodium issues, but you can. I do pepper it. Roast.

After they’re roasted, the veggies are put into a big pot. Two quarts of mushroom broth is poured in. Add water if needed. Take apart the roasted garlic clove and add. Simmer for twenty. Now you’re in yumsville. Add hot bread with butter, of course. It’s a cold day dish that’ll warm and satisfy. Good for you, too. That makes it a win-win.

Sunda’s Theme Music

Sunda, February 2, 2025, arrived in Ashlandia as inviting as a gray, wet mop. Sunshine feels like an alien life form. 35 F, the thermometer says the air temp is, and ‘they’ tell me that the temperature will punch up to 36 F. Light snow is falling.

Kind of light snow is falling. Sometimes, it’s rain, sometimes it’s sleet. A position can’t be staked and claimed for the local weather. Reactions on NextDoor about the weather are frequently amusing about this. “The forecast is for rain. Or snow! Maybe we’ll get zero inches, maybe we’ll get 88! Who knows?!!!” I can imagine someone looking a little wild-eyed and giggling to themselves typing this up. But she has aptly captured the general flow of thoughts.

Part of all this is elevation. Ashland is built on a series of southern mountain slopes. Weather changes are experienced as you slipslide up and down. Our house resides around 2100 feet. Looking up the street, where elevation increases a few hundred more, snow is visible lining roofs.

A winter storm warning is out for our area, so ‘they’ think it’s gonna be something. The rest of us are giving the forecast a jaundiced ‘we’ll see’ gaze. It is good soup weather. Soup, with hot buttered bread, as been conditioned into me. Mom had a practice of dishing out soup on days like this. Campbell’s had advertising campaigns predicated on the need. My wife is also out of that school. Her eyes and expression gain a little light as she states the idea, “This looks like a good soup day.” Best of all on a day like this, with trouble in the news — I haven’t looked but this is now the Trump era, and that’s all there is since he’s been installed as POTUS — would be a big bowl of Mom’s chili. She had an awesome recipe, and I could eat that stuff eight days a week.

Today’s theme music emerges from more conversations with my wife. A lifelong feminist who took on the ideology that everyone is born with equal rights regardless of anything else at an early age, the Trump’s administration to break the world and shove us back into the 1800s has her GRRRRRRR cranked up to eleven. The match point from the convos is that Trump respects nothing. We suspect that he doesn’t even have much self-respect; although he blusters about how great it is, his statements ring with a desperate need to be believed. That’s why he lieks his rallies, where the gullibles line up to worship him as he needs.

The other portion of these talks is that Elon Musk doesn’t respect the Trumpet at all. Being genuinely more intelligent, craven, and cruel, Musk is eagerly taking advantage of Trump to plunder the United States, with eyes on plundering the world. He has no respect for anyone but himself.

All these talking about respect invited The Neurons to pulled up a song from my teen years and dropped it into the moring mental music stream. “Respect Yourself” begins with the lyrics, “If you disrespect everbody that you run into, how in the world do you think anybody’s gonna respect you?” Trump thinks he can get respect by bullying everyone; he’s convinced himself that’s how it works, and his sycophants feed him a steady diet of ‘you got that right, sir’, so he never hears — or learns — otherwise. So this 1971 tune by The Staple Singers is dedicated to Trump and the Grand Ol’ Trump Party as they go about disrespected all others. No one is gonna give you respect in return.

Beyond the sentiments of the song, I love the funkiness dropped by the electric piano and bass. What a sweet sound. With its beat and vocals, it’s an excellent song to sing along with as you dance around the house. Feel free to turn it up loud.

Coffee has suggested that I have a cup. I didn’t want to be rude, so I agreed. And off we go, into the gray and white yonder. Look, it’s raining again. Or is that snow?

Cheers

My First ‘Puter

Daily writing prompt
Write about your first computer.

I purchased my first computer when I came back to the United States. I was in the military, and my wife and I were stationed on Okinawa in May of 1981, returning to the U.S. in January of 1985. After settling into our new assignment at Shaw Air Force Base in South Carolina, we went out and dropped about 2 grand on a Kaypro II. That was a huge chunk of cash for us. Looking like a portable sewing machine when it was closed, the heavy blue computer had a small green screen, 64K of ram and two 5 1/4 floppy drives. Running at 4.77 megahertz, the machine’s operating system was CPM 87.

Not my machine.

My primary software was MicroPro Wordstar on a floppy.

In 1987, I replaced the Kaypro with a Zenith 100, which could use PC Dos, MS Dos, and IBM DOS. Still ran at 4.77, but the monitor was a big separate RGB monitor. I later added a 10 Meg hard drive, changed the processors, and added more RAM. 10 Meg, we thought, wow, would I ever use that much?

So much has changed in the decades since.

Saturda’s Theme Music

January of 2024 has concluded and we’ve shifted into a new month. Yes, today is Saturday, Feb 1, 2025. It’s foggy, 40, rainy, and foggy in Ashlandia, foggy enough that it’s mentioned twice. Rain commenced early Friday morning and has stayed for Saturday coffee. Looks like it might be here for dinner, too. The respective highs and lows will be 47 and 37 F degrees.

My wife and I were discussing the news yesterday. Talking about what’s going on. That immediately kicked Marvin Gaye up from the mental memory cellar into the morning mental music stream. First up was the song, “What’s Going On”. Released in 1971, Marvin Gaye’s song captured and conveyed the sense of unrest and frustration permeating the nation in those years.

But the rest of the album was also awesome. “Save the Children”. “Mercy Mercy Me”. “Inner City Blues (Makes Me Wanna Holler)”. I ended up with “Mercy Mercy Me” dominating the morning mental music stream. Gaye’s softly voiced observations, “Things aren’t what they used to be,” resonants with now. Things aren’t what they used to be, and much of it is not good.

The song’s entire title is, “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)”. At the time, our environment was a disaster and getting worse. The song’s lyrics reflect this.

Whoa, ah, mercy mercy me
Oh things ain't what they used to be, no no
Where did all the blue skies go?
Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east

Whoa mercy, mercy me,
Oh things ain't what they used to be, no no
Oil wasted on the oceans and upon our seas, fish full of mercury

Ah, oh mercy, mercy me
Ah things ain't what they used to be, no no
Radiation under ground and in the sky
Animals and birds who live nearby are dying

Oh mercy, mercy me
Oh things ain't what they used to be
What about this overcrowded land
How much more abuse from man can she stand?

h/t to Lyric.com

Concerted efforts were made to clear up the air, land, and sea in the years since. It’s clear that the challenge is never ending. But under this repressive and regressive administration led by Trump, they’re trying to roll that back, too. The motivation behind rolling it back is to make it easier to make more money. Make ‘America First’. Which makes no sense if there’s not air that we can breathe and water that we can drink.

That makes me circle back to, what’s going on? Well, we know what’s going on. The greed of some will kill the people and the planet, and they’re good with that.

As it happens, this is also the beginning of Black History Month. Anytime is a good time to enjoy Marvin Gaye’s powerful talents, but it’s more timely today.

Coffee and I have amended our agreement for me to enjoy its company again today. Hope you have the best day you can. Enjoy the music video. Cheers

Thursda’s Theme Music

We’re rocking toward the month’s end. I suspect the political chaos unleashed on us is likely to last beyond this month… Hope it doesn’t to too much to our spirits and sanity.

Last night’s sky was super clear. Man, the stars out there were awe-inspiring. To wonder about the distance, the worlds, the science…all subjects capable of reminding me how small and temporary we are.

This is Thursda, January 30, 2025. Sunshine slathers us under a sky that doesn’t seem like it can be any bluer. Temperatures dropped to 25 F around my place last night. Now it’s 47 F. Yesterday’s high achieved 56 F and we think today will visit 57 F. Thing about it is, walking along in 56 F temperature yesterday, I found that winter still skulked in the shadows. Felt like the temperature dropped by ten degrees and acquired a moody chill when I went through shadow.

Bad news was received yesterday. Part of the reason that I was outside last night, considering the sky and reflecting on existence. One of our beer group’s members passed away. Now, with people going through health issues and aging, you’d properly think it was one of them. But no, it was one of the youngest and newest members, Pete. Just 63 years old, he’d only joined us two plus years ago. He immediately revealed himself to be charming and intelligent, with a good sense of humor. Plugged right into group. He didn’t show signs of ill health or problems…but appearances can deceive.

One of our other members has known Pete since their third grade year. That amazes me. That friend joined us again last night and told us more about Pete. One of the revealations was that Pete had survived Hodgin Lymphoma. Beat it with a combination of radiation therapy and drugs. While he beat that disease, it left him with a weakened system and no spleen. Pete contracted a blood infection. Within a day of falling sick, spinal menningitis killed him. He leaves behind a wife, children, grandchildren, brothers and sister, parents. He also leaves a lasting impression. He’s another person I will deeply miss.

On to the music, which arrived by way of dream. After reflecting on the dream after I awoke, I saw that the dream image of me was like I appeared in the mid-1990s. That makes sense; I ranged from my late 30s into my mid 40s during that time, and that’s the mental version of myself who I carry forward. It’s always a surprise to find that I am no longer that age. You’d think that I would learn by now.

Anyway, by-product from the dream was the song “Shine” by Collective Soul. It was one of several songs I caught snatches of during the dream. Or was it? As I strained my brain to recall details, I was moved to wonder, did I dream those song snatches, or was I now just filling the void with falsehoods? Honestly don’t know.

As I popped through that mystery, The Neurons dusted off the song and slotted it into my morning mental music stream. It’s another tune, as with yesterday’s theme music, which gave a sound track to my life as I navigated existence around the San Francisco-San Jose Bay Area Peninsula region. And it’s more of that quasi grunge solid rock guitar ladened sound which I like. Hope you enjoy it and it coaxes memories of your own out of your cells.

Coffee is dazzling me with its caffeine once again. I’m bracing for another day of political chaos. Hope worse news doesn’t darken our existence but in this era, it pays to stay prepared for such. Here’s the music. Have the best day you can. I’m planning to do the same. Cheers

Twosda’s Theme Music

This is Twosda, January 28, 2025. Sunshine has won another Ashlandia winter morning. It’s been served with a lavish side of blue sky and a big bowl of stagnant air. Temperature is 34 and will probably achieve something in the low 50s F, ‘they’ tell me. That’s where it went yesterday. They keep telling us cold weather is on the way but it’s remained generally the same for a few weeks. Still no snow, and no sign of any arriving soon. Nor have we had rain in a while. The Southern Oregon University graphics paint the scene.

I went into the stagnant air late yesterday afternoon to do a few quickies: collect mail, put out the trash and recycle, pet Papi as he rolled around on the driveway. The air had a funky smell. It reminded me of the odor that came with pouring starter fluid on charcoal briquets and lighting them. Don’t know if you’re familiar with that scent. I know it well from childhood. Not a good smell to have no matter where you walk outside. I don’t think it’s healthy, you know?

Trump and the GOTP continue their grand destruction tour. He thinks bullying Colombia with tariffs demonstrate how ‘tough’ the U.S. is. He’s such a sad joke leading a sad party. It’s terrible that ignorance et al has empowered him. Well, the FAFO hits will just keep stacking. Overreach, followed by a tipping point and a crash will bring the party to a calamitous halt. Tragically, given his obstinate nature and his circle of sycophants, the signs will be missed until it’s a HFM. That’s those morons’ proven history in this century.

In dreamland, I am now embarked on this weird erotic dream series. I seem to have one every other night for the past two weeks. My dreams often go into cycles. The normal cycles focus on driving cars, making discoveries, surviving disasters, or being reassured. I also cycle into periods of dreams that seem like adventure movies. I often wonder about the conditions which trigger these different cycles. I have a sketchy grasp on some but the bigger picture eludes me.

Der Neurons have brought music by the Offspring into the morning mental music stream. The 1997 song is called “Gone Away”. A box of thoughts kicked the song out of the mental dust and into the MMMS. Thoughts about going away, combined with thoughts of checks and powers going away, with a tincture of reflections about about who have passed, and there you have it.

Coffee made some overtures to me, and I accepted. Now we’re sitting together, enjoying a hot cuppa. Hope you have a strong day and a satisfying life. Here’s the music. Cheers

Sunda’s Theme Music

Good morning’! Welcome to Sunda, Jan. 26, 2025. We’re closing out 2025’s first month, and what a first month it’s been!

Here in Ashland, we have…drum roll, please…blue skies and sunshine again. Current temp is 33 F and the ever present ‘they’ are speaking of highs in only the upper forties. A stout wind carrying wintry shards have cranked up. It’s moanin’, groanin’, and hissin’, while tossin’ loose things around like an irritated gorilla.

Today’s song emerged because I was singing “Hash Pipe” to myself. “Hash Pipe” is a 2001 Weezer song. Its first vocal line is sang in descending notes. The words go, “I can’t help myself, I go out of my mind.”

Hearing that, The Neurons unburied a point about those lyrics. They’re lifted from a Beatles song, “You Can’t Do That”, from 1964. Pivoting with that, Der Neurons filled my morning mental music stream with the Beatles’ song.

Sing along with me.

“So please listen to me if you want to stay mine.
“I can’t help my feelings, I go out of my mind.
“I’m going to let you down and leave you flat.
“I told you before, oh, you can’t do that.”

Never bought it, but I know the song well.

“Hash Pipe” was being sung because of a NYTimes Tale. I read a piece about MAGA folks and where they thought Trump was leading them. They were interviewed after the inauguration. Man, talk about a misinformed, misguided bunch. Even after all these years of exposure to their many instances of ignorance, I’m still shocked when I encounter it. For instance, here’s a woman from PA:

We are so divided. It’s scary. Scary for the kids that are growing up, like my grandkids. I don’t like the way this country’s turned — all this woke stuff. Stuff that the kids shouldn’t be exposed to. I think I was 18 before I knew that there was gay people, you know? I listened to Queen. I didn’t know he was gay.

Amish came out in Pennsylvania. They came out in droves. They came out in their horse and buggies. It was incredible. So that’s a united country again. We’re tired of being lied to.

I infer from what she said that she thinks Trump speaks truth. *head shake*

Beyond that example, they demonstrate no idea how tariffs, the economy, or energy production and prices work. They believe all those things Trump says he’s doing with his magic pen. They believe this, of course, because they’re fully wired into right-wing news sources. So even when inflation doesn’t drop, prescriptions drug prices increase, unemployment rises, food shortages spread, and pollution mars our land, water, and air, they’ll be blissfully touting all the great things Trump is doing.

That is part of the big picture. Create a right-wing media that disparages the left and praises the right without regard to the truth or facts. Dismantle the education system so people no longer know history, economics, science, and government. Shutter transparency on the government by firing inspectors and dismantling agencies. Crush opposition so there are no dissenting voices. Teach the big lies in church as part of their religious worship. And of course, keep ’em soaking in fear: fear of what the left is doing by mislabeling Democrats as socialists and communists, which are dirty words in the right-wing. Keep ’em in fear by lying to them about what the LGBTQ+ community does to their children. Fuel their fear with worries about immigrants taking their jobs and eating their pets.

The transformation will be complete, and Trump voters will never know. They’ll go down, whining about increased prices, high unemployment, dirty air, and so on, without ever understanding how they were part of it, how they were duped and used. It’s a con on a national scale.

And that’s why “Hash Pipe” was being sung. There’s a chorus about being kicked in the song.

Oh, come on and kick me
Oh, come on and kick me
(Whoa) Come on and kick me
You’ve got your problems (Whoa)
I’ve got my eyes wide (Whoa)
You’ve got your big G’s
I’ve got my hash pipe

h/t to Bing.com

See, those GOTP supporters are asking to be kicked. But that’s okay. They got their hash pipe. In their case, their hash pipe is the fear hatred that fuels their bitterness, sexism, and racism; or entertainment like video games, television shows, sporting events, and movies that keep ‘em distracted. Meanwhile, reality will keep kicking them, and they won’t fuckin’ know it.

Ignorance is truly bliss.

Coffee and I have are into another one-morning stand. Here’s the music. Hope you have a strong day. Please, don’t ever turn your back on the truth. Here we go with some music. Cheers

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