Category: miscellaneous

Frida’s Theme Music

Here we go. It’s Frida, June 6, 2025, memorable as D-Day in the big one, WW 2, which was finished with an atomic bang. Trump, meeting with the German Chancellor, gave us more cringespeak while discussing the war and D-Day.

USA Today: D-Day was ‘not a pleasant day for you,’ Trump tells German leader

German Chancellor Friedrich Merz attempted to provide President Donald Trump with some positive reinforcement by crediting Americans for ending a war in Europe during his visit to the White House on June 5.

He reminded Trump their meeting was taking place a day before the 81st anniversary of D-Day, when Allied forces, most of them U.S. troops, invaded Normandy, France, marking the beginning of the end of World War II and the defeat of Nazi Germany.

We are having June 6th tomorrow, this is D-Day anniversary, when the Americans once ended a war in Europe,” Merz said.

“That was not a pleasant day for you,” Trump responded. “This was not a great day.”

WTF, PINO TACO? Guess that’s why the United States and most of the world remembers and honors D-Day. But not you, TACO, no. Honor, courage, and sacrifice are outside of your awareness. So is history. There’s no room in you for these things because your oversized ego pushes everything but greed, malice, and lies out.

Back to local deets. It’s cloudy but sunshine from somewhere still streams in. Current temperature at 11:30 is 80 F. We expect 91 today. Rain? No. Wildfire smoke from somewhere? Maybe. We’re tracking that shit. Gotta stay vigilant.

Today’s musical inspiration was incubated with highlights about the growing Musky TACO rift. Noted weird hair spokesperson Steve Bannon jumped in to urge PINO TACO to seize little Musky’s SpaceX toys. That’s in accordance with the Retribution Clause in the Constitution: “If a business pisses off the royal President, said President may seize assets from the pissee.” The pissee would be little Elon Reeve Musk, of course.

I was chuckling to myself, wondering if this is dinner theater to distract us from some other Musky TACO monstrosity but still had the bandwidth to mutter, “What fucking losers.” Hearing that from me, The Neurons jumped in with the 1994 Beck song, “Loser.” Remember 1994? Much better person in the White House back then. Not perfect but about 10,000 times better than the meatbag currently in the Oval Office.

Beck’s “Loser” was not about others. The weird rift reflects how low he felt at the time. But such logical distinctions escaped The Neurons, as it often does. So I have Beck performing “Loser” in the morning mental music stream, and I’m gifting it to you as a Frida special.

Time to kick it. Wishing you the best of days in always and all times. Coffee has been ingested. Here we go. Cheers

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Sabre Jet Ace

I loved aircraft when I was a kid. I was specially enamored with the sleek, fast fighter jets. I built models of them as soon as I was old enough. I soon had the entire ‘century series’ of jet aircraft the U.S. was fielding. The stubby little centerline jet F86 Sabre Jet was my favorite aircraft. For that, I don’t know why. I do know that I discovered a book about it at our school library. We were in there to read a book and write a book report about it. The book was called, Sabre Jet Ace.

I don’t remember anything about the book except that title.

Spring forward to the mid 1970s. I’m now in the Air Force, working command and control. This was at an ATC training base named Randolph Air Force Base. We weren’t involved in the flying in that command post, and the shifts were slow, long, and boring. Into it came our new director: Major Gross. With so much time on our hands, Major Gross would wander around, looking for conversation. I politely indulged in, asking questions about his career.

A Nebraska farm boy, he’d ended up in the Air National Guard, where he became a pilot. In the early days, he flew P51 Mustangs in Korea during that conflict. “Beautiful aircraft,” he said. “I loved flying them.” But the Air Force was modernizing. He was forced into jets. “Much easier to fly.” The jet he flew was the F86 Sabre Jet.

His story became one of hardship. He was sent home, became a civilian, and started a business. When that failed, he joined the Air Force as an enlisted person. Then, as an enlisted man, his reserve unit was called up. Through bizarre machinations, he became an officer and a fighter pilot again. This time he ended up flying in Vietnam in a century series jet, the F105 Thunderchief, but Major Gross’s aircraft was in an unarmed configuration, conducting Wild Weasel missions. I so enjoyed hearing his stories, and he was willing to share.

As it happens, I ended up working with three other pilots with F86 Sabre Jet experiences. None were aces. One was a vice wing commander when I met him. He started jets on the F84 Sabre Jet, then was moved to F4s, which he didn’t like flying nearly as much. He survived combat missions in Vietnam, but then had a dual engine flame out while taking off from a base in England. Although he safely ejected, his seat malfunctioned. Both legs and his spine were severely damaged. He was told he’d never walk again, but he’d overcome that prognosis and was now a regular runner.

The second officer, another major, went from flying the F84 to A37s in Vietnam in a close air support role. The third office, a captain, converted from F86s to F4s. He flew them in Vietnam, too. Shot down by a SAM while flying a combat mission, he was a prisoner of war for several years. He never spoke about those stories.

I appreciated what men endured, serving our country, even if, like many — including several of them — I didn’t agree with the Vietnam War. The book which originally titillated me probably romanticized the war.

These pilots never did. As for me, I didn’t become a pilot. My eyesight wasn’t good enough back then. I always wonder, would I have been any good?

In a final aside, I was sent to Kunsan Air Base in Korea sometime in the early 1980s. The US Air Force was primarily flying F16 Fighting Falcons at Kunsan, but they shared facilities with a squadron of Korean F86 Sabre Jets.

They still struck me as a pretty plane, although they seemed so small compared to the F4s, F15s, and F16s frequenting the base. I was able to meet and chat with several Korean F86 pilots. Fun aircraft to fly, they told me. Light and nimble.

I could only imagine.

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An Ode to Joni Ernst

Call up all your relatives,

Friends and enemies, too,

Joni Ernst says we’re dying

And there’s nothing we can do.

Fire off the nukes and rifles,

Set off the poison gas,

Joni says we’re dying,

So come on, get off your ass.

Eat what you want,

Drink as you feel,

Forget about taking all those vaccines,

Medicines,

And pills.

Don’t worry about crime and punishment,

What are they going to do?

Joni Ernst says we’re dying.

You know it must be true.

So stop saving for the future,

Or growing all those crops.

Stop making those payments

To banks and other slobs.

Don’t worry about paying taxes,

Nor going to work a job,

Joni Ernst says we’re dying,

Looks like it’s over and done.

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Twosda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

First up, PINO TACO is poisoning Americans, followed by American Resistance.

It’s not enough that the TACO Regime is encouraging people to avoid vaccinations, which is helping measles stage a deadly return. Now the inept and ignorant TACO Regime is POISONING OUR FOOD SUPPLY!!! Yes, deadly tomatoes are out there! IT’S ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES!!!

FDA alerts 14 states about deadly tomato recall expansion

My confession: I don’t know if this salmonella outbreak can be attributed to the TACO Regime and the DOGE cuts. A look back through history shows that these outbreaks happen. But PINO TACO would not hesitate to hyperventilate with all caps and exclamations points were a Democrat POTUS. So I’m really just emulating TACO’s style.

Does a post like this help with civil discourse and problem solving? Hell, no. But when the GOTP and TACO Regime stops doing it and get serious, so will I.

Next, American Resistance! This was posted over on Mock Paper Scissors. WP still won’t permit me to properly reblog from them, so here’s my work-around. Summary: Masked gunman are trying to round people up. Without badges and insignia, they could be anybody.

More, Please

San Diego neighborhood makes ICE agents retreat

— Ted Cruz called the FBI on me (@weareronin.bsky.social) 2025-06-02T21:29:26.661Z

This should give us a little lift to start our day. Make no mistake, if you get the mellow beach bums of San Diego to rise-up, anyone can rise-up.

The thing that worries me is that without badges or other identifying insignia, any crack-pot militia can start playing this game and rounding-up people in white vans and disappearing them, and vigilantes are not exactly known for rules. We need more of this to stop the Gestapo/ICE (and maybe the Proud Boys).

As much as I hate saying this, IF you are white use your white privilege if you see this happening: it’s your Superpower against these fascists/racists. Demand to see warrants signed by a judge, and don’t let them disappear people.

(Hat tip: Scissorhead Purplehead)

Remember to resist this and other un-American behavior on No Kings Day, June 14th.

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Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

“Look,” my wife said. “Did you notice your coffee cup?”

I looked at the coffee cup.

“I cleaned it,” my wife said. “I don’t know what was going on, but you had all these drips going down along the sides. I wondered, why is he leaving his cup like that? Does he think it makes his coffee taste better?”

I smiled. “It was performance art.”

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An Oven DIY Update.

Well. That’s over with. A new igniter is installed and working in my GE Profile range

It was not easy. Not the 30 minute job advertised. Noooo. Because, manufacturing. So.

Part arrives. Looks right. Saturday afternoon, I begin.

Turn off power to range. Remove top iron grills and burner covers. Empty bottom storage of the baking sheets and iron skillets. Remove oven door. Slide out from wall. Unplug. Turn off gas.

Now we’re cooking.

Remove racks. Remove two screws from the back on the fire shield. Shift back, lift up and remove fire shield.

It’s all going like a dream.

Locate igniter. Bingo, right there. Remove two screws. Remove two screws. Remove…two…screws…

One breaks off. Fuck Second one just turns and turns, apparently stripped.

Try a zillion fucking ways to get that screw out. No. Go.

Three hours have passed. I’m dripping sweat. I stop for the day. Realize sometime during the evening, I’m going to need to grind off that screw head. I need a tool for that, research options, and make shopping plans.

Ten o’clock. I get ready to go shopping. My wife pops off to a friend’s house. She calls as I’m walking out the door. The friend has a Dremel I can use to grind the head off. His son has it as his place, about two miles from my place. Off I go to pick it up and bring it back.

The friend’s son is a friend and a retired editor and literary agent, so we talk books and publishing for thirty minutes. He’s always a good visit. He’s also just lost his cat to cancer; another ten minutes is spent on sympathy and pain.

Back at home, gloves and goggles are donned, the grinder is plugged in, and the head is ground off. The igniter is freed from its bracket but remains wired in. To get to that, I should remove several more pieces but after that previous screw episode, that is not going to happen. I instead cut the wires to the igniter and remove the plug out the back. Next, I twist and shift my fingers, screwdrivers, and pliers until the new igniter’s connections are through the 1.25 inch through the back. I really could have used four more hands and much longer arms during this process. The igniter is put into place. New screws are installed.

Then, reverse disassembly. Just enough to let me test that puppy. Gas on. Power on. Plugged in. Fingers crossed, oven turned on.

Success.

The range’s empty space is cleaned, then the range is manuevered back into place. Everything is returned to its position and the tools are put away. It’s 2:30.

Time for lunch. Water. And rest.

5

Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

You know, they have antique cars and classic cars. Why don’t we have antique rock? Will there come a day when we’ll be listening to some digital stream of antique rock? From my scant research, classic rock was originally rock from the late 1960s on. It evolved into an album oriented format and morphed into mostly arena rock. Based on that progression, maybe the stuff before the late 1960s rock could be antique rock? Which means the Kinks’ 1964 hit, “You Really Got Me”, would be antique rock…

I’ll see myself out.

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Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

I learned more new stuff yesterday. I’d never heard of ‘reverse harem’. So I looked it up: romance where a woman has multiple love interests.

In the course of exploring that, I discovered vore, a shortening of vorarephilia: an erotic desire to be eaten or to consume someone. I’ve never had such a desire and it’s alien to me. But I can see how it can be a part of a character or plot. Imagine building this into stories about aliens or time travel. How ’bout a vore time-traveler with an erotic interest in eating other time-travelers? Or a human with a desire to be eaten by aliens?

Then I learned about agnotology: the study of deliberate, culturally induced ignorance or doubt.

I’m constantly amazed by how little I know. I definitely need to expand my spheres of thinking and socializing.

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Two More DIY Jobs

It’s another year. That means more do-it-yourself work.

First, praise be to the net and the help that it provides.

My DIY needs began without any foreshadowing. We have up / down Duette honeycomb blinds in the office. The right sash raises and lowers the blind’s top while the left sash raises and lowers the blind’s bottom. This arrangement allows broad and flexible configurations. We drop the blinds’ top halfway in the morning to let early daylight into the room. Later, we raise the top all the way and then raise the bottom about two feet. Bushes block most of the bottom window so we get light without direct afternoon sunlight, which can be scorching, but still have privacy.

I pulled the cord to make this arrangement the other day and won ‘snap’ for my efforts. The ribbon tape which controls the inside mechanism broke apart. First thing I did was remove the blind and take photos of the labels. Labels on products are packed with information.

Then, to the net! I researched how to repair it. I figured I could do it. As usual, the challenge is to find the right parts. Unable to do it, I reached out to the manufacturer, Hunter-Douglas. Six emails, four days, and two photos later, they sent me a link to a KB article for how to fix it and told me they’re sending the needed parts, free, in ten to fourteen days. I’ll update you after that.

The second job came to light an hour later. I preheated the oven to bake potatoes. Only the oven didn’t go on. The burners lit so it wasn’t a gas issue, nor a general electrical problem.

To the camera!

To the net!

Quick research pointed to the igniter for my eight year old GE Profile range model PGB911ZEJ4SS. I should trouble shoot to pin it down but I gambled, hunted down the part, WB13X25500, and put in the order. I’m waiting for its arrival.

Will it work? As with everything, time will tell.

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That’s Life

What jobs have I had?

I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king.

No, wait, those are song lyrics.

I was in the military 20 years plus. Did a bunch of jobs in there, you know? My specialties were war planning, command and control, and disaster recovery operations. And I was a facilitator for team building projects. I was in tactical air forces, space command, military airlift, and special ops.

Before engaging in that occupation — the Air Force — I was a newspaper delivery boy, worked in a grocery store during Christmas, and dug ditches. While out of the military after finishing my first enlistment, I was owner/manager of a small cafe. Cook, cashier, did the books and payroll, cleaned and stocked, and supervised a small group of employees. Since retiring from the Air Force, I worked in marketing, was a database administrator, an analyst and service planner for a Fortune 500 corporation, ran tech support, customer support, and sales for a small software Internet security unit as part of a startup, was a product manager for coronary and peripheral angioplasty products, and a marketing manager for new medical products attempting to find a safer way to treat chronic total occlusions. Now I write fiction. I don’t tet paid for that, so it’s not technically a job.

Basically, I was a jack of several trades, doing what I could to be gainfully employed. All of it was interesting and boring, challenging and tedious, but it helped me see the world and learn.

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