Category: miscellaneous

Fridaz Theme Music

Here comes the fog, do do do do do. Yes, ’tis a foggy Frida, November 21, 2025. Temp is hanging on to 33 F but we expect a rise to 52 F. Then we’ll be smokin’ with gas. Or something.

Political and economic news just seems to get worse. Trump and his regime continue to amaze with how low into the muck they’ll lower themselves. Trump is setting another deadline for Putin and Russia. I believe Putin will skip by that. Tell me if you think otherwise. Far as I can see, Putin continually games Trump because Trump has weakened the United States and its military alliances by his dumbfuckery. Putin knows that. He’ll be all smiley and sweet to Trump’s face but knows that Trump is a bully and a coward and shies away from real confrontation. Yet, Dizzy Donny, in his altered world, considers himself, brave, strong, powerful, smart. So trumplusional. That’s a level of delusion when the truth can’t be acknowledged even when it slams into your face and breaks your nose and cheekbones.

Today’s music comes from Sublime. It seems fog related. That’s my guess. My evidence is that I was looking out the window and remarking to myself about how the fog reduces visibility to the point that it feels and looks like we’re on an island. At around that point, The Neurons turned “Badfish” on in the morning mental music stream, starting with the line, “Won’t somebody get me off of this reef?”

Grace and peace might be out there, hidden in the fog. Or not. Not out there, I mean. Hope they come soon. Meanwhile, yes, coffee. Strong, black, as pure as it can be made with modern processes. Say no more. Here we go, once more into the breach. Cheers

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

It’s a sunny but pale blue sky heavy with chilly hair outside my windows. Sunshine coats the rooms but the heating system works against the tilting, spinning, revolving Earth’s travel through space. It’s gettin’ colder here. Winter is on the way. 42 F today, 52 F is our high after a night of light rain.

Power outage struck at ten fifteen PM. It was to last three hours. Social media kept us informed. No, not the city, or emergency services, or the power company, or any official outlet. Those were mute. This was off hours, don’t you know? Nobody works on social media for any city org during night’s darkness. Nope, it was neighbors on FB and NextDoor sharing where power was out, the probable cause and the city’s estimate for when it would be back up. One had learned the last by calling the power company. Overall, we all refrained from calling the company because we knew it was a wide outage and we knew they were busy. But we hungered for information. Social media filled that gap.

The Neurons have “Breakdown Dead Ahead by Boz Skaggs going in the morning mental music stream. This is in direct response about 1) stories of Trump losing his grip (along with tangential questioning about who will run the GOP with Trump gone) and 2), the fucked-up place where We the People stand. Thanks to the Roberts Court, Project 2025, aided in some part by the super wealthy who own media chains and outlets, we’re drifting further and further from a nation of equality and freedom. A twisted form of ‘Christianity’ is being given a pass to the detriment of other religions. Prices are rising, affordability is falling, and the regulations which worked to give us fresh air and water and healthy food choices are being shoved aside.

Meanwhile, yes, since the Trump Epstein shutdown has ended, and the Trump files — sorry, it was a slip — the Epstein files are being released. CNN has pointed out the massive loophole to that. Basically, anything ‘under current investigation’ is exempted from being released. And who makes that call? The Trump AG and DOG. That loophole aligns with the suspicion many of us carry that the Trump Regime will not let the full truth out and will protect Dizzy Donny. As my wife summarizes in her succinct way, “Oh, we knew it was going to be dirty.”

The truth of what happened with the four smirkers is still out there, waiting to be uncovered.

I’ve checked the front and back entries. No peace and grace out there. Don’t know when they’ll show. They haven’t been answering my outreach. Tried emails, texts, phone calls, and there’s nothing. It’s like the Trump Regime has disappeared peace and grace. Meanwhile, I comfort myself with hot, black coffee. Okay, here we go, boiz and gurlz. Cheers

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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.

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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

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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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Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

A man and his companion sat down with their dogs on the coffee house porch. Both people had pastries which they sat down on the table. The dog immediately went for that.

“No, Curry,” the man said, lightly touching the dog. “Come on. Make good decisions.”

I laughed to myself. I bet the dog thought that going for the food was a good decision.

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The Leaves Dream

I dreamed I was at Mom’s house. We were all younger, and this was all pre-Frank. Mom’s beau never showed in the dream. Lots of others did. All four sisters. Wife didn’t show. Many, many friends throughout the years came and went.

The first stage was a big party. Mom and my sisters were present for that. Then they left, having had to go away somewhere for a day or two. With them gone, the party got bigger and crazier. Heaps of food were being consumed, along with beer and wine. Music and laughter boomed. Then the party wound down. I began cleanup. One other, a generic skinny old gray white guy, was there helping. Then he disappeared. As I walked around, cleaning, where the heck did he go? Then I found him, asleep in a chair that was flipped over. Well, let him slept, I thought.

Meanwhile, so many leaves were present. The levels astonished me. Drifts and piles of leaves were everywhere in the house. A gray and white kitten went through them, playing, then pranced outside through the open back door. I followed, peeking out to ensure it was a safe place for a kitten. It was a fenced yard with pea rock at the bottom. Tiered with cinder blocks, plants were in neat, ordered arrangements. I identified green peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, and realized, this is my sister’s garden. I then left the door open for the kitten to go in and out and resumed cleaning, taking a vacuum cleaner hose around to suck up leaves.

My friend woke up and apologized for falling asleep, explaining, “It was just a long day.” He began helping. At that point, Mom and my sisters arrived back home. There were still leaves to clean but they were hungry. I looked for leftovers to give them. My older sister asked for coffee, and I began making a bot. Mom asked if I’d checked the mail, which I admit, was the furthest thing from my mind, and then continued asking people, did anyone get the mail?

That’s where the dream ended.

In the waking aftermath, the dream amused me more than anything. I thought it about life and change, and considered it very heavy-handed of my Dream Neurons to present so many leaves, thinking they represented the days gone by and the leaves of change.

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

Watching television, I saw a GEICO commercial. It featured their gecko spokescritter. A woman pulled back a book on a library shelf, and there was the gecko. What amused me was that the gecko had a little book in his hand. I asked my wife, “Where did the gecko get a little book? There aren’t any other little books on display in the library.”

Without skipping a beat, she replied, “They’re probably in the gecko section.”

That was so quick, I just cracked up in laughter.

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Thirstdaz Wandering Thoughts

We had to buy a birthday card for someone yesterday. I’d not bought a card for about two months. We tend to buy cards early so we have them on hand and buy a plethora of cards at once for birthdays coming up in the next several months. Anyway, in the time since I last shopped and now, our favorite local greeting cards purveyor, BiMart, had rearranged their greeting cards offering. Further they’d reduced them.

My wife said, “Where are all the other cards?” My wife is a greeting cards fan. When we go on vacation, she visits local stores for greeting cards. She walked around in shock, checking other aisles. “They’ve really cut back on the cards.”

I agreed. “Guess it’s a business decision.” I was mentally shrugging. This didn’t fit in as one of my pet peeves and I wasn’t overly bothered.

Then we started looking for a card for a female, celebrating her 70. She’s a friend…

“What have they done?” my wife said. “There are no friend cards.”

True, I saw. No friend cards. There was a small selection for LGBTQA+. Moms and sisters dominated. Grandmothers and aunts could be satisfied. Daughters. But friends? No. The greeting cards had become weirdly overspecialized, at least in this chain store.

“Guess we have to go to CVS,” my wife huffed. As we were walking out, though, she offered comments about it to an idle cashier, complaining about how much the cards had cut back and how overspecialized they’d become.

I’d walked on, waiting for her at the door. It just wasn’t one of my pet peeves.

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