Rain imitated young Shirley Temple and tap danced on the house throughout the night. Now a brooding sky muses, will I let go with more rain? It’s a warmish 46 F outside with a slender promise to touch 50 F in Ashlandia on this Tuesday, December 17, 2024.
Today’s theme music comes from an Australian TV series I’m watching called “Upper Middle Bogan”. Patrick Brammal, Robyn Malcom, and Glenn Robbins, people I enjoyed in other shows, are among the stars. The episode watched last night featured a song, “Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again” by the Angels. I enjoyed it so I hunted for more about the song. So, that’s my theme music today. Although a ballad version was played in the episode, the song was re-released as a solid rocker. That’s what I’m featuring. Hope you enjoy it.
Just a reminder as public analysis is done over the latest school shooting. The GOP always blames mental health issues and then votes against increasing funding to address mental health issues. They instead offer thoughts and prayers. Actions speak much louder than thoughts and prayers, though. It seems like, given their lack of action, that the GOP is actually okay with people killing one another with guns, even if it is a fifteen-year-old child doing the killing. What other conclusion can be drawn from their lack of action. After all, look how fast and intensely they act out against trans and gays?
I’ve orally ingested a few solid gulps of deep, rich, hot, dark coffee, and I’m brimming with energy. Here’s the music. And away we go. Cheers
We climbed into a Wednesday November 27, 2024. Day before Thanksgiving in the United States. I know a large of people who will be muttering, I don’t have anything to be thankful about.
It’s foggy and cold, 30 F, in Ashlandia, white with frost and ice, but it will get warmer, with the temperature rising to about 48 F. Blue sky can be spied through the thinning fog. I enjoyed cold, foggy days as a child. Encountering days like this in Penn Hills, PA, I’d step outside and let that cold whip my face. I found it exhilerating. And the fog made the world narrow, small, mysterious. It was also usually quieter. People didn’t go out into it. I soon knew my friends wouldn’t go out into it. Some just didn’t want to, complaining that it was cold and foggy. Others said their mom wouldn’t let them. I’d tramp on my own, verifying that the world still was beyond the fog’s envelope, feeling like an explorer. Being careful about your steps were important. Yards dropped off into steep hills and cement culverts lay in wait. I’d sometimes get lost in that fog, and when it burned off, I’d find myself surprised at where I was. I always thought it was fun. Guess that’s why I was considered a little strange, LOL.
The Texas committee that examines all pregnancy-related deaths in the state will not review cases from 2022 and 2023, the first two years after Texas’s near-total abortion ban took effect, leaving any potential deaths related to abortion bans during those years uninvestigated by the 23 doctors, medical professionals and other specialists who make up the group.
Texas, led by Republicans, doesn’t want to know why women are dying in pregnancy-related deaths. I think they know they will find that their draconian fucking laws are killing women. Then they would need to spin that in a way that makes sense, and they know they can’t. Worse, it would provide facts about how poorly the GOP goes about ‘protecting women’. I’m sure if you read this, you recall that Trump declared as a candidate that he would protect women if elected POTUS. Now firm evidence is emerging that the climate, culture, and policies that he promoted is doing just the fucking opposite. Rather than trying to address the evidence, Republicans are doing what they do best: ignoring facts and creating a fake reality by pretending that all is well. “We just won’t investigate those deaths,” they nod and tell each other. “Then they’ll go away.” Dipshits.
Looking out at the fog this morning, The Neurons kept trying to recall a song about fog and confusion. For a while, “Ball of Confusion (That’s What the World Is Today)” by the Temptations in the morning mental music stream (Trademark hazy). Then, Foghat crowded in, because it has fog in its name. But I wanted to remember that song. Not much of it would come back. I was finally forced to turn to the Internet to restore the details. With about four minutes of searching, the Meat Puppets and their song, “Confusion Fog”, was finally restored to my operating system. A co-worker at PAS in Palo Alto, California, where I worked in the mid to late 1990s, turned me on to them. It’s a unique sound the Meat Puppets provide, more like country from the early 1970s than punk to me, but I like the vocals.
Coffee and I have reached detente. The fog has burned away. Sunshine and blue sky rule the day. Hope you find a better way, to make this one to remember. With fondness, here’s the music. Cheers
It was a wild night of dreams. The final remembered one was one of those types of dreams where it was like a movie. I was watching and removed, but also knew myself as a character.
In this case, I as Donald J. Trump. Yes, that guy.
Except, I was a little person.
I was Donald J. Trump as a little person, mango hue and all, wearing a poorly fitting blue suit with a long red tie.
To open, there had been murders. The police were questioning me (Donald Trump) and others about the murder. I was the murderer, but I was fooling the detectives. I thought I was getting away with it. So, I turned my back to the investigative scene and smirked with pleasure because I was going free. But I still eavesdropped on what was being said behind me about possible new evidence.
I, Donald J. Trump, murderer, had overlooked some potentially incriminating evidence. But knowing where it was I quickly stole away.
Moving casually but fast, I hustled along the small town’s winding roads until I reached a broad pond with a rocky shore. Three elderly men were in a small rowboat just off shore. They were drinking whiskey from bottles. Further out on an outcrop of rocks was a clear plastic toilet bag. Inside it were some small plastic bottles. I knew my DNA was on that bag. It would link me to one of the murders.
Noises were coming up from behind. A black female detective was striding forward. I called out to the three men in the boat in my Trump voice, “Excuse me, fellows, can you do me a favor? Can you reach over to that rock, get that bag, and toss it back to me?”
Number one, I was wearing white gloves, and pointed at the bag as I spoke. Two, the men were a little inebriated. My request needed to be repeated clarified. Understanding and agreement came. They rowed over and got the toilet bag.
But the detective had come up by now. A look of pure evil overtaking my expression, I called to the men, “Just drop that in the water, okay?”
The detective called out, “That’s evidence in a murder case. Please be careful and bring it to me.”
One of the men was holding the bag aloft. He looked from me (Trump) to the detective and back to me. Then he let go of the bag.
Plop it went into the water. The men chuckled.
Smirking, I said, “Thank you, fellows,” and walked away on my short legs.
It feels like a diluted summer day. An archapelago of gray fuzzed small white clouds spill across the sky. Today’s blue is diluted into a pale hue. Weirdly feels like rain is possible in the cold mountain air shouldering me through the window. But it’s 70 F at my house and will top off at 99 F.
Of course, summer is on its heels. Autumn is crowding in again. This is Friday, September 6, 2024. Diluted, the door is also pregnant with a sense of finality. I don’t know what pseudo psycho-quantum vibes has me feeling that.
I read my fill of the story about the Apalachee school shooting. The alarm buttons in the IDs. The congratulations that the system worked and kept the loss of life down, spoken without irony. The continued reporting that the system failed because the kid had been investigated by the FBI who couldn’t tie him to the social media threats he’d previously made about carrying out a school shooting. The later news that the father had been arrested for his role after giving his son the murder weapon for a gift — after the child had been investigated for making the threats.
The wonder,the murder weapon was a Christmas present.Ho, ho, fucking, ho. Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men. Anyone care to bet that it was part of a Black Friday special? How sinisterly ugly is that?
The wonder, what were the dynamics in that household, with the kid allegedly making these threats and also apparently asking for mental health help, and Dad giving his boy, a troubled 14 year old, a killing machine? The wonder, what is the truth, and will this shit ever change?
Bet there are a lot of hopes and prayers being offered the family of the dead. They can take those hopes and prayers and add five dollars and have a coffee at Starbucks as they grieve.
All this has The Neurons playing “Once In A Lifetime” by the Talking Heads in the morning mental music stream (Trademark cracked). The 1981 song has a refrain that goes, “Same as it ever was. Same it ever was.”
You get where I’m coming from. I mean, mass shootings are a recurring part of the U.S. news scene. And let’s not overlook the other shootings. Children accidently killing themselves or another child because they found Mommy’s gun.
Let’s not overlook how frequently police officers are being ambushed and killed with firearms.
Yeah, but we don’t have a problem. Thoughts and prayers will take care of that shit.
“But I think when you talk about the kind of numbers that I’m talking about — that, because look, child care is child care, couldn’t — you know, there’s something — you have to have it in this country. You have to have it. But when you talk about those numbers, compared to the kind of numbers that I’m talking about by taxing foreign nations at levels that they’re not used to. But they’ll get used to it very quickly. And it’s not going to stop them from doing business with us. But they’ll have a very substantial tax when they send product into our country. Those numbers are so much bigger than any numbers that we’re talking about, including child care, that it’s going to take care. We’re going to have — I look forward to having no deficits within a fairly short period of time, coupled with the reductions that I told you about on waste and fraud and all of the other things that are going on in our country.“
And nothing in the rest of the answer will stop the swirl of ‘what is he talking about’ that’s circulating around many people’s head.
Also, though, I’m amused by the cognitive dissonance needed for this question to be asked in the first place. Project 2025’s architects wants women to return to the home and take care of the family. She won’t be working; ergo, child care isn’t needed in their heads. Plus, they want to remove barriers against children working. So the child won’t need anyone to take care of them, because Mom will be home, or when the child is old enough, they’ll be at work to help support the family, which will be needed now that Mom doesn’t work.
Asking Trump, which Project 2025 specifically mentions throughout its contents, with many of the authors directly tied to him, what he’s going to do to help with child care costs for working women, demonstrates that some folks just aren’t paying attention.
Hah, same as it ever was, right?
Pause. Or maybe the person asking the question knew and got the answer that they wanted: he’s not thining about it, and is incapable of forming a coherent sentence about it. If so, brava to her.
Alright, let’s roll on. Be strong and stout and positive, and vote blue. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: Fribulent (It’s Friday so my spirits are up but news is bringing me down.)
‘Tis Friday, April 19, 2024. Spring continues an upswing. 66 and sunny after a cloudy, chilly start to the day, 73 F is expected to present as the high. Tomorrow is expected to be close to the same.
It’s lovely, energizing weather. I get out there and feel the sun and it’s like a double espresso has been downed. Lot of outdoor work is finally getting done.
Our hausfloofs, Tucker and Papi, agree. They managed to get much done in the sunshine, bathing themselves and guarding my wife as she lounged in the sun reading and sucking up vitamin D in an epic display of multi-tasking.
Despite these warmer temperatures down in the valley, some scattered snow remains in the mountains around us. The local ski resort, Mt. Ashland, is closed for the season.
Some local news has me down. Cougars are regularly spotted in town. People post their sightings on a website made for that purpose so we can keep an animals safe and avoid the area.
But a cougar was sighted 250 feet from a local elementary school about half a mile from my house yesterday. It killed a friend’s cat. Then the authorities killed the cougar.
Such majestic, fascinating animals, I hate seeing them disposed like that. I understand the aspects for and against. Doesn’t make me happy.
This wasn’t a spur of the moment matter. Brock, the killer, had received threatening phone calls from a man. He had time to call 911 and receive police assistance when the Uber arrived. The victim, Loletha Hall, couldn’t call for help because the killer demanded her phone before killing her.
Two kickers for me. One, the killer claimed that she was trying to rob him on his property. Her dashcam video shows the truth. Two, this only now seems to be becoming national news. It had happened in March. Maybe I was just negligent following the news.
No doubt they’ll show all the extenuating issues. I’m sure it’ll be argued that Ms Hall was a victim of circumstance, and that William Brock was a confused old man stressed by circumstances brought on by the scam phone calls. He, they will say, feared for his life, and that of his family.
Still doesn’t explain why he didn’t call the police before killing an innocent, unarmed, uninvolved person in broad daylight. Especially as he says he figured it was a scam. If he figured it was a scam, why did he shot and kill Ms Hall?
He has been charged with felonious assault, kidnapping, and murder.
“It just strikes me that more and more, nothing really works in America anymore,” Hawley told Fox News host Laura Ingraham. “I mean, our roads are falling apart, our bridges are falling down right in front of our eyes. Pieces of airplanes are falling out of the sky.”
Viewers and netizens point out that President Biden has been working on infrastructure plans and that Sen. Hawley “was one of 30 Republican senators who voted against a $1.2 trillion bipartisan infrastructure bill in 2021, which contained money for upgrades to highways, bridges, airports and other major projects.”
The GOP are using the same gaslighting tactics that the use on immigration and the border issues. They bemoan a lack of progress even as they vote against any efforts to improve the situations.
They are miserable, miserable, miserable, lying, unprincipled individuals. Sadly, too many people tune into facts and will sit there, nodding their wooden heads as Hawley speaks, agreeing with what he’s saying.
Well, that felt good. Enough of soaking up news and becoming mired in anger and depression. Not letting that stuff rule my life. Sometimes, it feels like a wave rising up to overtake me. I just got to keep beating it back. Writing, friends, and coffee help.
The Neurons are filling my morning mental music stream (Trademark fumbled) with “Border Song”. Written by Bernie Taupin, performed by Elton John, “Border Song” came out in 1970 in the U.S., and was the first song to chart in the U.S. for Elton. When I first heard the song, I always thought its title was Holy Moses.
The question of why this song is playing today has been asked of The Neurons. They have not responded.
Stay positive and strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee is flowing, my friends. Help yourselves. Here’s young Elton John. Cheers
As if it’s not enough that we need to worry about bears, cougars, other animals, and motor vehicles, someone out there in our town is shooting pets.Dogs so far, as two dogs have been found dead, a bullet through their heads. But it could be cats; many are reported missing. Whether it’s cats or dogs, it’s sickening and evil. And maybe a gateway to doing darker things? An individual like this is malfunctioning.
The police need to step up and find them. Better, a cougar will hunt them down and take care of business for us. Just sayin’.
The Rogue Valley clocks a fading blue sky and 55 F today. Oh, it’s sunny but clouds hamper the sun’s spread and impact. We’re calling this new day Wednesday, March 20, 2024. 66 F is our anticipated high.
The cats haven’t noticed the weather change. Papi is out in the backyard on a grassy knoll, under some trees but in sunshine. From there, he can survey his domain and take action as needed.
Our other floof, Tucker, has found a sunny dining room spot. One of his favorite places, he can spy on us as we go about doing things from under the table and nap in sunshine through the southeastern windows. He’s doing well, gaining weight and energy, and acting more like his former self. His oral surgery is a week from today.
I experienced a bounty of dreams last night. How many is a bounty? Five that I remember. After the awakening, The Neurons popped The Stone Roses with “Love Spreads” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark countdown has begun). The 1994 song was an enigma to me. I enjoyed the music side, but the lyrics were another matter. While it was talking about a woman, I didn’t understand the full context.
Love spreads her arms Waits there for the nails I forgive you boy I will prevail
Too much to take Some cross to bear I’m hiding in the trees with a picnic She’s over there, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah
She didn’t scream She didn’t make a sound I forgive you boy But don’t leave town
Cold black skin Naked in the rain Hammer flash in the lightning They’re hurting her again
Let me put you in the picture Let me show you what I mean The messiah is my sister Ain’t no king, man, she’s my queen
I later learned that the song is about the crucifixion of Jesus, part of the Christian teachings. Instead of a white man, a black woman was being nailed to the cross. John Squire, the Stone Roses guitarist said in an interview while discussing the song, “The idea of the song is, ‘Why couldn’t Jesus have been a black woman?’ It’s just an attack on the white guy with a beard sittin’ on a cross, cos that reinforces the patriarchal society.”
Stay strong, be positive, lean forward, and please vote. Coffee is at hand; we have liftoff. Here’s the music.
Know Trump? I’m writing about Donald J., a guy who lost the popular vote in 2016 but won the Electoral College outcome, ending up as POTUS #45.
He’d been lying throughout his campaign and continued it during his term of office, demonstrating he had an exceedingly thin skin and was reality-warped. Like, take that whole thing about losing the popular vote. He claims he won it but cheating, you know, denied him the numbers.
And so it went for the next four years, until President Joe Biden decisively won the 2020 POTUS election, taking both the popular vote and Electoral College results. Trump had already been looking forward to losing and had declared that the election was rigged, and he’d been cheated of victory. Despite many challenges in court, no evidence showed up to support his claims. Yet, he and his misfit menagerie continue to push that claim and have convinced sufficient numbers of Republicans that he’s the nominee this year, even though he’s involved in four court cases for fraud, cheating, and lying, and was twice impeached.
Now he’s campaigning in Iowa. Perry, Iowa was the nation’s latest school shooting site, where a seventeen-year-old killed one child and injured four other children, and two adults. And what does Trump tell Iowa voters?
“It’s just horrible – so surprising to see it here. But we have to get over it. We have to move forward.” h/t to MSN.com.
Isn’t that something? This conman who refuses to surrender to facts about his election loss, who has declared that if he wins, his term will be about revenge and retribution, is telling these grieving people, “But we have to get over it.”
The shooting happened two days ago.
His election loss was over three years ago and has mired the nation in hate, scorn, and lies.
Trump, please take your own advice. Get over it. Move on, so the nation can as well. We don’t need the shit you’re selling.
Michael Seidel, writer 