Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
September is dashing through the weekdaz. We’ve already punched through to Satyrda, September 6, 2025. It wasn’t hot. Rain fell. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed. Hail slammed us. Yes, it was an Oregon road trip.
Here is “On the Road Again”. Canned Heat. At Woodstock.
Hope your day was well, my fellow earth dwellers, and peace and grace found and kept you. Cheers
Oppressive humidity is doing in the morning. Not overly high humidity in the general sense. We’re just not used to humidity here.
It’s Frida, September 5, 2025. Temperature is 72 F but it feels warmer and less comfortable due to the humidity. We’ll peak in the low 90s today, unlike yesterday, when we clashed with 97 F.
My sister-in-law and her boyfriend arrived. Although they came in from Florida, they weren’t prepared for the heat. They’d been on the coast, then went inland to see the redwoods, and talked about the 30-degree temperature change they experienced in a short time and distance. The boyfriend, a year or two my senior, then asked as we walked around, “Can we go to somewhere with air-conditioning and sit down for a pint?” He’s an amiable individual. An engineer, we discovered that he and I grew up in Pittsburgh suburbs about four miles of each other. We’re both Steeler football fans. Besides three pints, he drank a tumbler of scotch during the space of dinner and the next two hours.
They’re sleeping in this morning after doing a lot of driving and traveling over the past three days. Once they call, we’ll take them somewhere local for food and then do local sightseeing.
I saw the jobs report this morning. Funny that firing the BLS person responsible for the last dismal jobs report didn’t change the dismal numbers. Just 22,000 jobs added. Oh, my. Not looking good for Trump’s economy. These hard numbers are backing up the anecdotes we’re hearing about business chains closing locations, small and medium businesses shuttering their doors, layoffs being announced. Lots of FAFO stories emerging. Of course, that could be the news services which I frequent catering to my interests and attitudes, at least to some degree. I try vesting such info as best as I can but that’s a challenge in this digital era.
Today’s music arrived from a confluence of events. One, Papi and I were out last night. I first was checking the moon, then looking for spaceships. Papi accompanied me. I’m not sure what he was checking out. Then, I dreamed that I was cooking. The meal was coming out looking good and smelled good. It was being done in this strange little apartment. But as I was cooking, several Russians stopped by. They were mostly talking to my wife but also addressing questions to me. This annoyed and distracted me.
The net of this, as I recalled last night and the dream, is that The Neurons rose up with a Jackson Browne song called “Lawyers in Love”. A satirical song about U.S. politics, consumerism, and U.S. pop culture, its lyrics feature both Russians and spaceships. I enjoy the song, but many friends thought it odd when it came out. Of course, that’s precisely why I enjoyed it.
I can’t keep up with what’s been going on
I think my heart must just be slowing down
Among the human beings in their designer jeans
Am I the only one who hears the screams
And the strangled cries of lawyers in love
God sends his spaceships to America, the beautiful
They land at six o’clock and there we are, the dutiful
Eating from TV trays, tuned in to Happy Days
Waiting for World War III while Jesus slaves
To the mating calls of lawyers in love
Last night I watched the news from Washington, the capitol
The Russians escaped while we weren’t watching them, like Russians will
Now we’ve got all this room, we’ve even got the moon
And I hear the U.S.S.R. will be open soon
As vacation land for lawyers in love
I find it humorous and love the musical flourishes which reflect different eras of pop music.
Time to rock and roll another day away. Hope that grace and peace finds and guides you. Have the best Frida possible. Cheers
A warmish night granted us a muggy, warmish day. It’s still summer, Thirstda, September 4, 2025. 90 F now, 95 to 97 F will mark the thermometer before the day’s end.
Pretty freaking funny that Trump’s Never Surrender Inc PAC has surrendered to Trump dying. They’ve made that clear by asking MAGA donors for small donations in an email with the subject line, “I want to try and get to Heaven”. Trump is obviously depending on Riches 1:666, in the Bible. Riches 1:666 says, “In my father’s house, there are many rooms and elevators, but only one elevator goes to heaven. For God so loves money that he rewards those who die with the most cash on hand with an express elevator to heaven.”
Lots of political talk circulated last night. One person reported ordering something from India. DHL sent her an email demanding that she pay $42 in additional tariffs before delivery. She wasn’t sure what to think about the email. “We’re always being scammed these days,” she said. “And here is this email telling me that I need to click on this link and pay this money, wanting my credit card information. I didn’t know if it was real.” After studying and assessing it, she paid, and it was legit. But, yeah, that seem like process with a lot of scammy potential.
Our biggest political conversation related to the mysterious black bag being thrown out a White House window. Have you seen this video? Trump was asked about it and claimed the video was fake. He also said that the WH windows weigh 600 pounds and are sealed. He said that they can’t be raised. However, the WH issued a statement that said that throwing things out a WH window were cleaners doing business as usual. Sure, because they have decades of video showing things being thrown out WH windows.
Some proposed that Melania was tired of Trump and had some of his things put into a black garbage bag and thrown out as part of an argument about breaking up. My wife proposes that it was medical waste related to Trump’s absence act last week, and that they were taking it out via a different way to avoid detection. Well, that certainly didn’t work.
For my part, I’m angriest about Trump’s latest use of military force. Attacking a boat and killing everyone on board is a bad precedent. Trump isn’t the first POTUS to employ heavy-handed military power to make a statement. Gunboat diplomacy has been around a few hundred years. Administrations and the military have developed ‘more surgical’ weapons and methodology. That would be too subtle for TACO. He didn’t provide any evidence for his actions; nor did he ask for permission from Congress, etc. All that’s for those damn elites, and he’s not an elite, as he’ll eagerly remind you. He’s just white, male, wealthy, and powerful. He’s also a liar and a lightweight thinker with a propensity for embracing broken window fallacies.
Remember glam rock? Today’s music is “Turn Up the Radio” by Autograph. I was housecleaning yesterday, listening to classic rock via Alexa as I did. A favorite Boston song, “Foreplay/Long Time”, popped into the rotation. I ordered Alexa to turn up the volume. The Neurons jumped my brain with this song, of course. So here we are.
The family visit is due to commence shortly. Sis-in-law and her beau are in the area. I’ve fortified myself with some coffee. Hope peace and grace find and shelter you today and every day. Here we go again. Cheers
Today is Wenzda, September 3, 2025. Keeping up with the pace set by the previous months, the days are whipping by. Some temp sources say it’s now 80 F or 77 F. My Oregon Scientific station declares that it’s 72 F under a brooding, sunless sky. Today’s upper edge will tap the mid 90s F.
Today is Visit Eve for us. Wife’s sister and her boyfriend arrive tomorrow for a three-day visit. We’ve dusted, vacuumed, swept, mopped, polished, and shined all we can. It’s in Fate’s hands now.
Strong winds woke me at 2 AM. I jumped up for a situation check and closed windows. When I opened a door to see what was going down, Papi bolted in past me, telling me with his feet and tail that he didn’t like the wind as he disappeared down the hall to his safe zone. That strong wind was warm, almost hot, completely void of the usual cool mountain breezes we know at night. It departed the area about an hour later. I found no damages this morning. Papi acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about when I mentioned it to him.
Yesterday was a day for visiting with family. Sis and I texted for an hour to get caught up on the happenings. Sis had a Labor Day cookout. Mom couldn’t attend because she was in too much pain. A second sister and several nieces and nephews were absent because ‘they have colds’. I hope it’s not more than colds. Mom’s 90th natal day is in October. A big do is planned. My wife and I are discussing going back for it. We’re in favor of doing so but my wife is unsure if she can handle a long aircraft flight. She’s in a lot of pain and discomfort these days, and is generally weak.
Dad called yesterday, too. We spoke for an hour on the phone. My stepbrother and his wife flew in, surprising Dad and his wife. Dad said they had a good visit. Beyond that, Dad just reminisced about his old military career. I just let him talk. It felt like that’s what he needed. He’s doing okay with his health, but must monitor his failing heart and kidneys.
Today’s song is “Messy” by Lola Young. Released in 2024, I like its stream-of-consciousness approach about herself and her relationship. The Neurons have it going in the morning mental music stream because they note that life under the Trump Regime is messy. He and they are the most combative, destructive, chaotic administration in my lifetime, which only goes back to 1956. Trump gives the finger to history and due process. Just last weekend, he was caught trying to illegally deport children. Children, unaccompanied by any adults. He and his henchmen thought they’d use Labor Day to ship these children out to Guatemala. Like WTF? Only evil shitheels in movies act like this. Beyond Trump’s outright evil, we can never tell where his greed and grifting will take us. We only know that it’ll take us further away from any norms in culture, class, democracy, and economics.
Here’s some “Messy” song lyrics.
You know I’m impatient
So why would you leave me waiting outside the station
When it was like minus four degrees? And I
I get what you’re saying
I just really don’t wanna hear it right now
Can you shut up for like once in your life?
Listen to me, I took your nice words of advice
About how you think I’m gonna die, lucky if I turned 33
Okay, so, yeah, I smoke like a chimney
I’m not skinny and I pull a Britney every other week
But cut me some slack
Who do you want me to be?
‘Cause I’m too messy
And then I’m just too damn clean
You told me, “Get a job,” then you ask where the hell I’ve been
And I’m too perfect ’til I open my big mouth
I want to be me
Is that not allowed?
And I’m too clever
And then I’m too stupid, dumb
You hate it when I cry unless it’s that time of the month
And I’m too perfect ’til I show you that I’m not
A thousand people I could be for you
And you hate the whole damn lot
Coffee has leaped in to save me once again. Hope that grace and peace hold you and yours through it all today and forever. Let’s rock this Wenzda. Cheers
September is into its second day, and it’s Twozda. Word on the wireless wind is that we’ll see from 95 to 97 F in Ashlandia today. Depends on where you’re sitting. It’s 77 F now, sunny over a blue late summer sky.
Trump’s grant cuts have slammed into southern Oregon. Funny in a sad manner. Ashlandia is blue but Medford and other places lean hard red. Now, thanks to their MAGA hero, the Rogue Valley Transportation District has slashed bus services. That happened because Trump, working through DOGE, ripped away the grants the service depended on as part of their flawed war on ‘fraud, waste, and abuse’. Ten routes were cut, reducing us from 16 to 6, almost 63%. Saturday bus service is eliminated. Mon-Fri service hours have been cut back. So, there will be less drivers. Less employment. The poor, under-employed, and elderly needed transportation to and from work, social services, and visits to doctors and hospitals are said to be most affected. Just Trump taking care of his voters once again but coldly and callously cutting services they needed, after previous administrations and Congress worked together with local state, city, and county governments to make it happen.
Speaking of Trump, Earlthepearl suggested that today’s song could be “Legs” by ZZ Top. Thepearl cited the floating rumor that doctors might need to remove one of Trump’s legs. I like the idea, but The Neurons had other plans. After TACO’s mewling about ‘getting into heaven’, I have “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” playing in the morning mental music stream. Trouble is, said Neurons can’t decide on which version to play. Weirdly, I now have Guns N’ Roses performing it, along with the song’s composer, Bob Dylan. Every now and again, a little bit of “Legs” by ZZ Top is snuck in. The brain is a chaotic place this morning. Anywho, I believe we’ll go with both versions of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”. One is honor of a young guy who served with me. Hearing GNR do “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” when it came out in 1987, he came to me and a few other established rockers and exclaimed, “Come on, you got to admit, this is a great song.” We replied, “You do know that this is a cover, don’t you?” Ya should’ve seen his jaw drop.
But then, an audible was called at the line. Playing for Change’s cover replaced GNR.
Coffee has been ordered into my body to establish order. Hope peace and grace take hold of you and lead you through the messes and deliver you safely to the other end. Cheers
We’re now into the nineth leaf of 2025’s stay. Yes, today is Munda, September 1, 2025. Some label this, the Labor Day weekend, as summer’s end and fall’s start in the U.S. I don’t agree with that premise; summer’s weather remains. The trees aren’t dolling up in their fall colors, and so on. Summer continues despite the rise of artificially flavored pumpkin spice drinks and treats. It’s still summer here. 52 F last night, it’s now 71 F, on the way to another 92 F day under a blue sky hazy with something white. Could be smoke, might be some thin cloud layer.
So, just three more leaves remain in 2025, a leaf being a month. They will be tremendously important leaves in the United States, a confluence of rivers and trends. Lawsuits have piled up against Trump and his regime. Some of these will be resolved or head to the Roberts Court for judgement. Economists tell us that Trump’s chaotic tariff rollout will strike and it won’t be pretty. Time will tell. Trump is sending more troops into ‘blue’ cities over causes he’s created out of MAGA and QAnon myths and conspiracies. Now he’s arming them. His regime through Cosplay Barbie makes ridiculous declarations about Los Angeles ceasing to stand if Trump hadn’t sent in the guard.
Now, too, we have Trump’s health. He’s been a fleshy-looking, doughy, overweight individual with an odd gait for years. Has speaking style began slithering over words and ideas like a broken toy years ago, as well. As he, the GOP, and MAGALand lambasted President Biden for being old and frail, the portrayed Trump as super healthy and super smart. His physician declared that he thought Trump was the healthiest individual he’s ever seen, opining that it wouldn’t surprise him if Trump lives for 200 years.
Yeah, sure.
All fantasies come to an end. The wicked witch dies. So did Hitler. Stalin. Mussolini.
Today’s music is Der Neuron’s selection. They have Bruce Springsteen accompanied by the E Street Band. The song of choice is “Born in the U.S.A”. The song was released in 1984 to commercial success. For a while, it was a regular staple of rock and classic rock stations. I’ve not heard it on a radio in many leaves. I think it’s in the morning mental music stream because it focuses on spiritual bankruptcy and disillusionment. That seems like a theme sweeping the U.S.A. Disillusionment with the system, politics, name it, and you’ll probably encounter someone expressing some disillusionment.
The countdown continues to my sis-in-law’s visit. Sort of craters my heart, watching my wife. Working with low energy, dealing with pain and inflammation, she’s methodically cleaned and cleaned. I’ve helped but she’s done the lion’s share. It’s frustrating. She’s trying to live up to some standard conditioned in her to have an immaculate but charming home. But she’s paying for it with her own health and comfort. I see my mother do much the same. It’s all about appearances and impressions. Yet, my wife is coupled to me, who is sort of loosey-goosey about appearances and impressions. Yes, I’m jaded against putting up appearances to impress and amaze others. I make an effort on my wife’s behalf, however. I do it without saying anything about it, holding back my sighs, trying to support her in whatever she does. Of course, I have my own demons who ride me, and she supports me.
Oh, as an aside, the community came through with a shower chair for our hospice friend yesterday.
Alright, coffee has dug into my body once again, boosting me to new but temporary levels. May peace and grace find and shelter you as much as it can in this unfair world. Cheers
It’s Sunda, so is a week ending or a week beginning? I’ve always considered Sunda as the week’s start. That’s what Mom taught me, and her mom taught her.
I’m sure it’s the end of August. It’s August 31, 2025. The year is half over. Summer in the northern hemes is leaning towards the finish line. Today is cooler again, with a night which Papi described as chilly but brisk at 58 F. Of course, he has fur. I think that makes a difference. On the high end, we’ll see 91 F today. Sunshine is holding forth in a blue sky where clouds have been dismissed for the moment.
An email has us trying to help another. A friend’s husband is beginning hospice at home. She’s looking for a shower chair and bedside commode. As it’s a holiday weekend, she has found many places are closed until Tuesday. Her need is more immediate. The bedside commode has been located; a friend’s mother died a few months ago, 104 years old, and he still has the commode. A shower chair is more elusive.
“Money Talks” by AC/DC is today’s music. Watching Trump’s open Offal Office grifting, coupled with a news article, about triggered this choice. The news article was out of the NYTimes. Its headline reads, In Budget Logs It Tried to Hide, White House Wrests More Control Over Spending. The article added, “Deep within obscure footnotes, the Trump administration is claiming more of Congress’s constitutional power of the purse by threatening to block funding.”
The article goes on:
“In more than 100 cases this year, Office of Management and Budget officials who sign off on funds for federal agencies have attached unusual conditions to the money, including requirements that funds meant to reflect Congress’s priorities be spent only if they align with the president’s views. The moves lay the groundwork for the Trump administration to choke off billions of dollars budgeted by Congress for education, health, housing and research programs.“
“In some cases, the administration has clearly blocked funding for specific programs. In others, the threat lurks in footnotes tucked in detailed budget logs that congressional appropriators are racing to decipher as their conflict with the budget office grows.”
We always knew it was all about the money for Trump and his regime. They use their anti-woke, anti-diversity, anti-equality, anti-integration agenda as a club to beat agencies and organizations into capitulation. These agencies and organizations were legally granted funding from Congress in accordance with established precedence and procedure. Legality matters less to Trump and his minions than diversity, equality, and integration. Legality matters less than truth, facts, justice, and logic to them. It’s Trump’s way, or no way. And they get their way by withholding money. Doesn’t matter what was planned with that money, how it affects anything else. It’s just Trump’s way or no way, the total antithesis of the idea of We the People being in charge.
Anyway, that’s how “Money Talks” by AC/DC ended up in my morning mental music stream today.
I hope peace and grace finds and keeps you and yours safe and healthy. Let’s throw in some happiness, too. Coffee is wending through my body, perking me up once again. Onward and upward. Or something. Cheers
Watch the spiral
Sigh and mourn
Think about all that’s happened
Since the day you were born
Remember the places
Where you visited and stayed
The people you played with
The ones who led the way
And the music that you knew
How you sang and played along
Never quite realizing
That time would soon be gone
You lived like it was forever
Sometimes you still do
Thinking about the past and future
Wondering about what is true
Welcome again to Satyrda, home this month to August 30, 2025. The sky is blue but small white clouds are sneaking in, then slowing to loiter, waiting for other clouds. I think they’re up to something. 61 F now, we’re peeking at a coolish day, with a high of just 91 F. Smoke free, our Air Quality hovers around 28, a solid green and healthy showing.
My sis-in-law and her boyfriend of six months are visiting this week. They met through a senior dating app. My wife is already annoyed with the new BF. He’s rejected all advice and insights offered but then asks for more advice. They’re arriving in SFO and driving up to Eureka for a night. Then they’re driving on to our place via Highway 101 and 199. They’re staying in a spa resort that’s actually outside of the town. Little is around it except a car dealership. We suggested places in town to stay where they can step out the front door and enjoy our small city. No; BF didn’t want that. They also specified no hiking and no walking, no river floats, no boat rides. They want to drive to Crater Lake, drive around it, and then back. Okay. Then, after three nights here, they’re driving to Carmel, south of San Francisco. O-kay. Sounds like a plan. Not a fun one, to me. They’ll be in a car quite often. We shall do what we can to provide them with good memories and a pleasant visit.
Today’s music is “Desire” by U2. Papi the ginger blade prompted it with a request for his special treats. Checking out Trump’s plans and disgusted by his love of money, The Neurons agreed that “Desire” is a good choice and thrust it into the morning mental music stream. After all, the band sings, “For the love of money, money, money, money, money.” For the love of money, power, and adulation, Trump and the GOP will do anything except anything good. Their love of money and power perverts their sense of justice and stacks their sense of entitlement and privilege to higher levels. Nothing is beneath them in their pursuit of money and power. Just when I think they can’t be an crappier as human beings, they lower the bar.
Hope that grace and peace find and hold you today and always. Coffee has found me once again. Here we go, onward. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 