Tuesday’s Theme Music
Mood: Weathicipation (when you’re awaiting a weather event)
Got my “Death Before Decaf” filled with hot black java, ready to fight off the forces of sloth, lethargy, and fascism.
It’s Tuesday, November 19, 2024. Cloudy and 39 F. Light rain and a high of 43 F is expected. Also expected is a bomb cyclone. (I’d just call it a bomclone. But that’s me.) It’s expected to bring high winds and heavy rain to our area. Thing is, our location in the pinched end of a valley sometimes protects us from these things. Fingers crossed.
Have to pause to just say that Rep. Mike Johnson, R-Bullshit, is maintaining the MAGAt tradition of lies and hypocrisy. This devout Christian is earnestly protecting ex-rep Matt Gaetz, R-Gag. MiJo claims that MaGag is a private citizen. Therefore, the ethics report on him should not be released. Apparently, to MiJo, it’s not important what an ethics investigation paid for by WTP discovered about MaGag’s behavior and ethics. No matter your politics, WTP should be outraged. We have a right to know. We paid for it and MaGag was supposed to be working on our behalf, representing our nation and our values. But that’s classic MAGAt BAU. Lie, cheat, obsfucate. Point of order brought out by others, plenty o’precedence exists for releasing the MiGag ethics report. As a final f’instance, Hunter Biden‘s status as a private citizen meant nothing to MiJo. It’s the ol’ GOP double standard, and it’s putting off an unholy reek on Capitol Hill these days.
With thoughts of a bomclone bearing down, The Neurons threw songs with ‘bomb’ in the title into the morning mental music stream (Trademark flooding) mix. While the Gap Band was representing, the Runaways overpowered it with “Cherry Bomb”. The all-female rock group released the song in 1976. It did okay, nothing great, but its driving beat and inherent attitude has gotten it a place in movies and television shows. So you might not have heard it when it was riding the airwaves but you may have caught it in other media.
Get up, let’s go, time for another day. Cheers
Friday’s Wandering Thoughts
Here is a disturbing but unvetted anecdote culled from social media.
I found this an interesting sign of the decline of USPS. I picked up a customers late payment yesterday from her home. She had mailed it and the post office returned it marked unable to deliver. I took it in to the post office. The fellow at the counter said a lot of the employees can’t read cursive! No other reason that he knew of for the return. Since it was to a PO box and the zip was clearly there, I’d say problem solving skills were non existent as well.
Well, shoot. Several possible solutions exist. Wonder what will happen, if anything? I suspect it’ll reach a point where the DeJoy postal system decrees that bans cursive. That’s the kind of non-empathetic ‘problem solver’ he is.
Friday’s Theme Music
Mood: Recalibrating
Chilly. Cold. Bleak as the moors below shifting dark clouds and undependable sunshine. Real stay in and have some hot food weather, if you can.
It’s 41 F and won’t get much warmer. The damp hand delivers a new chilly flavor. Fall — autumn, if you prefer — has a two-handed hold on Ashlandia.
Pause. Let me tell you. I was most disturbed to see Trump carried my county by seven points. Like, WTF, over? Distrust of my fellow local citizens is hepped up. I don’t know what you people are thinking goes through my mind as I consider strangers and workers. You might be one of those leaning to an authoritarian state. How can I ever trust you again?
While we were talking about the 2024 election results and its impact on American values, mores, and norms, my wife brought up some history. She reminded me of the fifties and sixties in the U.S., and how many women were self-medicating to cope. Would that be repeated in this new MAGA era?
Part of that conversation impelled me into territory about how it was so widespread, it was recognized as part of popular culture in books, movies, and songs. “The Graduate.” “Mother’s Little Helper.” “Valley of the Dolls.” “Rabbit, Run.”
It’s the latter that flashes through the morning mental music stream (Trademark endangered). The Neurons have always liked the Rolling Stones’ song about pills being abused.
Here we go, another day. One step after another. Regrouping. Moving on, pressing on.
Yes, I have had coffee today. The first in over two weeks. Good to have my old friend back in my system.
Here’s the music.
Cheers
Thursday’s Theme Music
Mood: Watersloshed
Rain hammered the rooftop. The furnace blower sang along. Slowly we crept toward the dawn of a new Thursday. This one is blessed as 11/14/2024. Or 14/11/2024. You get it.
When the lights came up and the blinds followed, our lovely tree lit the back yard, a red and gold exclamation point on a gloomy fall day. Weather hipsters, aka weathings (weather beings, if you need it spelled out) said, this is the day, take it or leave it. 42 F now, and that’s it. Rain is the main course, with a small plat of sunlight later.
We bundled into my wife’s car as the digits clicked toward nine thirty. Had to be there by 10:05 for the 10:20 event. Traffic was light and the rain little slowed us. We were there early. There, our destination, was my post op meeting with my care team ’bout my ankle.
By 11, it was all done. Bloody bandages were cut away, stitches removed, foot and ankle examined, and all deemed good enough to be done with the boot and crutches. Work it out on my own going forward. Elevate if there’s swelling and ice. Otherwise see you in four more weeks. And the boot, the cumbersome black and blue wet suit for my foot and ankle with its velcro tentacles, was no longer needed. I could sit upright if I wantd. The things we take for granted.
Walking was weird. The foot was a little misshapen by the bandages but that worked itself out after an hour. The toes are like they belonged on the tin man and cry for a lube job. That’ll work out, too. But the legs weren’t ready to accept a normal gait. I mildly tilted to the right and still cautiously favored that foot. Bending my knees as I took steps was a mindful process.
Next up: driving.
I’m looking for a place to buy in the northeastern United States and visit Zillow for possibilites. We’re tired of living so far away from our families that we need to travel by car and plane for a day, giving to the weather and technology gods so they’ll favor our journey. Doesn’t seem like it used to be so bad…
Anyway, I checked out a house and realized that it was a street I once live upon. That sent me down memory paths via Google streetview. Naturally, I recalled friends from the time and neighborhood. One of them was Richard. Seeing his tiny house on the screen and his face in my mind rekindled memories about one Sunday morning spent in Richard’s presence. All he wanted to do was sing “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles. Wasn’t high or anything; just how he was. I offer it now as today’s theme music.
Be strong and hold fast. Haven’t had coffee in two weeks. Didn’t want to partake of my dark friend’s energy while I was laid up. That’ll change tomorrow.
Cheers
Still Recovering
I’ve had worse. Others probably have it much much worse. Well it’s not a problem thing. I know they have it worse. But here I am in my boot on my right ankle after it’s surgical correction, whining about how I feel, because that’s who I am. The most frustrating part is that I can’t sit upright for long. But I see my care team tomorrow and I hope that restriction is removed.
I’m doing this on my phone. Basically talking into it. Adding grammar, telling it when to punctuate. Going back, editing the mistakes that my voice makes.
The cats have been taking care of me. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) has earned several comfort medals, purring at me from a perch on my chest.
I miss my daily writing. I write notes to myself about what to write and what to fix in my last novel that I worked on. I watch the weather through the open blinds, admiring our tree as it releases it’s newest colors red and gold against the green, bright in the gloomy day as rain falls. My wife and I talk about the election results and how disappointed we were. How disappointed we are.
My sister and I text about the same. She asked me questions about whether Trump can remove generals. Gosh guess what? We text about the Google spike in people searching for can I change my vote. Bitter laughter ensues. No morons, it’s too late.
Have been binging HBO’s band of brothers. The show came on in like 2001. I always avoided watching it back in the day because I’ve been in the military and I didn’t want to celebrate war. I didn’t want to see war. But eventually other options dried up. I’ve been reading books but laying flat on my back holding the book up in front of me challenged my arms. So there it was, band of brothers. And I do enjoy the show I find. As I knew. it is about more than the war, it’s about the individuals finding the war, and their heart breaks and their efforts and their backgrounds.
Meanwhile, the neurons have delivered theme music for me. At least several times a day they play Harvey Danger and flagpole sitta. The same words like to go through my head: “I’m not sick but I’m not well.” That sums it up for me: I’m not sick, but I’m not well. The other lines that resonate with me off and on or, been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding.
Wherever you are whatever you’re doing, I hope you can stay positive, or regain some positive energy. I know you’re hurting, because I am too. Here’s the music. Cheers
Had to Share
MPS brought this wonderful, glorious WTF rant to my attention. They deserve rich credit. This guy expresses all my incredulous rage and disbelief about voter thinking in the last election.
Voter thinking. This guy sharply elucidates the gap between ‘voter’ and ‘thinking’ that we witnessed. Pundits and analysts are out there squawking and bleating about what the Dems did wrong. But for me, it is all about the ‘voter thinking’. Like that 12% of Missouri voters. Exit polls said they were voting for abortion rights and Trump.
Boom went my brain. Cheers
recovering
l’m home, surgery completed, ankle sown up, boot encompassing leg from knee to infinity. All progressed well with some bumps. Nada serious. Wife is the attending caregiver. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) is assisting her.
Fed. On drugs. Doing great. Thank you for your support and concern.
cheers
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mood: Wetwednestating
October’s penultimate day has arrived. Wednesday, October 30, 2024. Less than a week until the election.
It’s a pretty autumn sunrise, a potpourri offering of soft, long clouds decked in faded blues shading into gray, and puffier masses of white with a brooding gray venture. Blue sky is dabbled in with random ideas. Sunrise flecks through in the east, delivering sunshine, lining some urban pieces of buildings, trees, lines, and poles with decorative golden outlines. They come and go in blinks as clouds restlessly shuffle.
My systems declare that it’s 37 F outside the windows. The high will be 51 F. Maybe 52. Maybe 50.
Papi the ginger blade has gone in and out, his testament to the fact that it’s pleasant but cold. Rain…might be coming but buckets won’t be used for the delivery. Scattered and light, I think it’ll be more like we’re being sprayed with cheap water pistols. The kind we used to buy at GC Murphys. They looked like Lugers. Came in red, yellow, green, and blue. I never saw a purple one.
Happy birthday, Dad! Called him Monday and gave him birthday wishes. Thinking of him with fondness today.
My ankle surgery is scheduled today. I feel good. Slept well. A med team rep called yesterday to update schedules and arrangements. I was informed I could have coffee and water until 8:15 AM. So this morning, I rose, made coffee, and chugged that puppy down. Also drank about sixteen ounces of water. I’m happily wired and hydrated. Getting hungry, though. My stomach is used to being served early. Now it’s raising a grumpy head to mutter about being in need of a little something something. Hush, I tell it. Not today.
I start thinking of Wednesday songs.
“Wednesday I’m in Love”
“Wednesday Afternoon”
“I Don’t Like Wednesdays”
“Wednesday Nights (Alright for Fighting)”
“Wednesday Morning Coming Down”
“Pleasant Valley Wednesday”
Yes, none of those are Wednesday songs. They’re for Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, Mondays.
Only one Wednesday-themed tune eventually drifts out of memory and breaks through the waves of thinking. Called “Wednesday,” more time is needed to summon bits out of other regions of memory. A melody begins, an instrument is weakly heard, pieces of lyrics pop up. More comes together with a little straining. Suddenly there comes a solid female voice. Identification takes a few more minutes.
Oh. Tori Amos. “Wednesday”. Can’t recall what year. More time passes. I drift into thinking about other matters as the cats ask for treats and my wife and I chat. Then The Neurons begin playing more of the reflective Wednesday ditty in the morning mental music stream (Trademark Wednesday). I finally search online to hunt down the full tune. This vexes Der Neurons. “No, no, give us more time,” they shout. “We’ll get it, we’ll get it.”
I spurn their protests. Sure, they’ll get, but it’ll arrive about two AM. I want it now. Those words briefly trigger Queen singing, “I want it all, and I want it now.”
Stay positive, be fresh, remain calm, and carry on. Coffee has carried me to my happy place. Here’s the music. Remember, vote blue. Have a good Wednesday.
Cheers
Tuesday’s Political Thoughts
A blogging friend had a post titled ‘(this)’.
And this is the post.
I have Trump-voting friends who despise him for his character. Educated and intellignt people, they can’t stomach his voice. How he treats others nauseate them. But as he’s promising to give them the one thing which they want, they will suck it in and vote for him.
For a small segment, their vote for him was over social matters. They are against the DEI agenda, which is touted by them as ‘anti-white’. And it’s any effort that recognizes genders or sexes than CIS male and female.
And those books they’re making children read! Like their precious might explode in a puff of pink fuzz if they’re introduced to *gasp* sex of any kind, or learn about unflattering revelations about history, civilization, culture, life. The horrors, the horrors!
Yes, I don’t think much of those who stand against enlightening our children.
Another group is against abortion because their god or their religion. To them, that trumps all others’ rights and freedoms because their god is the on god, the true god, the only god. The rest are just wrong.
They know.
Perhaps most fucking maddening for me are those voting for Trump because they want lower taxes. They have excellent incomes but it’s a struggle to keep up with new car leases, a manse, and those luxury trips. Lower taxes ring their greedy bells.
These people don’t contemplate our society or government beyond their narrow focus. Police state to capture, imprison, and deport people? We hear versions of, “Well, that’s pretty horrible, but it’s not my problem.”
Public education system? Not their problem.
Equal rights and democracy? They wave those concerns away as overblown.
As a friend said after hearing these responses, “If Trump wins, it’ll go to shit and take these people and this country down. When it does, I’m going to get some popcorn and watch. We tried warning them. They wouldn’t listen.”
No, they listen. They just don’t think beyond a tiny, tiny slice of the spectrum of their existence.
Vote blue.
Michael Seidel, writer 