I echo the concerns Annie brings up as Jessica Craven noted in her blog, Chop Wood Carry Water.
USPS performance has tumbled since DeJoy’s ascension as Postmaster General. Whether it’s incompetence, the tortured desire to run the USPS as a business and turn a profit, or actual maliciousness for reasons only known in his mind and private circles, deliveries are taking longer, more letters are being returned as undeliverable, and rural post offices and stations have been closed, raising the challenges of doing even the most mundane business at a post office.
It’s a concern going into the elections. Democrats use mail-in ballots more than Republicans. D.J. Trump actively rails against absentee and mail-in voting and is already establishing the foundation to challenge and throw out ballots received via mail.
Reach out to your senators and representatives. Add your voice to these concerns. And vote blue.
It’s another mediocre sumumn day, for which I’m thankful. Clouds blinker the blue sky and sunshine enough that we’re guessing, based on the past and science, that they’re up there. Rained yesterday in the early hours and became a pleasant day. Didn’t touch anywhere near the projected high. More of the same is filling my dance card, with the current temperature stumbling up through the fifties, rain expected this evening, and a high in the mid to upper 60s. All degrees are in Fahrenheit. That’s how we roll in Ashlandia, where we still use inches and feet. The air is okay, though, at 31 as an average.
If you need a distraction from the weather disasters, we still have war happening in Europe between Russia and Ukraine, and war between Israel and Hamas. Oh, yeah, and sports all around the world, and elections, and movies and books.
I have an old Mazda commercial going though the morning mental music stream (Trademark aging). I asked The Neurons, “WTF, dudes?” They giggled back. Here’s the song/commercial.
I wonder where that kid is now.
That isn’t today’s theme music, regardless of how much The Neurons lobby. Fortunately, after a little stumbling around, making coffee, feeding cats, staring at the weather, reading the news, and sipping coffee, The Neurons changed it up, bringing in Collective Soul with “The World I Know” from 1996. Now that’s an apt theme song. I have my little corner of being, with its weather, air quality issues, wineries and theater, and music, local politics, and friends. That’s the world I know. The rest flows in through media outlets or dribbles in via memories.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. COVID cases are trending up, in case you missed that info. Time for another vaccination shot. Enjoy the music as I enjoy my coffee. Cheers
As usual, deaf and oblivious to his own words, Trump blamed the Democrats, especially President Biden and Vice President Harris, using the same words that they used on him, “a threat to Democracy”…again.
It seems shortsighted for the entire nation to be surprised that political violence is taking place, that presidential nominees are being targeted.
This is a nation that frequently turns to violence when things go awry. Authorities often respond to violence with violence. Police showed up in military hardware. It’s not rare for them to kill after issuing a brief warning with no time left for anyone to react to their orders. Check out the newspaper articles and cop cam footage that exists. Citizens have armed themselves to ‘defend their homes’ and stand their ground, shooting innocents along the way, ending disagreements by killing someone.
We were out delivering food to people who need assistance this morning. It’s a small route, thirteen homes. We’re one of several routes.
My wife returned from delivering a hot meal and drink to a resident and entered the car, shaking her head. “I understand that adults make bad choices and end up at places like this. It’s full of crap. Pot is being grown, a sofa is in the front yard, there’s a broken refrigerator with a missing door that’s ben sitting there for months. But when I see those children’s toys cluttering the living room, my heart just aches.”
Yes, as I drive to each place, I ponder what brought each person to where they’re at, struggling to the door to accept a donated hot meal. Sometimes, it’s a bad choice but diseases and genetics can deal body blows. Other times, it’s a Venn diagram of life — Wrong Place/Wrong Time – you are here.
But sometimes, you’re born into it, beginning at the bottom, trying to work your way up and out.
Ah, Monday, September 16, 2024, a day of conflicting energy. We’re sleepwalking through summer’s last days in the nothern atmo, at least in Ashlandia’s tiny, tiny slice of it. Autumn is fast closing in, rendering the weather as a short season called sumumn.
As it’s Monday, people must endure the back-to-work energy and the commutes and setups and activities so associated with beginning a new work week. September has piqued and we’re slipping down its backside. The brings the month and the week different energies, but it’s also the last month of the third quarter, with yet other energies. And school has swung into gear, with its activities and demands. These all crash together like a restless sea.
Sumumn has brought his cool night temps. It’s ranging around 56 F at this moment. Clouds and blue skies are mixing it up. Rained last night, leaving us with wet foliage and earth. Angles, distance, and clouds force the sun to work harder to get some heat and light to us. Gonna peak in the upper sixties on the thermometer’s top end.
We’re all talking about the second assassination attempt on Trump. We wonder if the right wing’s continual threats of violence and their stated determination to take us back fifty years socially, blended with many on the right stating how much they hate Democrats, Liberals, and Progressives, could be triggering others to take action. Imagine the lasting infamy which would be attained for a bent individual if they could claim the title of The Man Who Shot Donald J. I don’t want Trump assassinated; don’t think it would be good for the world’s political dynamics. But I do wonder how much of his hateful rhetoric affects the situation. Then again, that reasoning irritates me as it reeks of ‘blame the victim’ mentality. Yes, I’m in a sore spot over it.
Trump will likely harvest a few sympathy votes from this latest attempt. Some will also christen him as tough and brave, and that’ll win their votes. I remain focused on the man’s character flaws, multiple lies, confused speechs, broken values, and lack of coherent, substantial policies to make my voting decisions.
Now, I admit that on the last, he seems to have a group backing him with very coherent and substantial policy ideas in the form of Project 2025. But Trump is trying to distance himself from that after the American people reacted to it like a load of crap-filled diapers. Which is probably why Trump lacks coherent and substantial policies; he can’t say they’re good ideas because most voters hate those idas and would vote against him. Trump is cunning enough to understand that.
Moving on.
Today’s song has been played here before. But, once The Neurons have made their play choice, they’re like a toddler, demanding to play it over and over again, making me feel a little nuts. So it is today that the theme music comes via John Fogerty and Creedence Clearwater Revival, aka CCR or C.C.R. Their 1971 song, “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” has a lock on the morning mental music stream (Trademark wet).
The song isn’t really about the weather, but about the depression and tension the group members were feeling even as the band achieved greater success. In a way, that metaphor about rain and weather can be applied to the U.S., that even as we taxed the rich and built our infrastructure, financed public education, and ensured everyone’s right to vote was realized and protected, forces within the nation were becoming dissillusioned and delusional, leading us to the polarizing facturing we now face. Will it break up the band (the nation)?
Be strong, stay positive, and vote blue in 2024. Vote against Project 2025. Vote against taking away people’s voting rights. Vote for protecting the environment and addressing climate change.
Here’s the music. Uintentionally ironically, it’s Fogerty playing it without CCR in 2005. Cheers
In other news that isn’t news, Donald Trump, the GOP nominee for the President of the United States, is upset.
I know, it’s not strong news. Donald J. is often upset. He’s frequently angry at judges, former allies, authors, journalists, prosecutors, the DOJ, media outlets, actors and actresses, women, his lawyers, his advisors, former members of his administration, generals, professional athletes, other billionaires, politicians — especially Democrats, or ‘Dems’ as he likes to say, but also RiNOs — and people who are suing him or serving as witnesses in one of his many trials. Donald J. is not one to shrug it off and sing, “Life is but a dream.” No, he is a serious, angry individual. Just look at his face. I’d share a photo of his face, but I can’t personally stand looking at his face. Sorry.
Aside, though. It used to be common to refer to the POTUS as ‘leader of the free world’. That appellation used to be more frequently used. Maybe it’s just that it’s not used in my silos of information. Could be that the expression is a cold-war relic and went out of popularity with the U.S.S.R.’s collapse and break up.
This was bigly news to Trump. Storming stormed around, throwing ketchup, tossing Big Mac wrappers, he swore, “Covfefe!” Aides and advisors familiar with his patterns got out of his way for their own safety and peace of mind.
“Where’s my phone, where’s my phone?” Trump shouted. “I need to text.”
All caps. The man was deadly furious. A dam on his emotions had broken.
Lips pursed in a manly scowl, he nodded in satisfaction. “That’ll show ’em. That’ll teach them to endorse other, other, other people. Nobody puts Donald J. Trump in a corner.” Waddling back to the table, he sat down and ordered a soft drink.
“Anyone know where my wife is?” He thought about it for a moment. Did he have a wife? Been so long since he’d seen her.
Trump smiled. No way was Biden going to win. Sleepy Joe. Ha. No way. Just wait. Just wait. He’d show ’em. He’d show ’em all.
Sunday came in with little sunshine, but it’s been creeping taller, brighter, warmer through a sluggish morning. Its September 15, 2024 and about 61 degrees F. That’s about three off from an anticipated high of 64 F. Rain, thunderstorms, and sunshine will be trading places throughout the day. It’s aggravating our tentative plans to go to the Japanese Gardens for an organized moon watching thingy about 7:30 this evening. Like, will it be raining? Or too much cloud cover to take in the moon? Can’t decide now. It’ll be an event time decision.
I’ve been watching and enjoying Slow Horses on Apple TV. Based on a series of novels by Mick Herron, the series is about Slough House and MI5 rejects exiled to deadend jobs for various failures and character flaws. I’d watched the first two seasons about a year ago but decided to watch them again and then go on with two more seasons. The show is rich with characters. Gary Oldman plays a terrific character, Jackson Lamb, a cynical, obnoxious, and brooding burned-out spy. He drinks, he smokes, he eats poorly, and he insults. By the third season, everyone is telling him that he stinks.
Our other main individual is River Cartwright, an impulsive spy who wants to be a hero but often sabotages himself with his behavior and thinking. Ironically, he starts out looking suave as a spy and slowly shifts until he begins to resemble Lamb. My favorite, though, is Louisa Guy, played by Rosalind Eleazar. Her depths, grief, and stoicism intrigue me, and I want to know more about her. She’s not infrequently a surprising hero.
Besides them, we have Kristin Scott-Thomas playing Diana Taverner, the poised, intelligent, and mildly amused organization climber. Her main frustration is often brought on by Lamb and his Slough House exiles.
My wife has become sucked into it. She told me yesterday that she read that Slow Horses is currently the most popular show on television or something like that. I think it’s deserving of that. I’ve finished three seasons and I’m ready for season four. As I often do when I find a television or movies series which I enjoy, I plan to read the novels.
Today’s music is “Walk Away” by Kelly Clarkson. It’s playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark charred) because of a floof incident, also known as a floofcident. Papi, the ginger blade, rounded a corner and encountered Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), the aging black and white bruiser. Some lowly muttered threats emerged over this apparent transgression. Having witnessed the entire event, I’m not sure how their pride or territory was affected. Maybe it’s spillover from some previous encounter. Or it could be moods exacerbated by the changing weather. Who knows with floofs? Hard to read as husbands.
So, watching the incident, I said, “It’s okay, boys, there’s no reason to fight, just walk away, Papi.” The Neurons heard that and it was mental clickbait to call up the 2006 song out of the memory channels and put it in the morning stream.
Be strong, stay positive, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Coffee and I are doing our tango. Cheers
Another grand opening has commenced in Ashlandia. A food truck and picnic table are in the parking lot. Couple chairs. Band is setting up under a white canopy on one side of the small lot. Merchandise has been pulled from the store and is displayed on racks and tables. Vintage clothing. Looks like a good turnout.
Third business in that location since I lived here, which is nineteen years. Once upon a time, that place was a bakery called Four and Twenty Blackbirds. Place to go for pies, cookies, breads, turnovers…well, bakery stuff.
Beside it was a small Italian restaurant. Wiley’s World. Excellent food. It’s now a plant store. Across the street used to be a bank but is now a Starbucks. A coffee shop, updated and modern, replaced the old, beloved coffee shop on the corner that went out of business almost ten years ago when the building’s owners upped the rent. And on the other corner was a bowling alley that is now a small strip shopping center that seems to stay half empty.
Then again, I used to walk to this corner to the coffee shop. Just about a mile, every day. When the coffee shop went away, I had to walk further and further till it reached the point that I was consuming too much of my writing day to reach my writing destination and go back home. Then COVID hit and everything shuttered and there was little walking to anywhere.
“The more things change, the more they stay the same” is the expression. The flux of business and life, revealed in the shifting landscape.
He seemed like he was aged. Not much energy. I offered coffee. He gave a head shake. I took that as no. That’s my culture.
He sat, cold and broody, high thin clouds on a blue day, a sun sluggish with its heat, tired with its shine. Seemed to be studying the trees. The old oak across the street sways high above power and phone lines. It’s an old neighborhood in parts, and that’s how it used to be, black telephone and power lines hanging between poles, home to birds and dangling shoes. The oaks leaves are green but their shade seem to be yielding into the yellow that takes them every year. Saturday seems like he’s considering it like a mystery: when will those leaves change?
It’s 59 F now. Saturday plans to get up to the high seventies, that is, if he can get up. Weight is holding him back. He’s had it a long time but it still surprises his muscles. A car goes up the hill outside the window and another goes down, causing him to look, like they might be guests coming to see him. Everyone sees Saturday and no one sees him. He’s invisible and there, forgotten, overlooked, used.
He pulls out a newspaper from the air, opening up the big, thin pages, humming as he reads. I smell the ink but can’t see the black headlines. The Neurons begin humming with Saturday. Working overtime, I finally pluck the song’s words out of the mind’s grey folds, putting enough together to get a sense of the melody. Performers arrive late to the scene: Bon Jovi. “Someday I’ll Be Saturday Night” plays in the morning mental music stream (Trademark cracked). A 1995 song that begins with a depressing litany but then rises up with defiance and optimism.
Now, as then, when I heard the song back in the day, I think of the stereotypes attached to it, like the idea that Saturday night is a good time. How that is embedded in our culture. How far back does that go?
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been brewed and calls. Here’s the music. Have a good Saturday. Cheers
Oh, no, it’s Friday, 9/13/2024. For some with paraskevidekatriaphobia, this is a scary day. For me, raised to beware of Friday the 13th and middle-class Protestant superstitions, reinforced by movies and memes, I’m on a mildly higher alert not to do anything stupid and exercise a skoosh more caution.
It’s 50 degrees F out in Ashlandia. One of those gorgeous blue skies that look bottomless. Not a cloud present to witness sunrise. The sun’s angle has changed. Beams no longer charge through the eastern windows. They make their appearance through a southern window and then shift to the east as the sun clears the mountains and trees. Gonna be 80 F today, a comfortable autumn day.
My wife declared that autumn has officially begun. How did she know? She grinned bigly: “My feet are cold when I go to bed, so I put socks on until they warm up. That’s how I know it’s fall.”
Ah, we all have our mysterious ways, don’t we?
I’ve been reading about Trump supporters and the comparison to Hitler’s supporters. Although there is a segment of Trump supporters who wave NAZI flags, I understand why many people don’t get the Hitler comparison. Hitler’s legend is steeped with history over rounding up and killing people, particularly Jews. A warmonger, he broke treaties and ruthlessly attacked other nations.
I read of people saying, “Trump is nothing like that. He’s not rounding anyone up. He’s not anything like Hitler, and we’re not anything like Germany. This is the United States! That can’t happen here.”
Yes, they’re looking at Hitler’s later years. Those who read and study what Hitler did in the early years can build a solid comparison between his growth and Trump’s popularity. They can point at the disenfranchised feeling pervading Germany after WW I and note how rural, white, and Christian voters experience something of the same, feeling ignored and left behind. They can address how Trump, like Hitler, made promises and accusations that gave these people hope.
Of course, in the United States, there is a swath of powerful white men and Evangelicals who expoit Trump and the right-wing disenfranchised. They’re wealthy, powerful, and want more. Besides that band, there are some who are attracted to the Trump brand of GOP reactionaryism because they are hateful, sexist, racist, and resentful, and a few who tag along because they don’t know what the hell is really going on.
You always see that last in these groups in later interviews. “I was just going along. I didn’t mean to kill anyone. Everyone was doing it. I just got caught up in it.” Or, the more commonly heard refrain later, “I was just following orders.”
As for it not being possible in the United States, consider how often Trump makes threats to prosecute or imprison political enemies, claiming in essence that if they don’t support him, they hate America. Consider how often he encourages his base not to trust the Democrats and liberals, how they’re responsible for everything terrible happening. Consider how he claims ‘the Left’ has weaonized the DOJ to go after him. And if they ‘go after him, they’ll go after you.’ Consider how often his supporters robustly cheer and amplify these messages. Consider how the majority of the GOP goes along with him, refusing to check his inflammatory rhetoric, and how they stacked the Supreme Court to support him.
Then tell me again how this can’t happen in the United States.
Moving on.
Today’s song is by Bakar. “Hell N Back” is out of 2019. Has a throwback mellow sound, slightly jazzy, but definitely chill. I enjoy the song but the question is, why did The Neurons plug it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark everything). This song is about being alone and realizing it later, looking back at how someone’s presence helped them, but also, how they used drugs to have a good time. But something about it cooks up my own sense of ‘being saved’ by my wife, how she helps me keep in check against my own worst assaults on myself and my sense of who I am. Why is it coming today? Is it just generated by a sense of change in the air, perhaps from the blue wave’s rising energy, or more merely the change of season, or from the great joy and satisfaction from my novel writing? Perhaps, and more likely, it’s a kick from all three combining in subtle ways to stimulate hormones that raise my elation and hopes. Perhaps some unknown stars and planets are aligning to make me feel strong and more hopeful.
Or maybe it’s just my imagination, or part of a regular cycle of hormones just being felt more acutely.
Be strong, and stay positive. Vote blue in 2024. Here’s the chill music. I’ll sip more coffee and listen. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 