If I were religious or ascribed to a diety, I’d say that they might be pissed after Trump’s Micky D Sunday stunt. First there was an E. Coli Outbreak, forcing them to pull quarter pounders. Next came some crashing stock.
All started with Trump’s appearance there. Just sayin’. Also, as others noted, while Trump wore an apron, he didn’t have the rest of the required gear, like hairnets. Just sayin’.
It’s Wed-nesday, which originally meant wedding day. People of another age and era ‘wedded’ when the signs were most auspicious for success. That included planting crops, starting a new endeavor or business, starting a new journey, etc. But so many people waited for this day to be declared so they could wed that it became known as Wed-day. The ‘nes’ aspect was added in as adjustments between different dialects, cultures, and eras. True story which I just made up.
It’s October 23, 2024. You know what that means. That’s right, it’s almost time to set our clocks back in ‘Merica. No, I’m not making a clever reference about the election; we are not going back.
It’s cloudy, rainy, chilly. Autumn has thrown its full effects at us. Some of the foliage is wonderfully bright with sizzling scarlets and other red shades to brilliant lime greens and golds. Also spotted pumpkin-hued leaves on a tree. That tree was thinking outside of the bark. But alas, some trees have already dropped their splendor. Brown, curling leaves hang limply, drifting off when the right wing pulls them with a whisper.
45 F right now, we’re almost at our high of 49 F.
I’ll take that rain, though. Fill the reservoirs and cisterns. Replenish water tables. Ease us out of the drought. It’s needed.
Busy day. The centerpiece is a pre-op appointment for my foot issue. The office didn’t co-ordinate with me, which irritates me, but that’s more first world blues, innit? So I’m to be there at 12:25 for a 12:40. Right in the middle of my writing schedule. Add in the commute, etc, and the timing screws up the day.
But it had me propositioning myself about what to wear on a chilly day when I’ll be outside often but also inside, meeting with med staff, blah, blah, blah. The Neurons responded by firing up “Outside” by the Foo Fighters in my morning mental music stream (Trademark wet).
The song came out in 2014. Ima Joe Walsh and Foo Fighters fan. Been a Walsh fan since he and the James gang were rocking. This Foo song had a Joe Walsh guitar solo in it when it was released. Thrilled me to hear ol’ Joe rocking. Couldn’t find a copy of it online so I’m forcing this recording of a live version on you.
Be strong, stay positive, vote blue. Coffee and I have begun our latest collaboration. 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.
An endless duvet of clouds challenges the sky. Flat and almost featureless, the clouds vary in tones of blue, white, and gray. Sunshine is out there because it’s daytime but the heat and light are undercover. A cold layer has settled across Ashlandia’s soul and the trees’ colors are fading as they shed leaves. 48 F now, we’ll clock out at 58 F today.
Received my molasses mail for my planned surgery yesterday. Gotta call it molasses mail because snail mail conjures too much speed for how slow local mail is in this age. Been waiting and waiting for that piece from my surgeon’s office, wondering where it was.
My surgeon’s office is about twenty miles up the Interstate from Ashland, in our region’s largest city, Medford. Recent local posts claim that mail between Medford and Ashland now requires seventeen days. That’s because Louis DeJoy reorganized things to make the USPS more like a business. So our mail takes days of traveling, handling, and waiting. It’s picked up in Medford, goes north up I-5, gets processed, and comes back down south via I-5 to travel the final twenty miles. I can’t testify that seventeen days is accurate, but that package did take over ten days.
Hell, twenty miles, they could have walked it over in less time. This is the GOP idea of ‘progress’.
Meantime, not having that letter caused confusion. It informed me that they would be reaching out to me to make a pre-op appointment, and what would happen during it. The document set up milestones and provided instructions. Meanwhile, the electronic side of the system hummed along. I received email notification of the pre-op last week, along with the post-op appointments. I guessed the gist of all of that but it sure would have been nice to have the explanatory documents beforehand. Guess the med system needs to change its methodology now that Louis DeJoy broke the postal system. It’s another reason to give thanks to D.J. Trump, who appointed jackass DeJoy.
Makes you shudder to think of how badly Trump would break the government with Project 2025 as his instruction manual.
With the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame happenings taking place, The Neurons revisited music by the various inductees. Dionne Warwick, Mary J. Blige, Kool & The Gang, A Tribe Called Quest, and the Dave Mathews Band. Cher, Ozzy Osborne, Foreigner, and Peter Frampton. Awesome music and a wide range of superb tunes were put out by these performers.
I ended up with A Tribe Called Quest playing “I Left My Wallet in El Segundo” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark famous). It was a confluence of factors guiding the choice. My wife and I went to leave the house, and I said, “Oh, wait, I left my wallet in the office.” As I’d just been reading and remembering songs, Der Neurons instantly pounced with “I Left My Wallet in El Segundo”. The song has a steady, hip moving beat and humorous lyrics about a road trip that goes askew. Who hasn’t had something like that happen? Well, I imagine there are a number of people who haven’t had one askew, but came close enough to identify.
Here we go, time to rock and roll. Coffee and I are bopping along ago, and my pulse has acquired some strength to it. Be strong, stay positive, test negative, and vote blue. Here’s the music. Cheers
Snark aside — and yes, that was snark — as this article points out, he’s been canceling many interviews and appearances. Seems like he lacks energy. Not a good sign to me for someone who wants to occupy the Oval Office and its high demands.
What’s really fucking hilarious is that this poseur — that’d be Trump — has his campaign put out a statement about Kamala Harris lying about her McDonald’s employment in her youth. Isn’t it laughable how someone stages a stunt like this and lies about it, and then claims the other person is lying about? Seems like clear projection, doesn’t it?
The simple truth that Trump and his campaign are trying to hide is that he’s too old and in poor physical condition. Certainly looks too old and in poor shape, AI creations showing him as a buff individual aside. His reported diet is not one of a healthy individual. Certainly the person in that AI creation that shows Trump as a Steeler player would not be too exhausted to keep campaigning.
What is that word that Trump likes to call others? Oh, yes: LOSER. Yes, that’s it. Trump is a fake and a loser. As we close on election day and the pressure increases, he shows more and more cracks. His mask keps slipping, and he’s falling apart in the national arena.
Put a younger person in office. One not tainted by felony convictions as Trump is. One who has the energy for the job. Vote blue. Elect Kamala Harris as President of the United States.
Monday trotted in on rain and clouds but sunshine has made the scene. It’s October 21, 2024. Fall continues its strong run. Traditional Halloween colors dominate the landscape. Colorful leaves blanket the roads, smother the sidewalks, inundate the yards and fields. With a temperature now of 56 F, we don’t expect much more warmth today, as temperatures will sputter to a high in the low sixties. As they used to whisper in a certain set of novels and a television series predicated on those novels, “Winter is coming.”
I’m gifting today’s Monday the name of Monder, a sort of mix of Monday and wonder. As we start the week and advance toward election day — one day and two weeks away — I wonder WTF the MAGAlopes’ leader will do next to surprise and disturb the world.
News is heavy with trumpcapades. Lord, the things he does while ‘running’ for office. Put it that way because it’s more a comgedy as he embarks on surreal rifts and character assassinations, expressing little about his policy. Served fries — such a man of the people! (Yes, that is snark.) Also posted AI generated imagery of himself as a muscular, built Steeler player, a far reach from his true physique. The man’s ridiculousness and outright weirdness are deep. And yet, they’re unconsciously so very Trumpian, revealing him as a fake person, pretending to do and be things which he never was.
Having seen Project 2025 and Trump’s first term, we have some strong indicators of what his presidency would be like and why he doesn’t articulate policy positions, instead dancing around stages. We’ve been watching the right-wing stripping women’s rights, attacking the social safety net and education system, trying to homogenize the population, values, and culture into redneck vanilla while constructing the foundation for a authoritarian state. All while claiming to do what the Founders desired. Hilarious if it wasn’t so darkly surreal.
Hurricane Oscar is taking on Cuba after beating up the Bahamas, so fingers crossed for that nation and people that they come through without overly horrendous results. We’re still dealing with Milton and Helene’s aftermath in the U.S. The latest problem from the hurricanes is the rise of Vibrio vulnificus, which can lead to flesh-eating bacteria, necrotizing fasciitis, and death.
Today’s music comes off a tangent about thinking about today’s youth. Not just youth but adults. Many adults seem oblivious, disinterested, or overwhelmed with current events and history. I wonder if the youth is paying more attention. I like to hope they are. I remember myself as a youth. My world events interest was peripheral to sports, music, and reading. So I hope our youth is better than me.
Anyway, the song The Neurons fished out of memory for the moment is “Oh Very Young” by Yosuf Islam, previously known as Cat Stevens. The thoughtful but light 1974 song has taken over the morning mental music stream (Trademark young). Came out the year when I graduated. I think I still sound fresh, but then I’m pretty stale.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue. Coffee and I have commenced our tango. Here’s the music. Cheers
“I’m a technologist, I know a lot about computers,” Musk told the crowd during the event. “And I’m like, the last thing I would do is trust a computer program, because it’s just too easy to hack.”
This was during his ‘town hall’ meeting in Philadelphia, PA.
Of course, he was referring to debunked information. Didn’t matter to the sheeple he addressed.
Wonder what his company, Tesla thought about it? Aren’t they the ones pushing driverless cars which basically use computers and sensors to safely traverse road and highways? Hell, if the company’s CEO doesn’t trust a computer program, WTF should we?
There’s so much here to unpack about Musk’s state of mind, thinking skills, and choices, not to mention the sheeple out there applauding him. They’re all untethered from reality, as others were quick to note.
In a statement released following Musk’s comment this week, Dominion pointed out the inaccuracies in Musk’s comments, including the fact they don’t operate in Philadelphia and that most jurisdictions do use paper ballots.
“Fact: Dominion does not serve Philadelphia County. Fact: Dominion’s voting systems are already based on voter verified paper ballots. Fact: Hand counts and audits of such paper ballots have repeatedly proven that Dominion machines produce accurate results. These are not matters of opinion. They are verifiable facts,” a Dominion spokesperson said.
On the website of Maricopa County, officials also stated that voting machines in the 2020 election were accurate, writing that a hand count after the election “found zero variances between hand count results and the Dominion tabulation equipment.”
The increasing craziness on the right is deeply unsettling. I don’t think it’ll end with the next election, either. It’s going to take a long time for that lack of thinking to fade away, especially as people like the Heritage Foundation and much of the GOP are working hard to keep it going.
Donald J. Trump, former President of the United States, and Republican nominee for the office again, is holding a rally. Coming on stage to great applause, he begins by attacking someone for some reason. Then, losing interest in what he’s saying, he calls for music and begins dancing. As he dances, he strips off his clothing. While doing that, he chats about his terrific, beautiful body. His laughing crowd energetically applauds. He takes off his clothes until he is completely naked, and then dancing more.
The headlines the next day in a few places, on a few columns, read: “Donald Trump dances and strips.” Few of them ask, “Is this really someone who should be the next president?”
We don’t seem far off from this emperor-has-no-clothes scenario. Buttressed by loyalists’ support that’s mostly emotional, with little rational logic attached to it, Trump believes he can do anything and get away with it. Part of the scenario I just described took place: he stayed on stage, listening to music, and sometimes dancing, at a recent rally. He did not strip. Not yet. But I don’t think that’s far away.
Imagine the headlines we’d see if Kamala Harris came on stage and talked about another person’s genitalia as her opening remarks. And you know who would be shouting the loudest about it would be the right-wing media, the right-wing media who cannot ever say that their leader has no clothes.
Yet, thanks to Trump’s cult and undecided voters — or voters who have decided that they’re not sure that Kamala Harris is up to the task, but are certain Trump is — we have an election that’s too close to call. Or so they say. But polls, you know…
Sunday, October 20, 2024 has slotted in. It’s 61 F outside and we expect a mid seventies high amid a surfeit of autumn furnishings and clouds.
We’re off to see a Halloween concert this afternoon. Rogue Valley Symphonic Band. Several friends play in the band so we go and support them. They’re usually inventive fun, although they have a new musical director, so we’re not sure what we’ll get. We’re mildly agitated that it’s so many days before Halloween. Few are in a Halloween spirit yet.
We’re also vexed that this was scheduled at the same time as Ashland’s celebration for being 150 years old. Here’s the thing about that latter; we didn’t hear any or see any advertisement for that until last week. Holy cow, an event like this, and they kept it under wraps. We asked our friends and all said, “Nope. Didn’t hear about it.” Many weren’t aware of it until we asked. My wife blames the advertising gap on the lack of a local physical newspaper. She’s been mourning the demise of the Ashland Daily Tidings since it went under. After it failed, so did the Medford Mail Tribune, causing an even larger local news gap. It’s a sigh inducing product of the modern world and electronic information age.
I’m basically over my COVab (COVID-19 vaccination shot, or jab). Jab point is still singing, “Ow. Ow. Owww.” And that arm/shoulder remains stiff as dried leather. But my energy has jumped back up and my thinking has cleared, and my appetite, which was mildly cut yesterday, has had a resurgence. In fact, I think that giving myself permission to sleep because I wasn’t feel well was beneficial overall.
My wife suggested we go east to Pittsburgh, PA, December to visit with family for the holidays. That brought a grimace to my soul. I’ve traveled during that time of year, and the ugh moments just pile up. Congestion, crowds, coughing and sneezing, weather delays. Oy. But Mom keeps aging, keeps adding on health issues, and has a new crises every several months, and time keeps on ticking. Probably a good idea. I just worry about the execution.
Today’s music came after I’d left the boudoir and was in the kitchen. “Well, here we are,” I told myself. “Another day.”
Click. The Neurons delivered the Brothers Gibb singing, “Here we are. In a room full of strangers.” As I recognized the lyrics, “Nights of Broadway” filled the morning mental music stream (Trademark bright). Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees wrote the 1975 disco song and reported that it came to him in a dream. Pretty cool, innit?
Coffee has been invited into my body, where it received a warm reception. Stay positive and remain strong. We’re almost to the election day finish line. Then it’ll all be over except for the screaming and shouting, lawsuits, accusations, commnentary and analysis. Vote blue. Here’s the music.
My computer was struck by one of those scams that declare my computer was infected. Which was BS. Easy enough to spot them because they’re a phishing effort to get you to download something or call someone, and they put multiple popups up. Anyone who has dealt with a true anti-virus program and a real virus knows that’s not how these things go down.
Anyway, I use several browsers on my ‘puter. This one struck Chrome. That made it easier to get rid of. Just a quick and simple reset took care of that. Worse part of that was the time it took to reset, and it signed me out of everything. But those are small struggles compared to the annoyance of having those fake things trying to instill fear in me. See, that’s how they play: trying to make you afraid of what has happened.
Michael Seidel, writer 