I’ve been thinking about tomorrow. In some sense, it was about delaying something that I want to do, like rake leaves. Stagnant air shrouds the sky. The temperature floats up and down, thirty-five to thirty-eight and back. Too chilly and uncomfortable for this sugar cube. I’ll do it tomorrow, I tell myself, knowing tomorrow is forecast for more of the same. Shrug.
Then there’s the broader version of tomorrow, a new time, a new year, and not quite a new era, when Trump is out of the office and Mr. Biden takes the oath as POTUS. Come on, tomorrow.
Several songs come to mind, but the 1994 offering by Silverchair, “Tomorrow”, takes over my mental musical stream.
So here it goes, in honor of tomorrow, and its promise.
It’s raining this weekend. I like a nice, solid rain, which is what we’ve received. Brew some coffee and chill with relaxing rain sounds. I shouldn’t be surprised that a song about rain entered the mental stream yesterday. That it was Bob Dylan and “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35″ surprised me.
I was finishing up shaving and such when I thought out of nowhere, what’s Bob Dylan’s real name? I came up with Zimmerman but took a few more seconds to remember Robert. And then the song began.
I used this song as theme music back in October, 2017. Its mocking, rambunctious nature always entertains me. The song came out in 1966. I was ten, so the song passed under my radar. But when I became aware of it a few years later, I thought, yeah, this is about getting high. After doing a paper for a pop culture class years later, I appreciated the play on words, how people are throwing stones at others for imagined slights.
Pretty appropriate for these years, in which stones are slung for every damn thing, right? Have a good one. Wear your mask. Enjoy life.
I dream of food often, as often as cars, perhaps. Food was heavily featured in this one.
I was outside on grass but under an enormous pavilion. A celebration was planned. I showed up early to help with setup. It unfolded with lazy grace. First, a group of us put out tables and chairs. People arrived with food. Some are friends, but many are strangers. I tell them where to put their food. It’s a wonderful, relaxed scene.
At last, everyone is there and we’re starting. People wander around tables of food, checking the offerings and asking where they can find specifiic food. There’s a barbecue grill setup. Others are trying to light it but can’t. I show them how to do it. A little later, another friend is trying to light the grill. He’s doing it wrong. I’m about to explain how to light it when he figures it out and lights it. I find a plate of food and a place to sit.
Strange to have such a long, relaxed dream, like a day out of life, where we’re all just having a good time, being together. Perhaps it’s a manifestation by my subconscious of being out and socializing during this pandemic era. Or, maybe my mind is having a small celebration in honor of Joe Biden’s victory, and the changes that means.
Several times a month, a song or fragment hits my auditory stream and lingers. Some call this an earworm. I call it an annoyance.
Once in a while, I post those as my theme music to get them out of my head. It seems to work. Sometimes, though, the stuck song isn’t deserving of being the day’s theme music.
That’s the case today. This song isn’t the theme song, but I’m sharing it with you. It’s from a famous movie, so you might now it.
Yes, it’s “The Thermos Song” by Steve Martin from The Jerk (1979).
I don’t want it for today’s theme music.
As The Jerk came out in 1979, I started thinking about that year. While placing myself in that moment, my mind had a perverse idea, introducing The Smashing Pumpkins’ song, “1979”, from 1996, in my head. Oh, that brain, what a rascal.
It’s been over a year since I used “1979” for a theme song. (Yeah, I looked it up.) Why not, I thought. 1979 was a simpler time for me. Not for others, of course. As we slide over the time spectrum, time and life, and their impact on us, shift. Sometimes things skip off his like a stone skimming across a still pond. Other days, news whacks us like an asteroid taking the Yucatan Peninsula.
For me, though, best memories are not the ugly ones, but the sweet ones where I remember laughing with friends, getting ready to go out, and generally worrying about things other than drought, war, pandemics, politics, and climate change. It was like a day of freedom from stress.
Not all people have such stress-free days, but I’ve had some. Some of them were back in 1979. Mind you, that wasn’t a stress-free era. We still lived under the threat of nuclear war. Mr. Jimmy Carter was POTUS, and the Iran Hostage crises was the story of the day. But besides all that, I went to the movie theater with my cousins and wife in San Antonio to watch a movie called The Jerk.
My buddy, Bob Hoesch, sent an email out to his beer-drinking buddies last night. Liking it, I received his permission to share.
If any single image can sum up the tenor of an era, I would suggest this as a legacy photograph for the Trump Era.
Yes, that’s Don the Don, hawking Goya foods on the Resolute Desk in the oval office, because the owner of that company had just publicly praised him.
I didn’t know this until now, the Resolute Desk has been in the White House since it was gifted to the United States by Britain, during the tenure of Rutherford Hayes. FDR had it modified to accommodate his wheelchair while he ran WWII. The name comes from the decommissioned British warship HMS Resolute, whose lumber was used to make the desk.
Trump’s innovation was to use the desk to promote canned foods to the Mexican-American community. He should be remembered for that, as the most openly transactional national politician we’ve ever had.
“People of privilege will always risk their complete destruction rather than surrender any material part of their advantage.” — John Kenneth Galbraith, The Age of Uncertainty (1977)
It’s a cold, wet, chilly, dull, day. Yeah, I know that cold and chilly seem redundant. I think the day calls for it.
Like, where is the sun? Out there somewhere, I surmise from ambient lighting. Just not breaking through. Not warming us up.
We’ve been wanting rain, so complaints are moot. We’ve been enjoying an October and November warm spell. I like that expression, ‘warm spell’. It was in the low seventies here last week, down into the mid forties at night with, as Alexa puts it, “a lot of sunshine throughout the day”.
Of course, we needed rain and wanted rain. Actually need snow to build up our Cascades snowpack. The snowpack is our summer water supply.
But I’m a ranter (which reminds me of the ol’ Dr. Pepper commercial, “I’m a ranter, he’s a ranter, she’s a ranter, wouldn’t you like to be a ranter, too?”). With that done, naturally, my head turned to music. What music speaks to me from this weather and this rant?
Why, the Rascals with their 1968 song, “People Got to Be Free”. Yeah, that makes total sense. Who else do you think of when all the leaves are brown and the sky is gray, right?
I think the Rascals song arrived via a Venn splice in my mental stream, where dreams, current events, and music came together. One dream featured a 1968 Camaro. I had one, once, pushing the nostalgia buttons. That may’ve called the song up on the mental shuffle.
Politically speaking, the song fits the times.
You should see, what a lovely, lovely world this would be If everyone learned to live together It seems to me such an easy, easy thing this would be Why can’t you and me learn to love one another All the world over, so easy to see People everywhere just wanna be free I can’t understand it, so simple to me People everywhere just got to be free Ah, ah, yeah . . . ah, ah, yeah If there’s a man who is down and needs a helping hand All it takes is you to understand and to see him through Seems to me, we got to solve it individually And I’ll do unto you what you do to me
These are, of course, socialist thoughts that progressives like me push, that so many others fear. Helping others? Everyone equal and free? Why, how barbaric.
Have you read this far? Then, thanks. Have a good one. And wear a mask, please. For all of us. Merry Christmas.
Sorry, but it’s sort of a quasi-politically inspired song again. (Wow, such a wishy-washy caveat and apology.) There’s also a writing angle.
Thinking about not just Trump but about life in general summoned John Mellencamp’s 1987 song, “Paper in Fire” to mind. I was thinking about aspirations and permanency and how often what people do amount to nothing or disappear like…well, like paper in fire.
And the days of vanity Went on forever And he saw his days burn up Like paper in fire
Trump comes into this because of the vanity angle. He couldn’t govern and lead by getting legislation probably passed and put into place as law. Part of this was that he didn’t want to share glory. He wanted to be the one who was seen to originate the idea, to demonstrate his smarts. As he couldn’t, he instead used executive orders or chose not to enforce laws. Many of the executive orders meant almost nothing except to signal his desire, but others of them actively circumvented due process.
Much of what Trump seemed to be to appeal to his base. He loved their adoration. His actions and words were a reflection of that vanity.
Of course, Joe Biden intends to countermand Trump with more executive orders. This ends up in a cycle that creates a stronger executive branch to the detriment of the other branches, breaking the system of checks and balances. It becomes more dysfunctional and less stable and sustainable.
Of course, part of all this is the existential logjam that’s taking place in Congress. Democrats in the House pass bills, with partisan votes, but Republican McConnell in the Senate won’t bring them forward for action.
Beyond that, many of our individual dreams are like paper in fire. We diligently pursue them but they often come to little or no fruition, disappearing after we stop like paper in fire.
Sounds like it might be unhappy thinking. It’s not. We had our first snow dust this morning. Peering out at the cold scene with coffee in hand prompted reflection. Besides Trump and the US government, I also considered my characters and their motivations and dreams. They’re mostly in survivor or service roles even as unusual and unique issues impact them. In many ways, while they affect what happens in their world, their names will disappear like paper in fire.
So, there it is. Good rock tune with an Appalachian musical vibe. Hope you enjoy it and that you’re having a good one. Wear a mask, please. Cheers
Former Vice-President Joe Biden has been declared the winner over Trump. Mr. Biden will become the next POTUS.
Many have cried, “At last, the four-year-nightmare is over!”
Yeah, no.
I’ve seen this movie before. Just when you think the Terminator was dead and Linda Hamilton was safe, here he comes again. When you finally believed John McClain had vanquished the terrorists, one more shows up with a final effort to shoot and kill him.
That’s where we’re at in this election scenario. It’s not time for the credits yet.
Trump embraced America’s worst ideals and created a nasty legacy. Raising conspiracy theories and outlandish challenges to science and common decency to new levels he’s enabled the same in people who would otherwise be mostly decent, friendly, capable members of society.
He wasn’t alone, no. Fox News remains out there amplifying the trumpshit. Trump’s GOP enablers, like Mitch McConnell, were re-elected. The slug who screwed the United States citizens countless times during Mr. Obama’s terms, who has stonewalled legislation, remains in office.
Trump and his minions will be out there on Twitter and Facebook, continuing their shameless litany of absurdities and outright garbage. And Trump is still in office for a few more months. As petulant, petty, hateful, cruel, and shallow as he is, I don’t expect these next few months to go without incident. He’s also not likely to accept the results, but continue going to court, demanding recounts, and posting lies about the situation. And his supporters will lap it up and amplify it. So, no, it’s not over.
Chris Rea had the perfect song for it, though. Here’s his 1978 hit, “Fool (If You Think It’s Over)”.
Fool if you think it’s over ‘Cause you said goodbye Fool if you think it’s over I’ll tell you why
For that, blame my ‘puter. It suffered a severe case of Microsoftitis.
Last night, the blessed machine told me, “Install Updates and Shutdown”? Why, yes, seems reasonable.
The little machine went about its business for a while. Percentages passed. Twelve…fourteen…eighteen…twenty-three.
I drifted away for a time. On my return, the machine said, “Couldn’t install update. Trying again.”
Okay, go for it.
Off I went to do other things. The machine was shut down when I returned. Well, it must’ve succeeded.
Maybe yes, maybe no. I experienced the latest version of the Blue Screen of Death (BSOD) and went into an endless loop of trying to start, failing to start, running diagnostics, failing to repair the problem (kmode_exception_not_handled). Taking matters on for myself, I ran various diagnostics. They claimed that everything was great. Updated BIOS. It was great. Checked the image. Super-duper. Well, WTF?
Tried Restore Point. Failed: unspecified error OxO8OO70570. Using another computer, I looked for solutions. Tried logging into safe mode but couldn’t.
Geez. Eventually, I again refreshed and reinstalled matters.
(Funny, but just the other day, I mentioned that I felt great, but I was anxious, because this is 2020, and 2020 has a habit of biting people in the ass, as it did me today.)
Onto the music. Today’s song is Paul Simon’s 1980 hit, “Late in the Evening”. For him, it was late in the evening, and the music’s seeping through. For me, it was late in the evening, and all the news and my writing muse was seeping through. I swear, the muse seemed like she’d guzzled tankloads of coffee. Or maybe she’d gulped down sugar. Whatever it was, she was hyper-active. All her ideas just kept seeping through.
So here we go. Since I liked Simon and Garfunkel and enjoy recorded ‘live’ performances, I’m offering up S&G in Central Park. As always, hello, and see you later.
Today’s theme music is “Unbelievable” by EMF from 1990. This song has always sounded like an INXS product. That’s not a bad thing at all. I think “Unbelievable” still has the beat to get people out of their seats.
“Unbelievable” was an easy choice for me. Checking on election updates for the presidency in the U.S., unbelievable is a word that springs to mind multiple times. Unbelievable that the election hasn’t been called, that it’s so tight. Unbelievable, too, the efforts that ConDon is making to stop every vote from being counted. And probably staggeringly unbelievable, former Vice President Joe Biden set a new record for most votes received by a presidential candidate. It’s over 70 million, and they’re still counting. Yet, he might lose.
Unbelievable, no?
More personal reasons for unbelievable are there, but I’ll spare you and keep it short (if you’ve read this far). (Yo, as if you can’t just skip all the text and go right to the music, right?)
Michael Seidel, writer 