Category: pop culture

Thirstda’s Theme Music

Bold sunshine lured my eyes open. It’s summer, this hoople head’s addled neurons suggested.

It’s not summer. This is Thirstda, March 20, 2025. We’re stepping into spring’s threshold. I went onto the back patio with Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt. The Butt did a little springish frolocking. “I agree,” I said. “It feels like a cold spring morning.” Daffs have pushed their yellow heads out. It’s 37 F but feels like 51 F, and is expected to climb to 45 plus F. Clouds have already hustled in, least we get too optimistic about the blue sky and sunshine. The weather ‘they’ couch their forecast with rain warnings. Not bad for Ashlandia’s first day of spring in 2025.

The addled Neurons have snuck a 2014 John Mellencamp song into the morning mental music stream. It’s a bit cynical. “Lawless Times” rails against the lack of trust that had begun emerging twenty years ago, the latest in many cycles of distrust – the trust in banks, business, goverment, trust in ourselves and one another, were all going down in flames, and here we are. It takes a certain amount of vetting to reach a point where you trust someone. Even though, you keep an eye on them. They might Schumer you.

The song started because I was in a Walmart the day before yesterday. My wife was looking for a kitchen item. Walmart was supposed to have it. I don’t think I’ve been in a Walmart in over a year. It’s not one of my regular shopping stops. Talk about a police state. Cameras everywhere. Signs at the end of every aisle reminding you that cameras are watching. And so many items were physically locked behind glass doors or in cages. Like all camping gear. Cosmetics. Vacuum cleaners. Is this the common American experience now? And that’s when “Lawless Times” first fired up. Walmart sure as hell doesn’t trust its customers. Of course, I do not trust PINO Trusk and his regime. I don’t trust the Roberts Court. I don’t trust the GOTP. I especially don’t trust Elon Reeve Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg. I sure as hell don’t trust JD Vance and Tommy Tuberville, MTG and Lauren Boebert.

Well, I don’t trust myself
I don’t trust you
Don’t get too sick
It’ll be the end of you
Don’t expect a helping hand
If you fall down
And if you want to steal this song
It can be easily loaded down
My, my, my
These are lawless times
My, my, my
These are lawless times
So you might ask yourself
Hey, what can I do?
I can’t trust the future
What’s been promised to you
Learn the rules hard and fast
Take care of yourself
And keep your eyes open
On everybody else

h/t Genius.com

Too much truth in that song but it has a catchy rhythm. You might end up, as I do, singing it to yourself as you go through your day.

I’ve invited coffee in again and it’s lit a small flame under The Neurons. Hope you day starts with promise and ends with satisfaction. Let’s rock it. Cheers

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Wenzda’s Theme Music

Sunshine tangoed in. Then clouds waltzed in, batting the sunshine out. No rain is falling but it’s still early. With a temperature of 39 F, we should be safe from snow for a few hours, though ‘they’ say it feels lie 27. S’posed to top off in the low 50s this afternoon. No word on what it’ll feel like. All this is as expected on the horn of spring as winter fades out in Ashlandia on Wenzda, March 19, 2025.

Boy, this week has been a crazy month, right? You never know what new insult Trump and his minions will levy on We The People. This time, the Trusk Regime has decided that the Code Talkers so invaluably employed during World War II were DEI hires.

“Were it not for the Navajos,” Major Howard Connor said, “the Marines would never have taken Iwo Jima.”

Today, Erin Alberty of Axios reported that at least ten articles about the Code Talkers have disappeared from U.S. military websites. Broken URLs are now labeled “DEI,” an abbreviation for “Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion.”

That’s right. Under Trump’s ‘leadership’, the Trusk Regime and the GOTP continue to spit on the honor and bravery of the people who fought for this nation. Someone should remind Trump and his regime that if it weren’t for the Code Talkers’ help, we might all be speaking Japanese.

Trump always claims he loves the military but look what he’s doing to it. Also claims to love the Constitution, and look what he’s doing to it. Ditto the nation. Who will rid us of the pestilence called Donald Trump before our world is destroyed?

The Neurons are playing the 1982 Culture Club song, “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me, in the morning mental music stream. This came about because I read that in many polls, Trump voters support the Trusk Regime’s actions…until they’re personally affected. Then they’re often swearing and crying about what Trump is doing. Like the Miami Venezuelans who supported Trump during the elections.

Venezuelan migrants in South Florida say they feel betrayed by a Trump administration decision to end legal protections for hundreds of thousands of people who fled dictatorships and sought refuge in the U.S.

The move by the Trump administration is a turnabout of a long-standing U.S. policy that has extended TPS to more than a half-million Venezuelans.

Come on, man, betrayal is Trump’s middle name. So, yep, now those Venezuelan Trump supporters are hurting as fellow Venezuelans are returned to the conditions they tried to escape in their country so that they could pursue life, liberty, and the pursuit fof happiness. They stand alongside thousands of farmers, ranchers, bankers, VA employees, veterans, FBI agents, and firefighters shocked to learn that Trump doesn’t care about them. Once they voted for him, it was one and done.

So this song, “Do You Really Want to Hear Me” and its plaintive refrain, is perfect for them. I mean, it’s not like they couldn’t see what Trump did before as POTUS, as a businessman, as a husband, or as a person. He’s always been all about himself. His voters were fools to think otherwise.

Coffee is again soothing my troubled breast. I’m ready to launch one more time. Hope you have a solid, satisfying day. And awaaayyy we goooo. Cheers

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Twosda’s Theme Music

We’ve touched down on Twosda, March 18, 2023. The rain has ceased. Winter still dominates the seasonal dance off. Those blackened tufted clouds don’t bespeak of spring. Temperature is sticking close to the upper thirties as if it’s been ordered but 46 F is a projected high, the weather ‘they’ say. Sunlight has been flitting in an out on butterfly wings.

News…we won’t get into that yet. Except, locally, a woman died in rural Central Point flooding brought on by our spate of heavy rains. Was apparently clearing branches from a culvert when her waders filled and she was taken into the culvert and drowned. Sad end to a life, fighting water, trying not to drown.

Jesse Colin Young, a member of the Youngbloods folk pop rock group, passed away, 83 years old. Part of the sound of the 1960s frquently heard through a transistor radio’s thin sound as I moved from being young innocent into inquisitive teenager, Mr. Young was also an activist for peace, justice, and the environment. Soon as I read of his passing, The Neurons slotted the Youngbloods’ 1967 cover of “Get Together” into the morning mental music stream.

Coffee and I got together in the kitchen, continuing our brewmance. Hope your day goes solidly your way. Here’s the music. And off we go, into the darkish grayish yonder…

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Munda’s Theme Music

It’s FOFFing* outside in Ashlandia, where the voters are liberal. Munda has fallen on us and can’t get up. A later winter storm is driving through the valley and the temperature is sticking to 35F. Supposed to rocket up to 48 F but that rocket might not get liftoff, if we use those clouds for our reasoning. If we use history and experience, the weather could go in any direction from here.

This is Munda, March 17, 2025. Which is, yelp, St. Patrick’s Day. Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you. Are you wearing green to draw some Irish luck your way?

*FOFFING: Fat Ol’ Flakes Falling

Watching those flakes reminded me of a cat experience. This is about Jade. She came to be with us in Okinawa. She belonged to the people up the hall in our apartment building. They had a toddler, and Jade didn’t take shit from anyone, telling them so with claws and teeth. So she came to us and was with us for 20 years more.

When she was four, we moved from Okinawa to the United States. This would be January, 1985. We were in San Antonio after landing to visit family. Jade was with us, as we’d just flown into the country. It began snowing. Jade had never seen snow, so she went out to experience it. She would take a step and shake a foot. Step, shake. Step, shake. Finally fed up of it after a minute, she returned to inside the motel room. I still grin, remembering her reaction.

Been catching up on the news. Hear there was some wicked weather across the United States and that the Trusk Regime thumbed their nose at a judge. It’s enough for me to groundhog back to bed for six more weeks. But I’ve served myself coffee so that’s not a current option.

Out of all that news catchup, The Neurons direction Twenty One Pilots to play their 2016 song, “Heathens”, in the morning mental music stream.

We don’t deal with outsiders very well
They say newcomers have a certain smell
You have trust issues, not to mention
They say they can smell your intentions
You’ll never know the freak show sitting next to you
You’ll have some weird people sitting next to you
You’ll think “How did I get here, sitting next to you?”
But after all I’ve said, please don’t forget

h/t to Genius.com

The coffee is doing its function. Take it slow and roll through Munda, St. Patty’s Day. Here we go. Cheers

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Sunda’s Theme Music

Winter blahness continues its hold here in Ashlandia. Yeah, it’s a low key sprinter day. Cold rain pelts the world. I know it’s cold because I stepped out to call in Papi, aka Butter Butt. Butter Butt refuses to accept that it’s bad weather outside. He heads out there as if there is nothing wrong, and then darts for cover and huddles. Fifteen minutes later, I check on him and he sprints in. After three episodes like this, he finally announces, “I’ve decided to stay inside today,” and curls up like he’s ready to read a good book.

Papi never looks up and see the ominous layers of clouds. He only knows that the wind is blowing, there is no warming bit of sunshine to be found, and rain is splattering beyond the porch. Those clouds tell me it’s going to be a cold, wet one, and we’re not discussing beer. Temperature is holding at 37 F but never fear, it’s gonna crowd the low to mid forties before beginning its late afternoon descent back into the mid 30s.

This is Sunda, March 16, 2025.

Locally, we’re cheering on the Southern Oregon University women’s basketball team. Undefeated, they’re progressing through the NAIA championship seedings. We’re hopeful that they’ll take a national championship. I hope I haven’t jinxed that by putting it in eprint. The fates often get irritated with me and end whatever makes me happy. Maybe it just seems like it.

Today’s song is in honor of MAGA America. News of tariffs being levied on the U.S. in retaliation for tariffs PINO Trusk put on others, along with stock market drops and growing unemployment has The Neurons playing “Love Hurts” in the morning mental music stream. Although covered by Cher, Jim Capaldi, the Everyly Brothers, Emmylou Harris, and Roy Orbison, the song in my head today comes from a group called Nazareth. Nazareth is a Scottish hard rock band. I knew their work and songs like “Hair of the Dog” and “Broken Down Angel”. When they released “Love Hurts”, I was taken back. Yet, it works. Well, for some.

Anyway, “Love Hurts” was put into place because every time complaints about being fired from a job, falling stock prices, cut benefits, or dissatisfaction in general emerges from MAGA land, PINO Trusk quickly reassures them that yes, there will be some pain, but they’ll be great in the end, so great, you won’t believe it.

Coffee is consoling me again. Hope your day goes well and features some pleasant weather. Here we go, one more time, eye on the clock. Cheers

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Saturda’s Theme Music

It’s a blah day outside our windows. Winter is singing its final stanzas. Bleak ropes of gray clouds are strung together. Mists cling to the snowy mountain tops. Rain has fallen off and on, and the temperature has crept from 34 F to 41 F as a sharp wind whistles and moans.

This is Saturda, March 15, 2025, in Ashlandia.

My wife has been busy doomscrolling. She mostly goes onto Reddit and hits different forums. People who worked for the Federal government have set up many of them to tell about what’s going on in their offices around the nation. She shares tales with me. She also passes them on to her friends; they suggest that she needs to do less doomscrolling because she’d acting so dark, depressed, and pessimistic. I agree with them. But, it has a hold on her. Despite her statements that she wants to do less doomscrolling, she keeps feeding on the darkness, and it feeds on her.

The newscape is fucking bleak out there. How cheerful are we expected to be as PINO Trusk and the GOTP guts the government, slashes services, burns the U.S. Constitution, and talks about using American troops to invade other places?

How much cheerfulness should we offer as the stock market drops and drops, wiping out years of gains?

How cheerful can we be as PINO Trusk tries moving the country backwards in regards to air and water protections, civil rights, especially minority rights, trade and defense agreements?

What level of cheerfulness should we convey as greater discussions of a financial recession become more frequent?

Cheerfulness is a hard-won currency in this era. Maybe it’s just me and my wife. Maybe we’re too invested in following the news and doomscrolling. Perhaps we’re in an information silo where we’re only fed bad news, and it’s really much better. Inflation is dropping, and despite the stock market declines, people are growing happier and more satisfied. Maybe the erosion of freedoms isn’t as great as we fear.

Out of all of this, The Neurons have employed a song called “Unwell” in the morning mental music stream. “Unwell” was released in 2003 by Matchbox 20. The group’s lead vocalist, Rob Thomas, wrote the song.

On the live DVD Show: A Night in the Life of Matchbox Twenty, lead singer Rob Thomas states that he wrote the song as a metaphor for humanity in general, a song for people who are “messed up and feel alone like that. We all feel a little messed up sometimes… you’re not alone.”

h/t Wikipedia.org

I think many of us ar feeling messed up and alone. We’re also feeling frustrated, disappointed, and depressed. The future does not look good as we try to see what is to come. As the song’s lyrics go, “I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired.”

Coffee and I have reached another cooperative agreement. Hope your day is strong, filled with hope and optimism. Here we go. Cheers

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Saturda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

In this corner, we have Oblivious Man.

Oblivious Man, whose superpowers are obvious, is Richard Grennell. Mr. Grennell made the news in wake of JD Vance being booed at the Kennedy Center.

Apparently taken back by the booing, Mr. Grennell responded.

Richard Grenell, whom Mr. Trump named as the center’s new president, posted on social media on Friday morning that the video showing Mr. Vance being booed “should challenge us all to commit to making the Kennedy Center a place where everyone is welcomed.”

“It troubles me to see that so many in the audience appear to be white and intolerant of diverse political views,” he wrote. “Diversity is our strength. We must do better. We must welcome EVERYONE. We will not allow the Kennedy Center to be an intolerant place.”

Gosh, Oblivious Man, you do know that you have your job after a purge by the intolerant individual who appointed you to your position, don’t you? You know, the one who called the Kennedy Center Board ‘too wokey’.

Yes, because PINO Trusk has been so fucking inclusive as he espouses his positions against diversity. So welcoming is PINO Trusk as he establishes a list of 43 countries whose citizens are not very welcome in the United States. So fucking tolerant is PINO Trusk as he investigates colleges for being too tolerant, too welcoming, too inclusive, arrests people for not thinking like him, while pursuing mass arrests and deportations.

Oh, Oblivious Man Grennell. I hope you wake up and smell the bullshit.

1

The Three Rs

Daily writing prompt
What activities do you lose yourself in?
View all responses

My primary time suck comes down to the three Rs: Reading, Riting, and Research. Yes, I spelled writing wrong, dropping the ‘w’. But it’s a silent ‘w’, isn’t it? Does riting sound that different from writing? Does riting sound rong?

Looks weird as hell, I admit.

I could have also just changed the title to The Three Ws, adding a silent ‘w’ to reading and research, creating wreading and wresearch.

I enjoy words. Their histories fascinate me. And I enjoy making things up. That’s why I rite fiction.

I also love reading, or, as some might rite it, wreading. The ‘w’ is silent. I read multiple genres, although I shy away from horror and wromance. Science fiction narrowly leads fantasy and historical fiction, but I enjoy thrillers and mysteries, too. I also enjoy non-fiction about history, economics, politics, quantum mechanics, and time.

Besides wreading and writing, I enjoy wresearch. Wresearch can easily become a time suck. Once upon a time, a show called Connections aired. The British science historian, James Burke, hosted the show. The show explored technological and scientific progress but veered off into tangents and side effects about how such advances were employed, resulting in surprising revealations. That sort of revelatory pingpong the show employed stirred me to continue such wresearch. The Internet is a tremendous catalyst to such wresearch.

My wresearch goes everywhere. Some of it is anchored to childhood memories of sports, politics, historic events, science, and pop culture. I remember things but often want to validate my memory. Verifying that I correctly remember matters causes me to delve deeper into details and background information, and often triggers side journeys into related matters.

When I was employed, my three time sucks secured me solid positions and helped foster my success. Now a retiree, I happily pursue them every day.

There are way worse ways to live.

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Frieda’s Theme Music

Winter is perched in Ashlandia and its surroundings for another day. Yesterday, we sequenced through snow, sleet, rain, sunshine, repeat. Today seems like a duplicate effort. Snow is falling, the temperature is crowding 38 F with a questionable chance the air temp will light up 48 F. This is Frieda, March 14, 2025.

I read with serious dismay that the US Postal Service struck a deal to let DOGE ‘improve’ services.

That’s great news, innit? Yes, that’s snark.

I don’t find it great news at all. All that I’ve seen of DOGE so far is cutting headcount without having knowledge about what they’re doing. This has fed chaos in many areas of government. Facing outrage and backlash to the chaos, GOTP politicians have stopped holding townhalls and avoid meeting their constituents. Meanwhile, many agencies which had DOGE cuts had to hire people back, either because vital positions had been cut, or courts ruled that what DOGE did was illegal. Coupled with PINO Trusk’s tariffs, economic war, and imperial military interests, the stock market is rushing down, talk of a Trumpcession is heating up, and corporations are putting plans on hold and laying off/terminating employees due to ‘economic uncertainy and instabilitly’. Good times! So much winning!

Anyway, I’m not optimistic about what will happen to the mail system with DOGE’s ‘help’. The length of time needed for mail to be delivered has already increased. So have stamp prices. Post offices and satellite offices have been closed. We all drive further to wait longer to get postal business done. Our mail takes laborious, convoluted routes. Doesn’t go from A to B no even A to C. No, it now goes A to K and then back to H, up to P, back to D, and then, finally, B, it’s destination. Dog knows what DOGE will do to it.

Another series of uplifted dreams washed through my sleep. I awoke feeling rested, vigorous, and almost joyful. Weirdly, The Neurons inserted a 1986 song called “Mad About You” by Belinda Carlisle into the morning mental music stream. I have nothing against the song; I know it from the car radio. Driving in my car, doing errands, commuting to work, etc. It’s a bouncy tune with easily heard and appreciated lyrics, simple for a sing along, Maybe you know it and will sing along.

Coffee has established its presence in my system. I’m ready to get out into the snow and wind — didn’t mention the wind before, did I, but, yes, there is wind — and get down to bidness. Have the best day possible for yourself and yours. Here’s the music. Cheers

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