Category: satire

Thirstdaz Theme Music

It looks like we might have some fog today in Foglandia. It’s Thirstda, December 11, 2025. The fog landed on us yesterday morning and has not abated. My friend came out of meeting last night and said, “Wow, this is Jack the Ripper kind of fog.” Our forecast for today, given yesterday morning, promised sunshine and a possible record high in the low to mid-sixties. That was yesterday. Now we’re mumbling about maybe hitting 50 F. It’s 37 F now. The claims made yesterday for today have been shifted to tomorrow. Feels like a con game. Wonder how much of Trump DOGE cuts cause the diminishing weather forecast accuracy?

Another night of intriguing dreams featuring cars, women, and building had me wondering about stuff this morning. Traversing the assimilating and understanding functions of parsing the dreams inspired Les Neurons. “Clocks” by Coldplay floated into the morning mental music stream. The song’s lyrics go, “Confusion never stops. Closing walls and ticking clocks. Gonna come back and take you home. I could not stop that you now know, singing.” Which pretty well reflected part of one remembered dream sequence. Actually, minus the clocks. It was but the sentiment of confusion.

Speaking of the sentiment of confusion, have you heard Deceiving Donny’s recent speeches? Yes, he’s a rambling vocal trainwreck. Naturally, MAGA reactions are, “But Biden.” Always looking to the past, they are, always hunting for an escape route to avoid facing reality. Read a piece which tickled me from MPS, Case Study: In Your Guts, You Know He’s Nuts.

Yes, we know he’s nuts. So does AI as it reviews some sample shitalk outta the great mango babbler. Trump’s probably the greatest babbler the world has ever known. He can babble like no babbler has ever babbled before. People listening to him often remark, “What an amazing babbler. What a stunning babbler.” After listening to Dizzy Donny’s babbling, people often march up, shake his hand, and say, “Sir, that was the most beautiful babbling I’ve heard the pleasure of hearing.” One man said he told Trumpy Dumpty, “In my two hundred fifty years of life, I’ve never heard greater babble coming out of anybody like this before, let alone the President of the United States. What babble! Amazing babble! BEAUTIFUL BABBLE!!!”

I was with friends having a beer and talking last night. One related the death of his brothers. One older, one younger. Both being treated. One was denied Oregon’s “Death with dignity” to pursue assisted suicide because he was being treated and following a course of stuff supposed to fight the disease, etc. But the side effect of said treatment were blood clots which caused strokes, diminishing his capacity to speak, move, breathe, etc. Sickening and exasperating.

On that note, time to rev up the life engine and plunge into my daily routines. Which mostly circulates around going out and writing. Writing is going well but consumes so much life band. My wife is tremendously accommodating of my efforts. She deserves several prizes. Hope I can reward her faith and support with success someday. Meanwhile, onward. Cheers

2

Fridaz Political Rant

I read about Trump bragging about his golf game, oh boy. That rekindled a lot of memories, like, many many memories.

Dizzy Donny Trump — Donny T, I called him — Donny T, he like that — Donny T and I used to golf together. Like, all the time. He was so impressed with my game. He told me many times, “Your swing is the best swing I’ve ever seen. Your swing is so beautiful. It’s the greatest swing I’ve ever seen and I’ve golfed many times with many many famous golfers, professional golfers, even. None of them swing as well as you.”

Beside my swing and my drive, my putting skills stunned into stupefied admiration. “My god,” he said after I sank a thirty-foot putt. “Do you ever miss?” That’s what stopped us from playing more. I was always beating him, and he finally told me, “You know what? I can’t take it any more. I’m not playing you anymore. That’s it. You’re just too good.”

I know what he means. I am that good. We used to talk about it a lot when we were flying around together. I used to fly him all over the place, lot of times cause he was meeting with his friend, Jeffrey. Dizzy T told me that I was the greatest pilot to ever fly him. I replied, “And can you believe it? I never even took a flying lesson. I signed up for them but once they started teaching, I kept correcting them because these experts didn’t know how nearly as much as I knew about flying. Once I showed them I could take off and land, they just gave me my pilot’s license.”

Trump was wide-eyed with envy. “I wish I was like that,” he said. “I would fly myself. I also am a remarkable pilot. I never took a lesson, either. I could just do it. Military pilots I fly with always tell me, you should have been a fighter pilot. You’re amazing. I know they’re right but I was too busy with other things, like winning the Nobel Peace Prize.”

I nodded. “I know. Same here.”

I haven’t seen Trump in years. He won’t even take my calls. Claims he doesn’t know me. Doesn’t remember me. That’s because his wife once told him that she wished that she’d married me instead of him. But that’s another story.

Don’t believe me? I don’t believe it. I don’t get it. Why not? I sound just like Trump. And as you know, he tells it like it is. He never lies. And neither do I.

I just write a little fiction.

5

Another Must Share

Banana Inc.: An American Autopsy

This comes from Xraymike79. But Nan deserves credit for sharing it at her site, Nan’s Notebook. Please give it a click and read. Cheers

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Twozdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

The Trump Regime is warning us about chaos!

That’s like a dog warning us there’s going to be barking.

The Trump Regime’s chaos warning would be funny and ironic under other circumstances. They are, by popular agreement, the greatest agents of chaos in the world. Trump has broken trade agreements and withdrawn from commitments whenever and wherever his whim strikes.

Judging from his texts, speeches, and decisions, Trump seems to thrive on chaos. “I’m raising tariffs on China by one billion percent! I’m going to bomb Venezuela. I’m not going to bomb Venezuela. I love Russia! Jeffrey Epstein is a great guy! I might bomb Nigeria! I’m going to build the biggest, greatest and most beautiful ballroom ever and will not touch the White House East Wing. The Gulf of Mexico is now the Gulf of Trump! I’ll stop inflation the first day I’m in office! Google google gaga. Lowering inflation is hard and I can’t do it! I’m lowering prescription drug prices by six thousand percent! We hate Ukraine. I have the concept of the health plan I promised to give you ten years ago! I’ve never heard of Jeffrey Epstein! We love Ukraine. China and I made a deal and I’m lowering tariffs on China by two billion percent! We’re demolishing the East Wing to build my big beautiful ballroom! Russia is mean! I will release the Epstein Files as soon as I’m elected. I saw a giraffe when I was at the doctor! Jeffrey Epstein is a hoax! He’s AI invented by the mean Democrat deep state who run everything out of a bathroom in Bill Clinton’s bathroom, an idea he stole from me, by the way. Tuesdays will now be called Trumpsday. God told me so when I was making water.”

Yes, I made some of that up. But in fairness, it doesn’t include all the crap Trump did through Elon Musk and Doge and the chaos which that spawned. Nor does it address the chaos spread by the dog-killer known as Noem and the extra-military troops known as ICE which she sics on anyone who sneezes the wrong way.

But here is a headline hot off the net about that vacuous agent of chaos, Donald Trump, warning us that because of the Epstein Shutdown which he started and will not address until the Democrats completely capitulate to him and promise to never ever have any more children, the Trump Regime will need to close some air space, which may cause travel chaos.

Trump admin warns of pending airspace closures due to shutdown—’chaos’

It is just one piece of chaos after another with the Trump Regime.

2

Sundaz Theme Music

November 2, 2025, has taken hold. It firmly established that today’s season is autumn. Golden leaves are becoming golden brown leaf drifts. Naked branches shiver with the wind. 45 F now, worry not because today’s high will zoom to 57 F. Must say, yesterday’s 68 felt like a faux offering.

We lit a candle for Steve at 5 PM yesterday, per his widow’s request. That flame called to mind Frank, but also Chuck. Chuck is Bonnie’s hubby. I met him but twice, I think. Now he’s into hospice. Mom, meanwhile, has bounced back in a strong way. Physical therapy is being scheduled. This is Mom’s way, to bounce back, gain confidence and strength, only to be zapped by some new fall, injury, or organ issue. Been going on for a decade. Each time she bottoms out, it’s a little deeper, and the crawl out is slower and more energy consuming. We talked together about an actor dying when they were 100, June Lockhart. Mom said, “I don’t think I’ll get anywhere near that,” with glum introspection.

Today’s music is another gift of The Neurons. “I Wouldn’t Want to Be Like You” is a 1977 Alan Parsons Project creation. The song popped up in the morning mental music stream as I read about Trumpy’s Halloween gala, the one thrown while so many sink deeper into food insecurity.

Here are the lyrics, offered up by Songmeanings.

If I had a mind to
I wouldn’t want to think like you
And if I had time to
I wouldn’t want to talk to you

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

If I was high class
I wouldn’t need a buck to pass
And if I was a fall guy
I wouldn’t need no alibi

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

Back on the bottom line
Diggin’ for a lousy dime
If I hit a mother lode
I’d cover anything that showed

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

I did a glance of the news. Did Trump recall the time he landed on the moon? He was the first one there, took the first steps for man, “Beautiful steps,” he said, “everyone told me they were the most perfect steps. They couldn’t believe how perfect they are.”

I imagine that somewhere in Trump’s altered reality, he’s a great friend to people of color and a champion to the poor. Bet he remembers marching across the bridge and standing for integration at Selma. Bet he recalls a time when he landed at Normandy and fought the Germans, who, he thought, “Were pretty good guys, really, just working hard, doing their jobs.” Trump believes with a glint of teary eyes, he is as persecuted as Jesus, nailed to a cross. Then he wipes the tears away, visits his new cold, black and white, dull, creativity-empty bathroom, beaming at its wonderful hard angles and linear symmetry, and then goes out and golfs, because he deserves a break. MAGAts everywhere breathlessly applaud, then hurry to buy meat before the prices go up, happy they have an extra freezer to store it because it’s gonna get pricy, they’ve heard the fake news, scowling at the homeless, stepping around the poor, reminding themselves to clean the house, because cleanliness is next to godliness.

Meanwhile, is that Epstein in the clouds, smirking at Trump, remembering how they used to run together, shaking his head with a laugh and whispering, “Oh, that Donnie. He never changes. He just gets more Donnie.” Perhaps someday they’ll meet and Trump will regale Epstein with details about how he starved the poor during the Great Epstein Government Shutdown of 2025. “You should’ve seen them, Jeffie,” Trump says, then launches into a mocking imitation of a person begging for food. “Please, we’re starving.” The two bodies shake with merriment.

Hope grace and peace find us today and every day. Even for just a nano. Coffee has found me and is shaking hands with some Neurons, making plans. I’m sure they’ll let me know what’s going on in a little bit. Cheers

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Life in Trump’s Alternative World

My wife and I climbed into the car. I started the engine. After over revving it, I began driving in reverse. My wife asked, “Why are we in reverse?”

“Everyone says that you get better mileage in reverse.” I swung the transmission into drive. “Now I think I’ll go this way.” I turned on the windshield wipers.

My wife peered into the sunlit blue sky. “Why are the windshield wipers on?”

“We need gas,” I declared. “We don’t have enough money for a full tank.”

“I’m starving,” my wife replied. “I thought we were going out for dinner. Where can we get something to eat?”

“We don’t have money for food. Just hold on.” I pulled into a miniature golf course. “I think I’ll play a game.”

My wife objected, “I didn’t think we have the money.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get more money.”

I went in and paid for the game. Before teeing off, I went back to the car. Jumping in, we drove off.

My wife looked around in puzzlement. “Where are we going?”

“Straight ahead.”

“This is the opposite direction of where we were going.”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking a short cut.”

“What happened to your miniature golf game?”

“I played it. Set a new record. I was stripes.”

“But you weren’t gone five minutes.”

“I know. It was the fastest golf game ever. I scored more points than anyone in the game’s history.” I steered the car into the path of oncoming traffic. “They were amazed. Said they’d never seen anyone play like that. They’re giving me a special golfing medal.”

A truck almost hit us. My wife screamed. “Get on the right side of the road. What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t worry,” I replied, “they’ll get out of our way.”

The car’s engine coughed and sputtered.

“What’s wrong with the car?” my wife asked.

“I think it’s the wind,” I answered, throwing open the door.

My wife gasped. “What are you doing? The car’s still moving. You’re going to get yourself killed.” Leaning across, she grabbed the wheel and began steering.

After turning on the radio, I leaped out of the car and rolled across a lane. A car screeched to a halt, almost hitting me. Leaving their car and coming toward me, the driver said, “Oh my God, I almost hit you. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Beaming, I took off my shirt. “Aren’t I ripped?” I nodded toward my car as my wife managed to steer and stop it. “It’s my wife. She made me do it. She’s crazy. Doesn’t know a thing about flying. She shouldn’t be allowed near a boat.”

Stepping in front of a car, I waved my arms. “Help, help. Call the police. This guy’s trying to kill me.”

2

Satyrdaz Theme Music

More bunder thusters prowled Ashlandia’s late afternoon and early evening. Less sprinkles than you’d find on a doughnut fell, too. But Satyrda, August 2, 2025, has awakened in our area as sun-filled blue skies. A 67 F temperature now is expected to climb into the top 80s. A check of the fire watch and fire warning systems shows no new lightning-started fires in southern Oregon and northern California, knock wood, once again.

We’re flabbergasted in our household about economics surprised by the ‘weaker-than-expected’ jobs numbers and manufacturing decline. “Gasp,” economists said. “Unemployment has gone up again. Less people are employed. Who would have believed that would happen after Trump terminated all those Federal jobs? Just because tourism is down because less people are traveling to the United States due to ICE shouldn’t affect jobs, should it? And I don’t think the shuttering of automobile factories, even temporarily due to material shortages and tariffs, would affect job numbers. I wonder what’s going on?” Those economics should consider relocating their offices from under those rocks.

This was another household laugher of a headline: RFK Jr. says cancer screenings are too ‘woke’ now. WTF does that word mess even mean? The Trump Regime continues toward new lows in coherency.

A second laugher came in the FAFO variety: Trump voter livid after being profiled by ICE: ‘I’m an American who now has to be afraid’. It was again a brown voter who thought Trump would go after those ‘other’ brown people, the bad ones, and not them.

Finally, more FAFO is being reported in Iowa. ‘Tidal wave on our hands’: Furious voters say Trump’s turning key red state purple. The first paragraph claims, “Angry voters in Iowa could turn the state from solid red to a swing state because they feel betrayed by President Donald Trump on issues from healthcare to agriculture.”

A large part of that is that farmers felt betrayed by Trump urging Coca Cola to make Coke with cane sugar only for sale in the U.S., what is often referred to as ‘Mexican Coke’ because they use cane sugar to make Coke in Mexico. The Iowa farmers grow corn; corn syrup was being used in Coke production. So there goes their market. As usual, Trump shows how naive and short-sighted he is, how disconnected from reality, or he would have known of the connection between corn syrup and American farmers. But he’s too damn painfully lacking of the brain cells needed to comprehend these things. Since he’s installed only ‘yes’ people who kowtow to him, he won’t hear anyone explain the relationship between corn, farmers, Coke, and sugar to him. Or, as likely, he’ll shrug and say with his ’empathy’, “They’ll get over it.”

Jill Dennison started a chain the other day. She played a Foreigner song on her blog. I countered with some other Foreigner song. Ark chimed in with another Foreigner song, “Urgent”. Ark mentioned the sax, and the album, Four or 4. That was a fine damn album and it was added to the rotation for a while at my house after it was released. Now The Neurons have run with that, of course, playing “Urgent” and other Foreigner songs from the album in the morning mental music stream. I’m afraid that means that I must share the song with you to stop The Neurons from playing it in my head. I’m sorry, but those are the rules. I didn’t create them; I just live by them.

May peace and grace find you today. Maybe some fun, too. Here we go. Cheers

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WP Blues

WordPress blues struck again. Reading another’s post, I moved to comment. WP responded, hey, is this you? We’re asking because you’re not logged in.

I clicked to another tab which indeed showed me logged in.

That led me to an uncomfortable place. I don’t want to log in and re-enter my password on a page asking for such when I’m already demonstrably logged into that site. Cause, suspiciously, even though the URL looked okay and the page seemed genuine, it smelled. It this wasn’t a digital offering on a laptop but instead something tangible, it would stink like milk left out in a hot apartment for a month. It would arouse suspicions like a Nigerian prince offering me a million dollars if I just loaned him five grand for a day.

That’s how we live these days, at least in my abode, where phones aren’t answered unless the number is known, where unexpected packages are treated with deadly caution, strangers knocking on the door are ignored, and links in emails are triple-vetted.

Of course, it might have been some sort of WordPress malfunction. That kinda happens, too.

2

Just A Little WTF America

It’s another GOP presentation of WTF, America, with special guest host, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis.

Let’s go into Trumptalk mode: Inspired by the terrible and VERY VERY BAD Idiot Trump response to protests in California and Governor Abbott’s stunningly STUPID EFFORTS to escalate violence in Texas by deploying the National Guard against Americans exercising their FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHTS, Gov. DeSantis is encouraging Floridians to hit other Americans with their cars!

Yep, this erstwhile Catholic Republican leader decided to channel his What Would Jesus Do instincts and say, “Jesus would just steer right into people as he flees, because Jesus always preached, keep looking out for yourself and kill others as necessary to protect yourself.”

Ron DeSantis says Floridians have right to hit protesters with cars

I’m sure Jesus would be very happy to see how his values are being deployed in the United States of ‘merica in 2025. For as Jesus said in the Sermon of the Mount, “Don’t ever turn your cheek, be a man and escalate that violence. If they spit, you hit! It’s the law and order way!”

4

Munda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

PINO Trusk’s Regime suggested that with egg prices increasing, people should just get their own chickens.

Trump Admin Says Americans Should Farm Chickens to Combat Egg Prices

Let’s address this as if we’re seriously thinking about it.

One, getting a chicken. My understanding of the current dynamics is that the price of eggs is high and going higher because of avian flu. Birds have died from this, and birds have been killed to prevent the disease from spreading.

The Trusk Regime may not be aware of this, but chickens are birds. As such, they’ve been killed by millions. That means there are fewer of them. If I understand elementary supply and demand, having fewer birds available makes the price increase, especially if demand increases. This is the essence of inflation. Buying an egg-laying chicken might not be as cheap and easy as the Trusk Regime lays out.

Two, raising a chicken. As any backyard gardner will tell you, raising your own food isn’t cheap. With chickens, you’d need to provide feed, have a place for them, protect them, and keep them warm and safe. These supplies and materials all add up…quickly.

Three, back to the beginning and why the price of eggs has been rising and is expected to go higher: avian flu. It’s killing birds. And birds are being killed to prevent the spread. So, if you have a chicken, it may succumb to avian flu.

Thus, buying your own chicken to raise your own eggs might not be the genius idea some people perceive it to be.

At least, in my opinion.

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