Category: Thinking, thinking

Saturda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

We’re witness to the Great Undoing. Anyone fired from a job or who suffers loss from a death that alters their routines know about the undoing. Habits and routines created by job needs or the deceased one are now changed. Those gaps yawn before you. You exercise mental thought processes… “Oh, I don’t need to leap out of bed at six AM, hurry through a shower, dressing, and breakfast to jump on the highway to commute to work to get into the office by — ” Fill in your times.

Likewise, when someone who is part of your regular circles passes, you’re face to face with the change: “Oh, they’re not there to greet me. I don’t need to stop and speak with them, or check on them. They’re not there.”

Many in the United States are working through forms of undoing. Federal workers are suddenly enduring the shock of not having to roll out of bed, dress, and do the morning work dance. They’ve been fired. Terminated. Let go by Imperial Presidential Executive Orders.

Around the country, the monies provided by U.S.AID are gone. The routines associated with getting children to school where they’re provided a meal are over. Churches and charities dependent on that fund stream are going through undoing because the money isn’t there. If the money is gone, so is the food and shelter. Workers and employees suddenly endure the undoing as the routines of helping the impoverished are ended by Imperial Presidential Executive Order. Not just in foreign countries but here in the U.S., too.

Contracts to provide new buildings and essential services have been ended by Imperial Presidential Executive Order. The great undoing commences as workers are released from those projects. Buildings stand unfinished. National Park Visitor Centers stayed closed and dark. Trash goes uncollected. Nobody mans the towers to watch for fires.

Trump’s Hiring Freeze Throws Wildfire Fighters Into Disarray

As anti-vaccination is encouraged the health and safety enjoyed by communities across the nation go through an undoing. Children and the vulnerable elderly are closely watched for signs of diseases long ago stamped out by vaccinations, more victims of limited intelligence, less compassion, and Imperial Presidential Executive Orders.

Air travel is adjusted as staff are cut. More undoing. Traffic congestion in New York leaps up again. Accident rates rise. Confidence in government systems fall, part of the undoing of having regulations and requirements slashed away, along with inspectors to see what went wrong to prevent it from happening again. People become skeptical, leery of these systems…use falls. Airlines see the results.

From DC to Arizona: Why are so many planes crashing in 2025?

Farmers study crop prices and markets and endure the bitter undoing. Veterans protected by DEI programs are released from work positions and begin undoing their daily functions. Students helped by grant programs begin undoing their education hopes and dreams. Children affected by the undoing no longer go into facilities to play, learn how to socialize, visit with friends, and hearing stories read to them, undoings of things just begun.

Billions of Dollars at Stake for Farmers Hit by Trump Funding Freeze, Pause on Foreign Aid

Financial and economic experts study revenue and spending trends, note the stability created by an intelligent network of regulations developed after previous financial disasters and begin preparing their clients and institutions for the undoing, unsure how it will play out, as this is early days. Stock prices drop.

Walmart stock tumbles after the retailer lowers its sales outlook: “We are in an uncertain time”

All part of the Great Undoing undertaken by a group of people dismissing the government’s influence as overbearing, dismissing history as wrong, insisting scientists and professionals don’t know what they are doing. They know better.

Science under siege: Trump cuts threaten to undermine decades of research

And so, as Imperial Presidential Executive Orders destroy the government’s ability to function, as the United States withdraws from treaties, alliances, trade agreements, and mutual assistance organizations, the Great Undoing spreads, fallout from the Great Shitstorm of 2025, the result of the 2024 U.S. elections.

As Imperial Presidential Executive Orders are issued, undoing the work of Congress and previous administrations, we will see what happens with our constitutional system of checks and balances. Will it hold?

Freshman Congressman tells constituent he is powerless to stop Musk’s budget cuts

Or will the Great Undoing be the United States’ undoing?

2

The Flooded Car Dream

To begin, I found myself in a car that became trapped in a flood and incapacitated. That meant I wasn’t going to make my destination on schedule.

I wasn’t bothered. Getting out of the car — no idea of its make, model, or color — I waded out of flood waters. Two things began working in parallel: I started making arangements for a rental replacement and I worked on understanding my location. With the former, I learned in phone calls that a car was available but wouldn’t be there for several hours. In the matter of location, I found that I was close to my father’s house. I could visit him and his family while waiting for my rental car.

Their home is in the southwestern U.S. in the dream. In real life, Dad lives in Texas but in the dream, I was unclear if it was New Mexico, Arizona, or Texas. With dream magic swiftness, I arrived at Dad’s and was knocking on their door. A family member I didn’t recognize answered the door. They recognized me, introduced themselves in a vague way and let me in. Then I remembered them.

Then, it was visitor time. Cousins on my father’s side were living with him. Two of these cousins have already passed away in real life. The other point is that I’m 5’8″ in real life and the cousins are half a foot plus taller. My dream had these roles reversed. That surprised m and it came to a point that I realized, I’m tall, they’re looking up at me.

Food and drinks were offered and accepted. After I ate, my father’s current wife entered the cosy western room where a fireplace hosted blazing logs. I explained the situation to her and asked her about my father and seeing him. A little distracted, she told me Dad was there and he wanted to see me but he had to do some things first and it would be a little bit later.

My Dad’s wife’s daughter called from open French doors in the rear that there was an animal playing in the water. I moved there to see a young wild cat chasing something through the water. Almost simultaneously, I realized that night was falling, it was pouring rain, that the house was built by an arroyo, and that flash flooding was underway. On the next moment, I saw that there was a much larger wildcat — about the size of an adult cougar — in the water and figured it was mom, and another little one. Those three animals easily moved their powerful bodies through the raging muddy waters. Mom cat noticed us and that’s when the next pair of realizations bolted in: that back door was just feet from the raging waters, and three wild predatory animals were also just feet away. But the animals went on and we backed into the house and eventually closed the door.

More family members briefly visited but all had other things to go do. I ended up alone. I noticed that they had this small, rough shaped wooden table, about the size of a petite coffee table. A piece of art was worked into the table’s top. I thought I’d fix it up as a gift to them so I took it to a small shop I located on the property and cleaned the top until some western piece of cowboys with lassos in iron and style was revealed.

After polishing it up, I returned to the house. Dad’s wife met me. I showed her and others the table. They were really pleased. None had noticed the top. The piece was a family heirloom and they were told it was priceless but they didn’t know anything about the art.

My rental car had been delivered and I needed to leave. It was night and Dad hadn’t shown. I left and went to the car. Once I reached, I laughed: I was still carrying the table in one hand. Going back to the house, I saw several of them through the window. The lights were on inside. They looked right at me. I realized that they couldn’t see me because of the lights and reflections, so I just went in, showed them the table, joked about almost leaving with it, and then left again.

Boom! I still had the table. I realized this in a few steps and hastily rushed back in, set the table down, and left the house. The dream ended as I reversed the rental car, turned it around, and drove into the night.

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Fridaz’s Theme Music

So we chug into Fridaz, Feb. 21, 2025. Blue sky has it over my views of Ashlandia. Plentiful sunshine pelts the scene with rays. It’s 32 F with mid 50s likely, ‘they’ say.

All that is my perspective. Per habit, I inquire of the weather for us from Alexa. It says it’s 40 degrees. Tells me about the fog. ? Says it’ll be mostly cloudy today.

What we have here is some kind of failure of something. Maybe it’s in a different reality; perhaps I am. Or Alexa landed in a different Ashland. There’s a bunch of ’em in America. Or…since she’s Amazon…and Jeff Bezos…and he’s getting along so well with Trusk…Alexa is trying to gaslight me. Ah, such possibilities to contemplate on a Fridaz morning.

Oatmeal with blueberries are being consumed. A Chicago song is going through my morning mental music stream. “You’re My Inspiration.” You know the words:

You’re the meaning in my life
You’re the inspiration
You bring feeling to my life
You’re the inspiration
Wanna have you near me

h/t to Genius.com

I figure The Neurons are calculating and channeling emotions about Tucker’s passing. Seems logical, right? But, The Neurons are not always logical. Then again, neither are emotions. Hell, neither is life.

The music certainly didn’t come from my dreams. They were trippy. I’ll almost certainly write a post about one of them later. It’s ‘almost certainly’ because it’s a busy day planned. So, it’s a time permitting thing. Then again, there’s not a general call for more of my dreams, nor is there a time limit. It’s not like someone sent me memo, “Post about a dream by Fridaz.” If they did, I didn’t receive the memo. I guess I should check my spam and junk mail, see if it didn’t get ditched there.

Coffee and I are doing the morning tango. Hope you have a solid day, and things begin looking and getting better for all of us. Here’s the 1984 music, fresh out of a recording made in 1992. Papi the ginger blade (aka Meep, Butter Butt) has arrived for his morning cuddle session. Gotta go. Cheers

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Tucker (Pronounced Tuck-ah)

I was in the kitchen at midnight. A white flash crossed my vision’s edge.

I knew without doubt that Tucker had just bolted across the rainbow bridge. With some hot fluid boiling out of my eyes, I went in and made confirmation. Another era was over.

He went so quickly, it shocked us. He didn’t respond to any medication. All we could do is take a seat and console him and ourselves as best as we could.

Tucker was another in a long line of BFFs (Best Floof Friends). I’ve been grateful for them all and pleased that each chose to spend their time with me, sharing their secrets, insights, and love. I’m a wealthier person for them all.

And after I ached from my heart out through my chest and my face crumbled and the fluid burned my eyes more and blurred my vision, I squared up to go on. Because this is just part of the fucking roller coaster of life, up and fucking down, again and again. I hurt and will hurt for probably years because that’s just who I am. But I’ll continue moving forward, left foot, right foot, doing what I need to do.

Because all of my BFFs would always do the same. But man, I do still miss them all. Especially that last black and white handsome fellow that had to take his leave.

His name is Tucker. Pronounced Tuck-ah.

8

Thurzda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

My wife spoke with her group of friends for coffee on Wednesday. All are college grads and retired professionals. All are liberals, progressives, or Democrats. They range in age from the early sixties to mid 80s. They’d just finished an exercise class at the Ashlandia Family Y. My wife was trying to gage their reactions to Trump’s moves via his musk rat and the DOdGEy operation running at his behest.

They were puzzled. One shrugged. “It’ll be over in two years.”

My wife was shocked, disconcerted, dumbfounded. “What do you think about the cuts at the Bonneville Power Administration?”

BPA provides Ashlandia’s power. BPA also manages the power grid in the Pacific Northwest.

Although BPA is part of the DOE, it is self-funded and covers its costs by selling its products and services at cost. The BPA provides about 28% of the electricity used in the region. BPA transmits and sells wholesale electricity in eight western states: Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, and California.[1] Its minimum wholesale rate is 3.49 cents per kilowatt-hour; the BPA generated $4.72 billion in operating revenue in 2022.

h/t to Wikipedia.org

Up to six hundred people were being let go at the BPA. To save money, of course.

Yeah? What about this?

BPA makes 41st straight Treasury payment

“On Sept. 30, the Bonneville Power Administration made its annual payment to the U.S. Department of the Treasury for the 41st consecutive year on time and in full, bringing cumulative payments to approximately $35.4 billion over this period. The total payment for fiscal year 2024 was $792.3 million.”

Returning to my wife’s friends, only one of them was aware of the personnel cuts.

They disturb my wife and I because they’re thinking that all of this is business as usual. In a period when Trump is getting referred to as a king, we’re abandoning our NATO commitments and allying ourselves with Russia instead, and women’s rights are rapidly regressing (see the SAVE act, fer instance) while Trump dismisses the Constitutional checks and balances, they’re basically shrugging their shoulders.

I’m happy to say that it’s not necessarily the prevailing feeling in Ashlandia.

Presidents Day protest draws crowd to Ashland Plaza 

I don’t have a crystal ball or any other means of predicting the future. But reading the Trusk moves and watching the GOTP back those moves with little resistance, I gotta say, Ima little worried.

1

Wenzda’s Theme Music

This Wenzda, February 19, 2025, is being rinsed off. Yes, it’s 43 F and rain is falling. Papi the ginger blade, aka Meep, Butter Butt and Butter Booger, has chosen to ensconce himself on the living room sofa, not far from the fireplace’s steady warmth. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) remains under the weather and is staying on a bed under the influence of antibiotics. He’s showing a slow but steady recovery. Fingers and toes remain interwoven, as in crossing.

I’m running late due to tending the cat but also because today’s lymphedema massage therapy appointment is at high noon. So I’m ’bout to bust out the door. I bathed with a wash cloth and then did my self-massaging and moisturing, but then washed my hair. A hope is lit that I’ll be done with the thick wraps today. That’s because I’ve shown steady improvement, and the swelling has drastically declined. My efforts certaintly contributed but she added some thicker padding at several locations, and I noticed a dramatic impact from that. Although the wraps only remain on my lower right limb and foot, I can’t properly bathe while working them. I’m aching for a solid, warm shower, you know?

The Neurons have a weird song playing in my head. Not a weird song, sorry; it’s an excellent song, emblamatic of an era and attitude. But why today? That is the question. The song in question plowing my morning mental music stream is “Super Bad” from 1970 by James Brown. Nothing to do with dreams, cats, weather, food, coffee, or news. So what the heck, right?

Love all the different dance moves of the period the young dancer employs.

Quick reminder. Friday, Feb. 28, 2025, is a planned day of boycott. Hope you’ll participate. We are. The more the merrier. While it’s targeted on corporations which rolled back DEI policies under PINO Trusk’s encouragement, like Amazon, Target, Best Buy, PBS, NPR, Coca Cola, Pepsico, McDonald’s, Starbucks, and more. Costco is one of the few major corporations which stood firm against DEI changes. Share the news. Make it real. It begins at 00:01 AM on Feb 28th and ends at 11:59 PM.

I approached coffee with an offer and it accepted, so I’m blissfully in a cup. Hope your day delivers for you. Time to funk out. Cheers

0

Not An Easy Answer

Daily writing prompt
Share one of the best gifts you’ve ever received.
View all responses

This is another of those questions with contingencies circling around a word. Today, it’s ‘gift’. I mean, the gifts of life and good health are often on people’s lists. I’ve experienced enough personal health scares to appreciate those words. A memory seared into my being is of being very sick one year. Bronchitis turned to pneumonia. I awoke to Mom’s high pitched appeals, “Please, Lord, let my son live.” Her efforts worked, as here I am. Pretty good gift, I think.

Then there is the best gift received as a present. That would be a 1/20 scale model of a 1961 Jaguar XK-E. I was around nine or ten years old. Car fever bowled me over. Porsches, Corvettes, Ferraris, name it. But that Jag impressed me as the most stylistic art on four wheels. The roadster was my choice but the model was a coupe. It was fun to build, and I displayed the result with pride.

However, there was a shirt given to me when I was fourteen. A female classmate had a crush on me. I was aware of this because other girls wrote me a note informing me of the fact. Later that week, she bought the shirt, and gave it to me as a gift. Although the shirt wasn’t my style, I was flattered. Astonished, really. In retrospect, I understand how much courage it took her to buy that and give it to me.

I suppose, though, the best gift is that kiss and hug my wife gave me the first time she ever told me she loved me. Unable to speak the words, she wrote them in the steam on a window. We were teenagers and that’s another memory captured in amber. Married a few years later, we’re still married fifty years later.

So, not an easy question to answer. The question does force me to realize how many great gifts I’ve received.

I hope I was able to give a few to others along the way.

6

Watch The Pennies

Daily writing prompt
Write about your approach to budgeting.
View all responses

I was seventeen when I joined the U.S. military. I didn’t begin serving until I was 18. Frustrated with life, I wanted to see the world and find answers.

Military pay didn’t go far in 1974. $344 a month was my starting salary. Desiring to make it go further, I sought guidance as I do for everything: research. Back in those days, that meant mostly hitting the library.

Finding books on budgeting, two things were stressed: one, pay yourself first. Put money into savings. Have at least a few months worth of living expenses to fall back on in case of emergencies. I married, and my wife and I made it a goal to have and keep at least six months of expenses on hand in savings.

The other thing was to always pay off your credit card. Not doing so meant that you were losing money on the interest you were paying, and that would only get worse because it would be compounded. Part of our process was that anything put on the credit card would need to be budgeted to be paid off when the bill came in. We’ve never varied from that and always have a dialogue about was, and is, going on the credit card.

Every month, we brainstormed to list all of our expenses and listed them in a notebook. Some were fixed costs; we knew what they were. They were entered first. Next, the things which needed to be but fluctuated in price and need, depending on multiple factors. This included gasoline and haircuts. Everything was listed, added, scrutinized, prioritized. We didn’t have cable TV because that was $12 which we couldn’t afford. We went to the library, checked out books, and read.

Our final pole for budget was to be frugal shoppers. Back then we saved pennies to buy an occassional dessert. We scoured ads for sales. During that time, coupons in newspapers came out on Wednesday and Sunday. We always bought the newspaper on those days, and then went dumpster diving on the coupon sections that others threw out. Most months we saved over a hundred dollars with coupons.

Later, when IRAs began, we grit our teeth and maxed contributions out. First, IRAs were savings which would earn money and be deferred for taxes, but it was also money which we could deduct from our income tax, enabling us to get the most back in taxes which we could. Likewise, when we started working for corporations that offered a 401 K, we maxed out our contributions.

And doing taxes, of course, which I always did, and still do, I hunt for deductions.

It was tough. Although we’re much better off financially, we still adhere to many of these tenets. I keepa spreadsheet of our savings. We monitor our credit cards and bunce Now, as tariffs, cutbacks, and shortages threaten supplies lines and possible high inflation looms, my wife reminds me, “We know how to live poor. We did it before. We can do it again.”

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Sunda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

In Munich, Vance accuses European politicians of censoring free speech February 14, 2025

“The threat I worry the most about vis-à-vis Europe is not Russia, it’s not China, it’s not any other external actor. What I worry about is the threat from within, the retreat of Europe from some its most fundamental values, values shared with the United States of America,” Vance said.

White House bars Associated Press from spaces like Oval Office and Air Force One February 14, 2025

The decision to limit AP’s access stems from its decision not to recognize the Trump administration’s name change from Gulf of Mexico to Gulf of America on federal maps, websites and documents.

This administration continues to show a wealth of hypocrisy and a poverty of honesty.

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