Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
We’re had the person of the year and the word of the year. There’s also been the song of the year and different performers of the year, and declarations about the book of the year. But after another school shooting [1] and the 2024 election results, maybe we need the question of the year. Could be, “What led to this?” Or, “What happened?”
I vote for the more classic, quintessential question, “Why?”
Mood: Mundanemondaymoaning
Wind and clouds dominate Ashlandia’s Monday morning, where it’s 38 degrees F. Blue sky and sunshine have worked their way into the scene. At least the rain has stopped. Snow tops ranges and trees located over 3500 feet, offering us some wintry scenery. December 16, 2024, winter solstice is rushing our way.
We went south into higher elevations yesterday. Up there in elevation, down there on the road, the snow accumulaiton over 3,000 feet looked like six to eight inches. This was eight miles from our place, a twelve minute drive. My wife and I agreed, it was nice to visit the snow and admire the beauty of the white dusting the tall pines over the craggy white-topped mountains bathed in sunshine and backlit with blue sky, but leaving that icy scene behind was also nice.
Over in Europe, governments are losing votes of confidence. France already went; now Germany has joined them. Just to lift my spirits (please note the sarcasm), I read a NYTimes opinion piece, “A Mild Defense of Lara Trump”.
Fair enough. But before anyone gets super sniffy about Lara Trump’s fitness for high office, I feel I should remind everyone of Tommy Tuberville.
Honestly. Whether defending white supremacists or blockading hundreds of military promotions for months, the gentleman from Alabama has not exactly covered himself in glory. And when it comes to sycophancy, it’s hard to imagine Ms. Trump would be much more pliant than Mr. Tuberville, who recently declared that it is not Republican senators’ job to vet Mr. Trump’s cabinet picks. So much for “advice and consent.”
But no need to dogpile Mr. Tuberville. When it comes to jelly-spined Trump toadies, he is not alone in the Senate. Josh Hawley? Ron Johnson? Mike Lee? In so many ways, the coin has already been devalued.
Yes, let’s start a cheer *snark*: Lara Trump is not the worse senator in a chamber full of crappy voter decisions. That’ll cheer us up.
The Neurons surprise me by introducing with a poem learned in high school. William Wadsworth, of course, because that’s who I mostly learned in that era. Syliva Plath, Edna St. Vincent Millay, ts elliott, Billy Collins and others came later.
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
That’s all I wanted to remember: ‘The world is too much with us, getting and spending’, and ‘for this, for everything, we are out of tune.’
That’s my feeling today. I’m an guitar set aside, gathering dust in a closet. My strings and frets are worn, and I feel out of tune.
Despair not, for Der Neurons immediately introduced a song to the morning mental music stream (Trademark sagging) to address my feelings.
I’m singing this note cause it fits in well with the chords I’m playing.
I can’t pretend there’s any meaning hidden in the things I’m saying.
But I’m in tune.
Right in tune.
Yes, it’s the Who, one of the bands of my youth, coming through with “Getting in Tune” from 1971 and their epic album, Who’s Next? The present is just an echo of the past, isn’t it?
Ah, maybe I just have a case of the Mondays. I offer this Office Space clip for elucidation.
Let’s get on with this. Coffee, stat! Here we go. First, the music. Cheers
Several dark trends have emerged since DJ Trump arrived as a presidential nominee in 2015. MPS has the deets in the linked post. Essentially, we have seen it solidly proven that the U.S. news media can’t be trusted. They’ve turned their backs on democracy. Who can we trust then? Momocrats have compiled a list and posted it online. It’ll aid us as we track the truth in 2025.
Let’s be careful out there. Cheers
We made Christmas crock pot candy today. I’m employing the marital we. I put Christmas confection on them and found containers to house them until they’re bagged up. My wife did the actual work. She blames me in part for them. She said, “I have to make something to exchange with Lori. She’s going to make that biscotti that you like and bring it over. I need something to give to her.”
Yes, I have a bad habit of effusively thanking people for whatever baked goods they share with me. Folks take that to heart. Thereafter, I’m delivered biscotti, banana-nut bread, zuchinni loaves, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, grape pie, fudge, and brownies. I know, it’s an American tragedy.
We’re also going to a Swedish smorgasboard, so something was needed as a hostess gift. My wife decided the Christmas crock pot candy would work because we gave them out before, and the husband and wife told my wife how much they liked it.
It’s all a vicious holiday circle, isn’t it?
Just a few things cropping into my mind in the final month of 2024.
With Trump as POTUS, I expect him to install his beloved tariffs. That will damage the economy. I expect unemployment to rise as companies cut staff to deal with less sales volume and protect the bottom line. I expect less sales volume because companies will pass on tariffs to consumers. I expect inflation will rise, first due to tariffs; second, due to retalitory tariffs; third due to shortages in manufacturing, service employees, and agriculture. I expect sales to decline because discretionary income will decrease as inflation drives up the cost of goods. I expect the shortages in manufacturing, service employees, and agriculture will come about because of the expected mass deportation scheme the Trump administration plans. I expect local economies to falter due to all the previously mentioned issues. I expect drug use, suicides, homelessness, and crime to rise. I expect the national debt to swell as tax revenues decline. I expect record profits to continue at corporations as they take advantage of the shortages and business-favored governmental environment and raise prices. I expect the air and drinking water to get worse, especially in poor communities and red states. I expect voter’s remorse to arise by 2026. I expect the media to begin turning on Trump and his administration by the middle of 2025 as they sense the nation’s mood and deem it safe to criticize him. I expect Trump’s administration to start turning over before the end of 2024 as infighting, anger, and frustration among them escalates and Trump attacks them for his collapsing approval numbers. I expect Trump to get angrier and angrier, sending out attack texts in increasing numbers, using false information, making accusations, and whining about being treated unfairly. I expect many of his texts will be in all caps with multiple exclamation points.
I don’t have a crystal ball. I’m not a prophet. I just read my history. These are all trends that history predicts because it’s all happened before.
New for 2025…
Mood: temperate
It’s another Friday. This one is December 13, 2024, which triggers some, especially if they’re Knights Templars. But I’m not one and I’m not bothered by the date. Except, there’s less than two weeks until Christmas, if that’s your celebrating avenue. More importantly, the end is near — the end of the year, that is.
Today’s white blob of a sky blends in over the mountain and tree tops, fuzzying our edges and spitting on the eastern windows. Temperature is 42 F and as with yesterday, we’re just four degrees of separation from our high. Unlike yesterday, which morphed into a pleasant autumn day with wintry overtones, a brisk wind is moaning the blues, prompting a high-wind advisory.
Papi the ginger blade despairs of this wind. He beat at the door as soon as it rose. Fattened by brekkie and at least floofmentarily aware of the wind, he’s stretched out in the living room, a pretty orange and white furry binkie.
Several politically-connected matters caught my eye. One, Andy Borowitz put his humorous spin on Hegseth as Drumpf’s nominee to head Defense: “Hegseth Offers to Connect Breathalyzer to Nuclear Arsenal”. Feels hysterically funny because there’s too much truth in it. The second item was one pointed out by on Scottie’s Playground: Study: Republicans Respond to Political Polarization by Spreading Misinformation, Democrats Don’t. Some of us reacted, yes, and water tends to be wet. To see it hardwired as actual study results is satisfying because it underscores our observations that the modern American right wing can’t handle the truth and make shit up.
Finally, also out of Scottie’s Playground, is a tale of Not Good News in Florida. “Earlier this fall, Florida officials ordered transgender women in the state’s prisons to submit to breast exams. As part of a new policy for people with gender dysphoria, prison medical staff ranked the women’s breast size using a scale designed for adolescents. Those whose breasts were deemed big enough were allowed to keep their bras. Everyone else had to surrender theirs, along with anything else considered “female,” such as women’s underwear and toiletry items.”
Yes, we know that besides making shit up when they feel threatened, American Republicans tend to become crueler and treat others who aren’t like them with greater contempt and inhumanity. They’re such a misguided, fact-aversion, hate-filled, group of lying fantasists. If we had greater involvement and better critical thinking from more voting-age Americans, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But a large swath of indifference and lethargy has given power to fools, and all of us will suffer.
I have a weird song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark dated). “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” originally came out in 1935, twenty-one years before my birth. It’s literally been around all my life and then some. The Neurons inserted it into the mmms after a dream in which I wrote myself a letter and then mailed it. A busy dream night, all I remember of that dream is that I as a young teen wrote myself a letter and posted it on a sunny day. Then this song begun. It’s been covered by two and a half gazillion performers. I have females and males singing it in the mmms because this was one of those songs Mom often played on her stereo hi-fi, and she sang along to it. I just surfed the net for a version which I like. Hope you know the song and like it. So here’s the late Jeff Healey with his cover. Jeff Healey and his band were in the movie Road House staring Patrick Swayze, Sam Elliott, Kelly Lynch, and Ben Gazzara in 1989.
Rain is spitting on the western windows now, and the wind’s mutterings have turned louder, angrier, and more prolonged. Coffee and I have made our daily agreement. Here’s the music. Cheers
Went grocery shopping yesterday. A light shop, a stop-gap function done because we were in Medford for a medical appointment, so let’s shop since we’re here. Combining tasks is the ‘Merican way.
Watching folks with their shopping carts in stores, I thought, we really need to codify some basic shopping cart etiquette. I mean, most of spend an impressive chunk of existence in the U.S. in stores, guiding a shopping cart. Some rules and expectations could be helpful. Like, “Do not block the aisle with your cart and body. Be mindful of other shoppers.” Yes, that’s a toughie for some: mobility issues, size of the aisle, and size of the individual all contribute to the difficulty levels. But at least make an effort, won’t you?
While we’re at it, could you pay attention when you’re wheeling your cart down an aisle? Nothing like being forced to stop and watch as some yo-yo pushes their cart blindl forward while looking behind them. I was going to say to treat your cart like you’re driving a car but numerous lobotomized drivers seem to be steering motorized vehicles these day.
BTW, we’re all tired and impatient. You shoving your cart around, cutting others off, doesn’t help the sit. But we witness the same thing in road rage incidents, don’t we, as people impatiently cut corners and run red lights and stop signs.
Anway, to socialize these new shopping cart norms, we can involve shopping carts and celebrities. Imagine synchronized shopping cart activities in Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and other holiday parades. Shopping cart manuveuring and rules can be taught in elementary school. Remedial courses can be offered in high school and college. Perhaps there will be Olympic shopping cart events. Maybe we can change the hundred meter dash. Adding carts and staging it in grocery stores would make events like that more relatable to norms like me. We’d call it “The Shopping Cart Dash”. Makes more sense than high hurdles. How many times do you really do hurdles in real life?
Rev up your imaginaiton to the possibilities. James Croden could go shopping with celebrities. We can have a public service campaigns featuring Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift and other stars pushing shopping carts in stores while complying with the new etiquette. Which sports superstar, Hollywood uber star, or pop megastar would you like to see pushing a shopping cart to inspire you? With examples like Joey Logana, Selena Gomez, Jelly Roll, Tina Fey, Ellen, Aaron Judge, and Patrick Mahomes leading the way, we could become a nation known as polite and civilized shopping carters.
I mean, what else do we have going for us at this point?
Mood: Satisthursday
Recalibrating…recalibrating…recalibrating day…date…time…weather.
All systems indicate with uniform agreement, this is Thursday, December 12, 2024, as expected.
What to expect from the weather is something else. The winds have abated. Rain heralded the morning hours. But the off-white canvas that stretched overhead from valley end to end at dawn is shredding and tearing. Blue sky and sunshine are poking through. As the cloud cover shreds, the curls turn dark and mean looking. A few coalesce into hulking, brooding bodies…but they sail on, leaving my field of vision.
It’s 41 F out, just four small degrees of separation from the projected high. It will be some variation of a late fall, early winter day. Details are still collecting.
Just saw a headline announcing that Meta — Facebook’s overlord — donated $1,000,000 to Trump’s inauguration fund. They didn’t contribute to President Biden nor Trump’s first inauguration campaign. This confirms the slide I’ve witnessed in my perspective of their ‘community standards’ enforcement. There’s a nasty authoritarian, fascist stench coming from that site. It’s also getting more sucky in its content, with ads and clickbait becoming its overwhelming offerings.
Saw my surgeon in a post-op follow up regarding my ankle surgery yesterday. He lifted movement and activity restrictions off me. Yes, some swelling is still evident, and yeah, edema swelling has caused some complication, but the general trend is going up. I’ll take that.
Heavy mental fog surrounds the morning mental music stream’s current occupant. “The Man Who Sold the World” is a David Bowie composition. Came out in 1970. The song resides on several Bowie albums in my music collection. The cover in my head was done by Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, and was released in 1995. In both, the enigmatic words are influenced by Bowie and Cobain’s vocal deliveries. Always gives me pause to consider what’s being said and fuels a search for meaning. Can’t say I always achieve that. As to why it’s in today’s mmms (Trademark sold), it might be just a general response running through my mind that so much of the world is simply selling out, so the Neurons countered with music about not selling out.
Side thought that comes with writing about Cobain and Bowie that it’s dissatisfying that both passed away. But the duality of life remains: they had great gifts and shared them with us. Of course, the full stop finish to the reflection is, this is life. We live and die. The difference is made in the gap between the beginning and end.
Let’s get positive and move through this winter of disappointment and on to a brighter spring. Coffee has planted its energy seeds in me. Time to move it, move it, move it. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 