Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Frigruff

Some artists got together and painted us the bluest sky. Brill sunshine was dabbed in o’er the goldenish green trees towering across the backyard. Cats and I were well-thrilled with this autumn display, frolicking in a mature way in the 50 something F air. We’ll plumb the mid 80s F today but autumn is bigfooting its presence on Ashlandia.

This is Friday, September 27, 2024.

I’ve circled at the usual AM stops and found some part of me meditating on What Constitutes A Healthy Breakfast? Trader Joe’s sheet cake was inviting me for a taste but that’s not healthy, is it? Well, it could be. Pumpkin and spices. Probably all artificial. But tasty.

Laboring through the morning news. Hurricane Helene did the wreckage as expected. Still rampaging. NY’s mayor indicted. The noble and dignified Trump hawking watches. They say they found the world’s oldest cheese, too. I thought that was in my fridge. I checked; still there. So that’s another example of fake news, innit?

Maggie Smith passed. 89, which is now considered a youngerish sort of age. Suppose because I’m closer to that yardstick. Beloved is an often overused word, up there with superstar. Beloved seems apt for Maggie Smith.

Alice in Chains is dominating the morning mental music stream (Trademark trademarked) with “Would” from 1992. I check and learn, yes, I used “Would” before as theme music, in September in another year. I have detected a trend of having the same songs come to me in the same months of different years. Serendipity? Random psychosis? Bullshit observation? I don’t know. It’d take more study and I haven’t had enough coffee to pursue it past my fingers bashing a keyboards.

I sneeze several times. My wife isn’t here so I need to tell myself, “Godzilla”.

Which inspires Blue Oyster Cult and their ode to the creature terrorizing Tokyo. It’s been pinned as theme music here too and doesn’t feel synchronized to my day, although nothing else does, either.

Then, clicking and muttering, I’m lead to Stevie Nicks’s new offering, “The Lighthouse”. Nicks said that she’d been on the road, listening to a newscaster talking about Roe v. Wade being overturned. Thinking of what it would mean, she had to write a song.

Nicks sings,

Because everything I fought for
Long ago in a dream, is gone
Someone said
The dream is not over
The dream has just begun
Or
Is it a nightmare
Is it a lasting scar
It is unless you save it
And that’s that
Unless you stand up
And take it back
And take it back

h/t to Genius.com

Yes, this feels like a song for today. Hope you give it an ear.

Be strong and so on as we wade through the days, 39 of them, until November 5, 2024. Coffee still tickles my throat in measured swallows. Here’s the music. Cheers

Wednesday’s Political Thoughts

I read a Jamie Bouie opinion piece yesterday: “The Black Box of the Undecided Voter Won’t Yield Its Secrets”

His comments and that of experts about undecided voters were sensible to me in an abstract, collegiate manner. They’d hold true in most elections, meaning if we didn’t have Trump as a candidate, and the hollowed out, morally bankrupt GOP that now graces our nation.

I mean, when John McCain ran, I could accept him as POTUS. He’d established principles and held to them. I disagreed with most of his policy positions, but I could see him working with his party and the Democratic Party and moving forward, addressing issues and solving problems for the nation’s good, along with that of the world. I didn’t have a feeling that John McCain would try to drag us back into an era that celebrated discrimination, racism, and sexism. Nor did I think he would ally with dictators against our allies.

That’s what Trump stands for, IMO. He will crap on his base for a dollar, and crap on the Constitution for a penny. His give-a-fuck levels about treaties, democracy, and equality has dropped below acceptable standards. They’d be problematic in a citizen, but in a party leader, they’re horrendous because of the amplification.

See, the ideas behind Jamie Bouie’s piece, like much of the NY Times and many mainstream media, pushes the fallacy that Harris and Trump are equal on paper, a premise that ignores Trump’s foaming at the mouth hatred, and his urgent willingness to lie about immigrants eating pets to gain votes. It ignores his ‘faux pas’ like the claims about the Revolutionary War and airports. Oh, that was a teleprompter problem. Sure. Who in their right mind with a high school education would accidently make a claim about airports during the Revolutionary War?

If that was one gaffe, it could be written off. But there’s the sharks and electrocution riff. The repeated forgetfulness about where’s he’s at and what he’s doing. The lies about what he accomplished. The constant fucking word salad presented as though it’s coherent and meaningful discourse.

Let’s add hard facts. Trump has been convicted in court. He’s declared bankruptcy multiple times. He’s been documented as having lied over 30,000 times. We’re still counting. Even when he’s corrected about lies, he promotes the same those lies again and again. He cannot stop lying, and his base lap them up.

The media paints the GOP with pretty pastels. The book banning is set aside. Censorship, as foisted by GOP-led state governments, is overlooked. The fact that most Americans are pro-choice is punted away as though it little matters.

Climate change? The GOP calls it a hoax and turns away as more fires burn, record heatwaves are set, and the weather turns nastier and more extreme. They dance with insane conspiracy theories about the deep state and want to curtail others’ rights because they’re childless.

The GOP is still carrying on about the last election. Their claims were dispelled in courts. They have no evidence. And yet, it works. It works on those undecided who aren’t taking any time to pay fucking attention to what is happening outside of their career, their sports, their entertainment, their family.

C’mon, man.

The GOP duplicity, with Vance calling for less rhetoric while ignoring the steady spew of violence and hate that comes out of Trump, Bannion, Loomer, and other Republicans, keeps growing. Christ, they’re marching around Trump rallies with NAZI signs and flags, and Confederate signs and flags, and the press is going, well, that’s pretty normal. GOP representatives have called for an end to the separation of church and state, and the press goes, well, that’s one side of the issue.

Like hell it is. That’s not one side of the issue. That’s one of our fucking founding principles.

So, no. I’m going to cut the undecided voter a break because they might not have the time to be as deeply involved in thinking and reading about this election. They need to seriously pay attention. If this edition of the GOP wins in 2024, it will attempt to radically redefine the United States along theocratic, authoritarian lines that favor the wealthy, powerful, and whites.

Just read their playbook. It’s called Project 2025.

As for those who call themselves undecided because they think that Harris hasn’t outlined her policy positions, here’s a link to her issues page. Take time to read them and give them some critical thought and compare them to what Trump and the GOP is offering.

Vote. Blue.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: pithynated

It’s a splashing autumn day. Lofty clouds of the decorative sort keeps the sky a lighter shade of morning. Sunshine stumbles in around the clouds to take us up from the high 50s to the high 70s. Yellows and reds are mixing it up with the trees’ greenery. No oranges in residence among the foliage yet.

Welcome to Wednesday, September 25, 2024. Please stand while we sing Ashlandia’s anthem, which sounds a lot like a repurposed rendition of “O Canada.”

I’m in a news trench, reading about our world and the many ways it thrills and disappoints. Find your own examples, I’m not regurgitating them here.

Autumn and the floofs are getting along like oceans and pirates. It’s a mellow grooming, gazing, ear-twitching still life of them in the back as a cloud interrupts their sunbath. Mild annoyance ruffle their whiskers as wind curses the yard. Papi the ginger blade looks especially affronted by this incursion. A place must be found to rest without wind’s prying fingers. He begins stretches and a hunt but bird noises and leafy sounds must be given attention.

Thinking on how autumn seems to have come around, and The Neurons place a song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark imploding). Green Day came out with “When I Come Around” in 1995. I was still a military member then, unspecting that I was on the cusp of retirement. I was over twenty by then, so I’d done my time. I liked my life there but the Air Force noticed I’d been at Onizuka Air Base in Sunnyvale, California, for four years. Time to be moved. They offered me an Inspector General role in Space Command which I nixed. They then presented Whiteman AFB in Missouri for my next tour of duty. That didn’t appeal so I did the necessary ink and walked.

Well, you know the standard closing about strength, positivity, and leaning. Vote blue, of course, like you’re sane and not out to gouge other’s civil rights to better your own existence because you’re a narrow-minded GOP twat. Yes, my black brew is talking through me. I offer the music now out of Woodstock 94, a scant three decades past.

Cheers

Tuesday’s Political Thoughts

Someone informed me that they would not vote for Kamala Harris for President because she’d slept her way to the top. She’d lived in California, and she knew.

This was a successful entrepreneur speaking, and a Republican. I was like, really? What evidence do you have for this smear?

I told her that nobody had been able to provide any evidence other than some Willie Brown bullshit that was easily put into proper context with a little searching. And I was surprised; she had been successful in business in California. I shocked her by suggesting that maybe she had slept her way to success.

Yes, of course she was shocked. I had no evidence for my claim, and it impugned her integrity and her character and undermined her accomplishments.

Yeah, see? Just as they’re doing to Harris.

The Facebook Duality

I shared one of my posts to Facebook the other day. I often used to do so, inviting friends and family to ‘see what I’m up to’.

Facebook informed me that it had been blocked as spam. It was the second time in as many months that they labeled one of my posts as spam, claiming something like, I was posting it or sharing it just to get likes.

The nerve.

This happened to be a Floofinition, one of my silly pursuits. Of course I was posting it on Facebook for likes. Why does Facebook think people post on their social media accounts? Likes is one of many reasons for sharing things on Facebook, but they used to encourage me to do just that.

I protested their unilateral condemnation of my post, but my protest is limited in scope to their pre-canned reasons for doing so. And those are flawed and incomplete. It assumes a set of paradigms which frankly just displays how fucking lost thy are. And after I completed that, I thought, I never heard anything back from them about that one last month.

No, you never do. They reach out like some hidden Gods, do their thing, and then watch us like we’re ants running around after their anthill is damaged.

That pissed me off.

The clincher came the next day. It was like, “Michael, here’s a memory of something you posted before! Share it to remind others.” So sweet. So friendly.

And yeah, it was one of my floofinitions. Like the one they condemned as spam and removed for being posted to get likes.

Well, fuck you, Facebook. I’m done with you and your capricious two-faced arrogance. They are already a repository of right-wing memes and misinformation, so they were treading on my last nerve before. I know, they’re quivering back at Meta headquarters, wailing that they’ve alienated me and lost my support. “Oh, boo hoo. We lost Michael. Woe is us.”

That’s okay. It makes me feel better. Just as their community used to do. It’s like they say, the more things change, the more they go to shit.

Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’m chatting with the barista. He tells me my order will be up soon. I ask him, “Did you ring me up?”

He’s completely confused.

I straighten it out, explaining that I wanted to know if he’d charged me, and walk away, laughing. It used to be — a classic beginning to an explanation about change — that cash registers made a ringing sound when transactions were totaled for payment. How long has it been since I’ve heard a cash register ring? As a result, ‘ring me up’ entered society as a popular expression for paying for purchases.

As an aside, my wife had one of those mechanical, ringing registers in her house. Her father, a grocery store manager, procured it when his store upgraded to an electronic system. The register’s ring reminded him of the little stores where they’d shop in his small town.

He said that he never wanted to forget them.

Trusting

She’s riding her bike. Looks about fifteen years old. She’s in the bike lane. Headphones cover her ears. Her hands are busy with her cell phone.

Yes, she has no hands on her handlebars.

She passes in a flash, steadily pedaling. I’m both admiring and dubious. It’s a busy street and she’s going along a stretch with many business entrances and several intersections.

I admire her confidence but I’m a little dubious about her decision making. Ah, youth.

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: Bowiedacious

A front has driven in, strewning clouds of different complexities over Ashlandia, giving us variables in lights, shadows, temperatures, and expectations. Sumumn still holds but it’s beginning to look like autmer as trees flirt with new colors in their leaves. Only dropped to the high fifties last night, and today’s high temperature will spank 90 degrees F.

This is Monday, September 23, 2024. You understand that 2024’s ninth month is closing out and there are but 94 days until Kwanzaa, 93 days until Christmas, and 93 days until Hanukkah? There’s also only 43 days until the U.S.’s 2024 elections. Things are getting tight.

Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) inspired today’s musical choice, although coffee contributed. Having indulged in my first hit of black goodness, I saw Tucker came out from eating. Moving slow, his eyes were mostly closed and his tongue was busy going over his whiskes and mouth. Sitting, he commenced to watching.

That’s when The Neurons or somebody caused me to sing, “Tucker. I just fed a kitty named Tucker.” This was done to the tune of “Blue Jean” by David Bowie. Right after that, the 1984 song fired up in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dished). It’s a catchy little Bowie number, jaunty with memorable lines which don’t convey any great depths. How did he do that?

Stay positive, confident, and strong. Lean forward and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been served in the office; here’s the music. Cheers

Sunday’s Political Thoughts

Down in North Carolina, we have a Black Republican who disparages Martin Luther King with juvenile insults, mocks school shooting survivors, insists that Michelle Obama is a man, and would’ve joined the Ku Klux Klan if they accepted Blacks.

It gets better.

Mark Robinson, the GOP’s overwhelming choice for nominee for the North Carolina governorship, has been around for several years with these outlandish claims. He and his claims were so out of there ridiculous that Trump eagerly endorsed him.

Now, more is coming out about Robinson. Evidence shows he’s been visiting porn sites and commenting online. He’s for slavery. Would buy a few himself.

The topper? This is an Evangelical.

Let’s pause and wrap our heads around the things Robinson says with what an Evangelical is supposed to be in the world of Christianity.

This is the GOP: a warped amalgam of American values, history, and political positions. Besides Trump and Robinson, there is JD Vance. He’s Trump’s running mate, out there lying about his Ohio constituents by claiming some of them are eating their neighbors’ pets. He agrees it’s a lie, but the lie is too important to their message to drop. Doesn’t matter to him that he’s endangering his constituents with his rhetoric…even as he calls for the rhetoric to be cooled because of threats to Trump.

Is that fucking twisting, or what?

As late night informercial offers used to declare, “Wait, there’s more!”

Elon Musk has become quite enamored with the right wing which Trump and the GOP are. So much that he took up Trump’s defense in the weirdest, most twisted way possible when pop star Taylor Swift endorsed Kamala Harris for POTUS.

“Fine Taylor … you win … I will give you a child and guard your cats with my life”

Weird has become popular to describe Trump. But the reality is, that party is getting more twisted. Sure, these are leaderships I’ve highlighted, but it’s their supporters and the party which keep them in power.

Vote blue. Please.


Friday’s Political Thoughts

I’ve been reading about an Ohio Sheriff and his political stances. Portage County Sheriff Bruce Zuchowski calls immigrants “locusts” and suggests writing down Kamala Harris supporters’ names and addresses. His idea is that’s where he’d have people send ‘illegals’.

He finished one post, “With elections, there are consequences.”

Which is true but can be construed as intimidating, and has been by several citizens. The real question is how appropriate is it for an elected official who is armed and charged with protecting and serving the community to basically post an intimidating speech?

Sure, it’s free speech. Not much thinking seems to be attached to it. He refers to Vice President Harris as a “laughing hyena.”

Of course, he insists that his doxxing was misunderstood. He claims, “I am a Law Man…Not a Politician!” He notes that he is sworn to protect ALL citizens, but after this sort of inflammatory posts and opinions, doubt about his willingness to protect all citizens has been sown. A thinking person would have understood that.

I suspect from all of this that Bruce Zuchowski is a Trump/Vance supporter. His views, insults, and characterizations certainly fit their hateful and divisive mold. Portage County deserves better, and I hope that he’s voted out.

Vote blue in 2024.

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