Today is Tuesday, Dec 19, 2023. Just two days till December 21, when winter solstice in the north and summer solstice down below the equator, arrives. Up here we’re counting down to the ‘shortest day of the year’ as so many glibly phrase it. It means we’ll have the shortest period of sun exposure. But solstice is a few days later in Ashlandia; December 21 is an average. Our shortest day lands seven about a week later.
It’s been a really mild winter so far. Today it’s 55 F and rainy. Although indicators say this will continue, weather can change faster than a floof runs to get a treat. But no snow is bad news for the summer, as we depend on our melting mountain snow packs to keep filling our cisterns and reservoirs. So, fingers crossed, snow will come.
Been thinking about inflation. I’m a Paul Krugman fan. Been reading him for decades. But he’s insisting that inflation has gone down but mentions that people like me think it hasn’t because we’re paying more for things than we used to. Paul says the economy is actually good, and President Biden is getting a bad rap over it.
I won’t go into the variations of inflation that exist or how they track it. For me, it comes down to paying much more for car and house insurance than before, higher rates for my water, service fees, home gas and electricity, cat food, and much more for gas for my car. We buy organic and jeez have those prices jumped. Eating out gives me sticker shock almost every time, and beer, wine, and coffee also all cost more, definitely discretionary purchases but, hey, it’s all part of my life style.
Then, housing. Wow. I’ve been considering a move to another part of the nation. Housing is part of the equation to learn where we’ll drop. They’ve always talked about how expensive California housing is, and some parts of Oregon, but looking through New England prices has me reaching for sedatives to calm my nerves. Pennsylvania and Ohio prices are lower than Ashlandia, and more house can be acquired there, but not in New England. There’s also a huge rise in the number of condos and town homes being built. I don’t want to live in either of those because I’ve done it before and I dislike dealing with management over what I can or can’t do with my domicile. There are enough layers or law that I don’t need another layer, especially one that I pay for through things like HOAs. No thanks.
Had to get that off my chest.
Shifting gears to music, I had “Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead” pinging around the morning mental music stream (Trademark unverified) for a while this morning. That’s ‘cuz we saw The Wizard of Oz on Sunday and my wife decided to walk around the house singing about the witch’s death this morning. With less than an eyeblink, The Neurons had it playing over and over and over in my head. I think that kind of thing can drive one insane.
But then I began reading the news and something, something, once again, said or done in the name of god and Jesus to justify being cruel or empty headed was read. I don’t know if it was about the hypocritical Zieglers in Florida, or Trump and the Evanges, or Ohio’s Attorney General, or the Pope, or the AG of Texas or some crap out of the Moms of Liberty. They all stay in the news with their twisted logic about God, religion, and our nation and laws.
Out of that morass of misinformation and misogyny, The Neurons came up with Joan Osborne’s hit song of 1992, “One of Us”. This is a song about god being a slob like one of us, living a life like average humans, riding the bus, going home.
An enticing, intriguing idea. What if the crazy dude talking to himself in the corner is god? Or that women behind the counter with all the piercings is god? What if all these people that go around, trying and struggling, or at home, baking for a holiday, or drinking alone in a house at night while watching some rerun are god? No magic or power, no all-knowing, no one any more or less special than a person walking by you? Strong medicine for the mind to contemplate.
Stay pos, be strong, lean forward, and press on. Coffee is being consumed by the cup here. Here’s the music. Cheers
Forty-one holiday bowl games are coming up in the next several weeks.
I live in Oregon. I’ve quasi-adopted the two major colleges’ sports team. More like surrendered than adopted, as the colleges and their sports teams are frequent news and conversation topics. Both college football teams are ‘ranked’ this year and will play in bowl games.
The names of these bowl games are psyche shredding. The Oregon State Beavers face Notre Dame in the Tony the Tiger Sun Bowl. Seriously.
Oregon University’s Ducks will play Liberty in the VRBO Fiesta Bowl.
You should check out the names of these corporate sponsored NCAA college football bowl games. Remember, this is about amateur sports. Among them is the Cricket Celebration Bowl in the Mercedes Benz Stadium. Avocados from Mexico Cure Bowl. Famous Toastery Bowl. Roofclaim.com Boca Raton Bowl.
I wonder how many years it’ll be before the teams have corporate sponsors. I’m sure many will watch the Nike Oregon University Ducks vs the Eli Lilly Fighting Irish of Notre Dame in the VRBO Fiesta Bowl or maybe, instead, the Columbia Sportswear Company Oregon State Beavers (sometimes just called the Columbia Beavers) against Freddie Mac Liberty University in the the Tony the Tiger Sun Bowl.
The mid-week has crashed in once again. It’s like it’s on a schedule.
Yeah, Wednesday, December 13, 2023, is here in Ashlandia, where the gravity is average. Blustery winds dominate, sending my floofs back into the house complaining about it. They are not fans of wind. It’s 50 F now but we have the potential to achieve a high of 53 F before the weary sun sends us over to the night.
After reading some news, The Neurons are treating me to “Cry Me A River” as covered by Joe Cocker. He turned the soft song into a blues tinged hard rocker. This video showed a classic savagely energetic Cocker performance.
One of the things which pushed Cocker & “Cry Me A River” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dumped) was Donald Trump’s text screaming about one of the cases against him (there are four). Which one? Um, let’s see: yes, charges over whether former President Donald Trump can be prosecuted on charges he plotted to overturn the 2020 election results. Trump claimed he has immunity because he was POTUS. A federal judge ruled the case could go forward. Trump said he would ask the federal appeals court in Washington to reverse that outcome.
What special prosecutor Jack Smith decided is to bypass the appeals court, the usual next step in the process, and have the Supreme Court take it up. From Newsweek: ‘Smith asked if “a former President is absolutely immune from federal prosecution for crimes committed while in office or is constitutionally protected from federal prosecution when he has been impeached but not convicted before the criminal proceedings begin.”‘ Sure, get it done, stop wasting time and money, and answer the question about Trump’s immunity claim in the federal election interference case.
But if you know Trump (and how can you not by now?), his number three favorite tactic in court is delaying. (Numbers one and two is lying and verbally attacking and insulting people.)
From Newsweek:
“Crooked Joe Biden’s henchman, Deranged Jack Smith is so obsessed with interfering in the 2024 Presidential Election with the goal of preventing President Trump from retaking the Oval Office, as the President is poised to do, that Smith is willing to try for a Hail Mary by racing to the Supreme Court and attempting to bypass the appellate process,” a spokesperson for Trump’s campaign said in a statement Monday afternoon.
“There is absolutely no reason to rush this Witch Hunt to trial, except to injure President Trump and his 150 million, at least, supporters.”
Trump doesn’t have 150 million supporters. By his actions, he’s come to be at this point. So, yeah, so cry me a river.
Stay positive, be stable and strong, and lean forward toward a better world. I’ve had coffee and am trying to do all these things as well. Here’s some music to take your mind off things. Hope you enjoy it. Cheer
First, it’s a longer post than usual for me. Politics drive it. Let’s get into it.
34 F greeted me in Ashlandia, where the sunshine is bright, and winters are above average. Blue skies, wind, and sunshine followed us into this Tuesday, December 12, 2023. Already 53 F, a high of 55 F is being suggested.
I’m disgusted, again, with political news. My focus now is on Texas. My major concern focuses on the anti-abortion farce in red states, and the bullshit about the issue which they spread. Texas under the GOP often competes with Florida is spreading the most disgusting bullshit. They succeeded this time with the case of Kate Cox. Pregnant, a mother of two and resident of Texas, her physician informed her that her fetus had trisomy 18. She was told her fetus had malformations of the spine, heart, brain and limbs.
What mother wants to hear that? A devastating diagnosis, most trisomy 18 pregnancies end in stillbirths. Infants born alive with this diagnosis endure anguished lives, which are often short and painful.
But those paragons of virtue we know as the Texas GOP knows better than doctors, unintentionally ironic. Remember how Republicans always insisted that ACA, or Obamacare, would have death panels if it was instituted. Yeah, look who insists on death panels now. That’d be you, Republicans. This is their interpretation of ‘right to life’; so long as your right belongs to them, they’ll decide who lives and dies.
Observers outside of the magic conspiracy cone where Republicans often now live expected this. We all know from experience that the right wing loves to project what it does on others. Just read almost anything that Donald Trump, a documented liar now in court for fraud and other crimes, says about lying and fraud. Remember when he said anyone being investigated by the FBI is unworthy of being POTUS. *chuckle*. Now that it’s him, it’s a witch-hunt being conducted by the deep state. The deep state is the GOP’s favorite boogeyman, their reason for anything happening against them.
Kate Cox was also told that if she continued her pregnancy, it posed threats to her health and was at risk of losing her future fertility.
Nonsense, those learned doctors on the Texas Supreme Court said, denying Kate Cox an abortion. She’d, fortunately, felt how the wind was blowing and vacated Texas to get the modern health care needed in a more advanced state than Texas, which would be every blue state.
What pisses me off as much as the stance taken by these cruel Texan frauds is that back when all these harsh anti-abortion bills were passed, those outside of the GOP conspiracy bubble had foreseen the shit that went down in Texas. We were revolted when Texas pretended to care about the mother’s health and exigent circumstances because we knew Texas Republicans were not the flexible, thoughtful, compassionate, and intelligent people their exemption bill needed them to be. And they proved so at the first opportunity.
Soon after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade last year, horror stories started emerging of women denied medically urgent abortions for pregnancies gone dangerously awry. In response, the anti-abortion movement developed a sort of conspiracy theory to rationalize away the results of their policies.
Abortion rights activists, they argued, were deliberately misconstruing abortion laws, leading doctors to refuse to treat women who obviously qualified for exceptions. “Abortion advocates are spreading the dangerous lie that lifesaving care is not or may not be permitted in these states, leading to provider confusion and poor outcomes for women,” said a report by the anti-abortion Charlotte Lozier Institute. The Catholic conservative Richard Doerflinger accused “pro-abortion groups” of spreading “false and exaggerated claims in order to ‘paralyze’ physicians and discredit the laws.”
Whether this argument stemmed from genuine denial or a cynical desire to mislead the public, a shattering case in Texas shows how absurd it is. Late last month, Kate Cox, a 31-year-old mother of two, learned that her latest, much-wanted pregnancy was doomed because of a severe genetic disorder. If the pregnancy continued, she was likely to have a stillbirth, and if she didn’t, the baby had virtually no chance of surviving long outside the womb.
She’d made several trips to the emergency room for severe cramping and what seemed to be leaking amniotic fluid. Her doctor told her that carrying the pregnancy to term could jeopardize her future fertility, and Cox very much wants more children. So she, her husband and her doctor sued the state, seeking a court order to allow her to terminate her pregnancy in Texas. If the Texas abortion ban had workable medical exceptions, it’s hard to see how they wouldn’t apply to Cox. But it doesn’t, and the state attorney general, Ken Paxton, fought the Cox family and their doctor every step of the way.
Goldberg elaborates on what Kate Cox did chasing the exemption and pursuing the best outcome for her and her fetus, and concludes —
An irony here is that if the State Supreme Court had allowed Cox to end her pregnancy in Texas, it might have benefited hard-line abortion opponents. Were the state to codify clear exemptions for people in extreme medical distress, offering a sliver of mercy to women like Zurawski and Cox, its callous abortion ban might seem slightly more politically palatable. That, after all, is why abortion opponents falsely insist that such clarity already exists.
But right-wing politicians and those who support them would rather inflict unimaginable suffering on women than relax the tiniest bit of control over their medical decisions. I asked Duane if any anti-abortion groups had filed amicus briefs on Cox’s behalf. I wasn’t surprised that the answer was no.
Exactly.
In a tangent, I remember being horrified by what Donald J Trump declared when running for POTUS in 2016. There were some who suggested that he’d be different if he won because the office changed the person in it.
They were fucking wrong. All of us with eyes could clearly see what he would be. We were right, and we’re right now: his chuckling, aw-shucks comments about only be a dictator on the first day in office is total bullshit. That’s exactly what he wants.
By the way, in other Texas political news, Republicans have been battling to limit what moderators can do on Reddit. They passed HB20 in 2022. From CNN/Business:
Texas officials passed HB 20 last year amid allegations that tech platforms unfairly censor conservative speech. Social media companies have widely denied the claims, but the Texas law imposes sweeping obligations on platforms, prohibiting them from moving to “block, ban, remove, deplatform, demonetize, de-boost, restrict, deny equal access or visibility to, or otherwise discriminate against expression.”
Mainstream legal experts have said if HB 20 survives legal challenge, tech companies would be forced to host spam, hate speech, pornography and other legal-but-problematic material on their platforms in order to comply with the text of the law. It could also serve as a blueprint for other states. More broadly, they have said, letting the government force private parties to host speech would reverse decades of First Amendment precedent, which has held that the government may not compel private speech.
Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton celebrated the court ruling in a tweet, saying: “I just secured a MASSIVE VICTORY for the Constitution & Free Speech in fed court: #BigTech CANNOT censor the political voices of ANY Texan!”
Let’s pause to savor Paxton’s celebration for the Constitution and Free Speech for a few moments.
More evident of GOP hypocrisy and double standards, to me.
I’ve had three songs taking turns in the morning mental music stream (Trademark stolen by the deep state). First up was, “I’ll Do Anything” from the musical Oliver! No audit trail showed up to inform me why that song was in the stream.
The next came up in parallel to feeding the cats and was less of a surprise, as it was “My Floof” based on the song, “My Girl”, written by Smoky Robinson and Ronald White, and originally performed by The Temptations back in 1965. “My Floof” was performed by me and the Flooftations in my sunlit kitchen. Sorry, no videos exist.
Finally, though, Jackson Browne was singing “Doctor, My Eyes” from 1972, when I was in high school. The Neurons explained, the reason for this song’s presence in the morning mental music stream is simple and drawn right from the lyrics:
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years And the slow parade of fears without crying Now I want to understand I have done all that I could To see the evil and the good without hiding You must help me if you can
Alright, I’ve vented enough. Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee is being served, and I shall partake. Have the best day you can muster. Here’s the music. Cheers
I was in my primary coffee shop yesterday, writing away in a corner and deeply involved with what I was doing. Even with that true, I’d followed who arrived and left, where they were and what they were doing. It was a habit or talent I’d developed while young. It’d become bolstered first by military counter-terrorist training and situational awareness, and then fostered more as I leaned in to writing fiction and honed my observational skills.
Left was a man who seemed about five years older than me, putting him in his early seventies. He was a regular at both of my coffee haunts. Striking me as a lonely person, I’d witnessed him start conversations with others. When I overheard them, the topic was usually novels he’d read or novels the other was reading.
Rising from the chair he’d settled into, he approached the early twentyish woman on my right. Another regular but not as frequent as me, she was familiar to me. I’d seen the other man talk to her a few times. He greeted her as a friend and she reacted in kind. They began talking about books and his recent visit to a bookstore.
The coffee house manager went to them. I didn’t hear what was being said, but it ended with her escorting him out. After he was gone, I saw the shift lead go talk to the manager. Again, nothing was heard. The shift lead returned to her spot behind the counter, and then the manager approached the young woman the man had been talking with.
After giving her name and explaining her position, the manager asked, “Do you know that man?”
“No, not really. He’s spoken to me before.”
“Well, I came over because we’ve had complaints about men approaching young women such as yourself without being invited. Some feel threatened and believe that the man was trying to groom them or other young women, so we felt we needed to act.”
The woman thanked her and the manager went away.
I sat, reflecting on all sides of this, wondering exactly what was true and real, respecting the coffee shop’s position but understanding the man’s loneliness. Yet, I didn’t know if he was grooming. I don’t know his intentions. And then, there are other men who may have approached young females to groom them. It can be an insidious world.
I mentioned it all to my wife, who reminded me, “Woman are often socialized to be friendly when a man approaches. It’s hard for them to say no to them or rebuff them. That’s just how we’re still taught through movies and television shows, and the things we see. Men are in power and are to be respected is what we’re taught, and it’s hard to break the habits that come from that training.
I understand that, too, and thought of my own position when I go into the coffee shop to write. I’m friendly with staff but not other customers. While I want to be friendly with others, my natural inclination, I decided that I need to not be friendly with other regulars; I’m there to write, and the time that I’ve carved out for that is precious. Despite observing so many who seem desperate or hungry for social interations, I do so with regret but remain firm about it.
We’ve followed long and tortured paths to come to these moments of who we are.
The writing center — known by everyone other than him as a cofffee shop — had a full parking lot. With past experience as a guide, he thought that getting a prime writing table* wouldn’t be possible. Head for number two, he ordered his brain, which delivered the message to his body, which set his car on the required course.
Coffee shop number two was packed. He selected a tertiary choice location with plans to move to a better spot when one opened, and joined the short line to acquire the necessary hot and dark magic water that helped stimulate his writing efforts. As he stood there, movement flickered in his eyes’ left periphery. Leaning a little, he confirmed, people were leaving a prime space. Hustling followed as he relocated his gear and thanked the coffee gods.
The place, he realized as he picked up his coffee, was packed. Every table, prime or not, was in use. Both conversation pits were filled, and almost all the window bar seats were engaged. Five baristas in black outfits worked in mechanical precision behind the wood-encased retail island to restock food and dishware, prepare orders, take, or deliver them. About fifty people filled the small business.
The place’s warm hum keyed his sentimental side. Such a friendly, happening scene. While a few patrons were like him, solitary animals focused on keyboards, staring at phones, or reading books, most people were chatting and laughing in twos and threes as they ate breakfast sandwiches and pastries and sipped coffee drinks, chai, or tea. The scene made his heart swell three times its normal size.
Then he sipped his coffee twice — once to sample it, the second time to more fully appreciate its warm, bitter flavor, put his head down and started typing. An hour later, he looked up and smiled as he gazed across the quiet, almost empty place. Music unheard over the previous rattle and hum was audible. The baristas were reduced to two, and plenty of seats and tables were available. Take your pick.
How quickly things could change.
*The prime writing space is a table or counter with space for a laptop, mouse, and coffee, a chair, and an outlet, and is located two to three feet away from others for privacy and isolation.
It’s Thursday, Dec 7, 2023. I looked out. Rain clouds parted. My eyes drank in sunshine. Alexa said it was 37 F out but would reach 44 F. My weather system already said it was 43 F.
The clouds close. Rain falls. It’s aunter (a variation of autumn and winter) in Ashlandia, where the weather can be vexing, just as it happens in many world regions.
December 7. No need to think much about that date. Can’t say that all in the US remember December 7 and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and the Pacific Fleet, a step which pulled the US formally into WW II. Oh, people will pretend to remember, doing little ceremonies to solemnly recall history and what happened. I can’t guess what people remember of WW II in the US, not when they throw words around like fascism and socialism with little understanding of what they mean and what they are, not when NAZIs and white supremacy is openly embraced with greater frequency by one of our political parties and its leader, not when that leader openly talks about being a dictator. How can his supporters remember their history lessons when he calls for exterminating his political opponents and applauds dictators as smart, good people?
After all, these are the ones who declare us a Christian nation and fight against the separation of church and state. This was supposed to be a nation of freedom and equality. No, it was not born that way; women had few rights and were generally second-class citizens. For blacks, it was worse, as they lived as slaves and were horribly mistreated. Indians received even nastier treatment as their people were killed and their land was stolen, and immigrants from multiple places were pilloried, stripped of rights, and treated as if they were not human. No, it was not a pretty beginning, and there’s still a lot of shit going on. Witness how often police kill with impunity, and worse, how often those killed are Blacks. Witness how people trying to escape persecution in other countries are treated. Witness how many right-wingers treat LGBTQ+ citizens as undeserving of rights and security as fellow citizens, and how eagerly they throw people in prison.
But we were trying as a nation, making some progress, sometimes sliding backwards, but mostly managing to claw forward. Now the GOP and its wannabe dictator, Donald Trump, are striving to drag the country backward, away from freedom and equality no matter religion, sex, or the color of your skin, to a land of warped christianity, twisted history, and perverse values. Trump supporters — the MAGA — hungrily embrace his efforts, gleefully spreading lies and denying history, showing aggressive willingness to undermine and dismantle democracy regardless of the means, regardless of what the US Constitution and Bill of Rights might say, or the rule of law. “There’s no one like you,” I think of them, but I know there are millions like them, and millions more around the world.
No wonder The Neurons dragged “No One Like You” by the Scorpions into the morning mental music stream (Trademark imperiled). “There’s no one like you,” they sing in the song. I could hear them singing that about Trump in a disparaging way. No one like you, lying and cheating, misleading and whining, squealing with hate against justice, opponents, and anyone who is different than him, claiming everyone is being mean to him. No one like you, MAGA supporters, bleating about how great Trump is, ignoring all the disasters and failures which pepper his existence, the rapes he’s been accused of, his affairs, or his constant lying. Except there are others emulating Trump in DeSantis, Abbott, the ‘Moms for Liberty’. There are GOP legislators around the nation eagerly banning books, dismantling the education system, disenfranchising voters. There are too many like those close minded, repressive individuals.
Sunshine breaks out but rain is falling. Traffic streams by, throwing up small wakes. A long, thick, wide black cloud is coming over the northern mountains, darkening the land below it.
I didn’t mean to get on to this bandwagon today, but after the GOP ‘debates’ last night, my irritation was renewed.
Be strong, stay positive, and lean forward. The coffee is going down nicely. Think I’ll have more. Here’s the music. Cheers
Do you ever imagine that invisibile beings surround you, watching what you’re doing when you’re in your home alone, commenting on it to each other?
They seem to come in three flavors: aliens from space, time travelers from the future, and deceased individuals — especially family — returned as spirits. What they say and how they watch varies, depending upon which group they’re in, and their intentions.
So, for example, aliens crowd around you in the kitchen as you clean up, remarking upon the cultural significance of your routine, applauding your efficiency (or lack of it), comparing it to their own processes and habits.
It’s foggy in Ashlandia again. Fog closed in on our fair town, where the mountains are low and the valley is narrow, yesterday afternoon. The for went away for the night and returned this morning, along with a doughnut sprinkle of rain that’s expected to keep up intermittently for the day. It’s all part of the season called aunter, which falls in the last third of fall, bringing dampness, dark days, and cold air, and winter, when the snow is summoned.
But look out. It’s 45 F now but we’re gonna get warmer, even broaching the sixties, maybe, they say, maybe getting as warm as 66F. Not bad for a aunter day.
This is Wednesday, December 26, 2023.
I was in a Dollar Store with my wife yesterday. She’s planning a holiday gift for her exercise class instructor. My spouse has been going to this class since 2005. The instructor is 78 and has been telling people what to do to music since the early 1980s. She’s quite popular. My wife became friends with her over exercising and books. My wife and two others, who were then known as the Woo-Woo girls, started talking about books they were reading as they warmed up before class. Soon the instructor joined, and then a few others, giving rise to the Ladies’ Most Excellent Book Club, which became the book club. They limit it by vote to ten people, and they’re serious readers. We’ll be going to the instructors’ house for a traditional Swedish smorgasborg later this month.
Anyway, as part of the holidays, my wife has started a new tradition of collecting money and signing a card for the instructor. The instructor rarely keeps the money, either donating it to families who need it, or to local causes with the food bank. My wife likes going to the Dollar Store for supplies. It might be a Dollar Tree store; I don’t pay attention. I know they’re no longer a store where things are a dollar or less. But yesterday surprised me.
The dollar store has restaurant and big box store gift cards, along with iTunes gift cards. Many were for $25 or $50. I didn’t bother asking the busy staff it the cards sold for a dollar. They’ve probably heard that joke, and nothing on that end cap display said, “Olive Garden $50 Gift Card: One Dollar”.
It’s just more evolution for the dollar store trio who combined into one business entity a few years ago. I remember first going to one of them thirty years ago after moving back to the United States. I was like, everything in the store is for sale for a dollar? Why, yes, that was exactly the premise: a dollar or less. Being in the military, not getting paid much, and liking a bargain, we went frequently to the Dollar Tree or Dollar Store to get household cleaning supplies, notebooks and paper supplies — including greeting cards — and whatever little bargains we found.
Sad that the stores have changed their philosophy, but that’s how progress works. I guess. At least we’ll someday be able to tell future generations that there used to businesses which sold things for a dollar. They’ll probably ask us, “What’s a dollar?”
An apartment building neighbors us not too far away. With the leaves out of the trees, I can see some of their upper windows from my backyard. Yesterday, I saw a cat in one of the windows. It’s not the first cat I’ve seen in the building, so it’s not that remarkable. This was a fine looking cat, young and slender-appearing, sitting erect as a statue in that graceful cat manner we so often see. White with calico spots, it was intently watching me. I wondered if the cat was lonely and I hoped that it was’t.
That tiny reflection invited The Neurons to offer a song to the mental music stream, where it continues in the morning mental music stream (Trademark nutty). “Only the Lonely” by The Motels, not to be confused with “Only the Lonely” by Roy Orbison, came out in 1982. So it’s for that cat and the other floofs alone and watching that this song is offered as Wednesday’s theme music.
Stay pos and strong, and lean in. Coffee has arrived at the brain center, exciting The Neurons. Here we go, off to start the day. And here’s the music. Cheers
Greetings and welcome to Monday, December 4, 2023. Coming up ahead, you’ll notice kinaras, menorahs, and Christmas trees awaiting between the commercial ads, music, and secular lights of the holiday spirit.
Here in Ashlandia, where Ashland’s annual Festival of Lights took place on November 24 and was average, wind pushes around air that’s about 54 F, close to where it’ll be as a high today. Partly sunny, partly cloudy, partly rainy later on. Our mountain snows and mists have evaporated,snow waits though if you take a roads an hour north or twenty minutes south and drive up into the moutains.
Did you read about ex-POTUS Trump’s declaration the other day? “I think if you had a real election and Jesus came down and God came down and said, ‘I’m gonna be the scorekeeper here,’ I think we’d win [in California], I think we’d win in Illinois, and I think we’d win in New York.” h/t Rolling Stone Magazine.
Yes, Trump world Jesus is not a brown, humble man who preaches to love others, not be greedy or worship money, and to help the poor and sick. No, Trump Jesus — guess I’ll just write it Truses — supports lying and hate. He’s all in for the wealthy and the whites and cares nothing for social justice. I’m sure Trump supporters have created or found a bible where this bizarro Truses exists. Facts mean less and less to them; power and authority are what their dogs hunt, or they’d be questioning the morals of a person accused of rape several times, a man of multiple affairs, one who can’t be trusted to tell you the right day of the weak, one who blatently lies about his physical condition.
I can’t decide which is the worst aspect of the support of Trump; that so many give up their values — or that they’re now displaying values that most of the world find abhorrent; that they ignore his constant lying and bragging; that they ignore his history, and also discard much world and US history; or that many of them are now giving up their religious beliefs and throwing away the progress we as a nation made in the last 246 years. And for what? For a warped vision of how a society should act based on bigotry, hate, and prejudice fueled by lies and exaggerations. It makes my spirit ache and my head explode.
All that inspired The Neurons to stick me with INXS and “Devi Inside” from 1988 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark countered). That all come from thoughts that the MAGA-led Republicans, as defined by Trump’s vision, seem engrossed with a vision of hell on Earth. This includes trampling others’ rights, denying progress unless it benefits making more money, and ignoring truth and justice to society’s detriment. I mean, Trump now refers to anyone who doesn’t support him as ‘vermin’. He advocates using violence and imprisonment to limit opposition to him, and goes on hateful screeds whenever someone does say something he doesn’t like, especially if it’s about him, and his supporters applaud or pretend nothing is wrong. Is there any wonder that The Neurons brought up the INXS line, “It’s hard to believe we need a place called hell.”
Here come the man With the look in his eye Fed on nothing But full of pride Look at them go Look at them kick Makes you wonder how the other half live
The devil inside The devil inside Every single one of us the devil inside
The devil inside The devil inside Every single one of us the devil inside
Here come the world With the look in its eye Future uncertain but certainly slight Look at the faces Listen to the bells It’s hard to believe we need a place called hell
I hope you can be strong and positive, and keep leaning forward, at least better than I seem to be doing. I’ve had coffee but I think I need a bit more. Here’s a recording of an energizing INXS concert production of “Devil Inside”. Hope you enjoy it. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 