Category: Thinking, thinking

Friday’s Theme Music – Golden Years

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 20, 2026.

It’s 70 F under bright sunshine this morning. A high of 90 is expected. Papi has already out to sleep through the heat in a comfortable space.

The Mitch McConnell pool remains open. Is he or isn’t he alive? He hasn’t been seen in public since June 14. People kept insisting they spoke with him but never offer proof. I suspect some mad scientist is probably trying to reanimate McConnell, or tech bros developing an AI version of him.

I can see the new Roberts Court ruling: “AI are people, too.”

Reminds me of an old nursery rhyme. “Fe fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a Republican. Be he live or be he dead, there’s not enough there to fit between my bread.”

My wife and I were talking last night about how things were before. It was mostly about our lives and bodies and their changes, but the conservation expanded in multiple directions.

One question that arose was, did we ever live in a golden age? Neither of us thought so. We used to work hard, budget money carefully, save. We were not extravagant people. Still aren’t. That kept us secure and safe. But we were young and healthy, with that glow that anything was possible.

We believed our society would keep moving forward and work closer together to solve what seems like insurmountable problems. Now, with Trump in the White House and most Republicans with their heads planted where the sun doesn’t shine, we have no faith that all the progress we thought had been made would continue.

For laughs, I reminded my wife that Trump said that we’re living in a golden age.

She mimed gagging, choking, and puking in response. Her follow up was, “Only if you’re wealthy. But every era is a golden age if you have enough money.”

No matter how well some might be doing now, as Trump attacks programs that aid the impoverished and needy, I can’t ever think of this period as a golden age or golden years. Since Trump began his second term, overall prices have not fallen. Real wages have declined and economic growth has not accelerated. Manufacturing employment continues to decline and the national debt keeps growing.

To distract us from noticing this, Trump attacks others. Right now, Trump is attacking Iran — again — after declaring that conflict over.

With his history — three marriages, cheating on his wives, numerous affairs, multiple business bankruptcies, the Epstein files, and a campaign strewn with broken promises — Trump can’t be trusted. How can I ever believe him when he says we’re in a golden age?

I don’t see the evidence for a golden age. My wife and I are in a golden age in the sense that we don’t organize our lives around our employment schedules. That sort of freedom is golden, if you’re financially secure. That’s a big caveat in the US. As for the rest of life, this is not a golden age.

Which takes me to the music. Today we have David Bowie singing “Golden Years” in the morning mental music stream. Came out in 1975.

For me the lines which matter from this song are,

“Run for the shadows, run for the shadows

“Run for the shadows in these golden years.”

Yes, run for the shadows.

Golden years are supposed to be a time of prosperity, happiness, and satisfaction. We seem to have some distance to that goal right now.

My hope for you is you have a golden day — one of prosperity, happiness, and satisfaction.

Cheers

3

Tiny Newcomer

I took a break from writing to walk around outside. As I went, I thought, gosh, I don’t see any deer. In the spring and winter, there’s often five to nine hanging around the cemetery. In the spring, I typically encounter three or four eating in a yard somewhere or crossing a street. Just the other day, when it was cooler, I found three young bucks in a yard, chilling in a plum tree’s shade. Today, nothing.

Then — across the street from the coffee shop is a house. And there, by the front steps, I saw my first deer of the day.

I offered a silent prayer to the world to help this little one have a good, healthy life while wondering where mama was, hoping she was near — which is what I suspect — and would soon return.

It’s a gentle reminder among the streets, politics, and technology, about how basic and beautiful life can be.

4

Trumpsanity Rages

Trumpsanity continues to rage around the world. Trump orders attacks on Iran based on reasons he said before didn’t exist. Claims the war is not a war. It will be short — just as he said before. Just as he before said that the war was over when it started and has declared it over multiple times.

Just as Trump said he would cut prices and then claimed it was harder than he thought. Then Trump pivoted, declaring affordability doesn’t matter.

And it’s similar to how Trump complained about President Obama golfing too much. Trump said he would never golf because he would be too busy working. Now he golfs about 25% of his time.

It’s very familiar thinking to when Trump said he would probably release the Epstein files, then declared them a hoax, before changing his tune to demands people forget about them.

The week, we saw Trump crowing about his ‘new’ Air Force One. This is the Qatari Boeing aircraft they gave to Trump for a sweet deal.

Which takes us to your Trump Quote of the Day:

There is so much to say about this quote and aircraft. Built in the United States, Trump babbles that our country couldn’t build one like it. But it was built by Boeing, in the United States. Way to support America, Trump!

The aircraft was then heavily modified for royal use. That’s probably what Trump is talking about: all those luxury accoutrements.

Yet, luxury is not what the ultimate aircraft for We the People is all about. Air Force One was made to be safe and secure, not luxurious. Bowing to that, Trump ditched Qatari One, reverting to the old aircraft due to security. If Trump had the balls of steel he’s always making himself out to have, he would have said, “Damn the danger,” and stayed with Qatari One. He didn’t, because he remains a coward.

Struggling with declining popularity and growing problems, Trump wheeled out more distractions via Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!

I don’t blame him. This week had Trump talking about a country which doesn’t exist, veering away like he was confused on the tarmac in Turkey, struggling to walk, and appearing to fall asleep in a meeting. The last ‘could have been’ Trump focusing on a translator, but I’m giving Trump the same latitude that Trump and MAGA gave President Biden.

The optics are horrible. Trump looks like the feeble, doddering old person that he accused President Joe Biden of being.

With nothing new available, Trump returned to talking about Greenland, bleating about what a security threat it is.

That doesn’t change anything. The Epstein files are still out there, waiting to be released and fully expose Trump. The economy is still groaning and flailing from the Trump tariffs and rising prices due to the Trump war.

Some excellent posts are out there to help cope with the Trumpsanity.

The One Big Beautiful Bill was passed last year. Trump named it because it held everything that he wanted.

  • Annie Asks summarized our political mess and candor in politics in her post, Mitch McConnell, Graham Platner, and Candor in American Politics. Schroedinger’s McConnell — both alive and dead until we see his corporeal vessel — has been generating a lot of press, along with what’s happening with Graham Platner and others running for our nation’s highest offices. It’s a good read to help filter the noise.

  • Jill Dennison shares John Pavlovitz’s column about Graham Platner, reminding us as Democrats and Progressives in what we don’t want in our candidates in MISSING: Humanity | Filosofa’s Word

Pavlovitz finished his comments:

As the Democrats scramble to choose his replacement and try to salvage a victory in Maine, progressives, liberals, and moderates who are crestfallen today need to remember that in the loftier spaces that transcend politics, this is still a win.

Choosing not to align with indecency always is.

I agree with him. Likewise, choosing not to align with Trumpsanity is a step forward to a better world.

3

Thursday’s Theme Music — Heroes

Thursday, July 9, 2026 — Ashland, southern Oregon.

Gonna be another 90+ degree summer day in our Valley. Now is the time to be outdoor doing things, as it’s 70, with a light cooling breeze. Heeding that advice, that’s exactly what our Papi did. No moss grows under his paws.

Familial news front remains quiet. Mom’s house is going through the appraisal process today, needed for the buyer’s loan. Fingers crossed, you know? Fingers crossed is my favorite way to achieve good results, knock on wood.

We’re not at war again but Trump says the cease fire is over and we’re firing missiles at us, and they’re doing the same. The peace president declared, “This is really not a war so much. It’s a de-nuking of Iran, de-nuclearization of Iran.” To people who were in wars before, it seems like a war, what with all the bombings, explosions, and death. Classic Trump Double Standards.

Trump also previously declared that Iran no longer had any nuclear capabilities. Yet he’s attacking them again to get rid of their nuclear capabilities.

It all feels like more of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Other than MAGA, Trump’s popularity is dropping. Bombing Iran is unpopular, and will likely get worse as Trump shifts why we’re doing it and how long it will last, exposing him again to being unreliable. The war will drive prices up again, and cause drops in the stock market, affecting the 401Ks that Trump was just crowing about a few weeks ago.

But the ‘conflict’ gives him a private boast to his ego because he can unleash the military and say to himself, “Look how powerful I am.”

Meanwhile, prices will rise. Affordability will get worse.

Trump will get richer.

Bonnie Tyler passed away. I always enjoyed her voice and style. So, today’s song is a reflection of her impact.

“Holding Out for A Hero” is right as a song to remember Bonnie Tyler as well as a song for the moment. Trump and his cast of spineless GOP minions are not heroes. Many have abandoned their duties as part of the checks and balances system in a crass display to remain in power, to be relevant, and to enrich themselves.

Meanwhile, on the Democrat’s side of the aisle, we have the Graham Platner fiasco. We thought he was someone with principles and moral courage. Subsequent revelations showed we were wrong.

Now we’re again looking for heroes. People to stand up against Trump and help rebuild our democracy. Someone who will drain the swamp and restore our values.

I hope your day is beneficial to you in every matter that’s important.

Coffee is here.

RIP, Bonnie Tyler.

Cheers

2

How Low Can Trump Go?

A WSJ story today conveys Trump offering things from a White House room full of Trump merchandise to a foreign delegation.

My first reaction was, of course he has a room in the White House full of stuff he wants to sell to make money. That’s all he really thinks about: how can I make myself more money? He’s such a broken toy.

But next, I thought, sure. Trump is giving his stuff away because he can’t sell it.

Third: Trump thinks this is normal for government officials to be offer things to sell on the Internet to make money.

In reactions to the story, one person wrote it best: “Just when you think he has hit rock bottom, Donald blasts 20 feet deeper.”

Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! fired up again now that the Freedom250 phase of it ended. OEL–S! is Trump’s continual efforts to distract us from his grifting, and how he’s corrupting democracy, and bankrupting the nation. Like a magician, he’s always utilizing ways to stop us from looking at one place too long, trying to weave a spell of confusion about what the hell he’s doing.

Trump isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. We always know what he’s doing, even when he tries hard to hide it, except for the MAGA faithful. They prefer to remain blind to it, even perversely cheering him on.

Freedom250 and the Great American State Fair are supposed to be celebrations of the nation’s beginnings. First, Trump has a decidedly skewered view of that. His ignorance of history is appalling, and that doesn’t seem to be an act. He honestly appears to be that uneducated and ignorant in that realm.

Second, Trump’s ego says, I must make it about me, so he does. Everything becomes about him, to the detriment of We the People.

In the latest OEL–S!, the United States is again attacking Iran. The Trump administration accuses Iran of violating the terms and declares punishment, doing so in the name of peace, of course.

Trump declared that the ceasefire is over. Bombing will commence again. Oil prices immediately rose. The stock market immediately dropped.

Meanwhile, Trump is backing the Freedom Fuel Network.

After chastising President Biden for high gas prices, Trump launched a war that sent gas prices rocketing upward. Now, he’s crowing about supporting 25 gas stations where gas is lower than the national average while remaining higher than what it was when Trump took office, back when it was just $3.12 a gallon.

I’ll tell you what: Trump is involved, so I’m suspicious about the foundation and future of Freedom Fuel Network. From my point of view, when a con is involved with a new business, it’s another con. My evidence on this is built upon evidence of:

  • Trump Shuttle
  • Trump Mortgage
  • Trump Steaks
  • Trump Bibles
  • Trump Plaza and Hotel
  • Trump Taj Mahal
  • Trump Mobile T1
  • Trump Castle/Trump Marina
  • Trump University
  • The Donald J. Trump Foundation
  • Trump Vodka
  • $TRUMP Memecoin
  • World Liberty Financial
  • Freedom250
  • the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool
  • Trump Sneakers
  • Epstein files
  • Iran War and ceasefire
  • and multiple other Trump promises and claims, like paying for sex with Stormy Daniels, then lying about it

How low can Trump go?

He’ll keep going lower until he’s finally passed away and lowered into the ground.

Then we’ll begin to learn the truth about how low Trump went.

10

A Dad Leak Dream

There was a leak in the bathroom.

A thick tube of clear water spurted out of the wall. White tiles had been removed above the tub about five feet up. Oh, dear, what a mess, with some black fuzzy thing happening in the opening.

A trio of engineers, casually dressed, of different styles, heights, ages, one woman, two men, came in on behalf of the townhouse association. Because this wasn’t unique to this townhouse. It’d happened throughout the complex. This trio was going unit to unit to assess and strategize. I was just watching them from back by the door, listening as they ignored me. The spoke of how to fix it, what must be done.

Leaving, I headed across a common through sunshine to my own townhouse because, hey, that had been my father’s place, which slightly changed everything. He wasn’t there to look after it, so I was acting on his behalf.

I entered my own townhouse where the same problem existed but seemed to be on a much smaller scale. Some wall had been removed from the bathroom to the right which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the leak. I didn’t understand what that was about but I knew where to go for explanation.

I sought that women and this little rotund blonde explained something that kind of made sense and eased my anxieties. Going off again, I found I had a broken arm. No, not broken, just not working right. I’d been advised to keep it in a sling. I didn’t have a sling, so I fashioned one, and then modified it again and again, decided this was a good place to keep things, like my wallet, keys, and glasses.

So I tucked them in but then needed more material, so I added other things, and reshaped it, and reshaped it. People were going past as I did this and I turned away, trying to keep things private.

I decided to call my stepmother to tell her about Dad’s townhouse. Then I realized that Dad was dead and this was a dream. That I had actually a dream in a dream, and that the townhouse with the plumbing problem wasn’t real.

But I called my stepmother. I said, “I was thinking about Dad because it’s his birthday.” Then I realized, that’s not right. I said, “No, because it was my birthday.”

She was talking but it came to me, this call isn’t happening; it’s also a dream.

I awoke.

0

Wednesday’s Theme Music — Round & Round

Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, July 8, 2026.

It’s another sunny rocking morning. Cool at 69 degrees, which feels wonderful, with a friendly breeze carrying the heat off. We’re expected to pass 90 again today. My house saw 96 yesterday. Still, a dry heat and not so bad that it saps your ability to breathe. Does do a little damage to the will to move around, though.

Papi has staked out a cool spot in some plant shade, giving me a coolly level amber look before lowering his head and closing his eyes. He appears to be asleep in a second.

On the family news front, Mom’s home is moving through the selling stages without a hitch. My brother-in-law ended up with two stents and staying overnight in the hospital. The medicos said he was severely clogged. Reluctantly, I wasn’t overly surprised. Although energetic, slender, and athletic, he ate a lot of pizza, and a great deal of red meat, sausage, and bacon. Fingers crossed for him. He’s set to be released today. Round and round.

Catching up on the news, I wearily wonder, WTF is Trump doing now? How is he making himself look an idiot this time?

Well, earlier this week, he did it by interfering with the World Cup. He thinks he did a great thing. As others point out, whenever Trump touches something outside of his immediate circle, it fails. So it came to pass that the Trump touch brought on end to America’s World Cup hopes.

Now we see, oh, the war with Iran will begin again. Who is surprised with Trump ‘in command’? He’s declared it over. Done. Changes his objectives about why the war was begun. And here it goes, grinding on…again.

Prices will go up again. The long hot summer will get a little hotter, our optimism will fade a little more, and MAGA will shout “Praise him” once again. Don’t know if they actually do that. Seems like something in the MAGA wheelhouse.

Meanwhile, the Trump DOJ announced that Todd Blanche is a good Trump tool — such a great tool, the best tool ever! Everyone says so!

Blanche is busy delaying and obstructing, as a good Trump tool does, keeping the Epstein files from showing Bad Things About Trump. As if, again, We the People — with the exception of solid MAGAs and some GOP who would rather stab out their eyes than admit what they see — don’t see what Trump has done, who he is, and what he’s doing.

The horrendous, bloated Epstein ballroom remains under construction, despite the will of We the People.

So we come to the song inhabiting my morning mental music stream: “Spinning Wheel”. Blood, Sweat, and Tears released the song in 1969. I’ve always enjoyed how the song begins and builds, slyly, smoothly:

Lyrics

What goes up, must come down
Spinning wheel got to go round
Talkin’ ’bout your troubles, it’s a cryin’ sin
Ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel spin

You got no money and you, you got no home
Spinning wheel, all alone
Talkin’ ’bout your troubles and you, you never learn
Ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel turn

Did you find a directing sign on the straight and narrow highway?
Would you mind a reflecting sign?
Just let it shine within your mind
And show you the colors that are real

It’s such a perfect song for a summer day despoiled by Trump and his smirking arrogance. He doesn’t understand cause and effect, such as what his tariffs and broken trust has done to prices and trade. Trump likes to pretend it isn’t real — or, if it’s a problem, it’s someone else’s fault!

May the spinning wheel take you and yours to loftier places, where you’re safe, healthy, happy, and free.

Cheers

2

A Gun & Zombie Dream

My wife and I and others were being chased by zombies. Fighting them off, we’d taken refuge in a large building. Seemed like some manner of old mansion, maybe. Don’t know.

During the fight, I’d managed to arm myself with two weapons. One was a large but old revolver. Basically, a six-shooter. The other was a modern 9mm handgun, black and cold.

I kept one in each hand as I met the new people, survivors like us. It was chaotic. I was edgy, tense, a little angry. People seemed to be doing stupid things, leaving doors and windows open. I kept going around, closing these things, looking for food, telling others to be careful.

They didn’t seem to be responding well to my comments. They weren’t angry or anything but seemingly oblivious. As I processed that, I concluded that I needed to establish a safe little place for me and my wife in that larger area, and went up some wooden stairs in such of such a place.

I kept my weapons with me. At one point, though, talking with another, I noticed that the revolver had some pink material. Opening the cylinder, I found that each round had the striking end covered in a bright pink wad of cloth, a safety thing I concluded, with some alarm. If I’d tried using that weapon, it probably wouldn’t have fired.

Meanwhile, I wondered, was the 9mm okay, or did it have something like that? But I’d seen the magazine and I thought I’d fired it once without problem, so I thought it was okay.

The dream ended with me trying to remove the pink wadding from the revolving.

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