The Hair Dream

I was the new guy in a small group of males. Basically smartasses and lower class with leanings toward crime and goofing off, I don’t know how I met them but was hanging around with them. They kept discounting me and making fun of me. I decided changes were needed and thought the way to do that was with my hair. So off I went to get dreadlocks.

A stylist eagerly did as I asked. I emerged with long black dreadlocks when I’d had brown hair before, with the crown being literally a crown of short dreads.

I went back and joined the group at a short track where a car race was scheduled to take place. All were surprised and taken back. One or two made fun of me for it. Then we split up. Most headed in to watch the race but one other and I stayed back, sort of watching the group’s belongings in a small corner by a counter. Catching my image in a mirror, I was horrified. “I look terrible,” I said. “Ridiculous. What was I thinking?”

The other guy, a short, white almost bald fellow said, “Well, I admire what you did. Took balls. I respect that.”

“Really? But it looks like crap.”

“Yes, but you did something.”

I met a woman who wanted to go into the track but wasn’t certain how to go about it. I asked where she wanted to go in there. “By turn two,” she answered. “Come on,” I said, “I’ll take you there.”

I took her in through the crowd. As I did, a young black woman paused to tell me with a wide smile, “I really like your hair.”

“Thanks,” I answered, pleased, amused. Showing the woman to turn two, I moved back through the crowd to the outside. Another young black woman accosted me, saying, “Nice hair.”

I encountered a white female friend as I left the race track. “What did you do to your hair?” she asked.

“I know,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m going to see if it can be fixed.” But I was thinking, it’ll probably need to be cut. Then it’ll take a long time to grow back. While this went through my head, a young black woman said, “I’m sorry but I overheard what you said. I hope you don’t change your hair. I think it looks really good on you.”

Dream end.

Wenzdaz Theme Music

It’s a rockandroll Wenzda in October. October 8, 2025. Another exemplary weather day for fall to show off its colors in Ashlandia. Will be about 80 F again today, though it’s 57 now, with a puppy’s nip to the air. Papi goes out and finds sunshine for his post-breakfast grooming. His orange glows in the sunshine.

The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. Many also call it the Smirkers Shutdown, because Jeffrey Epstein and Donald Trump were often smirking when they were together, as in the photo below. Reminder, it’s a weak president that lets the government shut down. So said the current POTUS in past years. This is Trump’s third shutdown, revealing him as the weakest of the weakest. Also the most cowardly. Worst negotiator in history, too. Only thing that works for him is bullying and lying. But being so weak and cowardly, he’d rather have the government shut down rather than having it revealed what’s in the Epstein Files.

Donald Trump, first on the left, and Jeffrey Epstein, second from the right, the smirkers behind the shutdown.

I’ve been re-watching an old favorite television show called Foyle’s War. The series stars Michael Kitchen as Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle. A widower with a son who joins the RAF, DCS Foyle lives and works in Hastings, investigating crimes.

Last night’s episode was about a murder in 1941 that comes after German aircraft bomb England. One bomber is shot down. Several crew members parachute to safety. We’re introduced to women working in the land army for an older farmer who is mean and spiteful. He’s killed. Foyle investigates. The Germans are captured. Foyle has a run-in with the major who collects the Germans for interrogation, etc.

After Foyle reveals all going on at the show’s end, the major apologizes to Foyle. Going on, the major explained that he lived in Heidelberg for a year. Knew many Germans. Found them gracious, civilized, etc. Foyle responds with an anecdote. A British police football team went to Germany in 1936 to play a German team. The Germans met the British, took them out for a good meal, dancing, celebrating, drinking. The next day, the British team, hungover, on little sleep, met a German team that they’d never seen before. The German team had not gone out drinking but had been in bed by ten PM. Foyle concluded, “The Germans are playing a different game, and it’s not cricket.”

As I think about a lot of things happening in the United States, that’s come to mind many times. The Republicans are playing a different game. Their goals and rules have changed. People like me are stilling playing the same game as before. That’s why the GOP keep piling up wins. Part of their changes include ignoring the will of We the People, and ignore laws, norms, history, and precedence. Those changes are anti-American to me. Yet, this is the GOP game under Trump, a culmination of a process begun decades ago, when Fox began actively functioning as a political news outlet.

Today’s song is “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure. It’s a dream’s outgrowth. I don’t see its connection with the dream’s contents. Seeing it differently, I guess, The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream.

Coffee is being served to The Neurons. Hope peace and grace awaken and rise like a phoenix. Fingers crossed, right? Meanwhile, let’s all do the best we go. Here I go. Cheers

Twozdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

Stuff from around the web.

Ha, ha, remember when Kristi Noem said this? My goodness, those Trumpers really lack memories, conscience, and principles, don’t they?

More of the same, Stephen Miller edition…

Trump’s actions are not popular. Is the country heading in the wrong direction? You bet! Will that stop him? No, because he’s locked into an alternate reality.

Priorities, priorities, priorities.

I don’t understand. Why would ICE agents go to a restaurant in a war zone?

Country Star Zach Bryan Divides Fans With Anti-ICE Ballad

Once again, from Trump’s alternate reality…

Twosdaz Theme Music

If that’s the garbage truck, it must be Twozda. Indeed, it’s the garbage truck and Twozda, October 7, 2025. Beautiful 67 F with blue skies forever and sunshine flooding over the trees and mountains. 81 F is in range as today’s top end.

Trump news has me itchy with irritation. With the government shutdown underway, stats and data useful to decision making and trend spotting is MIA. Air traffic controllers and the military are being asked to work without pay. ATC is a stressful job. The military can be as stressful. Working without pay adds to that stress. Financial institutions are helping both segments cope with the loss of income but how sustainable is that? Beyond those areas, home foreclosures under Trump are on the rise. Mortgage rates are high. Insurance costs are soaring and will go yet higher as the costs of replacement materials increase. Local taxes and service fees are increasing to replace revenue losses and the loss of Federal assistance under the Trump Regime. Food prices keep going up. Going into the holiday season in the United States, the vaunted last three months of the year, home to Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Kwanza, and Hannukah, prices of gifts and food are expected to take deep bites out of budgets. Couple that with other factors, and an ugly quagmire is being put into place.

The Trump Regime doesn’t help any of it. As tax revenues fall and farmer suffer from losses because of tariffs, the Trump Regime wants to bail out the farmers hurting from Trump’s destructive tariffs and trade wars. It’s a classic downward spiral. Contributing further, Trump is cutting off renewable energy projects. That takes a chunk out of the economy, as those projects usually contributed to state and city local economic booms. Unemployment will rise. Meanwhile, his moves to instill manufacturing will take time. And if people are unemployed and counting pennies to get buy, who is going to buy the goods that the factories make? He’s killing the market.

Finally, uselessly deploying troops to cities are estimated to cost about twenty million dollars a day per place. Trump thinks that tariffs will replace tax revenues but if people are buying less and less because the cost of everything is rising, WTH does he think is going to buy? Coupled with all of this, the government shutdown and shaky economic and weakening economic forecast will drive higher costs to pay off the Federal deficit, and it has already caused companies to put spending and hiring plans on hold.

It is a fucking mess, and will just get worse. Healthcare premiums are set to soar under the ‘Big Beautiful Bill’. Read that in the mocking tone it deserves. With healthcare premiums increasing, people will cut insurance. More people will get sick but get help less often, usually until it’s dire. This leads to increasing healthcare costs and lower productivity. Lower productivity generates higher costs. All this is historically documented. The Trump Regime refuses to acknowledge those history lessons.

Stack on: tourism is down and will keep going down as Trump’s military presence grows in cities and his ICE agents aggressively attack people. Those are bad optics for tourism, and the soft data tells us that foreign visitors are shunning the United States as a tourist, education, and business destination. Additionally, the Trump assault on universities and colleges are reducing enrollment. That means those institutions will need to cut overhead and personnel. And, again, as Trump cuts Federal funding for government-backed research, activities in those projects will significantly drop or go completely idle. That’s more lost jobs. More lost local revenue. More lost Federal revenue.

It’ll all come crashing down under its own weight. Our questions are, how bad will it get? How long will it take before all these pressures come together to fuse the political will to work against Trump. So far, the GOP is completely MIA in this. This is their mess, but it will crush all except the wealthiest. The wealthiest, like Trump.

Reminder: this is the Epstein shutdown. The fear releasing the files. Releasing the files might generate the political will to move on from Trump. And the GOP is happier with him and they in charge, wrecking the world, than revealing who he is. As if we don’t already know. I guess they fear the validation of who he is, who they worship, and support.

All this stirred The Neurons to play “On the Dark Side” in the morning mental music stream. This song was from a movie called Eddie and the Cruisers, about the life and times of a fake rock band with heavy focus on the tortured soul lead singer, Eddie. The real music is performed by John Cafferty & the Beaver Brown Band.

Enough venting, enough from the dark side. Hope grace and peace resurfaces for us all and doesn’t hold out too much longer. Time for coffee. Time to write. Here we go, out into the day. Cheers

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

This is a first world issue. First world blues. It’s about the ‘do-nothing’ loop. And enshittification.

We have an Epson printer. Bought it about a year ago. Replaced the big old Brother printer we’d had for over a decade. We often struggled with it. No; it often struggled to do what we wanted it to do. We wanted it to print on demand. We thought that’s what it was designed to do. Now I know otherwise. These printers aren’t designed to print. They’re designed to bring in revenue as products when they’re sold. After that, fuck you, you’re on your own.

So, Yellow-Magenta-Cyan are not printing on the Epson. That’s essentially the basis of color printing. I’ve gone through updates. Nozzle power cleans. Test printing to a sickening point. Nothing changes the YMC outcome. Yes, there’s ink in there. First thing I checked.

The enshittification really begins with the support. It’s a beautiful do-nothing loop. If it doesn’t print, clean nozzles. Then test. If it doesn’t print again, turn off for twelve hours. Try again. Here are some more helpful things.

None of the ‘more helpful things’ offer an iota of help. They’re just not what’s going on with our printer. And clicking on some just take me

Okay, let’s ask them for support. To get support, I need to the serial number.

Where is the serial number?

On the bottom of the printer, of course!

It’d be too damn easy to put it on the front, top, rear, or other two sides. No, no, no, let’s go full enshittification. Let’s put it on the bottom. Because, see, printers have ink. They shouldn’t be turned upside down. So, that makes it very difficult to get the serial number required for support, so win-win for them, they save on support costs!

What enshittification geniuses!

Hmmm, let me see what AI says about turning my printer upside down.

WTF kind of answer is that, oh great AI?

The Writing Moment

It goes well, satisfying, at the new (for me) coffee writing haunt. Actually, this is a return to this particular haunt, RoCo, which used to be formally known as Roasting Company. They’ve changed the inside tables, making better use of space. They’ve also changed their small parking lot into an additional outdoor seating area, with tables and chairs under black netting. It’s better than I’m describing it. Besides those two areas, seating is available on front and side porches. The side porch features a fire pit and makes it cozy. The place reeks with sociable, companionable, inviting vibes.

My third day back here last week, I noticed the woman beside me was editing a typed manuscript. She struck up conversation about the weather because I’d just come in and she was preparing to leave. It came out that she’s a local cozy mystery writer. Published her first last year and was working on her editor’s feedback for the second. We’ve exchanged names and greet one another regularly since. She introduced me to her husband, who directs the local Peace Choir. Several friends sing in it, and I’ve attended dozens of their concerts. Six degrees, you know?

Another time, as I was sitting and writing, I noticed several others basically doing the same on their laptops. Today featured a conversation beside me between a man and woman. They were discussing a curriculum for a theater class. Included topics that I overheard were screenwriting and directing. Sounds fun, I thought.

So RoCo has good writing vibes, IMO. I’ve written about forty pages since coming here, and edited more. What I thought was the novel’s end, wasn’t. And the coffee works for me. Staff is friendly and professional.

Think I’ll keep coming here, as long as they’re here and will have me.

The Indicators Dream

I don’t know what age I was supposed to be in this dream. I felt younger, maybe in my early middle age. Anyway, I arrived at this cluttered, jumbled location. Busy with people, we were being asked to make choices. Like many others that I overheard and witnessed, I didn’t understand exactly what was going on. Acting on haste, I checked some small pails.

The pails were plastic and different colors, like red, blue, yellow, green. They reminded me of pails which children use in a sandbox or at the beach.

In these pails were some sort of small black squares. Each had tiny white letters and numbers but were mostly blank. Nobody seemed very sure about what they were or what we were supposed to do with them, but everyone was certain that we were supposed to take some. I wasn’t sure how many to take but grabbed eight. Then, following the flow of people doing who had also made their choices, I went along the line until we came to a long messy table, one of many. Above the table, three slender, black metal slats ran parallel to the table. Many already had multiple black squares attached to them. With observation and trial and error, I discovered the metal squares were magnetic and that we were supposed to attach them to the slats. Okay, I did that.

When I did, the black squares became alive with information. Watching, I realized that they were displaying information about the people who put them up, like, for me, as example. Each black square was giving out vital signs about different body functions, is how it first appeared. Most accepted that but I saw that some were just displaying dates, but not in the usual format. Pressing the dated squares showed me events from that day. As I did that, I began understanding that the white letters and numbers gave information about what was embedded and contained codes and patterns.

Assimilating this, I began excitedly talking about my realizations. Other people were disinterested, dismissing the squares. But I grasped that the squares’ functions were actually based on their relationship and placement with each other. Calling them indicators, I started telling people, “Don’t you see? If you can go back and find the right indicators for yourself, you can know your full history. Not only that, but it can also show the future for each of us.”

Moving the squares around showed me that I was right. Pressing back against the crowd, I tried to go back to the buckets to look for better black squares.

Dream end.

Mundaz Theme Music

Summer sensations still regale Ashlandia. 65 F when my eyes met the day, sunshine and blue skies were saying hello. Wind is thrashing like a disjointed washing machine but the temperature is credited with a chance to hit 80 F today. 82 F was seen at my place yesterday, and Papi took full advantage of it to soak in warm sun. For the tape, this is Munda, October 6, 2025.

Went this morning to have blood drawn after overnight fasting. Routine check, ordered months ago. Long line for people at the lab but they were quick, efficient, and friendly. I was soon seen but the tech couldn’t get out of blood of me! She called for backup, as she put it, and blood was found.

News from my POV seems oddly slow and stilted for a Munda. I think it’s because Trump is pulling another TACO act and hiding out from criticism and rulings against him. Part of this might also be because he’s physically and mentally failing in multiple ways, and it’s becoming more greatly exposed each time a camera or microphone finds him. Amazing how the military isn’t being paid; he reassures them, don’t worry about it. Great empathy, once again! I hear he did have another meltdown about being unappreciated and misunderstood, going on a poor little rich TACO once again. Poor little man baby.

The Epstein Shutdown continues without change. GOP left D.C. with a shrug and refuse to negotiate with the Democrats. The GOP sputtering, mewing blame game is weakening. The majority of voters polled said, “This is on Trump and the GOP.” Firm Trumpheads still insist it’s on the Democrats but they’re stay as fact resistant as Trump and speak from an alternate reality that echos with NAZI and imperial white supremacy tones.

Cowardly Trump and the spineless GOP really don’t want to the Epstein files released. They’d rather break the nation and destroy the economy before they let us see what those files have on Donald J. Trump.

Today’s song was put into the morning mental stream out of reflections about plans to visit Mom and family. As part of that, I thought, see some family, good for the soul. Resonating with Der Neurons, they dialed up Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band. Into the MMMS flowed “Hollywood Nights”. Remember, Bob sings, “See some old friends, good for the soul.” And there’s Les Neurons’ connection.

Then, new from Mom’s was texted in. Mom reported hearing a loud crash and several thumps. She knew her BF, Frank, had gone upstairs and concluded that he’d fallen. Mom called for an ambulance and texted my sister. Sis arrived in time to see the ambulance taking Frank away. We’re guessing from evidence that Frank had used the toilet and was undressing from his pajamas when he lost balance and fell down the stairs. Mom has a gallery of family photos along the lower part of the wall. Half were knocked off. Newest text report just arrived from sis.

It’s not good news about Frank. He broke several ribs on both sides. He fractured his hip. The one that was replaced. They’re going to call his operative doctor to ask him what he wants to do about that. I can’t think of his name. they aren’t gonna do anything about the ribs, cause there is nothing to do but let them heal. Also, his heart was out of rhythm when he got there and told him he had chest pains last night and took some nitroglycerin, but never told mom.

Frank is 95.

He’s in my thoughts and worries now, along with Mom. Peace and grace to all of us. Now, off for coffee. Have a dental appointment in three hours. Hope you have a great day. Cheers

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