Category: Thinking, thinking

Fridaz Theme Music

Chill morning it is on 29 August, 2025, Frida. 59 F at my house. Worry not: blue sky mildly scored with white haze and a climbing sun promise we’ll be in the 90s F before the sun finishes its daily mission.

We went a-bluesing last night. A place called Revolution Wine Co. hosted a blues group called The Brisbane Project.

“Where’s that?” my wife asked.

“Who are they?” I asked.

Someone had dropped the info on my Facey page. Research was chased. Puzzlement ensued. “Revolution seems to be down on the corner of A and Oak,” I said. My wife and I hadn’t been to that area in yonks. We reminisced about the location and what used to be there. ‘Used to be’ are some of our favorite words. We also talked about Brisbane and Revolution to friends. None were familiar with either. We talked about it, bought $10 tickets, and headed to the show. Well, BP did an awesome job. The power trio offered us some excellent ZZ Top, Stevie Ray Vaughn, BB King covers, among others, along with some original, impressive blues tunes. Running from 6:30 to 9:00 in the P, this was well-spent time. Most noteworthy covers were “Voodoo Chile”, “Jesus Left Chicago”, and “La Grange”.

As Papi and I checked out the stars last night, we agreed that today should be a blues day. Something to shake our souls. The Neurons stayed rarely mute on the subject. After some shame casting, they finally brought up Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa into the morning mental music stream with “I Wanna Know You”.

Gritting my teeth now, I note that our ‘august President’ is at it again. The man, one Donald J. Trump, can’t help but lie and crow with imaginary success. His brain-dead sycophants don’t help by showing him with adulation. They love to claim that he’s the most amazing, beautiful, healthy, and wonderful president ever. Logic, facts, history, truth — things that are MAGA and GOP Kryptonite — prove that’s Trump is none of the things they say. Doesn’t stop any of them. In his latest ‘gaffe’, as the press politely labels them, Trump claimed to stop ten wars. While unable to name them all, he did give birth to a nation, The Republic of Condo. Dunce Donald kept on with it though, undeterred by the stunned gazes on people listening to him, because nobody ever tells Donald the truth. He goes on the attack when they do, firing people for presenting correct information, calling the people and their questions nasty and ugly, and generally verbally assaulting and bullying them. His admirers think that makes him ‘strong’. We know it reveals that he’s an insecure coward.

On the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s appalling destruction of New Orleans, another news outlet reports about the Trump Regime’s cuts to programs which provide data critical to weather forecasting. As we see too often, PINO Trump thinks he’s taking the nation a step forward while leaping backward. ‘Drastic’: Life-saving California weather forecast data is about to disappear. It’s like claiming you’re saving money by leaving doors and windows off your house. You might save a dollar now, but such short-sighted moves cost magnitudes more later.

Hope peace and grace find their way to you. Coffee is providing The Neurons a pep talk as I type. Time to go crack this egg. Cheers

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Sprigs of Democracy

Grand Juries Refused to Indict These Ham Sandwiches—and Other Sprigs of Democracy This Week…

Annie shares some encouraging stories which might be developing into a trend. I have another Item (or two) to add to her list.

Item:

Republicans are learning that their constituents are not happy with Trump. The general warning being circulated around Republican centers of power is, don’t meet the voters face to face. Do it remotely, by Zoom, if possible. Because voters are mad and vocal. The Daily Beast reports that Ohio Rep. Warren Davidson was repeatedly shouted down and challenged when he recently bucked that advice and held a town hall meeting in Ohio.

Janna Brancolini reports, Republican Hit With Furious Boos at Town Hall Disaster in JD Vance’s Backyard

“A U.S. representative from Ohio became the latest Republican to be heckled into silence during a disastrous town hall held just miles from where Vice President JD Vance grew up.“

“More than 500 people attended a rare town hall on Wednesday hosted by Rep. Warren Davidson in rural Trenton, Ohio, about five miles from the town of Middletown, which Vance immortalized in the memoir that catapulted him onto the national stage, Hillbilly Elegy.”

A self-professed Libertarian, Rep. Davidson could not explain how his small government views aligned with Trump’s growing police state, established by sending in National Guard units to ‘patrol’. The states and cities where he’s sending them did not ask for these troops and do not want them. With little crime to battle, the troops have been used to spread mulch and pick up trash. That’s not a good use for troops, especially at an estimated cost of S1,000,000 per day in our capitol. That will not reduce the budget deficit, as Trump has so frequently promised to do.

Item:

Donald Trump is even running away from his One Big Beautiful Bill’s impact and is struggling to change the narrative. Several media sites report that he announced that he would no longer refer to his One Big Beautiful Bill by that title any longer. He insists, that was just to sell it. As more critical observers note, it was never one big, beautiful bill, but a grotesque offering masquerading as something useful. The bill has not been popular with U.S. voters. As the truth about it seeps out, the bill is becoming less popular. Trump likes to insist that it’s a huge middle-class tax cut. Fact checkers such as PolitiFact note that’s an inaccurate description and rate Trump’s claim as “Mostly False”.

“For most families, they are going to see a child tax credit that increases by a maximum of $200 per child — from $2,000 to $2,200,” said Margot Crandall-Hollick, principal research associate at the Tax Policy Center. “Some are going to pay a little less because of the tips and overtime provisions and a slightly higher standard deduction.” 

“The law preserves a more generous standard deduction that had been set to expire and increases it slightly to $15,750 for single filers and $31,500 for joint filers in 2025, to be indexed to inflation annually.”

“At the same time, Crandall-Hollick said, some families, especially those with lower incomes, will  pay higher taxes because of the expiration of health insurance premium tax credits, which were not extended by the Big Beautiful Bill.”

Acting with predictable behavior, Trump is trying to rebrand his miserable bill and cast it in a more favorable light. However, with many Republican Senators themselves complaining about the bill’s impact on Medicaid, changing the subject won’t be easily done. Too many voters are personally running into the One Big Beautiful Bill’s chainsaw effects. U.S. voters do not forgive and forget when they’re personally affected.

I’ll close with Annie’s summary and reminder.

“I hope you see the pattern here. We the People are the ultimate guardrail against the would-be dictator and his acolytes–as jurors, as voters, as concerned citizens insisting that our legislators act responsibly and urgently in behalf of the Constitution and the greater good.“

“Call 202-224-3121 and asked to be transferred to your senators and representative.“

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

Today is Thirstda, August 28, 2025. We awoke to a pleasant 65 F. A cloud regatta keeps the sky from being blue and free. 96 F is expected today.

After dreaming about having a new kitten, I got up and faced a new challenge: remembering who was in the Partridge Family. The Patridge Family was an American pop singing group and television sitcom.

I owe this AM conundrum to an exchange during Mexican Train on Saturday night. Someone said something about getting happy. It was late. We were giddy by then. That’s when we have the most fun. Usually, we play off words and sing songs. Hilarity ensues. But in parallel, we’d been pursuing 1960s pop culture trivia. I asked our group, “Who sang, ‘Come On, Get Happy’?” None remembered the song, forcing me to sing it. None still remembered, so I played found a Youtube video of it. Now I pass it on to you.

Except, The Neurons were hijacked by The Go-Go’s, “Our Lips Are Sealed”. That video followed the other. I found the 1981 offering more interesting. I remember watching that video in some club on Okinawa, where I was assigned to Kadena Air Base from May of 81 through the end of 84.

My wife and I mentioned the Mexican Train game to multiple people. Many were familiar with it. One friend said she hated it but never explained why. She’s a very controlling individual who likes order, so I suspect the game’s chaos might annoy her. That’s just my suspicion and I really want to hear her explanation.

One thing that’s offered here in Ashland is lithium water. One can drink it straight out of the fountain at Lithia Park’s entrance. I mention this because we discussed the value of lithium in treating dementia last night. One individual said, “All we need to do is take a sip out of the fountain every day.” Another responded, “But that water tastes like wet farts.”

I read an excellent Mother Jones article today: The Brain Rot Cabinet. As the article points out, Trump’s cabinet are deeply invested in wild and unproven conspiracies. What’s important to Trump is that they share his values and are obedient lapdogs. They will do nothing good for the nation nor the world. Meanwhile, all those of us still anchored to reality can do is grit our teeth and resist.

Representative Ashley Hinson (Iowa, MAGA) got an earful when she tried convincing her constituents that the Big Beautiful Bill was wonderful, claiming it raised wages and improved the cost of living. We the People in Iowa weren’t having it. According to an article in The New Republic (via Yahoo), people shouted back objections.

“Higher wages?” shouted one woman incredulously. “For who? For you?”

“Cost of living is higher than it’s ever been,” another woman said.

“You are a fraud,” a constituent shouted at her at the time.

I only hope more wake up, stand up, shout back, fight back, and resist.

Coffee has made a controlled landing into my system once again. I hope peace and grace shadows you in all your endeavors today. Here we go, one more time. Cheers

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Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

Let me tell you about the pants.

First, I’ll tell you about my typical summer wardrobe.

But first, a side path.

The side path is that I suffer from edema. Maybe it’s the lymphatic flavor. Medicos are out about the source and cause. Addressing it means I wear knee-high support hose. They work, help, however you want to put it. However, I’m a vain guy and don’t want to be seen wearing them outdoors.

My standard summer clothing choice since I was a small child are short pants, or shorts. I’m not going out in them while wearing my support house. I’ve seen folks out there in that combo. I admire their courage. Did I mention that I’m vain?

All this means I had a new challenge: what to wear when the sunshine and air conspire to push temperatures into the 80s, 90s, and 100s, as happens here in Ashlandia in the months between May and October. Jeans do not work for me. They feel hot, sweaty, and constricting.

My wife said, “You should wear joggers.”

Suspicions roused themselves. What was that? Joggers? I know what they are. I’ve seen young people in them. And women wear them. I’m not a young person or a woman. However…

I began sniffing around joggers. Looking for garments which will meet my needs. There are men’s joggers out there, but they often lack pockets. I like having pockets, especially those of the pouch type on my front thigh, where I can safely and comfortably deposit my wallet.

My search culminated at Costco. There, as if in answer to my hopes, were Wrangler Men’s Tech Pants. Made of synthetics, they met all my other needs, and were priced to move at $22. I put them into the cart and tried them on at home.

They fit. They’re comfortable. And they look good without attracting attention. I am not fond of attraction.

After wearing the black ones for a few days, I purchased them in grey and khaki. My vanity is appeased, and my wife is pleased with my appearance. All in all, a small win-win for me.

2

The Haunting

Just ‘Cause

One must see this! Attribution is still unknown.

Donald Trump’s hand, and his secret shame, where Jeffrey Epstein keeps showing up. “Out, out, damn spot,” Trump has been heard to shout with a mouth full of burger.
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Wenzdaz Theme Music

Today’s music was almost “Smoke on the Water”. After a day that peaked at 93 F, clouds swollen with thunder and lightning climbed over the mountains to fill our valley last night. At one point, smoke coiled out from the pass north of us and hustled down the street, congregating in the valley like a well-organized demonstration. After a recce, I came in and told my wife, “It sounds like the drum section of a drum and bugle corps is marching down the street.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand what that means.”

“It means there’s a lot of thunder out there. Sounds like drumming.”

“Oh. I got you.”

The smoke surrendered, though. I never did learn a source.

Today is Wenzda, August 27, 2025. 84 F, a hazy blue sky hosts lurking cumulo thingies. Gonna get to the mid 90s F again. Thunderstorms are on the menu, but they sometimes run out before their time here. We’ll see how it flows.

Papi the ginger master of all he surveys doesn’t appreciate thunderstorms. They’re loud and ominous. He goes into the master bath to outwait them. After their passing, he heads back out to his floofdom. A bit south of midnight, cat singing commences. I go out to see Papi chatting up a black and white tux. The tux is dismissive of Papi. I’ve seen this one before. They weren’t real concerned. I asked, “What’s your name?”

That suggested a song to The Neurons. “What’s Your Name”, a 1977 southern rocker by Lynyrd Skynyrd, was pushed into the morning mental music stream. I protested to Les Neurons that the song refers to a ‘little girl’ who is a groupie. This tux was not anyone’s groupie. Being as obstinate as granite, The Neurons dismissed this objection faster than the Roberts Court rules in favor of the Trump Regime.

I’m encouraged by arguments rising out of Iowa. Democrat Catelin Drey defeated a Republican by 10 points in a state legislative contest. Okay, good news, but it’s too early for me to celebrate its significance too much. Trump still rules MAGALand and can do no wrong in their estimate. Much of what he’s doing, declaring that he’s the president and can do whatever he wants, is gut-wrenching to hear. Checking polls, many GOPers are quite happy with his declaration, continuing to support and cheer him on.

Meanwhile, much of his activities reminds me of the U.S.S.R. under Joe Stalin. Stalin’s means of governing involved one party and a police state. Stalin established purges based on his declarations that those he purged were ‘enemies of the state’ and ethnic cleansing through deportations. Any of this beginning to ring any bells when thinking about Trump’s efforts to control the media, imprison enemies, send the national guard out as a police force, and ICE disappearing people off the streets?

MAGAs and the GOP will never recognize or acknowledge any of this for the most part. They’re firmly in the ‘means justifies the ends’ corner, even if that means disavowing all the principles, tenets, and checks and balances our founders established when the United States became a nation. What is also distressing is listening and watching while so much of the established media downplays events. It seems like they fear Trump’s retribution to the point that they’re making themselves more and more irrelevant.

Well, coffee has arrived in the system. I hope peace and grace gang up and reward you with a beautiful day. Time to go write like crazy, at least one. More. Time. Cheers

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Twozdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

Listen to this. This video presents us with the results of a beautiful, beautiful mind at work, probably one of the greatest minds ever, communicating as only it can, delivering such beautiful words. It’s probably, and I don’t offer this lightly, no, I do not, but this is probably one of the greatest Offal Office demonstrations of thinking and speaking ever made in the history of the entire world, in the history of the entire universe.

PINO TACO is speaking on the matter of burning the U.S. flag. His grasp of history and rhetoric is so beautiful, it’s amazing. If I was there, I would tell him, “Mister President, that is one of the greatest and most beautiful speeches I’ve ever heard.”

Well, except, of course, in a pre-school class. I have heard pre-school children make more sense and do it more beautifully. Many children just learning to speak make more beautiful speeches asking for a glass of water. They make more sense and enunciate more clearly than this blithering dolt in the Offal Office.

When it comes to speaking, Donald Trump is not John F. Kennedy. Nor is he Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, or Abraham Lincoln. He will never be known as a great thinker. Nor will he ever be known as a great orator. He will, as this speech demonstrates, be perpetually derided and ridiculed as a bumbling bloviator except for the legions who pucker up and bend over to kiss his ass.

Oh, BTW, shortly after Trump fumbled through his wilted thought salad, someone burned a U.S. flag. The person was arrested for starting a fire, but not for burning the flag.

Protester Sets Flag Ablaze Outside White House Hours After Trump’s Order

No riots were reported. Of course not. TACO was lying.

As usual.

6

Choices

Maurice was the new man. Looked like his birth gender might have been different. Or maybe he was just a beautiful man with some exquisite feminine elements. Either way stirred me into intrigue.

He glided us through the identification protocols. I played nice. The others punish you if you don’t play nice. Outside of this establishment, they’ll pound you until death gives you a smile unless you play nice. Death and I played tonguesies a few times before that lesson found a way through my paywall.

Now to business, Maurice orchestrated a beautiful smile my way. Wonder if all those beaming white chicklets were real and natural. Such aquamarine eyes, too. Wars nicely with the glass-smooth mocha skin. Ah, to be wrinkle free. Like that matters to such as me.

“You have two outstanding attributes which might be available to you, Mickey,” Maurice purred. My mind surfed a mental register of attributes and awaited further info. “Invisibility and timetravel are both possible for you, but only one or the other.”

My mind jumped, flipped, and twirled like Simone Biles. Invisibility is the second-least attribute found in people. Time travel is queen of the rarest. No wonder pretty Maurice was here chatting me up. “Wow,” I said like a hayseed blown in on the wind. “I’d like being them.”

A professionally contrite expression landed on Maurice’s beauty. “I’m afraid that you can only be one or the other.”

“Oh.” I poured sadness into my gaze. “That’s a bummer. I thought it’d be so great to be an invisible timetraveller. Just think of the fun.”

“Yes, the opportunities which present do boggle the mind.”

LOL. Only salespeople talk like that.

Maurice ran me the drawbacks and bennies the program provides with those attributes. I made noises and expressions like I paid extreme attention and contained excited interest. I knew from farm skuttle that every attribute has drawbacks. As Maurice delicately phrased it, “Time travel unfortunately damages the cerebral cortex, amygdala, and hippocampi. Being invisible shreds muscle mass and does nerve damage.” He went on with greater clinical details without graphic explanation about how long it generally takes to do these things to people with those attributes.

My mind had already harvested those details and was racing through previously exercised pros and cons in the two choices, searching for the answer, which attribute will be the Amazon Prime delivering my freedom? My shackled co-inhabitants in the farm all punched in with seasoned reasoning about the attributes and freedom. We did it with all the attributes. Nightly ritual. No matter, as Daisychain always said as the bottom line, “You might think you’ll get out, but they will bring you back.”

Someone always put in the addendum, “Or kill you.”

We always laughed with deathly glee. Like being killed was terrible.

Yes, we were ignorant about how terrible things could be in the Farm. We didn’t know that they protected us from knowing.

So, like others, thinking myself more cunning than our masters, I answered Maurice’s ultimate query with suitably guarded hope, kidding myself that they didn’t see right through it.

“I’ll go for timetravel.”

Because I didn’t know that, yes, there are people who can both timetravel and be invisible.

They were the ones who began the program.

I was soon to meet them.

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Twozdaz Theme Music

We’re back home. Vacation is over. Taps was played at midnight to signify the last vacay day was done.

My wife reports she had a great bath and great night’s sleep. She prefers her own fixtures and bed. I slept well at both places. This place is far noisier. By 8 AM, garbage trucks, lawn equipment, and woodchippers were eagerly stressing the silence with their grinding, whirling, and groaning. I heard people walking by on the street speaking. One told her friend about their other friend’s birthday. Another woman was on her cell telling the neighborhood that her car was in the shop and needed a new starter, with additional complaints about this car, a Honda Civic. Airplanes, probably looking for lightning fires, droned overhead. Dogs and crows kept up commentary. Maybe my wife missed all the noise.

Hearing my wife speak about me, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I slept well. From her tales, my superpower is the ability to sleep anywhere, through anything.

It’s now Twozda. We’ll be lowering the flag on another month of 2025 soon, as this is August 26, 2025. It’ll be in the upper 90s here in Ashlandia.

I wish we were lowering the flag on Trump and his administration. The Offal Office dunce keeps displaying his tyrannical streak and wide-ranging ignorance. He can speak ignorantly about everything and anything, doing so eagerly and willingly at every fart of the wind. States have no rights unless they fall in line with his corkscrew thinking. In his latest attacks on our checks and balances, he and his administration sued judges because they keep ruling against him. This, according to them, is bad, because he is the POTUS. Man, that sickens and shames me to write that. Had to swallow some breakfast back down. The way he acts and from his representatives’ speech, they lack interest or comprehension in the three branches of the Federal government. Trump as POTUS is the only Federal office, and Trump as POTUS is the only person with any skills or leadership, to hear them tell it. To the rest of us, he has no skills, and his leadership is like a turd swirling down the toilet’s throat when the commode is flushed.

Papi the magnificent ginger boi who graces me with his presence cheered me up this AM. Chirps and purrs were exchanged with treats and petting. What a sweetheart. I credit him with setting me right and reminding me to live in the moment. The reminder stirred The Neurons to dig into their chambers and pull up a 2018 song by Portugal. The Man called “Live in the Moment”. As it played in the morning mental music stream, I pet my boi and sang along to him. He quickly bored of this and crossed the room to settle down and watch me from a more comfortable distance.

Coffee has restored me to the moment. Hope grace and peace feed your moments today and every day. Here we go again. Cheers

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