Category: Uncategorized

Tuesday’s Theme Music: Disruptions

Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, March 10, 2026.

Cloudy and 39F outside, dry with a high of 52 F projected.

This post is mostly about me and Mom. Pings erupted in the middle of the night. Mom had launched a text blitz, and the sisters were sharing and discussing them. I read many and saw it basically as the same old, same old on every front. One sister had helped Mom by picking things up at her house; another had responded, telling Mom that she’d created this living situation mess.

Meanwhile, searching for info and thinking late last night, I hunted for more about Heritage Grove, the assisted living facility where Mom now lives. I found this photo on their Facebook page. That’s Mom, the 90 year-old in the front left in pink in the ‘drive’ wheelchair. She’d won a Snickers bar at bingo.

Returning to sleep after the text barrage was a challenge. I finally slept but awoke when I thought I heard a man saying, “There’s a fire.” There was no man there and the house was silent. I rose, though, and walked through the house, trying to see if I smelled smoke or saw sparks or flames. Then back to bed, back to sleep, but ended up getting up late. Just eating breakfast now, 10:30, two hours late. Bah, humbug.

While I was awake in the night, I thought about yesterday’s news.

Trump urges Australia to give Iran’s Asian Cup players asylum

The story quoted Trump saying on Truth social, “Australia is making a terrible humanitarian mistake by allowing the Iran National Woman’s Soccer team to be forced back to Iran, where they will most likely be killed.”

Damn it, the only people he’s fooling are his unthinking supporters and the uninformed. This is the same person who has Homeland Security and ICE rounding people up and sending them anywhere he could get away with sending them, without one damn thought about whether they’d be killed. In the process of rounding up people and shipping them out, people were actually and being killed. And Trump always, always blamed the victims, labeling them as domestic terrorists, criminals, or thugs.

U.S. Deports Planeload of Iranians After Deal With Tehran, Officials Say

The NYTimes headline was from last October. Since then, the Iranian government killed thousands of people. And, were any of those people Trump flew back to Iran in 2025 killed when Trump bombed them in 2026?

It all has me shaking my head.

Which carries me into theme song territory. The Neurons came up with “Helen Wheels.” To which I responded, what?

The Paul McCartney & Wings song is about Paul’s Land Rover and driving around. How did it fit into my mind?

Well, it hinged on two salient aspects: “Ain’t nobody else gonna know the way she feels.” And yep, that’s Mom and life with Mom at this point. It’s a mystery. And the other part is the long-sigh “bye buh” I feel toward what’s happening with Mom, especially with my sisters.

The upbeat song feels like it’s driving me forward, pulling me off the night’s inertia.

I hope your day is going well, wherever you are, whatever you doing. May peace and grace nestle up against your efforts and help you move forward.

Cheers

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Floofstalgia

Floofstalgia (floofinition) – 1. Emotional distress caused by worry about an animal. Origins: 2005 article, “Floofstalgia: a new concept in human and animal anxiety”.

In Use: “Brenda didn’t see Murder M, automatically triggering floofstallgia because this was not like Murder M at all.”

2. Fond reflections about a previously known animal.

In Use: “While searching for a pen, Wade discovered the purple collar Bella used to wear, soaking him with floofstalgia.”

3. Yearning for a time before living with animals, especially housepets.

In Use: “Sweeping up pet fur after cleaning up food bowls, floofstalgia raged in Carey — cleaning wasn’t as time consuming when she didn’t have pets!”

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A Meeting & A Wedding Dream

Dreamed I was at a fancy business dinner. Large, round white tables set across a ballroom, bar in the corner. I’d just arrived and set up was underway. Two of my previous bosses were there. The fete was due to begin in an hour or so.

Participants, including me, had been asked to create some entertainment. I’d created a word jumble. Then my former boss said, “And please provide an answer sheet.”

Uh oh. I hadn’t created that. I went to get the notebook where I’d made it, knowing that I used one of those black and white lab notebooks that I always favored. I’d thrown it away because the notebook was full. I went to a gray, wheeled, large garbage cans sitting there and began going through the trash. People asked me to explain. I reluctantly did, with a grin, and was met with sympathy.

One unfamiliar elderly woman came by and said, “I know what you’re going through. I’ve done that.”

Shrugging, I replied, “If I can’t find it, I’ll just have to solve the jumble.”

Dad was there, putting silverware on tables. He said, “Maybe you used one of these notebooks, Michael.”

I knew I hadn’t because the ones he showed me weren’t the right kind. But I said, “Good idea, I’ll check.” And made a show of checking a few.

That dream segment ended. Another began.

I went to a counter crowded with product and was a little confused. My wife was there, along with several others, including a man behind a counter. I learned they were talking about my hair! Some products had been ordered and had arrived.

I had my own things to do/try for my hair, here and back home, so I was a little puzzled and annoyed. My wife said, “Everyone wants you to look pretty for the wedding.” I think I dimly knew a sister was getting married but didn’t know who.

The man wanted me to try the products. I wanted him to back off but didn’t say anything. I suggested, “Let me brush my hair so we can see what it looks like first.”

I didn’t have a brush, mirror, or comb, so I used my hands, and then asked my wife, “How does this look?”

She hemmed and hawed, not able to decide, which vexed me.

Dream end.

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The Morning eMail

My wife heaved a sigh. She’d just come into the home office with her tea and settled down on her computer to check her email.

“My NYTimes is again in my junk folder, along with Ashland News,” she announced. “Two pieces of junk mail are in my inbox.”

“It’s probably the AI that’s supposed to be so helpful,” I answer. She laughs.

Complaints about her emails have been going all week. She uses Hotmail, which is now Outlook. Or maybe it’s the other way. Whatever you call it, she’s displeased with its performance. Every day, she has to check to see where her trusted emails have gone and delete the spam that now hits her inbox. As a product, the Hotmail/Outlook app seems to be going backwards.

It’s not consistent, either. It first started with her saying last Monday, “I didn’t get my NYTimes newsletter.” Then she said, “I found it in my junk mail.” That continued for several days before it went back to her inbox. That’s when Ashland News went to junk mail.

“I don’t understand,” my wife said. “Why is it doing this?”

A search of the net suggests many ways to try to fix this problem. None of them mentioned why the problem began. I decided to use AI to see what it said. ChatGPT blamed new adaptive AI which Microsoft introduced last year.

I passed that on to my wife, who laughed. “Great. AI is screwing up my email. What a perfect metaphor.”

I laughed, too. “I don’t know how much I trust of what one AI says about the other. It’s like wondering, what does your wife think of your girlfriend?”

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Worth Repeating — and Remembering

Judge Biery ordered the release of 5-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos and his father Adrian were ordered released from the Dilley, Texas, immigration last month. In his opinion, he cites Thomas Jefferson’s words from the Declaration of Independence.

Those grievances are worth remembering as Trump continues to deploy National Guard units and ICE into U.S. cities in 2026 — 250 years after Thomas Jefferson penned his list of grievances against mad King George.

No Kings. Not in 1776, not in 2026.

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

We attended a musical show in Talent last Sunday. The woman beside me started chatting during intermission. Eventually, she asked, “Where do you live?”

“Ashland. And you?”

“Ashland. I moved here in 1976. When did you move to Ashland?”

“Over twenty years ago.”

“Really? A town this size, I meet many people but I don’t recall seeing you before.”

I smiled. “Well, we’re southies. We live on the southern end.”

“Southies.” She laughed. “I like that. Yes, I’m on the northwestern end of town.”

The show resumed. I wondered where she did her grocery shopping. Ashland is unofficially divided into the center, north, and south. North Ashland doesn’t have a grocery store. The south is the town’s newest area and offers five stores. A small Safeway is the only store in the center.

Townies who have lived here a while seem to go to Medford for their shopping needs, especially WinCo. From conversations, it seems like the southern stores — Market of Choice, Shop N Kart, Albertson’s, BiMart, and Grocery Outlet — haven’t been there ‘that long’. In fact, old timers often regale us with what ‘used to be there’ and how they loved those previous places.

I didn’t get a chance to ask my new friend where she shopped, but I’ll be sure to take it up with her, next time I run into her.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

February 7, 2026. Ashland greets me and Saturday with overcast skies and 47 F. Yes, will it rain, snow? Not cold enough for the latter, it’s been a month since significant rain fell.

Today’s high will be in the mid-fifties and precipitation isn’t forecast for today. A Facebook graphic (posted at the bottom) gives visuals to our worries. We keep reminding ourselves, it’s still only February.

Playing with dreams, interacting with Papi, reading the news, and waiting for updates from sis occupies my morning. Papi remains a positive, casual spirit, slipping by my legs in an orange-fur kiss. Dreams are erotic and intriguing.

The news, ah. I enjoy reviews of how insipid the “Melania” documentary seems. Emerging as a vehicle to support Trump’s spin that Melania is so smart and interesting, the quotes and stills reminds me of how flat and empty she always appears.

The documentary set a record for opening day box office receipts for that category. Anecdotally, the theaters have been almost empty. Online, Rotten Tomatoes is a perfect metaphor for this era, critics there granting the movie an 8% approval while ‘audiences’ give it 99%.

That’s so perfectly aligned with this era.

Over in life with Mom, Mom is going through another breakdown. Sis recorded one of the conversations she and Mom had, when sis delivered Mom dinner.

Mom refused to eat and kept telling sis, “You’re not the boss of me.” The split arose because a nurse is coming to see Mom. Mom wanted more time to get ready but Sis works and had to be there to meet the nurse and let her in. Mom needed more time because she wants to hide her medication collection and clean herself up. Mom also accused sis of poisoning her.

Sis couldn’t change plans. Mom spent the night crying and moaning, “I don’t want to be here,” curling up at 6:30 this morning to go to sleep. The nurse was due at 10. The appointment should have taken place; I’m awaiting reports.

In reporting, though, I’ve noticed subtle shifts in sis’s attitude towards Mom. She’s become more reflective, tolerant, and patience.

UPDATE: Sis explained all to the nurse and suggested it sounds like — drum roll — dementia. It was an anti-climatic moment. She suggested Mom needs to see a neurologist. Also — Mom may have a UTI. That wouldn’t be a surprise.

I end up with “Heaven” by the Talking Heads in my morning mental music stream, a quiet little song about a place everyone wants to reach, where they do — nothing but chill. Relax. And like that, The Neurons summon Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Hah!

Hope your day is joyous, and satisfying to you in meaningful ways. I’ll take what I can get, here and now, and try to move on to something better.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Today is January 24, 2026.

Saturday came to Ashland dressed in the same weather that Friday wore. Coldish but clear, with sources reporting 36 to 46 degrees F in Ashland, with blue skies. We no longer have a stagnant air advisory and the high will be in the 50s.

As I watch the storm developing in the eastern U.S., I realize that I’ve taken on a new life as a tracker. My tracking life is an old life, but just freshly understood — tracking weather, prices, people’s health along with their moods and situations, and politics.

Sis reports what’s up with Mom, which is mostly moods and mental issues. The truth is, Mom’s issues made co-existing with her a struggle, no matter who it is. A sad trend, sure, but we’ve seen this happening for years. When her boyfriend, Frank, was alive, she complained about him, accusing the 95-year-old of being mean, cheating on her, and secretly plotting and planning unnamed things.

Mom’s prescriptions and credit cards are now the issue. Mom insists she doesn’t have a co-pay; she does until she maxes her deductible. Her credit card was blocked because Frank’s name was on it, too, and his family tried closing it. Sis reports daily rounds about the co-pay and credit cards. Mom is furious with sis because sis argues back and has the receipts, which shows what’s going on. Mom ends with telling sis that sis is being mean — just as Mom used to say about Frank.

As for politics…

Trump requires heavy tracking energy, as that meme shows. His logic defies logic, his history defies history, and his facts defy the truth. That shifts heavy lifting to those aware of these things — tracking them. We know the real story when he says that prescription drugs will be 1,000% (or more) lower or that he’s stopped hundreds of wars and saved millions of lives. We live the truth that the economy and the deficit are not rosy, as he declares.

The Davos show was interesting. According to some reports, he was expected to make an announcement about using 401(k)s to buy houses. But he never mentioned that, instead focusing on himself and disparaging the rest of the world, particularly our allies. Speaking in Switzerland, he said that we’d all be speaking German, if not for the United States, another testament to his vast wasteland of broken understanding.

So much of this places me in a waiting stage, waiting to see what happens with Mom, the economy, politics, the weather, and our life. I’d selected “Wind of Change” by the Scorpions as today’s theme music. It plays in my morning mental music stream, an homage to Francis Buchholz, the group’s bassist who recently died. Written in the USSR during perestroika, the song reflects the sense of change in the nation as realization arrived, the cold war is ending.

Look at the song’s lyrics:

The world is closing in, and did you ever think
That we could be so close like brothers?
The future’s in the air, I can feel it everywhere
I’m blowing with the wind of change

Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away (dream away)
In the wind of change

It’s about moods, expectations, and how they impact us. That’s why I think it perfect for today.

Stay warm, be safe, and keep tracking what matters to you. May the day bring you grace and peace. Cheers

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The Writing Moment

Standing and stretching from my coffee-shop table, I said, “Hi, Kim.”

Hair red as a cardinal catching attention, Kim grinned. My coffee-house writing friend. Three novels out there and counting.

“Hey, Michael. You leaving?”

“Yes, the table is yours if you want. It served me well.”

We laughed. I was giving up the corner table, the best for writing, offering comfort, privacy, and stability. Certain tables rock when typing. Precious as we are, the rocking disrupts needed writing rhythm.

Kim went on, pointing over her shoulder, “I was over there but that table is just too low. It makes my back and neck hurt.”

A grin overtook my face. She was as particular as me. “I know! It really makes it hard when you’re hunkering down for a two to three hours.”

Packing up my gear, I vacated the space. She swept in. “Happy writing,” I offered, then went on with a smile.

It was a good writing day for me. Hope it’s a good one for her, too — though, with that table and her talents, it’s bound to be.

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Wenzdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

Wenzda finds me in a cheerful mood after reading some news.

Slop is the word of the year. The slop and state of the U.S. reminds me of the early Nazi efforts, back in the early 1930s. The German Nationalist party was still calling themselves socialists while attacking unions and communists, trying to get a grip on the population’s support. That grip finally came when the economic situation became dire. With employment hemorrhaging, unemployment rising, industry and trade faltering, prices rising, affordability decreasing, and shortages increasingly common, the NAZIs finally gained control. Patient and duplicitous, they were in it for the long haul.

This does remind me of now. Trump is a front. A distraction. His antics, nonsensical babble, tirades, and failing health give cover. His regime’s Project 2025 players feverishly work on making things worse behind the scenes. They push tariffs on Trump in the name of returning industry and economic power to the U.S. They’re bright enough to know that it’s really raising prices, reducing trade, decreasing tax revenues, while increasing the deficit.

This is all about manipulating the economy, which lets them manipulate consumers, which permits manipulation of voters. This is about making voters angry, desperate, and distrustful of the government, the media, and everyone else. This is about setting the stage for the next phase of their takeover.

They easily lie to Trump about what’s going on. They keep him in a bubble and feed him fake numbers. Trump, being the restless, self-centered, low-information guy who he is, easily swallows their lies. He wants and needs to believe it’s working because to combat his insecurity and the secret despair of how inferior he is. Information about his falling poll numbers is fed to him. He’s reminded that this is former President Biden‘s fault. That it’s fake news. That increases Trump’s frenzy and increases his distraction.

It’s well-established that when Trump gets more distracted and frenzied, he doesn’t calm down. He doesn’t step back to think. He spins up the crazy. Lying and cheating made him a ‘successful’ businessman. Spinning up the crazy got him a ‘reality’ show. Becoming crazier, and more openly hateful and sexist — telling it like it is — won him elections. Tacitly encouraged by his handlers, he’ll spin up to dangerously unstable levels.

Meanwhile, the Project 2025 folks will smile or look away. Let Trump go off and destroy himself. Go ahead, take down the GOP. Most Republican elected officials lack principles. They just want to remain in office. That keeps them relevant only in the minds of voters who don’t pay attention. Voters with short memories, little understanding of history, and less interest in thinking about it. They don’t want to think of themselves as dupes.

Trump’s handlers aren’t too concerned about the midterm elections or even 2028 POTUS elections. They give less than a fuck about the GOP and any ‘vision’ they might put forward. No, let them talk and strut. Just as we know who they are, so do the creators of Project 2025.

This is the long game. The serious right wingers, once called Neocons until that became tarnished and flailed, started their destabilization efforts in the United States long ago. Remember PNAC? PNAC wasn’t a failure. It did the job needed and was put to bed. Project 2025 is another step after PNAC and the Foreign Policy Initiative.

This is just the middle segment of the long game. They don’t have the right leader for the next phase. Not yet. They know it’s not JD Vance. Like Trump, Vance is easily manipulated, bent, and controlled. Like Trump, Vance is greedy and vain. But Vance lacks Trump’s charisma and oversized personality. He doesn’t lie and bloviate with Trump’s charm. Vance looks, smells, acts, and sounds like a snake oil hawker.

No, they need someone else. It wasn’t going to be Charlie Kirk. He was just riding on Trump’s coattails. Somewhere out there is Project 2025’s next leader to destroy the U.S.’s democratic republic and replace it with a white Christian fascist state run by oligarchs and true believers.

That leader could be a woman, a woman with charisma and charm, who can smile while lying and get everyone to laugh along with them, a woman who hates other women, who desires power because she’s morally bankrupt and needs attention to fill the many holes in her spirit. Basically, a female Trump.

Such a woman could speak to other woman and convince them that she should be the first female POTUS. She would deny Project 2025 — just as Trump did — and vow to restore the United States. She’ll fix the economy and restore dignity to the office and return rights to Americans. Then, in office, she’ll fill her cabinet with a new version of MAGA sycophants and play from a new edition of the latest update to Project 2025. Because remember, Project 2025 was written for now, the middle segment of their long con, to take advantage of POTUS 47’s availability and his staunch base.

The next phase is out there, waiting to be written and put in place. Unless we can do something about that AI slop and the disastrous Trump Effect on the United States being fostered by the Heritage Foundation and Project 2025.

And that must begin now.

No kings? Hell, no crazies. No NAZIs.

No slop.

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