Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
We have such classic Trump in action: confusion, lies, misdirection, and trying to blame others. In this case, his administration rolled out an illegal spending freeze. His administration wants to vet the programs the money is supporting to ensure it aligns with his ideology.
Not how it works. He and his administration know this. But in classic vengeful, sulking child fashion, play his way or he takes his ball and goes home and no one plays.
Execution, as it always is with a Trump endeavor, was sloppy and poorly vetted. It lacked details and was so broad, it froze money to hundreds of systems, programs, projects, and communities. All across the nation, the response by civic leaders in towns, states, churches, schools, and offices was, “What’s going on?”
The press reported this. This made Trump sad. Angry. From a NYT story:
During a bill signing at the White House on Wednesday, Mr. Trump cast blame on the media for the confusion. “We are merely looking at parts of the big bureaucracy where there has been tremendous waste and fraud and abuse,” he said.
Once again, Trump proposed that you trust him over your lyin’ eyes. Even if his goal was to look at “parts of the big bureaucracy where there has been tremendous waste and fraud and abuse,” that’s not how it’s done. Laws are not ignored. The will of the people are not ignored. Nor is the voice and role of Congress.
Likewise, Trump’s reaction to the air collision between an Army helicopter and a commercial airliner is blamed on others. Trump’s kneejerk reaction was that it was DEI. What? He couldn’t specify how, only that it’s ‘common sense’. Yeah, WTF are you smoking now?
Next, Trump tried blaming his predecessor, President Joe Biden. Never did he admit or accept that his chaotic actions could have contributed to the tragic accident. The fact that he fired 100 FAA officials in the last 11 days? No, surely that had no impact. Nor did the ‘resign’ offer he sent the air traffic controllers. Of course not, right? Just a week before, on January 22, 2025, Trump issued a fact sheet that flat-out lied.
Almost unbelievably, as a diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiative, the Biden FAA specifically recruited and hired individuals with “severe intellectual” disabilities, psychiatric issues, and complete paralysis over other individuals who sought to work for the FAA.
Common sense will tell you that such a ‘fact sheet’ probably did wonders for morale at the FAA.
But that’s Trump, lying, lawless, and reckless, self-identifying as a genuis when he’s just a bulllying cheat and con man who never accepts responsibility when things go wrong. Never has, never will.
He proves this every day, in every way.
Mood: freezincoffeevated
Ashlandia is sportin’ a frosty crazy frog mornin’. Fog greets our vision in all directions. Frosts offers greetings from the low plants and unpaved ground. Sunshine mingles with fog to inspire bleak graylight. Warmth is an alien suggestion. It’s up to 28 F here, a long way from promises of mostly cloudy sky with sunshine and a high of 50 F. We never crept anywhere near the forecasted claims yesterday as fog declared, “Nope, not leaving.”
I read Paul Krugman’s piece, “Voodoo, MAGA Style”, last night. Krugman covered Scott Bessent, Trump’s pick for Treasury secretary, and his magical thinking about how to change the economy.
Bessent is very much like Trump. Promises are made, details are vague. Dusting off the Wayback Machine, we can revisit Trump’s claim that he’ll build a wall, and that Mexico will pay for it. He’ll replace the ACA. Etc. I recommend you read Krugman’s post about Bessent’s declaration about how the economy will be changed. Because, like Trump’s vaporwords, there are no details, and the promises vanish, often with a defiant stance that goes, “I never said that. That’s a lie. Fake news.” No, I don’t expect Bessent to be different. Maybe, though, he’ll start selling Trump-branded gimmicks to improve the economy. That’s a Trump fave to make money. Natch, Trump will get a cut.
My wife’s exercise routines inspired The Neurons today. She sometimes plays “Head Heart” by Joel Corry and MNEK. Now it’s caught on in the morning mental music stream. Those of you familiar with the bouncy 2020 song will understand. To the rest, I warn you: it is catchy. It is a repeat song choice.
Coffee and I had a morning tryst. Hope your day goes in a satisfying way. Here’s the music. And away we go. Cheers
Brigfloofading (floofinition) Animals coordinating together to cause chaos or disrupt activities. Origins: Internet, 2021
In Use: “People forced to work at home often share net tales about brigfloofgading, when their housepets come together in mock combat to distract them from whatever they’re doing.”
Mood: dhilldown
We bounced into a misty Sunday. It’s 48 F, up from 38 F. Mist dominated the morning. Rain dropped for a while on this November day, then sunshine blasted through. Now it’s like mist from a walk-in freezer is rolling over us. This pattern cycles throughout the day.
It’s the 17th. We’re slinking toward December, the holidays, and the end of 2024.
The shifty weather has the cats floofboozled. Is it warm, is it dry, what’s going on? Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) tested it once. Papi has campaignd for a revolving door. Now both are in, dry, warm, napping.
Foot and ankle recovery was set back. Some bleeding. Lot of swelling. Ice and Salan Pas applied, with lots of rest with an elevated foot. Feeling much better today, but I’ll continue a slow roll of recovery.
With mists swirling through my awareness, The Neurons cranked the mental music box handle. Up popped Led Zeppelin with “Misty Mountain Hop” into the morning mental music stream.
Be positive and hold fast. Coffee was skipped. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: cloudark
Bit of a darkly mood today. Overdid it with my ankle, pressing to get better. It told me in manners aligned with surgery and lack of use over a few weeks that it didn’t appreciate what I was doing. So now, resigned to slowing down, taking my time. This is one of those situations where a strength becomes a weakness. My strength is a high tolerance to pain and discomfort, and an ability to ignore or overcome them without meds. Doing so with this ankle is clearly screwing up my recovery. With my wife’s *ahem* coaxing, I’m cooling it.
It’s a bleak day out there. Leaves have abandoned the trees and are drunkenly sprawled over the land. Dipped to 30 F for an overnight low. Sluggish sunshine is barely overcoming the cloud wall sealing in the valley in gray and black. Showers and a high of 42 F is on the charts. We’ve been having days of rain. Some has been solid and heavy. Okay, cuz we need rain to refill everything and soothe the earth. More important is snow. Necessary to bank on for the dry, hot months, snow is beginning to gather on the higher mountains.
Hmmm: interesting book title: “The Gathering of Snow”. All kinds of inherent possibilities.
The cats are slowly coming to claws with recognition that the season has shifted into a colder and wetter period. Less demands to let ’em out are noted. Both prefer cozying up at a warm indoor spot over darting back outside. That pleases me; rather have them in. Nurse Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) still hovers over me, sleeping alongside me as I nurse myself back to full functioning.
With convalescence going and a lot of time to think, The Neurons took trips into memories of other injuries, illnesses, sicknesses, and being laid up. Has happened a lot. Started as a child and hasn’t let up. That slowly opened the door for “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper to pop into the morning mental music stream (Trademark repeating). Other than my thoughts about being in recovery time after time, nothing in the 1983 song relates to my situation. Doesn’t stop Der Neurons! It’s an enjoyable song in my estimate about romance, missing a loved one, waiting while enduring their absence.
Let’s get positive, and hold fast. Here we go, another day in the life of. Coffee has been procured and is being consumed. I am at the laptop, foot propped up on a chair, black and white cat snoozing on the floor beside me.
Here’s the music. Cheers
I was on my back for two weeks, foot in the air, recovering from surgery. Access to the net was limited to my phone, television, and iPad mini. It’s a laugh, isn’t it? A real first world blues statement to say how much I was limited and then share how much access I actually enjoyed. It’s a position of privilege.
What I meant and I should have written, I wasn’t able to sit down at will and jump on the ol’ laptop and do my usual surfing and posting and reading. I’m very much an organic, stream of consciousness, writer, though.
Anyway, modern television is an abomination to me. Just my tastes. I’d turn on and surf channels. We don’t have cable or satellite (again, my privilege talking), but have a smart TV with net access and an over-the-air digital antenna. I was amazed by the number of shows like “People’s Court” and “Judge Judy” are out there. We’re a copycat society. Startling number of shows about pawn shops and towing businesses, too. The standard American AM talk shows still exist, spouting vapid enthusiasm about cultural trends, getting serious for a minute of weather and five minutes of news before going back to the giggles about “Wicked” or Billy Bob Thornton.
So I read and slept and binge-streamed old favorites, along with one new one, “Band of Brothers”. Two of books were older novels I’d purchased at used-book stores on whim. These were “Down River” by John Hart and “Utopia” by Lincoln Child. Both are page turners, with the former firmly entrenched as a well-written potboiler to my mind. Love that expression, ‘potboiler’. The other was a new Jackson Brody novel by Kate Atkinson. I’m a JB fan, and a KA fan, as is my wife, so she went on the waiting list, got it for us, and let me read it first.
I enjoy how Atkinson has aged Brody. He used to see himself or get discussed as a protector of women. Now he found himself being judged by a court of women. He’s less driven, more reflecting.
What’ve you guys been reading? Probably more recent stuff, right? Amazing number of excellent books out there, waiting to be devoured.
Cheers
I’ve had worse. Others probably have it much much worse. Well it’s not a problem thing. I know they have it worse. But here I am in my boot on my right ankle after it’s surgical correction, whining about how I feel, because that’s who I am. The most frustrating part is that I can’t sit upright for long. But I see my care team tomorrow and I hope that restriction is removed.
I’m doing this on my phone. Basically talking into it. Adding grammar, telling it when to punctuate. Going back, editing the mistakes that my voice makes.
The cats have been taking care of me. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) has earned several comfort medals, purring at me from a perch on my chest.
I miss my daily writing. I write notes to myself about what to write and what to fix in my last novel that I worked on. I watch the weather through the open blinds, admiring our tree as it releases it’s newest colors red and gold against the green, bright in the gloomy day as rain falls. My wife and I talk about the election results and how disappointed we were. How disappointed we are.
My sister and I text about the same. She asked me questions about whether Trump can remove generals. Gosh guess what? We text about the Google spike in people searching for can I change my vote. Bitter laughter ensues. No morons, it’s too late.
Have been binging HBO’s band of brothers. The show came on in like 2001. I always avoided watching it back in the day because I’ve been in the military and I didn’t want to celebrate war. I didn’t want to see war. But eventually other options dried up. I’ve been reading books but laying flat on my back holding the book up in front of me challenged my arms. So there it was, band of brothers. And I do enjoy the show I find. As I knew. it is about more than the war, it’s about the individuals finding the war, and their heart breaks and their efforts and their backgrounds.
Meanwhile, the neurons have delivered theme music for me. At least several times a day they play Harvey Danger and flagpole sitta. The same words like to go through my head: “I’m not sick but I’m not well.” That sums it up for me: I’m not sick, but I’m not well. The other lines that resonate with me off and on or, been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding.
Wherever you are whatever you’re doing, I hope you can stay positive, or regain some positive energy. I know you’re hurting, because I am too. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 