This is it! November’s final day. Yep, it’s now Sunda, November 30, 2025. Like yesterday, it’s chilly. Up to F at my home. Fog took the day off though. We’ll break the fifties again, temp wise. Yesterday shifted in temperature and inclination sufficiently for me, out walking, to say, “Hey, it’s not bad out here.” Certainly is better than those places being buried in snow.
The ‘We Ain’t Buying It’ campaign rocks on as protest agin the corporations aiding and abetting the Trump Regime takedown of U.S. democracy. That right-wing campaign seems to be fumbling and flailing as Dizzy Donny hisself likewise stumbles, fumbles, and flails. Courts outside of the Roberts Court consistently rule against Trump decisions. Doesn’t matter. Enabled by Republicans in Congress, backed by a weaponized DOJ, supported by billionaires and the Heritage Foundation, Dozy Donny presses forward.
A stench floats from the TACO Regime. Look at what they’re doing. There was the Trump Epstein shutdown and the Epstein files. Constant grifting, whether it’s Trump phones, Donny T crypto, Melania schemes, the regime works hard to make money for the Trump mob. Meanwhile, they’re rewriting history to discount what anyone other than white men did. Overseeing the destruction of the actual White House building. Presenting a shambolic Russia-Ukraine ‘peace plan’. Flip-floppin’ over tariffs and wreckin’ the economy. Guttin’ of the Federal agencies and programs approved by previous Congresses and administrations. Wantonly, randomly disappearing people, including legal immigrants, including American citizens. That’s just a short, high-level list.
This is Trump’s vision in November, 2025, after eleven months. People are no longer overlookin’ this crap. Scales are droppin’ from people’s eyes. Polls are rolling in: they disapprove of Trump and what he’s doing. FAFO stories are spilling out as MAGAts, happy to do unto others but unhappy to have it done unto them, complain about what Trump is doing to them. All I can say is, ’bout fuckin’ time.
A bevy of dreams again last night. One was about me being a bear protecting other people. In another, I was flying some kind of ship, protecting people. I awoke, thought them over, began cleaning up and dressing. After considering the weather and picking out my clothes, I began singing a song about getting my blue jeans on. At first I thought it a song which I’d made up for myself once upon a time. Then instrumentation slipped into the song. By then, I thought it was a faintly remembered tune, dug up by The Neurons, slotted into the morning mental music stream. Using the little I remembered, I discovered “Jeans On” by David Dundas, from 1976.
Time to coffee up and head out. Hope peace and grace find us and does it soon. Till then, hang on. Cheers