Tag: 1986

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: goopy

Hey guys, here we are, on Wednesday, 02212024. Or 21022024. Or 20240221. All are right, depending on your region, or maybe your profession.

Sprinter has popped back into Ashlandia. Dollops of gray clouds drop rain that glisten with sunshine. Everything is blooming. Snow? What is this thing called snow? Describe it for me, please. Amendment: that was snark. There’s some snow on the mountains shadowing our valley.

It’s 46 F now, and we’re projected to progress to 57 F before the sun pulls the shades on the day and the weather unplugs the warmth. 36 F will be our low tonight. Not bad.

I’m into GOP politics today. Trump’s changing stories about the classified documents he wouldn’t give up keeps me laughing. There were no classified documents because he declassified them, he said at first. Oh, wait, the FBI planted it there. No, no, I didn’t have to turn it over he’s saying now, and we were talking about turning them over when the FBI raided Mar-a-largo. Which, if we follow his thinking, means there were classified documents which he hadn’t turned over, so he lied from the start. And it was protected better than Biden’s classified documents, which is irrelevant, and shows again, that there were classified materials which he didn’t turn over. Doesn’t matter how protected he claims the classified documents were. The point is, he wasn’t supposed to have them, was supposed to return them, tried to hide them, and continually lied about them.

His continuing spin is worthy of a soap opera. “As the Trump Turns” or “General Bullshit”, we can call his shitshow. Who in their right mind will believe these shifting sands of explanations?

Well, I wrote, ‘in their right mind’. That eliminates many GOP members, politicians, and supporters. Take for instance, the state of play with electing and retaining a speaker. The maniac arm of the MAGA GOP make it a point of contention to turn down any bill or measure that might be actual governing, and then forced Speaker McCarthy out after he so desperately pursued the office. Now Mike Johnson has taken over and faces the same demonic situation. Then these fine representatives blamed everyone else for the mayhem they keep causing.

For example, look at the immigration issue. The GOP and their supporters are supposedly up in arms about that problem. GOP state governors are declaring that President Biden and the Democrats aren’t doing enough, even as GOP governors illegally block the Federal government from taking action. Meanwhile, back on Capitol Hill, a bi-partisan bill was created only to have the Speaker and the maniacs withdraw support on orders from Dear Leader, Donald Trump. All but Trump supporters see through this play. Trump and the spineless GOP don’t want an effective answer for the immigration issue and the southern border at this time. Yet one of the maniacs, Marjorie Taylor Green, predictably steps up to complain nothing is being done even after she voted to do nothing.

Their hypocrisy is breathtaking but not surprising. The Trump GOP thrives on selling fear on the issue to their supporters. If a bill is passed, that makes President Biden and the Democrats look effective. The GOP can’t do that! That’s about the single issue they can depend on at this point to keep supporters in line because they’ve fucked themselves with complete abortion bans and the persecution of women for daring to try to make decisions about their own bodies. Now they’re fucking themselves over supporting NATO and the Ukraine. They’re abandoning everything the United States became after WWII.

If you didn’t understand it before, understand it now. The Trump GOP is not progressive. Throwbacks to the Nazi Germany era, the Trump GOP is willing to support a dictator on the basis of no other position but to stay in power. They fear everyone but whites. They even attack powerful women — say a young singer like Taylor Swift, to name one of many women they’ve attacked under Trump — and are eager to shut everyone down except white men, especially wealthy white men. They love themselves wealthy white men and bend over to fuck themselves if they can help wealthy white men. That wealthy white men will save the world is the foundation of their trickledown theory of government.

We shouldn’t be surprised. White ‘Christians’ are one of the GOP’s largest sects. They’ve been afraid of Jews since before WWII and have been eager to undermine democracy in order to stop the Jews. All this is fed by baseless conspiracies. The GOP, as it’s evolved, has depended more and more upon unfounded conspiracy theories to garner support. Are we witnessing its zenith as they support the baseless lies — proven in US courts — that Donald Trump had the election stolen from him, and that they government is actually being run by a shadow government? What happens in the elections of 2024 will reveal much about the GOP and the foundations of democratic republic known as the United States.

With all this happening, The Neurons started singing, “Don’t mess with a MAGA man,” this morning. Up popped the Eurythmics with “Missionary Man” (1986) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). It’s an ironic use by The Neurons as they chuckle at the GOP white christians and evangelicals declare that the serial sinner, liar, and adulterer known as Donald J. Trump, a very wealthy man who hoards his wealth and hates any and all who dare criticize him, threatening violence at every turn, is God’s chosen to lead the United States. I need to ask, lead the United States into what? At any rate, to return to the song, GOP politicians at every level eagerly support the MAGA man and dare the rest of us to mess with him.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and please vote. Here’s the music. Coffee guzzling has commenced. On to other writing. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: jubtimism. (Yes, that’s a weird combo of jubilant and optimistic, weird in face of the dark news that keeps spitting in my face.)

Hey to all who are doing time with me on the third rock. Today is Tuesday, Feb. 13, 2024. Completely gray on gray today, again, with sunshine shifting and sliding through cloud breaks when it can. Daffs have broken out to spread their color across the sprinter landscape. 50 F now, no snow on the ground in the valley or nearby peaks. If you need to see some snow, hop onto I5 and drive a few miles south to Mt. Ashland. If you don’t turn off for Mt Ashland but keep going toward California, Mt. Shasta, just fifty miles away, will present a postcard image for you as the Interstate rises and falls.

I watched the Super Bowl last Sunday and saw some NFL commercials about bullying. That woke up some Neurons, who came up with a 1989 Chris Rea song, “The Road to Hell”, and have it playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). See, these big NFL players quoted children and adults who were bullied. The survivors talked about facing daily fear. Terror. Likewise, we have this election campaign where fear and terror are being employed in lieu of policies or intelligent discourse. If Trump wins, he promised to be a dictator. Some of his followers tried overthrowing the election results back on Jan 6, 2021. They now promise greater violence if Trump loses, as do members of Congress who carry his water. Contrary to all presented facts and evidence, they insist that Trump win the 2020 election, but was cheated out of staying in office.

And now, facing all manner of trials and criminal charges, which seem to be stacking up, Trump wants to be declared immune from anything criminal he did while President. As the first judicial panel ruling on his claim noted, that would remove the POTUS from the checks and balances built into the Constitution. If that happened, what, beyond his character, would stop President Biden from saying, “Gosh, if Trump is immune, so am I.”

So there are fears out there for our democracy and republic. Hence, The Neurons pulled up the lines from Chris Rea’s 1989 song, “The perverted fear of violence chokes the smile off every face. Common sense is ringing out bells. This ain’t no technological breakdown. Oh, no. This is the road to hell.”

Sorry if I’m as dark as my coffee this morning. Been reading Rachel Maddow’s book, Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism, yesterday and today. Illuminating, of course, but sometimes history can be depressing. She traces the efforts of paramilitary groups trying to end democracy in the US back in the 1930s to give fascism a chance. They worked under names like The Christian Front, the Silver Legion, and the American White Guard. These were lunatics with powerful friends, which aptly summarizes much of the MAGA movement and QAnon. In summary, both in the past and now, I didn’t realize that so many Americans harbored an authoritarian mindset. Being a Star Trek fan, I though boldly heading toward a new era of equality, freedom, and justice. I didn’t realize that a block of people exist who abhor those things.

On the flip side of my dark street, Jamie Lee Curtis’s performance as the matriarch in The Bear was powerful stuff. Yes, we’re just catching up with the second season. I’d heard about the hit series, and decided to check it out. Glad on did.

Also on the bright side, the house painting is moving closer to fini. That’s pretty darn exciting. Looking back, the project’s genesis was in the early months of 2020. We were just collecting names for bids when COVID landed and the shutdown commenced. In 2021, we moved toward getting quotes but supplies were limited because of supply chain issues in response to the COVID shutdown. Not much was done in 2022 about the painting because…(cough, cough) COVID. Finally, in 2023, quotes were gathered and agreements made, but the painting backlog pushed us back to this year.

I’ve had coffee, thanks. Be strong, remain positive, lean forward, and voOte. Register first, of course. Pitter patter, get ‘er at her. Here is Chris Rea with his slide guitar. Cheer

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: sleepy

Good afternoon from Ashlandia. Sunny and 56 F, this Thursday afternoon is muy different from our launching point. Starting at 35 F, fog descended on us, doing a suburb turn at shutting down the world to wandering car lights and noises behind a curtain.

So, still no snow. A friend who resides above Mt Ashland, which is our local ski resort, told us yesterday there was little snow and the morning temperature was 40 F. Snow isn’t in the immediate future. Meawhile, water is on our mind. The town is finally getting around to building a new water treatment plant. They’ve been talking about this for years. In the time where they wallied around it, the price has gone up; five years ago, the intended size was cut to reduce costs, and the price has has double, to about 70 mill. To pay for it requires our water prices to increase by 10% each year for the next six years. That’s on top of an average water bill which is the third highest in Oregon at 61.71 a month. Look at it compares to our neighbors, Medford (32.13), Phoenix (45.97) and Talent (47.86).

Happy solstice as well, as this is December 21, 2023. We used to celebrate the winter solstice with company, fires, drink, cake, soups, salads, and bread. Then, come COVID, we shut down and haven’t picked it back up.

Our morning was spent on grocery shopping as we diced with traffic and plied the cement river called I-5 up the highway to Medford. Costco was hellabusy while Trader Joe’s was casual, and Target was busy but tired. After those stops, we paused at a restaurant to scarf down food like we were starving cats and then headed back home, a nap, and more errands. Now we pick up the remains of the day.

Today’s music is Billy Idol’s rockabilly cover of “To Be A Lover” out of 1986. The Neurons stuck it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark rockin’) after my wife’s comment about something elicted “Have mercy,” as my response. Hearing that, The Neurons ran with it and the song was soon busy in my head. I’d never seen any video of it until now, and watching today, I laughed, remembering Idol’s sneering attempts to lather everything with sexual energy. So 1980s.

Stay pos, be strong, and enjoy your solstice whether it’s summer or winter.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: okay

Thursday, August 31, 2023. Last day of August. September takes over tomorrow. We’re hoping for a peaceful transition of power. Usually is. Time to make your list of monthly goals.

Autumn is sneaking in under the velvet ropes that divide that seasons in Ashlandia, where the deer are numerous and the dogs are wary. Just 64 F now, the forecasted high is within eight digits. Rain is expected in the afternoon. Not a high percentage for our realm, with the median chance at 41%. We don’t usually see rain unless 55% or higher is forecast, but’s been a weird weather year, so we don’t discount it.

Terrific moon last night. Super blue moon, unencumbered by smoke, cast impressive light across the yard. Cats were out there with me, one on either side. They each kept saying, “Why are you looking up there? I’m down here. Pet me, pet me. Here, look, I’m rolling for you. See my belly? See my belly? Who has a pretty belly? Hey you, look at me, damn it.”

“News of the world has been perused. There’s little to lift my spirits. Coffee is applied. It’s marginally effective this morning. Smoke is creeping back into the air. Nice of it to give us a respite for a day. Boy, everyone was so pleased, telling each other about it. “News of the world has been perused. There’s little to lift my spirits. Coffee is applied. It’s marginally effective this morning. Smoke is creeping back into the air. Nice of it to give us a respite for a day. Boy, everyone was so pleased, telling each other about it. We are like, “What do you think of this air? Pretty great, isn’t it?” At least we don’t have hurricanes or tropical storms blowing through. And we’re not flooding, so we have all that going for us.

I read that “Higher Love” by Steve Winwood was released ‘on this day’ back in 1985 or ‘6. The Neurons reacted to that news by replaying “Higher Love” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark damaged). Don’t mind; I quite enjoy the song. I read some factoids about it. That drumming that opens the song was the drummer’s whim, played after the song was over, moved to the beginning during production to give the song a distinctive opening. Well done. The other interesting tidbit I read was about Chaka Khan’s part. She came in, sat at the mic in the recording studio and lit up a cigarette. When her part came, she sang it perfectly, releasing a mouthful of smoke. Not healthy, nor a good role model for others, but definitely legendary.

Here’s the music. It’s a throwback video, with Winwood on the David Letterman Show. “Gimme Some Lovin'” is also played. Yes, Twofer Thursday. Hope you enjoy it. Practice the Four Bs today: Be safe, be smart, be pos, be strong. Here we go. Cheers

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Moanday’s Theme Music

Moanday is upon us again. That is Moanday as in, “Dear Lord, it’s Monday again.” I understand some people like Mondays. Come back to me and ask after I’ve had coffee.

It’s December 5, 2022. That happens to be my little sister’s birthday. She’s beautiful, intelligent, successful, and highly capable. Things every person should be. Generates suspicions in me about whether I’m related to her, though I was there when Mom brought her home and admired her as she slept. I know her husband, children, grandchildren, sisters, and Mom will all properly fete her.

Don’t you think that should be an expression? “Well, fete me, if I didn’t forget to buy that card while I was out.”

Sorry, lack of coffee is making The Neurons are little freakie deakie this Moanday.

36 F is what my weather station claims it to be. It’s a wet, foggy, gloomy Moanday, something appropriate for the moors. Our high will be 46. The end pieces of sunrise and sun drop are 7:24 and 4:39, AM and PM respectively. All but small, distant football fields of snow are gone from the mountains from what I saw yesterday. Rain is coming, they say. Probably snow a bit in the upper reaches.

Spent some time from being human and reading news to watching the volcano eruption in Hawaii. Being human is a minor theme this AM. Started with the cats. Restless due to weather, they intensely shadowed me this morning, vocally challenging me at every turn. Chatting with them, my refrain became, “Guys, look, I already fed you. I don’t understand what you want. I’m only human. I don’t understand your floofish.”

Paying scant attention, my neural Alexa told The Neurons, “Play Human by The Human League.” The 1986 soft ballad is classic techno pop. Get in a car, close your eyes, and you can be transported to the Reagan years. Of course, I sang the floof version for the cats’ amusement. First, there was, “You’re only human, a pathetic little man.” That’s how they seem to feel about me at times. Later’s version was, “I’m just a kitty, fur and claws, a cat.”

The Neurons are gasping for coffee. I need to end their pain. Here’s the music. Go ahead, drift back in time, if but a few seconds. Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Monday’s dawn struggled to win over night. Reinforced by a packed sky of stern clouds, light was minimized. I looked at my watch. What time is it? Where is the sunshine?

It’s September 19, 2022. A downpour soon drowned out the day. Thunder’s drum line punctuated the mood. Traffic snarls complicated by wet roads inundated the radio news.

I went onto a covered porch and consumed several lungfuls of rain-enriched air, savoring scents of wet dirt, leaves, and trees, which sounds a little disgusting as I write it, but if you’ve had it, you know it. Our temperature? 19 C, so t’aint bad. Their suggested high of 78 F raises my eyebrows.

In other news, I hear that Queen Elizabeth II died. Little facetious. It’s a matter of history and it’s being given sprawling coverage. She was Queen my entire life to this point, an American’s anchor in Europe. I enjoyed many of the stories about her. I understand, a little, the pro and con arguments of having royalty in a country. It’s their nation, their decision, although I understand some disagree with that in Australia. As with many matters when you’re outside of a situation and seeking understanding, it’s complicated.

The Neurons have again selected a weird song for the morning mental music stream. Ozzy — need I give a last name — I’ll clarify that Harriet wasn’t present — is singing “Shot in the Dark” from 1986. For a long period, I believed Ozzy wrote it, only to discover as legal issues about the song arose that this was written and performed by others first. “Why this song?” I query The Neurons. “Are you trying to tell me something?” My cats are more forthcoming than The Neurons. I hear only snickers in reply.

Stay positive, and test negative. Having gone through a mild case of COVID, I don’t believe you want to enjoy it for yourself. Just made fresh coffee. Care to partake? Mind if I do?

Here’s the music. Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Marvelous Monday marched in. It’s a sparkling day. White clouds reflect sunshine, making it all bolder and bigger than first glances assume. Sunrise at 5:34 heralded Jun 20, 2022, with a brassy flourish of blazing sunshine. Temps at the time were in the lowly forties but immediately perked up into the fifties, where they languish, drifting by degrees toward a high of 72 to 76 F. Sunset will close the show at 8:50 PM.

After some collaborating, the neurons drew up “Lives in the Balance”, a 1986 song by Jackson Browne. It’s quite the political song, bemoaning war and the suspected collusion between war profiteers and the warring nations, along with shade being thrown on the POTUS back then, Ronald Reagan, and how political campaigns are conducted like offerings for new consumer goods and services. Some sample lyrics for you.

They sell us the President the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But they’re never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Guess the neurons who follow the news thought the song made sense as theme music. Who am I to argue with his neurons?

Stay positive, you know? Test negative and have some faith that we’ll survive and rise again. I know that this is sometimes hard to embrace. Some imagination might be required.

Coffee is here. Take care.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

A stratus layer mothers the sun, protecting it from our prying eyes. Theoretically, we had sunrise at 7:11 this morning, but few bright rays have slipped past the cloud shield. The temperature is hovering at 46 degrees F as a fine mist drifts and falls, but today’s high is forecast to be 77 F before sunset at 7:25 PM.

Today is Tuesday, March 22, 2022, or 03222022 in the American style.

I was up with cats last night. Another — a different — sick one, as Tucker puked and went lethargic. My wife is sleeping in another bed adjusted for her back issues. Tucker, who sleeps with me 99 percent of the nights, slept with her. I missed my furry boy and his taps on my hands and nose, and deep, throbbing purr. I asked her this morning, how he was. “Oh, he’s fine,” she said. Oh, he ate? “I don’t know.” Did he drink water? “I don’t know.” Did he use the litter box? “I don’t know.” How do you know he’s okay? “He seems okay.” That is not how it works.

Meanwhile, sick cat took Tucker’s absence as an opportunity to cuddle against me. I pet, scratched, and spoke for him for long hours in the night. His ability to eat is diminishing and he’s fading, despite hopes. Of course, I used the time to write in my head. It wasn’t the plan; the writer is always there, and the muses said, “Hey, while you’re not busy doing anything.” They’re very single-minded. My mind shouted, “Eureka,” as some new and surprising vector took shape. Of course, it must be pursued today.

A 1986 Moody Blues song, “Your Wildest Dreams”, settled into the morning mental music stream. The neurons latched onto after a few dreams. Now it’s on loop and must be released into the net so the neurons can go on to other music.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the shots when you can. The neurons are calling for coffee, threatening me with a medley of 1910 Fruitgum Company melodies if I don’t comply. So off I go. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Sunlight barely cracked the sky’s gray vault this morning, showing just enough after the 7:23 AM that mists and showers shrouded the greening mountains. The temperature is 45 F and we expect 57 but the rain on my skin was cold and harsh. Still, I had to go out into it to suck in fresh air, and accept the rain’s light pummeling. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. The rain unimpressed the cats who said, “Mazeltov,” and returned to their beds in the house. Sunset will be at 7:17 this evening.

I have Steve Winwood singing “Freedom Overspill” from 1986 in my head. It’s a favorite Winwood song, although it’s a crowded field. I’ve always liked his delivery and style. It’s the opening stanza that is staying with me today.

Keep on talking all you want
Well you don’t waste a minute of time
Who cares, who knows what’s true
Coffee and tears the whole night through
Burning up on midnight oil
And it’s come right back on you

Freedom overspill

Speaking of coffee…you know. Stay positive, test negative wear a mask, and get the vax. Here’s the tune. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Technically, Saturday, 9/18/2021, began at midnight. But we don’t usually acknowledge those morning hours between midnight and rising as part of that day, do we? Well, we do, in a way. It’s a confused state. Because most don’t think of the day starting until they get up. Even though it’s often started hours before.

Smoke played with the sunshine yesterday, lifting the color of a champagne mango’s skin into the space over our heads. Not today. This is Gray Day.

Sunrise struggled to bring anything this morning. Clouds and smoke skewered the sun’s efforts into graylight. Happened about 6:54 AM. But. Rain began at 6:59 AM around my house. I know. This weather change had infused the cats with a youthful, exuberant energy. They were dashing around, going in and out through the pet door, meyelling at one another. Then they wanted food. So I was up to feed them when the first portent of rain came, tink, tink, tink, on the exhaust fan metal protection up on the room.

The initial rain session was a mildly hard one. First I went out to gage it and smell the air. Still smoky. If rain begins as a mist and we assign that a one, and a monsoon drenching is a ten, this was a fall shower, about 3.5. A fall shower is a lot like a spring shower except it smells different.

I returned to bed after that, listening to the rain while warm and cozy. The rain stopped at 7:31. Then started again at 7:35. Wasn’t as hard though. Been going at it until tapering off to stumbling sporadic drops after ninety minutes. Nice having rain in this parched, drought-plagued and fire plagued area, but we really wanted something about a five or a six on my imaginary scale.

Highs today are projected to be in the upper sixties. Might fire up the fireplace, you know? Sunset is planned for 7:15 PM.

But of course a rain song has mindjacked the mental music stream. A 1986 venture by The Pogues, “Rainy Night in Soho”, came up. It’s odd, though, how the brain works. I was hearing the rain. Then remembered conversations. Which prompted me to think of phantom conversations. Things I wished had been said. That kicked in the line, “I hear you talking in my head.” Stopped me in my mental tracks. That was a song. Some rummaging through the cranial zones finally dragged it fully in.

I like this song because it’s different. More like an essay with music. Shane McGowan’s voice and delivery are introspective and blasé. It’s actually a great song when we’re with others having a drink after a long day when rain is pelting down. But it does serve as foundation for thinking about the day, what was, and what will be.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Now, where’s the coffee? Cheers

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