Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazydays of winter. Yes, winter has compromised Nat King Cole’s hit about summer. Fact is, the Ashlandia day facing us here in southern Oregon are all of those things he uses to describe summer. A blotted, bloated face of puffy and sullen gray clouds mumble hello. Weak sunshine is acting like a wallflower trying not to get noticed. 44 F now, the temperature is gonna skyrocket to 45 F, they tell us. Betting window is open on rain.
We should all be insulted by Trusk’s moves against DEI. Unity is needed for a strong nation. There was a reason why DEI evolved. PINO Trusk and his disgusting rinions are trying to pretend those things didn’t exist or didn’t matter. Total bullshit. Beyond that, call out to those companies: don’t you realize how much stronger and more successful via DEI? No, you don’t. You’re too weak, craven, and greedy. Shame on you. Kudos to Costco.
Yeah, going with the Bangles’ version of “Hazy Day of Winter” today for the theme music. It’s a Simon & Garfunkel original but the Bangles successfully covered it in a more rock and roll style in 1987. But in the spirit of inclusion, I’m including both versions. The Bangles version has overwhelmed the S&A 1966 original in the morning mental music stream. That’s how it sometimes goes.
Bonus offering: Haim.
As the song says, “Hang onto your hopes, my friend.”
Coffee and I have reached detente again via some kitchen diplomacy. I’m sailing along on a stream of caffeine. Keep it real and have the best one you can. Cheers
May continues is march. Today is the month’s 17th day.
It’s Friday. Clouds have won the morning, but they’re a modest whipped cream overlay. 63 F out there, 70 F is today’s top. 70 F isn’t bad for me, although it always comes to me as ‘not quite hot, and not quite cold’. I feel like Goldilocks writing that.
I miss my cats, Tucker and Papi. Note: I also miss my wife but I get to chat on the phone with her every day. She presents updates: “It’s nice outside, so they’re out there sleeping somewhere.” Not much color there, but then, but they’re low-key floofies. My wife does tell me that Tucker sleeps with her every night. Papi, of course, wants out. I’ll be happy to be back with them.
The Neurons have plugged a Sly Fox song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark reflected). The group came out with “Let’s Go All the Way” in 1985. As an 1980s product, it offers an eclectic and intriguing mix of techno sounds with mellow, laid-back vocals.
What’s interesting about this song is that many perceived it as a tune about sex. The truth is, it’s about politics. Here’s the initial verse:
Sitting with the thinker Trying to work it out It’s a traffic jam of the brain Makes you wanna scream and shout Presidential party No one wants to dance Looking for a new star To put you in a trance
And the chorus is about a better way:
Let’s go all the way We need heaven on Earth today Aah-aah-aah We can make a better way Let’s go all the way Go all the way Let’s go all the way Yeah
I think The Neurons’ choice is pitch-perfect. We have that guy, Trump, a Bible Belt darling with some. He practices as they preach: hate and name-calling is his daily delivery, for, as the Bible orders, “Hate thy political opponent with all the anger on Earth.” Their Bible seems to also state, “Treat women like they have no rights. Grab by the pussy and move like a bitch. Cheat on thy wives and lust after thy daughter.”
Also in their Bible is the guidance about morals and ethics: “Lie and cheat to get ahead, for more money is key to your place in Heaven.”
So, my fellow Democrats, let’s go all the way. Vote out those MAGA Republicans and make it a better day.
Coffee has made its way to me. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Then let’s work on restoring voting rights and women’s rights, and rights for everyone everywhere, and act like a compassionate nation that immigrants helped build, instead of treating them like garbage, as the MAGA Bible apparently directs.
Thursday, May 16, 2024, has landed on us. It’s mid-May, and we’re slipping, sliding, gliding toward mid-2024. Then we’ll slip, slide, glide to the 2024 elections and race into holiday season in America. I expect Black Friday advertising to kick in any day.
Though we’re doing a spring and summer shuffle, we have pleasant weather serenading us. The sun did a stirring dawn solo. Sunlight lasered in like an attack from Emperor Ming. Clouds spy from the horizons. It’s 67 now with 77 F on the way. Thunderstorms are also expected. What I found watching the weather on TV last night is that these small cells are populating the Pittsburgh metro area. Rain gets limited to those little doughnuts. In our part of the Churchill Valley, we blinked and missed the rain. Evidence was left behind as small drops on the brown wooden porch rails.
The Mom Help Quest continues. She’s moved the goals on us. We — my sisters and I — believe she needs help getting out of bed and dressing. Mom vehemently disagrees. Sure, it takes hours, and exhausts her, but that doesn’t mean she needs help.
No, she just wants a person to come in once a week to clean, especially the bathrooms. That’s all. And her beau backed her, so my sisters and I backed off. I’ve told Mom I think she’s wrong. Didn’t help any but I thought it important to state my position and get it on record.
My sisters are more frustrated about this than me. They point out that Mom tends to hold off action until things reach a crisis. Then an emergency is declared, and everyone is expected to drop everything an run to help Mom. They’re weary of the circus.
I understand Mom’s stand. This steady decline and shrinking of her independence affects her self-image. She’d like to stay in denial about what’s happening. Of course, she’ll deny that, as well. There’s also probably a piece about feeling like a burden and not wanting to be a burden to others. She doesn’t see with our eyes, and can’t or won’t grasp that by refusing greater help, she makes herself a greater burden.
That’s life in ‘Merica, I guess.
One piece of good news is that her doctor’s office has scheduled an appointment to discuss Mom’s request for a hospital bed. I’ve become leery of getting it after Mom said last night that she didn’t think it was going to make much difference. Told me she takes a sleeping pill and sleeps six to eight hours every night. But she spends the day complaining about how tired she is and how she wants to nap.
Other worries and concerns outside of familia permeate my circle of being, like damaging storms elsewhere, the Canadian wildfires, the Trump Trial for falsifying document, the held breath for what the SCOTUS will say about Trump’s immunity, what actions states are taking to sabotage voter rights, the other Trump trials, inflation concerns, climate change activities, and the upcoming 2024 election.
There’s also a new sideshow, the Trump-Biden debate. I think Trump is a fool for accepting but I’m delighted that he did. I think Trump has a sense that he’s losing his mojo so he wants to be front and center. I believe Trump is in more denial about his condition and situation than Mom.
This debate is a beauty pageant. Trump thinks he’ll win it by looking better than Biden — younger, even though he’s just three years behind President Biden — and more articulate and knowledgeable. Those of us outside of Trump’s MAGA influence watching Biden give speeches know that his gaffes are much less than Trump’s crazy talk. I believe President Biden will come off as much more impressive than Trump. Fingers crossed that this will come to be.
Okay, today’s music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark warming) is “Just Like Paradise” by Diamond Dave — David Lee Roth. The 1987 song was selected by Los Neurons by a combo of me thinking about returning home to Ashlandia, where the weather is hotter and the cats are sweet, and a mockery of the situation in America.
The latter — the mockery of America — is delivered by the GOP’s continuing efforts to destroy America by governing as little as possible, remaining as an obstacle to progress, and even tearing down things, such as DeJoy’s destruction of an efficient postal system.
Working on the ridiculous idea that more is better, Postmaster Louis Dejoy has led an effort to consolidate and reduce postal operations, especially in rural areas. He’s slashed trucks and personnel and closed operations. Places like southern Oregon, where I reside, has suffered with continuing mail delays. Our local post offices are shuttering or severely limited in offered services. Customer complaints have soared. Elected officials in Washington, D.C., on both sides of the aisle are demanding answers from DeJoy, and he’s often just blowing them off.
Well, here comes the darkening clouds. I’m already riding the coffee rain, so I’ll wish you a good Thursday and be off. Remember, stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Gotta admit, it’s tres Van Halen pop rock, even though it’s not Van Halen. Cheers
Rain claims the sky again. May not stay. Bursts break out of clouds, and then the sun breaks show with a flash of light. Brisk winds burst through the valley, shaking the trees and sending shivers through my knees, before rain kisses us again.
This is spring. This is Friday, March 29, 2024. It’s 50 F and several y’s are present — sunny-cloudy-rainy-windy-chilly. Think we’re within 2, 3 degrees of the thermometer’s upper level for this March day. Snow comes and leaves on the northern and eastern peaks over the last three days. How’s the weather in your life zone?
First, a floof update. Tucker continues a trouble-free recovery. I knocked off the opiates. Just thought he was being over medicated. He’s eating, sleeping, and moving well. I make him a cup of grain-free kibble softened with hot water, and he dives into a bowl like an osprey coming down from the sky on a hunt. After eating today, he gently washed his face and paws before tucking back into nap position. Fingers crossed that this all continues.
The Neurons loaded “Alone” by Heart into the morning mental music stream (Trademark plummeting). The song was invited into the MMMS by the line, “No answer on the telephone.”
I’d called a friend. No answer. No voice mail or answering machine. Seems ominous.
I talked to the cats about it (they were the only ones around). They agreed with me, no answer on a telephone call is surreal in this era. Some mechanized or e-response is typical if a live voice isn’t heard. But to hear the ringing continue…strange. I called again to ensure I had the number correct. I let it ring until twenty rings had filled the air. Twenty rings, an absurd amount, before giving up.
The song commenced in the MMMS a few seconds after I relayed my experience to the floofies. We — me and The Neurons — went from there. Personally, I always enjoyed the hard rock ballad. Then again, I seem drawn to hard rock ballads. Could be that they appeal to my romantic side, or the solitude inculcated by my work and travel draws me to that sort of music.
Persist to be positive and strong, lean forward toward progress and a better future, and Vote Blue. Coffee has caffeinated my brain cells, so I’m good to go. Here’s the music. Oh, wait, it’s sunny again, and the wind has become a friendly zephyr. For now.
Now it’s cloudy. Wind is beating the coffee shop umbrella. Rain veils are crossing the mountains.
Hello, my fellow voyagers. (Pause: made me think of an old series, “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea”. No, that’s not where we’re going, fingers crossed, knock wood. But do you remember the Irwin Allen series?)
Today is Friday, 02232024. Outside bubbles with spring-like sunshine under a clear blue sky and a gentle, friendly wind. Things are blooming and green is showing up. Snow? Sadly, no snow in our area. 57 F now, that’s what was called out as the high, so we may see warmer late afternoon temperatures.
Think the floofs are happy? You betcha. This warm stuff has Papi galloping around like a youngster. Tucker watches the other, plotting moves by the look in his eyes, but instead, he faces the sun and washes his gleaming white and black fur in the sunshine.
Read a lot of news and politics this morning but I’ve decided to veer away from those things for the day. The Neurons are feeding the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with The Replacements and their ripping song, “Can’t Hardly Wait”. Good driving beat to the song.
First, it was triggered by an episode of The Bear a couple weeks ago, taking me back to 1987, when I first heard it. During that period, I was stationed in South Carolina but heading to Egypt for six weeks of some fun in the sand. The Neurons returned it to me by a single line, “I’ll be home when I’m sleeping,” itself triggered from a dream trilogy.
The Egyptian experience was definitely memorable. Besides visiting the Pyramids and Sphinx, and meeting many lovely citizens of that nation, there was the experience of solar cooking our MREs on the tops of tents and coping with duststorms and scorpions. Best, I think, though, was the daily shower experience. Lining up across the desert as the sun rose found us shivering. We’d file into the shower tent so many at a time, strip down, and stand around a pole with six shower heads. Then hot water on for three minutes to wet down. Another minute off for soaping up, and then another minute to rinse off. Then dry and dress and walk back across the dusty, sandy desert to stow your gear and head to the chow tent for some freshly reconstituted powdered eggs.
Later in the day, the bombing runs would begin with various fighter and bombers coming in low and fast to pretend they’re attacking our camp. A little noisy, yes.
Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote, and I’ll do the same. But first, coffee! Here’s the music. Seize the day, my friends. Cheers
It’s a showery and sunny blue and white marble sky day on December 30, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the coffee houses are busy and the offerings are above average. 46 F now, we’re edging toward a 54 F high on this early winter day. Many of us have mild colds with hay fever overtones. Most wonder if it’s something worse as COVID reports are up in town.
I read much news each day. I think one of the wildest and saddest stories read this morning was of a Texas teen who shot two other teenagers in his home. Shooting them in the head after showing them a revolver, one was killed and the other was severely injured. A third teen, safe in the bathroom, called the police, reporting he’d heard two gunshots.
Most traumatic to me was that first, the seventeen-year-old stated he’d wanted to commit homicide for a long time, and had thought of shooting himself, and allegedly had cajoled his mother into buying him the weapon, although the family attorney denied the mother bought her son the gun. Let’s pause to think of what she’ll be going through now and for the rest of her life, regardless of her role.
Secondly, though, after he’d killed, he walked around the house crying, asking himself, “What have I done?” In some ways, he reminds of Kyle Rittenhouser, a killer who had little understanding of what killing another fully means. In that sense, I mean, do they understand that the other person will never get up again? Do they comprehend the legal and moral implications? Do they understand what they’ll do to their own psyche once they’ve killed? I think that a lot of this is lost in a culture where killing is often glamorized.
Today’s music was brought to my morning mental music stream (Trademark flushed) by Tucker. Tucker is my mixed long/short-haired black and white big foot feline. Wildly whiskered with a thick tail, he was constantly following me around yesterday and today. He frequently does this but it was a more intense session. I asked him the usual about his health, if he was hungry, and what he wanted and needed. And I petted, scratched, and brushed him, allowing him lap top while I was reading and net surfing, but nothing seemed to satisfy the boy. He’d eaten well and had his usual bowel movement (trust me on that), so those things didn’t seem issues. And he’d used his scratch pad quite vigorously, and then galloped around the house, so he had plenty o’ energy. After noting he was following me everywhere, The Neurons began “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac from 1987.
Stay positive, test negative, lean forward, and be strong. Now coffee up! It’s Saturday. Here’s the music. Cheers
We’re back onto Tuesday. Seems like it was Tuesday just last week.
Today is December 5, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the sidewalks are becoming above average but the roads are getting below average. It’s a solid flat white sheet of clouds lording the sky. Breezes are blowing and rain is coming but it’s 52 F now and we’ll see 61 before orbital mechanics drops darkness on us again.
It’s my little sister’s birthday. That would be little sister #1, who is a three-time granny. When she has 20 great-great-grandchildren, she’ll remain my little sister. Happy birthday, sistah. She didn’t have the best of times when she was a child and then teenager. It’s a story often told about some things going wrong in modern America. But she pulled out of it and is now the family’s solid center, the responsible one who looks after the rest.
Her birthday was celebrated last week because little sister #2 goes in for her ileostomy reversal surgery today, did in fact go in for it several hours ago — different time zones. She’s in the east and I’m in the west. This is the next stage for her cancer treatment, which has gone well, knock on wood, as Mom always said, something we children all carry forward.
Today’s song is by The Pogues, and The Neurons and I came up with it together. The song came out in Europe in 1988. Stationed there at the time, I first heard it at a friend’s house one Christmas a year later. He loaned me his CD because I wanted to learn the lyrics.
The song is “Fairtale of New York”. I sing along with it as best as I can as it circulates the morning mental music stream (Trademark fried). A duet, it’s a sad, bitter tale about a life between a man and a woman, and how it went from being one thing of love, hope, and dreams, to a weary edition of drinking, drugs, and hanging on. Sung with jaunty sarcasm, it’s also a brief remark on the differences on those who make it and those who don’t. ‘Faggot’ is in the lyrics, which was a verboten term by the time I was in high school in the early 1970s, so its inclusion was conroversial. The songwriter insisted it fit and needed to be there because of who the woman was singing the word; the word’s use shows her desultory character and was part of the times.
The male vocalist, Shane MacGowan, died last month from pneumonia, and was just a few months younger than my wife. With a lifelong problem of alcohol and drugs, he suffered from lingering maladies brought on by falls and was confined to a wheelchair before he was fifty because of a broken pelvis.
His female counterpart, Kristy MacColl, died when she was 41, over twenty years past. She was on vacation with her sons, diving in Cozumel, when she saw a speedboat coming at them. One son was out of the boat’s path and safe, but the other was in danger. She saved him, but was killed in the effort. The boat involved was owned by a millionaire so justice was a facade.
Lean forward, be strong, and stay positive. Keep working on it. I’m working on this cup of coffee, myself. Then I’ll work on the rest. Here’s the video. Cheers
Blue sky fall fever is settling over Ashlandia, where the trees are green and the sunshine is warm. 69 F on this Saturday morning, the expected high for September 9, 2023, will climb into the mid to upper 80s, depending upon exactly where you stand in the valley.
Got my car back from its repairs. All seems well. Continuing to prepare for our trip for a nephew’s wedding in PA. All the marriages in this family on my side, sixteen, and this will only be the second one with my attendance, the other being a niece a decade again, if you don’t count Dad’s second marriage. Have attended one marriage on my wife’s side, which is 20%. Couldn’t attend most of the others as I was outside the U.S. on military business.
Reading more today about the slow speed overthrow of democracy in America. Since Twitter went to X and throw off its controls, Chinese and Russian disinformation bots have ramped up production and influence. I read this in Heather Cox Richardson’s “Letters from an American” for September 7, 2023. Here are some of her pertinent words:
“A report published last week by the European Commission, the body that governs the European Union, says that when X, the company formerly known as Twitter, got rid of its safety standards, Russian disinformation on the site took off. Lies about Russia’s war against Ukraine spread to at least 165 million people in the E.U. and allied countries like the U.S., and garnered at least 16 billion views. The study found that Instagram, Telegram, and Facebook, all owned by Meta, also spread pro-Kremlin propaganda that uses hate speech and boosts extremists.
“The report concluded that “the Kremlin’s ongoing disinformation campaign not only forms an integral part of Russia’s military agenda, but also causes risks to public security, fundamental rights and electoral processes” in the E.U.”
Coupled with Google and Meta’s decisions that they’re going to allow AI generated fake political ads — with suitable ‘disclosures’, of course — and the sea of confusion and disagreement is bound to overtake us as surely as a storm surge during a hurricane in Florida. But don’t worry, we’ll have shiny toys to play with.
But today’s most heartbreaking story has to be the quake which slammed Morocco. Over 1000 dead at this point. Rescue missions and supply deliveries will ramp up soon. Hope there are no aftershocks.
The Neurons have gifted me with “Wait” by White Lion (1987) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark classified). Again, I don’t know what kicked the song in there. White Lion was a big hair band with a sound similar to several other bands of the era and a strong Eddie van Halen guitar influence. I haven’t heard this song in years and years, I don’t believe. It was never deeply in my hearing rotation so its arrival this morning is startling.
Stay pos, be strong, and be true to yourself. Coffee is being consumed already. Here’s the music. Cheers
Hypercharged weather continues in Ashlandia, where the pastries are gluten free and the coffee is organic and fair trade.
August 16, 2023 and Wednesday are here, for the records. If you’ve got an August bucket list, you might want to be applying yourself. Same with the summer BL. Summer’s end is rushing up like a horse coming to the Derby’s finish line.
It’s 89 with smoke here right now, 11:30 AM. I’m late getting started due to two matters. One, AC didn’t kick on last night. Lots of cursing about it, basic troubleshooting commenced, and a loose wire in the low-voltage sub system was discovered on the outside condenser unit. Reconnected and taped with electrical tape just for luck. Second matter was a plea for help from some friends for their Roku. It wasn’t running! One of my first questions was, did you change the remote’s batteries? They had. After we did a hard reboot on their system and were still getting nowhere, new batteries were installed. Voila.
Gonna be 102 F today, they tell us. Reached 102 or so at my house, on my system yesterday but the town only saw an official high of 99 F yesterday. Fortunately, yesterday’s cooldown was fast. Doors and windows were opened at 8 PM as the temperature drop commenced and fell into the low eights. Night took over and dropped us into the mid-seventies. Rain and thunderstorms are forecast for 7 PM this evening. We’ll see if they come, but they can be good, lowering the ground and air temp, but also could be dangerous, starting new fires with lightning. Fingers crossed about which way it goes.
Air quality is moderate due to smoke. Which fire is gifting us that? Don’t know. Might be a combo of all four — yes there’s a new one to the south, in the Klamath National Forest — as the heat dome has killed most breezes. Damn still air out there.
I’ve been reading more political news. One matter that disturbs me is how often Republicans say that they need to get rid of Democrats or liberals. Not win office over them; not work with them; get rid of them. Sad state when one half of the country basically professes to hate the other half. I don’t hear liberals/Democrats/Progressives talking about getting rid of the GOP. They talk about voting them out of office or maybe trying to discuss issues with them. Frankly, I am at a loss about their thinking many times, although I think it’s because they’ve sealed themselves in red wing information bubbles. Yes, red wing is deliberate; it’s beyond right wing, the home of the MAGAs. Like, we regularly check Red State to see what’s being reported over there. The skewing of news and information creates a harsh noise. Little of it aligns with what the rest of the world is thinking about. Like, Steve Bannon is already trying to blame Hawaii’s disaster on liberals, claiming that ‘actors’ kept people from fighting the fire or evacuating, etc., as these ‘actors’ started more fires. Evidence? Yes, just like his other claims, he has none.
It’s troubling, though. You can’t advance, you can’t be secure, you can’t grow as a society, nation, or civilization, if one half insists on spreading misinformation and fomenting distrust of the other. How are we to work together in such an environment? And that seems to be the red wing goal. To what end or purpose do they pursue such an agenda? It seems like, logically, it can only be for power. But then, much of what they do seems to defy the logic which the rest of us try to employ. Of course, from extensive polling and interviews in which we try to understand what they’re thinking, we’ve learned that the red wing supporters are mostly rural, dominated by men, and seem to feel victimized by by the rest of us and left behind. They blame ‘elites’, women, or racial minorities for their struggles as factories were moved to other nations.
Anyway, thanks to that, The Neurons have fired up Starship in the morning mental music stream (Trademark gifted). I’m hearing “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” from 1987. The Neurons point out that it’s about building a world together. That’s what’s hoped and needed. Silly Neurons, they’re frequently squinting at the world through rose colored lenses.
And now we come to the coffee drinking segment of the blog. Make mine black, of course. Stay pos and be strong, my friends. Here we go, one more time.
But let’s listen to some music first. Cheers
Post script: here I go, in the WordPress autosave bug that keeps a post from being published. Can’t even click ‘Publish’. Seems to happen at least once a week for me. Only thing to do is copy it all to a new post. Just the things I need to open up my cranky side.
It’s morning in Yachats. The mythical blue sky has still not been seen. The sun is playing hide and seek. We’ve been looking but it’s well hidden. Stormed all day on the coast. Rain from dawn to midnight. Gusts and gales. Rocking storm surge. Temperatures gamboled from 41 F to 42 F.
Birds returned today. They headed for shelter just like the rest of us yesterday. The rain paid a brief AM visit today, drops scampering across the roof and ground, tapering off to a mere shower. Supposed to be cresting 50 today but we’ll be gone, climbing back over the mountains and south to Ashlandia where the weather ghosts advise it’s more of the same. It’s Friday, April 21, 2023. My resting pulse is at its usual, 58. SP02 is down, 97%.
We turned off the news so we don’t know what’s going on. There’s not been a stream of cars heralding vast evacuations, no warning sirens, etc., so we think the world has trudged on without us. We ate at a favorite place, The Green Salmon. Vegan food, amazingly delicious, wonderful coffee, and that ideal coffee shop café air, where it’s less like a business and more like a passion.
Today’s music offered by The Neurons in the morning mental music stream is “Just Like Paradise.” David Lee Roth. 1987. Get it? Sure, it was just like livin’ in paradise there, even with the rain, as we were as relaxed as a cat sleeping in sunshine. Sure, the hotel wasn’t perfect. Couldn’t connect to the net, and half of the 54 listed channels on TV were advertisements or tutorials for Dish TV. But we were there to hear the waves, smell the sea, and gaze out as far as our eyes could roam the ocean’s horizon. The coast by Yachats remains raw, which is preferable to being filled with tourist bait.
Aside, Roth isn’t a favorite for me. One of my little sisters really liked him when she was a teenager but he never was my style of rock and roll when he separated from van Halen.
I’ve had coffee. Stay pos and ride Friday like it’s a magical unicorn carrying you to wherever you wish. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 