Welcome to MAGALand

Jill Dennison is my online friend, and a staunch defender of justice, liberty, equality, and democracy. Jill found and shared a piece by Jay Kuo about the travesty sickly called ‘Alligator Alcatraz’. Trump likes to joke about prisoners trying to escape the nasty conditions ending ending up as a Mc gator meal. This is a place with the squalid and inhumane conditions of backwards areas of the 1900s United States, places we’d legislated against and outlawed out of respect for life. Now, under Trump, instead of advancing, we’re throwing away due process and law and order and sinking into the miasma of a third-world shithole.

Welcome to MAGALand.

Read it for yourself but be ready for your GRRRRRRRR meeting to go off the scale.

Wenzda’s Theme Music

It’s Wenzda, aka humpday, but also July 2, 2025. Cooled down to a comfortable level last night some and the morning ingredients are calling birds, blue sky, sunshine, and 72F. High will be 83 F, a drop from what I saw yesterday at my casa, 95 F.

I realized this morning that I’m in a metaphorical holding-my-breath state. So many balls in the air. I scan horizons for ‘the next’ in six different directions. Out there is the One Big Beautiful Bill, known in some places as the Big Ripoff, the Great Screwed Up Give to the Rich bill in others. Trump was again idiotically blithering on TV like someone who shouldn’t be allowed out on their own again. Russia and Ukraine’s war continues. Iran and Israel are still out there glaring at one another. Israel bombed some more people in Gaza. Don’t worry: they’re ‘investigating’ how it came to be that they bombed a cafe and killed reporters and workers and such. Yep. Tariffs hang all over everything like toilet paper from trees after Devil’s Night. Supreme Court rulings have been issued and the storms building behind those will come out. It’s Hurricane Season. Europe is suffering record heat and it’s not that cool in ‘Merica, either. Wildfires burn and FEMA is ready to shrug because Trump says states should be doing it for themselves. DOGE has had access to personal data; can that be good? The U.S. measles outbreak has ‘plateaued’ according to the gov’t but has it really? And what will happen with all that new guidance from the science and medicine skewed HHS led by worm brain Kennedy? Killer Noem’s ICE Troops seem more reckless, sanctuary and blue states are being threatened by Trump, he has a new eua-du-shit out, and Musk and Trump have taken their insults to new levels. Then there’s the personal and family stuff.

Hold my breath. Wait to see. What. Is. Next.

Quickening to my mood and thoughts, The Neurons unleashed “I Will Wait” by Mumford and Sons into the morning mental music stream. The song came out in 2012. Led by Marcus Mumford, the band has a different sound but it works for me and enough others that they’ve established a solid career. Hope you find it okay for your Wenzda’s beats.

My follow up dental appointment went well yesterday. All is healing, no problems, no complaints. Biopsy showed nothing of concern from the cyst removed from my gum. Have another appointment, different dentist, for a cleaning.

Coffee-fueled energy is ascending. I’m off to early morning yardwork. Have the best day you can. Cheers

Satyrda’s Theme Music

If my grip on reality is sure and we’re sharing the same reality, today is Satyrda, June 28, 2025. A strong sun lords over us with a hot hand. Mid 80s to upper 80s is the sun’s upper reach for us. Funny, but Mid 80s to upper 80s was what I remember as a new house price range in South Carolina in the early 80s when we lived there during a military assignment.

Upon scouring the news for lowlights yesterday and cringing through the Roberts Court rulings, The Neurons told me, “That’s it. We’re out of here.” To where, I asked the squirrelly gray beasts. “Kathmandu,” they replied. To reinforce their notion, they sprang the Bob Seger song on the morning mentl music stream. So here we go with the fifty year old song, “Katmandu”.

Seger related that the song was born out of frustration and exasperation, so it’s wholly fitting for this era for many of us. At least, in theory. The Neurons were speaking out of my disappointment with my country, the United States. I love it and don’t plan to move away, but the current political atmo leaves me panting for some friggin’ other place, at least until TACO madness has subsided and we get back to being a democratic republic.

Time to rock and roll another summer day in the U.S.A. Hope you’re dealing, wherever we’re you’re at. Cheers

Frida’s Wandering Thoughts

I was ravenous. I carry sufficient emergency energy stores (fat) on my body that starvation didn’t come up as a serious concern except for my stomach’s urgency to refill. It bellowed complaints like an irritated wooky. Much of this is diet limitations. I’m on low salt for hyper tension, and still remained constrained by my oral surgery. It’s healing well but missing molars and recovering surgical sites disrupt the biting, and chewing, and swallowing routine. It’ll be over in four to six months, so that’s just a temp thing.

I’ll be pleased to see June 2025 finish. Frustrating, disappointing, wearying, and just plain sad, that month holed my energy during its 30-day reign, and my soul is despondent. Personally, June of 2025 will remain a strong memory because it was memorably messed up. I’m putting high hopes on July and the rest of 2025. July’s first week features two dental appointments, my annual physical, and natal day #69, so the beginning is loaded with potential.

For the record, I think Natal Day #69 could be good song title, with the right music behind it.

Mom Update

Mom and her boyfriend appear to be ready to move out of Mom’s house.

This is a big step for Mom. Not only is it a familiar place, a comfortable place for her, but it’s rich with history. She lost her previous house in divorce proceedings when the two parties agreed that selling is what needed to be done, as neither could afford to pay the mortgage on their own. Mom then saved for years for a place that she could afford on her own. This place was finally the one. Like Mom, the house has a lot of charm. Now both are old.

Mom fixed up that home through the years. Seventeen grand and greatgrandchildren have visited it for parties, holidays, and celebrations. She hadn’t finished high school; while living in that house, she got her GED. She then went on to become a nurse, RN & LPN. She was rightfully very proud of those accomplishments.

Her house has always tidy and spotless. Cleaning and cooking, having family, are her passions. But the house, with its narrow, step stairs, are no longer a safe place for her. That’s painful to acknowledge. Her physical limitations keep her from cooking and cleaning. The grands and greats rarely visit because Mom is mostly tired, medicated, and bed-ridden. She depends on her boyfriend. Now 95, he’s finally up against limitations. He becomes dizzy and falls. It’s not a good situation for the two of them. Now, he has mass in his lung which might be cancer, but with his age, they don’t feel there’s any worthwhile treatments for him.

Like many things, there are more factors swirling underneath the surface emotions, conversations, and actions. Like, he doesn’t want to pay rent, which he would need to do in the new place, because he wants to leave money for his children, grandchildren, etc. This is mostly an ego thing because all of his offspring are well off. And if he has cancer and becomes sicker and worse…well, that doesn’t need to be spelled out. We can all visualize the added complexities.

Egos, complexities, and history are all part of the package. Nothing can just be dimissed. It must be lived through, endured, and shaped until it fits the current moment.

That’s life.

The Writing Moments

I told myself again yesterday, get out of the way and write. Write, I did. And when I reviewed what I wrote, I laughed to myself and whispered, “This is fucking crazy.”

By far the craziest of what I’ve ever written, I sat down with a specific purpose and some simple ideas about where I was going. Well, The Writing Neurons quickly queued up, redecorating, rearranging, reordering, taking me into completely foreign waters. “But how will this match up with what I had planned and previously wrote?” I complained.

Well, after the cat barked me awake at 5:58 AM today, The Writing Neurons pounced on my poor brain. They began weaving story webs like caffeine-fueled spiders in a web-building competition. I laughed at a lot of the shit they conjured. Then, when I put eyes to screen and hands to keys, I hustled to duplicate The Writing Neurons’ input.

It’s a wild frigging ride so far and I’m nervous about where I’m going. But you know, write on.

That’s what it’s all about.

***

So…I finished a novel last month. Felt damn good about it. Began firing up the querying mechanism.

Meanwhile, I handed it off to friends for feedback. But, without telling them, I capped it at part 1. I figured, if they finish part 1, I’ll give them parts 2 and 3. I did this knowing that the manner the novel unfolds will be confusing by the end of part 1. You need part 2 to see where it’s going, and part 3 for full illumination. But I still thought it would be a fast read for them. Instead, I’m hearing that they had to reread parts; they were creating notes. They want to sit down and talk about what’s what. All of that’s pushing my hopes and confidence toward the writer’s abyss of despair. I just need to hang on. Wait for their feedback. See where it goes.

That, too, is part of the writing process.

Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts

We have violence escalating in the Middle East and the United States as the Ukraine-Russia War burns on. This is the forefront. In the momentary background are tariffs and trade wars, climate change and natural disasters like wildfires. Always thinking ahead *cough cough, yes, that’s very thick snark*, a Florida right wing sheriff is threatening to kill protestors, Gov. DeSantis in Florida beams and tells drivers that it’s okay to hit protestors with their cars (anyone remember Charlottesville, VA?), Gov. Abott in Texas is calling out the National Guard, and so is Gov. Kehoe in Missouri. That First Amendment and its right to assemble really terrifies the right wing. Which, I guess we can infer means that We the People terrify them.

The current situation isn’t triggering joy and optimism in me. I could play whatif games about Trump, Putin, and Netanyahu being more restrained and diplomatic. These games are as pointless as wishes Kamela Harris won the election in 2024. Or Hillary won in 2016. Or Gore in 2000. Or that spineless Republicans like Mitch McConnell stood up, did his job, and impeached Trump in the latter’s first term. Or the Roberts Supreme Court didn’t behave like an overindulgent absent father and ruled to appease the right wing. We’re beyond those things mattering, except the ripples are still going.

That’s the thing. I, we, gotta ride the ripples. Do what I can, what we can, to mitigate their impact. Survive and help others do the same. And seize the opportunity to help change the world — again — when the chance comes.

Stand up this weekend. Stay calm. De-escalate violence but stand for your principles. Be reasonable in the face of absurdity. It can be painful. It will take courage and strength. It can be done.

No kings. No fascism. Not in the United States of America. Not now. Not ever.

Stub of A Strange Dream

I approached a tall and ancient tree wrapped in silvery fog. I had an impression that I’d been climbing for some time as I felt bone weary with effort. The foggy air had me shivering in the dream, but I think it was also nervousness. Stopping in front of the tree, I stared at the rough blackened gray bark. Slowly a face rose into the gnarly surface. Eyes opening, they moved around several moments before finding me. With unrelenting attention given to me, the face separated from the tree and slowly floated up into the sky. As it did, I found that the fog was gone. I watched the face floating away until it could no longer be seen, and I was alone with the tree, surrounded by a clear blue sky.

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