Tag: baggage

Wednesday’s Political Thoughts

I’d seen the non-answer and privately mocked it.

I’m addressing the Veep debate of 2024. In this corner, JD Vance, acknowledged purveyor of lies. In the other, a schoolteacher, Minnesota governor Tim Walz.

The non-answer was how JD Vance bobbed and weaved around the last election and Trump’s efforts to deny he’d lost and game the system to convince others that it’d been stolen. Ol’ orange skin has a thin skin. Anyone and everyone seeing him react to criticism knows he responds with vigorous childish antics. Admitting he’d lost the election was above his skillset, so he’s been conjuring an alternate reality ever since a record 80,000,000 voters told him to get lost. He just can’t take that reality.

The way Vance spoke, Trump didn’t do anything to impede a peaceful transfer of power.

Let the NY Times state it:

Mr. Walz had a question for his counterpart.

“He is still saying he didn’t lose the election,” Mr. Walz said of Mr. Trump, turning grandly to Mr. Vance. “Did he lose the 2020 election?”

“Tim,” Mr. Vance replied, “I’m focused on the future.” 

Tim Walz reacted to that.

“That,” Mr. Walz said, “is a damning non-answer.”

There was a reason, he added, that Mr. Pence was not on the stage as Mr. Trump’s running mate anymore.

And it was worth asking, he said, what that could tell viewers about Mr. Vance.

“America, I think you’ve got a really clear choice,” Mr. Walz said, his eyes getting bigger, “of who’s going to honor that democracy and who’s going to honor Donald Trump.”

Just ’bout summed it up for me. Vance won’t admit the truth. Anyone ignoring reality and history won’t learn from either. That’s a person I don’t want in any leadership position.

But reading the NYTimes comments always delivers a surprise. Like expecting a birthday cake and opening the box to find a turd. Here’s one, two, and three of those comments about the non-answer.

JD Vance made some interesting points about January 6. He basically distanced himself away from the event. Of course, Walz, needs to associate Vance with January 6 and rightfully so, because the Vice President has an important role to play: they count the electoral votes. If the Vice President does NOT count the electoral votes, there cannot be a new president. Another thing, Donald Trump had to leave office on January 20 because of Mike Pence’s refusal of Donald Trump’s command not to certify the election. If Vance were VP that day, I think he wouldn’t count the electoral votes and Trump would have an excuse to stay in power. Of course, there would be the threat of impeachment, but based on how the last trial went, I’m not sure if that process works.

A plastic statement to be sure, but generally makes sense. Next.

Mr Vance was absolutely correct in his response to what took place on Jan 6. The protest at the Capitol was initiated and instigated by Democratic operatives and FBI plants and informants. The legacy media glosses over these facts in a desperate effort to convince America that the attempts by President Trump and his supporters to get to the truth about election interference prior to certification and the instigation of events at the Capitol were some nefarious plot by President Trump. No they were not and the election results and the true instigators of Jan 6 still need to be investigated and exposed. One of the biggest fears the left has is that his reelection will result in these truths being exposed. The left well knows that President Trump isn’t a threat to democracy but a threat to their hold on the levers of our governments power.

Well, someone is certainly drinking the Qanon tuna juice. They get their info from where? Delusions are deep in this one. They ignore all evidence and the facts of what happened and just 3D print some new reality.

And comment #3.

Tim Walz came across as a nice guy, good neighbor, but not VP material much less POTUS in the event he has to step up to the plate. Harris made a profound mistake by picking Walz when she had the opportunity to choose either Josh Shapiro or Mark Kelly. I am not voting for Harris and I am not voting for Trump but had Harris picked Shapiro or Kelly as VP, I would definitely have reconsidered voting for her in November.

Basically, in their opinion, ‘Harris made a mistake in Walz so she’s not good enough for my vote cause Walz isn’t good enough to Veep.’

Everyone heard the same words and saw the same scenes. But the baggage we carry always drives our perceptions. And if Trump wins, and it all turns to shit so many like me and others gag on as a possibility, that third commenter will proclaim, “Well, it’s not my fault. I didn’t vote for either of them.”

Yeah, Vance’s performance didn’t change me. I didn’t come up with shivers from his wisdom or oratory prowess. I saw none of the first and little of the second.

With all I’ve seen of Trump and Harris, I’m still voting blue. Not only do I share my values and hopes for the nation with her, but with him, I believe he and ‘his supporters’ would continue shredding the Constitution and moving us backward.

Guess that’s my baggage.

6

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’d noticed time and again how far back some people stop behind other cars at traffic lights. It surprises me to see a vehicle three to four car lengths behind the one in front of them. My wife always suggested that maybe something happened to them, and I agree; people carry baggage even as drivers. The things which happen to us often shape our behavior. Driving isn’t different. I recently learned about one driver and why she stops so far back.

My wife mentioned to her coffee group that I always wonder about it. A friend responded, “Well, he’d be wondering about me.” She then told a story about a serious traffic accident. She and the passenger barely survived. It was all about icy country roads on a snowy day and a car unable to stop behind them, pushing them forward and off an embankment into a ravine.

See, I still don’t understand why she would stop so far back when it was a car hitting her from behind that caused the issue, with exigent circumstances influencing the situation.

But I recognize that I’m trying to apply logic to what is emotional for her. In the end, I remind myself, what difference does it make how far back she stops? It bothers me on an intellectual level, but that’s my problem.

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Another Military Dream

Been some months since I’ve had a military dream. I was in the military for twenty-one years, and the military formed my life structure for those years. I first joined in October, 1975, so I shouldn’t be surprised that The Neurons are fostering dreams about that segment of my life.

The dream found me a young man again. I was traveling in my office work blues with my fruit salad on my chest, and going alone. I’d arrived somewhere to make a connection with a civilian airline. I was expected but needed to get to the airline counter to check in, pay for the ticket, receive the ticket and boarding pass, and check my bag.

In a line to enter the terminal with others, I thought I heard my last name called. I looked around at the twenty-something individuals outside doing things. Some seemed to be looking for something but that’s not indicative of anything in an airport. No one called me again. I decided I’d imagined it.

Then I heard it again. Twice. Looking again, I called out, “Did anyone call Seidel?”

People weren’t paying attention. Raising my voice, I repeated my question. Others shook their heads.

By now, the line into the terminal had moved on without me. My flight time was getting disturbing close and I was way behind where I wanted to be.

I heard my name called again. It seemed like it was right behind me.

I whirled. A woman in a marigold shirt was there. I asked, “Did you say something? Are you looking for someone?”

She replied, “I said, ‘sigh’.”

‘Sigh’ sounds just like the first syllable of my last name. “Why did you say that?” I asked her.

She gestured at the scenery beyond the airport. Blue skies, and an ocean vista of whitecaps and splashed sunshine. “Look how beautiful it is. How can I not sigh?”

A young woman exited the building. Walking up to me, she said, “I’ve been calling you.” She handed me my ticket.

I was dumbfounded. “I thought I still had to pay.”

She shook her head while backing away. “It’s already paid for.” Pivoted, she went back into the terminal.

Pleased with that development, I rationalized that I must have been hearing my name on a PA system, although I didn’t see any speakers. No matter; one problem was solved. I just needed to check my bag and head for the gate.

Another woman had set up a taped off area on the land with red masking tape. For some reasons that I don’t understand, I decided that was for getting my baggage ready to be checked.

I went over and spread the bag on the ground and repacked it. The woman came up and asked me what I was doing. Apologetically, I explained. She waved that off and pointed to where I should take my bag.

That’s where the dream ended.

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The Baggage Dream

I thought this a great dream to experience on New Year’s Eve/Day. I was traveling as a young man. Not sure what the transpo means were. Seemed like a planes, trains, and automobile variation. I’d stopped at a cafe to eat. It seemed like a cafe but it had a huge eating area, lot of floor space, and many tables. It was packed with travelers. Most were happy. Many were children and families.

I found a place and put my baggage on a table, then went up and ordered. Just three people were behind the counter, serving all these people. I ordered a sandwich. I thought it would take a while but the sandwich was quickly prepared and given to me. I took it back to my table to eat.

While I ate, I decided to clean out my baggage, which was a dark burgundy backpack. As I went through, I discovered it was full of stuff from previous travels. I frequently recognized things from visits to other places, and chuckling, tossed most of it into the trash. Then I neatly tidied what I was keeping. When I finished, my baggage was light, clean, and organized. I went on to meet my father. He was there to give me a gift. I told him that I was on my way to a new job. He was pleased for me.

Happy new year.

3

A Three Cliché Dream

My subconscious and its dream offerings gave me a laugh this morning. As I emptied the dishwasher, I thought about them, and realized three things emerged from the dreams.

  1. I’m carrying baggage from my broken arm.
  2. I’m starting anew again.
  3. I need to clean out the cobwebs.

Clichés, am I right? Here’s how it unfolded.

In the beginning… I was preparing to travel. I had a large gray garment bag, which was a problem because there was a small car, being shared with others. I can fold my bag, I thought. But I couldn’t, because…my arm.

Yes, dream logic. It made sense in the dream. Perhaps I’ve lost grasp of some details that made the logic fit. In the dream, though, I thought, yes, I can fold the bag if I can protect my arm. From somewhere (the air?) I found a coil of clear, semi-rigid plastic. I could wrap that around my arm and protect it.

It took a few tries with the coil, but it was finally done. I folded my bag and put it into the back of the hatchback, off we went. Stops ensued. More people joined us. Some left us. I didn’t know any of them. We were just travelers going a common way.

My bag again became an issue. An older woman was trying to fit luggage into the car. My bag dominated. Everything else couldn’t. I told her, “No, just fold it in half.” She wouldn’t. I again went through finding the clear plastic coil, putting it over my arm, covering my arm to my elbow over my shirt, and then folding the bag in half.

I was now at work. I was the new man, not certain of where to sit or my role. But they were expecting me. I was warmly greeted. A boss (a white male) came by to show me where to sit but then was vague on what I was to do. It was something about writing on a computer. We seemed to be a sort of publishing organization.

I went off, doing dream things. When I came back, my stuff was moved. Minor annoyed (and worried, because maybe this was a sign that hiring me was a mistake), I found my stuff, then sought the boss, looking for an assignment. “Just type,” he told me. “Just write.”

About what? I asked back, but he waved me away and went off to do other things. I wandered, asking others what they’re working on but everyone was busy typing. I returned to my desk.

Everything was moved again. That worried me anew. An assistant came by. “Oh, you’re over here, now. We put you over here with like people.”

Following her, I grumbled, “Really? I’ve been moved three times? I haven’t even be here that long.” She laughed. “But three times is a charm, isn’t it?” Then she showed me my new space. It was much larger, cleaner, and…well, newer, than the other places. Not that they’d been bad, but this was a huge improvement.

Pleased, I sat down. My co-workers greeted me, which is where that segment ended.

I was next at another work office. As part of our routine, we were to play at mock fencing. That’s about the only way I can summarize it. I understood it in the dream — it was a long-standing tradition — but outside of the dream context, it makes little sense. I was searching for the right weapon to use in a duel. Pointed sticks were available, but I thought that would hurt others. I tried fashioning a foil out of tin, but it was flimsy and failed. Someone suggested I use a pencil. I wouldn’t, as I worried about lead breaking off under someone’s skin.

The boss (a white woman) needed to leave for an appointment. She had clients with her. I wanted to duel her. She was willing but we couldn’t find suitable weapons, and the clients were there. I began helping her with the clients, just retrieving stuff as she called it out. During this process, I came across areas thick with spider webs and cobwebs. As clients were there, I surreptitiously cleaned them up. Looking more sharply, I realized that such webs were all over the place. I decided, as soon as the clients leave, I was going around and cleaning them all away.

The end.

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Three Minds

He was of three minds about what to do, one each from the past, present, and future. All asserted their opinions and wouldn’t back down, paralyzing him with indecision, and so, he did nothing.

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