Saturday’s Theme Music – Talking

Saturday, August 29, 2026. Ashland, southern Oregon.

A chilly, cloudy morning. Rumors of rain are trickling around conversations. The sky is mostly blue, hazing toward white and gray as clouds collect. 58 F now, today’s high is expected to top out in the mid 70s.

I’m off to a late posting start because I instead wrote in the novel. Had been thinking about a series of scenes last night. Today, they were just there, so I sat and wrote three thousand words before I did anything except feed the cat.

Mom has responded to my texts about her house and accomplishments by first, thanking me. Her texts then devolved into complaints about how I’m her only child who will talk to her. Then she demanded that I come and visit her. She finished with complaints about the assisted living facility and staff and wished she ‘woke up dead’.

On to news, where it’s here we go again, on the hideous Trump merry-go-round.

A Salon headline kicked things off.

Pete Hegseth’s press crackdown smells like a coverup

Possible cover-ups are in line with the Trump and his administration’s standard functioning. Exhibits offered as evidence:

  • The Epstein files
  • White House ballroom
  • The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool
  • Hush money to Stormy Daniels
  • USS Abraham Lincoln

Trump and his cabinet insist that everything is great, but they go through acrobatic gyrations whenever they’re challenged. Threats escalate fast on their end. They blame others and insult whomever questions them. They pull credentials, threaten to sue, bluster on social media, and give hostile interviews in which they insist they’re right and everyone else is wrong.

Meanwhile, Trump’s ideas of democracy, freedom, is fully on display. He clearly doesn’t think much of serving We the People. Just wants the power of the office. Nor does he care much about history, treaties, and laws.

Trump has now announced that he secured ‘majority US control’ of much of Venezuela’s oil reserves. This comes after Trump removed Venezuela’s president by force. We the People who pay attention to history remember how regions around the world evolved into dangerous and unstable regions because nations went in, established themselves as the de facto rulers, and then began plundering their national resources.

The United States has long moved toward away from these policies, pushing for democracy. Success is erratic because it’s a messy process, involving wealthy, power, and people. Additionally, the US continued to secretly use the military or CIA to kill. Trump, though, has escalated it, and is doing so blatantly, oblivious to how these policies affect world opinion of the US.

History has shown, these kind of moves often bite us in the ass. For evidence, just look how things have played out in Iran with US intervention.

Today’s theme music is “You Talk Too Much”. This was a hit for Joe Jones in the early 1960s. I was about five years old when I first started hearing it, I think. A popular song, it achieved a lot of air play. It was also song which Mom sang while doing things around the house. She would also sing it to my sisters and I when we were trying to ask her for something. Frankly, that was very irritating.

Sample Lyrics

You talk too much
You worry me to death
You talk too much
You even worry my pet

You just talk…
Talk too much

You talk about people
That you don’t know
You talk about people
Wherever you go

You just talk…
Talk too much

You talk about people
That you’ve never seen
You talk about people
You can make me scream

The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream in honor of Donald Trump. He talks and texts, often before engaging any brain cells. This week after thinking he can change the name of Lake Ontario with the stroke of a pen, he went on to talk about changing the names of other places in like ways.

What Ding Dong Donnie doesn’t understand, either, is that by having the US flex its powers and just do things on whims, he encourages other strong-armed nations to do the same.

What’s funny, though, is how Ding Dong Donnie doesn’t see what he’s done to the world order. He thinks other nations are jealous of us. He was angry — and probably still is, as he is one who likes to indulge in deep sulking — when other nations refused to participant in his Trumped-up war on Iran. He didn’t understand and doesn’t see that he’s burned so many bridges which were carefully build through years of diplomacy, negotiations, and practices.

I correct myself: more than not understanding, Trump doesn’t care.

Trump’s legacy of ego and failures is stacking into one of the world’s ugliest historic periods. Meanwhile, I wish he would shut up. He’s become like a dog barking all night long without reason.

I wish you the best of the best days in every way which you and I can think of.

Cheers

The Cake Dream

Another anxiety dream, this one featuring cake.

Something had happened in the dream previous to this moment but its pieces are like sand in the wind. With the wind calming, I found myself in another place.

A younger version of me entered a hotel ballroom. Brightly lit chandeliers hung over the  gathering. Everyone, including were well-dressed, with most (including me) wearing a black tuxedo with black tie.

Everyone milled around, as if waiting for an event to start. Lost when I first entered, I slipped to one side to get out of the way and figure out what was going on. Multiple tables were set with tablecloths and centerpieces featuring burning candles. On either end were tables. Seeing something on those tables, I went to them.

The tables were full of elaborate cakes. Seeing them, I became ravenous. I wanted a piece of cake but there weren’t plates, knives, or forks. How was I supposed to get a piece of cake?

Feeling nervous, I decided that I was going to leave. As I began turning, a woman in a shimmering silver gown approached me and announced, “There you are.” I thought she might someone else and tried stepping out of her way, but it was clear that she meant me. Even as she changed course and addressed me, I backpedaled, almost banging into the table full of cakes. God, what if I knock them all over, I worried, almost seeing the mess that it would make.

With the woman coming to me, others were coming my way, too. The woman was talking but I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. As she reached me, she took my arm in hers and asked, “What cake would you like?”

I said, “I don’t know, they all look good, but I don’t see any plates.” I was looking for plates, knives, and forks, and then, with surprise, saw that they were on the table. As I mused, how did I miss that, thinking they weren’t they before, the woman said, “It’s all for you. Take whatever cake you want.”

Distrustful of her (and leery of more people) (mostly men in tuxes crowding around me), I told her, “I think I need to go.” As I disengaged myself from the woman, a tall man stepped up and held out a plate of cake to me. “Just take the cake,” he said in a gentle voice.

I laughed because I thought he said, “This takes the cake,” but I was also confused because I didn’t know what he meant. Still holding the cake toward me, he said, “The cake is yours. Take the cake.”

The dream ended.

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