It started with a conversation about President Biden pardoning his son. My wife said, “I was fine with that but I’m angry, too. He took care of his family but why didn’t he do more to stop Trump?”
She remains very angry about the election. Understanding that she holds onto anger, I don’t expect her to be over it for another twelve to fourteen years. Even then, she won’t ‘be over it’. A lifelong feminist, she already sees men encouraged to be bigger assholes when it comes to how women are treated in the United States.
She went on about how she thought President Biden should have started building protections against Trump as soon as it was known Trump won in 2024. Stirring up my inner devil’s advocate, I countered her.
“Why should President Biden do that? Why should he need to fight so hard to prove the economy is doing well? Trump’s conviction was aired, as were the other charges against him. So was his bizarred fucking behavior, like fellatio with a microphone. He’s a disgusting damn individual and he constantly display that. Meanwhile, Biden was fixing many things. Why should he need to beat the drums hard and loud for so many great things accomplished under his administration? Maybe when Trump won, Biden said, ‘Fuck it. If those voters want Trump, a convicted felon and known liar and cheat with no morals or scruples to be president, bring it on. They deserve what they get.'”
I don’t believe for a second that President Biden thought those words. He’s more honorable than that. No, that was all me as a fictional, enraged President Biden. Then again, me as an enraged fictional President Biden would have forced his DOJ to go harder after Trump as part of the big picture; you let anyone get above the law, you’ve lost.
Sure, many are having voter regrets. But I think most of them will take the shit Trump dumps on them, gloss it over, and call it a good thing. There’s just too much willful ignorance for me to conclude otherwise.
This is it, the last day of July of 2024. It’s gonna roll on without you so hurry on down to the Last Chance Saloon to get your final taste of July of 2024.
July was a tumltuous month. The RNC was held and Don Old Trump wisely chose a lying hypocritical sycophant as his running mate. An assassination attempt enlivened the news days. Judge Cannon, a Don Old Trump appointee, dismissed the classified document case on him with reasoning that shocked legal experts. Heat records were set for the planet. Disasters unfolded across the world, including wildfires throughout the United States, and the stock market continued going up. President Biden dropped out of the running to be POTUS again, Vice President Harris leaped into the fray, and the Olympics began. Those are just the basics.
It’s Wednesday here in Ashlandia, where the wine is fine and the weed does the deed. 73 F now, we’re anticipating a high of 97 F. I’m awaiting my furnace control board so I can continue my DIY repairs on my HVAC. I haven’t been working on it because of the high heat. Although we both agree, we’ve been surprising comfortable about ninety percent of the time, my wife is beginning to show signs of impatience.
Our quality is good, still, ranging in the 20 to 30 range around town.
We’re under 100 days until the election. Think it’s 98 now. The pressure is getting ratcheted up. Don Old Trump is looking shaky these days. Vance is offering little reassurance in his early performances.
In other words, they’re under pressure. The Neurons selected “Under Pressure” from the grey mental jukebox and has the David Bowie and Queen collaboration from 1981 is rousing the morning mental music stream (Trademark carbonized). Hope it works for you as theme music for today.
It’s hump day in Ashlandia, which translates to Wednesday, July 24, 2024. Just seven days left in the month so finish up your Christmas shopping if you haven’t already done so.
Ah, smoke from the Diamond Lake complex continues to plague us. Our air quality is moderate now but a warning as been issued for our breathing, again. Temps won’t be bad. It’s cloudy and 70 F with beliefs that our high will stop at 95 F.
Well, I must say that I was against President Biden dropping out at this late stage in the race. I felt doing so would throw the Democratic Party into disarray and hand Trump a fractured nation victory. But my gosh, there was such a surge of hopeful energy when Joe stepped down and announced he was endorsing his Veep, Kamala Harris. It’s a startling metamorphosis. Suddenly we had someone younger. That meant that the one thing Trump had going for him in his campaign against Biden was gone.
I know the MAGAts won’t be moved from their Trump position. They’re living in a world where we can’t touch them with truth, logic, nor facts. So, they’re written off from the getgo. And there is a smaller number who hedge because Vice President Kamala Harris is female and not white. Some are trying on the meme that she’s too inexperienced, too. That reeks of such bullshit — especially when comparing her to the great mango hope — that those attacks fall flat every time.
Of course, the GOP under Trump has little substance. They’re all gimmicks and underhanded tactics. Who was surprised when they immediately tried the impeachment process on VP Harris? Not anyone familiar with the gang who can’t think straight. I sort of laughed yesterday while reading a NYTimes article. Yes, I know, it is the New Yawk Times and their diminishing brand of lame bothsiderism journalism, so I was dubious of the article. It was something something Trump is leaning toward populism again, their reasoning being that he chose Vance as his Veep, and Vance is anti-corporation. Huge guffaws all around. The guest essay also went on to talk about the lack of a party platform. Like, yeah, no shit, this is the new GOP Trump brand. They just shout, “Trump! He’s the second coming! Greeeaattt business man! Celebrity! Tells us like it is (just pay no attention to the lies)! Stolen election! Hillary! Lock her up!” Now, they also add, because of the shooting, “He’s been saved by God!” Then they get the vapors and swooonnnn.
Anyway, that GOP is in such disarray. The Dems, meanwhile, are surging strong brothers and sisters. They have a solid progressive. Sure, there are so weak spots. There usually will be. But. Those who want a female in the White House are energized. Those who didn’t want an old Biden are energized. Those shouting “Anyone but Trump!” are energized. And Vice President Harris has gone out there and put out a fiery, galvanizing speech. She’s a former prosecutor and attorney general. She knows how to think and articulate. Let’s go, Kamala.
It’s looking good, brothers and sisters, knock on wood, fingers tightly crossed, breath held.
Today’s music is a deliberate choice.Jerry Miller of Moby Grape passed away, so I pulled an old MG song, “Hey Grandma”, from sometime in the 1960s. MG’s brand of psychedlic pop rock spoke to my youthful sensibilities, starting that band name, Moby Grape. They really seemed like something special when I first heard them and will always have a special place in memory.
Stay positive — lord knows, I’m trying — be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has been swallowed; here’s the music. Cheers
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
Hello, fellow citizens of the Sol system. We have landed on Sunday January 21, 2024.
It’s a little bit day; little bit sunny, windy, rainy, warm, cold. Should be a little bit ‘o rainbow out there somewhere.
Once again, I come to you after reading some news, and end up a little bit disappointed, saddened, surprised, disturbed, and shocked. Pretty typical, really. Flipping through radio channels as I went downtown to coffee shop #2, I heard a woman on the radio saying how much Trump is needed now. Cuz, she said, crime is up and the economy is down, and our border is just a mess, stating all these things as a given without offering any stats or evidence. Don’t know if I’d trust her stats and evidence, anyway, as I was a little bit suspicious of her, especially when she ended by telling us that God sent Trump to us. Rebut: God sent Biden to us. That’s why he won, right? Debate.
Today’s theme music is “All Mixed Up” by 311 from 1996. My ginger floof, Papi, inspired The Neurons to choose this song. Rain was falling and the sun was shining and the wind was blowing when I opened the back door and let Papi bounce outside, tail up and energetic. Wind smooching his face caused him to turn away like he was gonna come back in, but then he remembered that he was a wild beast, king of the outdoors, so he redirected his course toward the sunshine, only to retreat as rain showered him. Again he began a return to inside the house only to recall his wild vows, and changed directions to head across the patio where he sat, washed, and debated his options.
Watching all that, The Neurons kicked “All Mixed Up” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark a little bit). But it’s a good song selection for other reasons, like the world’s state vice expectations and attitudes: the song declares, “You’ve got to trust your instinct, and let go of regret. You’ve got to bet on yourself now, star, ’cause that’s your best bet.” I like that aspect as it’s directing me to look forward and trust myself.
Be strong, stay pos, lean forward and trust yourself. I’m havin’ a little bit more coffee now. Then I’ll go on with a little bit of editing and home chores. Here’s the music. Cheers
The moon’s visit moved beyond normal to sublime. Sometimes a clear night hosts a moon that lights the night and finds something more primal and hopeful in the mind. Last night’s moon was one of these, romantic and inspirational, a moon with light that whispers, “the impossible is possible.” No wonder a moon like that is spoken of in sentences about magic, fairies, and spaceships.
It’s January 16, 2023. It’s Monday. It’s 30 degrees F and sunny. It’s calm. It’s a new week’s start. Happy New Week! Have you made any New Week resolutions? I have. Of course I have. I don’t do NY ones, but I do daily, weekly, and monthly resolutions. You only fail if you give up trying, am I right? Some people place the week’s start on Sunday. I consider Saturday and Sunday neutral ground. The week begins on Monday and ends on Friday.
The sun pressed its presence into our valley at 7:37 this morning, coming around like it’s nobody’s business. Daylight will light us up until about 5:05 this evening. Then the sun will set and bring on dusk, followed by night. The cold front will keep our high from getting much above 42 F. Some say that rain is due but the clouds for that job haven’t checked in. Snow is visible in far fields on high mountains, appearing like cake frosting on the ridges’ pines and firs. It’s a tranquil blue-sky sight.
News continues emerging about President Biden and the classified documents found at his home and office. This turn pisses me off more than Trump’s classified doc scandal. I thought Joe Biden was responsible and this oversight, this sloppiness, is infuriating. I was in the Air Force for twenty years. With high secret clearances and active in special access programs, dealing with classified material, including stuff that was Top Secret with special qualifiers, including nuclear war plans, launch codes, attack plans, and intelligence materials, I was frequently the Top-Secret Control Officer, the unit security manager, and also often the OPSEC/COMSEC and COMPUSEC manager. I took it seriously. My peers, commanders, and those we supervised all took it very damn seriously. I was appointed as an investigator several times when processes failed or people violated the governing regs and laws. Trump’s conniving to keep some classified documents ‘as his own’ insulted our efforts to keep the nation safe by properly protecting such material. Joe Biden’s sloppiness — or worse, as the investigations are only under way — undermines our systems as well. President Biden has at least acknowledged that what has happened is bad, unlike Trump, who dances and shouts, trying to deflect blame and responsibility, squeaking out ridiculous justifications for what he did.
Okay, off the soap box. Today’s music is “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”. I went with the Animals version of 1964. Besides being the version seared into my memory by radio play repetition, I’ve always liked Eric Burdon. I also enjoyed the band’s keyboard use and the gritty blues sound they brought to their performances. The Neurons decided on this song and put it in the morning mental music stream after conversations with the cats. They were asking for something and I didn’t understand what it was. The felines’ insistence was the final driver for Les Neurons. Listening to them, Eric Burdon’s voice just rose from the depths of memory to sing, “Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” And there we were.
Try to stay positive. I know it can be tough. I feel less than positive on many days. Right now, I’m positive that I would murder a cup of coffee so I’m heading to the kitchen for that black brew. I’m excited just thinking about it! Here’s the music. Hope your week takes you to new heights. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 