A Wrap Up

A wrap up of some terrific posts by other bloggers about the October 18 No Kings II rallies.

#AntifaWasHere

Willow Croft has a good suggestion.

I know I’ve been a bit AWOL what with finishing up school, planning my move, and all that, but I had this idea. The MAGA goons/the Trump Administration is spewing out all this nonsense about Antifa, so what if we (the collective resisters) take the hashtag #AntifaWasHere and attach it to posts ranging from volunteer activities to random acts of kindness for friends, neighbors, elderly, etc. etc.?

No Kings … Then, Now, or Ever!

From My Less than Humble Opinion:

Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, and other Republicans in Congress are calling today’s protests a “Hate America” rally sponsored by extreme leftists, pro-Hamas activists, hardened criminals, and terrorist organizations like ANTIFA.[2] Apparently, they’ve never read the first amendment to the Constitution.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

No Kings #2 Was A Success!!!

Jill wrote,

I think that We the People proved to the leaders of this regime that we will not lie down and let them kick us, will not give in and will fight to the death against their lawless attempts to  replace our democratic republic with a dictatorship run by a cruel and evil tyrant.  Remember these images next time you hear Felon Trump say that “everybody” loves him or “everybody” believes what he is doing is right.

Success!

Robert Hubbell wrote,

No act of resistance is wasted, and no act of resistance is unsuccessful. Because in resisting, we redeem ourselves, we consecrate ourselves, we reclaim our dignity, and we assert our agency as American citizens who control the destiny of our nation.

No Kings, the Rally Heard ’round the World

Earl wrote,

Yesterday’s No Kings Rally wasn’t just a protest — it was a reckoning. A mosaic of causes, signs, and voices, all bound together by one unifying thread: We the People have been stirred to action. Not by policy differences. Not by party loyalty. But by the cruelty, the malignant narcissism, and the corrosive influence of Donald Trump.

Fascism began as a Roman metaphor: a bundle of sticks (fasces) symbolizing strength through unity. One stick breaks easily. A bundle resists. Mussolini twisted that into authoritarianism. Hitler weaponized it. And Trump? He tried to make the bundle serve only him — demanding loyalty, punishing dissent, and mocking the vulnerable.

But yesterday, we reclaimed the bundle. Not as a tool of domination, but as a symbol of democratic resistance. Many years ago, Chief Tecumseh taught the same lesson with arrows. The Founders echoed it with E Pluribus Unum. And yesterday, the signs told the story.

No kings!

we said no kings
we’ve had enough
of golden thrones
and royal fluff

yet here he comes
in tie and spray tan
declaring:
“only I will, only I can!”

No Kings

Athena Scalzi wrote,

It was so amazing to see older folks and younger people alike coming together, and I saw a friend there who gave me a sign, so I was thankful for that. It was such a great feeling to look around and see everyone coming together for the same cause, to speak up against the tyranny and tell the world (or at least Miami County) “this is not okay.”

#NoKings Day in Brooklyn

Diane Ravitch wrote,

Thousands of people turned out to participate in the #NoKings March, which started at Grand Army Plaza and ended at the southern end of Prospect Park. We were surrounded by people carrying signs and chanting “Hey hey hi ho/Donald Trump has got to go.” Many signs were very clever. I couldn’t photograph them all.

I liked the little girl who had a sign that said, “I should be worried about tests/Not my rights.”

The Fight Continues for Democracy

From The Contrarian:

This No Kings Day was the one of the largest demonstrations in U.S. history—with upwards of seven million Americans estimated to have gathered across all 50 states, with thousands more protesting across the world, to stand up against tyranny; stand up against corruption; and stand up for the ideals that make this nation exceptional.

And finally, The Borowitz Report:

Over 400 of Elon Musk’s Children Attended No Kings Rallies

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In yet another indication of the heavy turnout for the No Kings rallies, over 400 of Elon Musk’s children attended the protests, according to estimates released on Sunday.

Donald J. Trump, furious at the size of the No Kings crowds, claimed that the estimated attendance of 7 million “is much lower when you subtract all the people who were there to show their hate for Elon.”


Thirstdaz Theme Music

Thirstda, July’s last day of 2025, greets us with clouds and sunshine. I’m off to a late blogging and writing start, delayed by a felt need to cut grass and weed before the sun and heat was too overpowering. Now it’s one PM, 84 F, with a ‘feels-like’ of 92, on the way to an 87F high. Light scattered rain is expected. I smelled petichor last night and went out looking for rain. While I heard what sounded like hungry stomachs rumbling among the dark clouds, rain successfully evaded me.

I’m already in the coffee shop. I noticed a sheet of paper on the counter. Handwritten, it was the inventory. That had me redoubling with chuckling. The writing, in black marker, was a combination of cursive and printing, which is my own style. Has been for years. It’s funny to me that this tech-driven computer age still features handwritten processes.

I like what a friend posted on FB yesterday:

Take your pick of weird Mother Earth events today in Oregon. Tsunami, red flag warning, lightning, thunderstorms, wind, fire, smoke. Hopefully it’s all pretty minor. Stay safe!

Jill Dennison featured a Foreigner tune on her blog. It’s the powerful rock ballad, “I Want To Know What Love Is”. The song moves many to tears and it’s not uncommon to witness folks singing along with it. I commented on the song selection, I mentioned that I enjoy Foreigner as a solid rock band. She asked me to suggest other Foreigner songs. I offered her “Dirty White Boy” and “Juke Box Hero”.

But was yesterday. Thinking themselves amusing, The Neurons slotted “That Was Yesterday” by Foreigner in my morning mental music stream. The 1985 song has a catchy chorus and is easy to mumble along to.

Working hard to undermine democracy and establish an authoritarian plutocracy, Texas is redrawing maps to exclude Democrats and their elected reps. Offering bankrupt ideas and languishing morals for most of this century, the bend to cheat results and steal power. My disgust is off the chart. We’ll see if Democrats and voters can turn back this effort. Fingers are crossed but between the heavy-handed Texas GOP and the swollen to the right SCOTUS, my hope is spider-web thin.

Peace and grace to you today. Hope both find you. On to other things. Cheers

The Facebook Duality

I shared one of my posts to Facebook the other day. I often used to do so, inviting friends and family to ‘see what I’m up to’.

Facebook informed me that it had been blocked as spam. It was the second time in as many months that they labeled one of my posts as spam, claiming something like, I was posting it or sharing it just to get likes.

The nerve.

This happened to be a Floofinition, one of my silly pursuits. Of course I was posting it on Facebook for likes. Why does Facebook think people post on their social media accounts? Likes is one of many reasons for sharing things on Facebook, but they used to encourage me to do just that.

I protested their unilateral condemnation of my post, but my protest is limited in scope to their pre-canned reasons for doing so. And those are flawed and incomplete. It assumes a set of paradigms which frankly just displays how fucking lost thy are. And after I completed that, I thought, I never heard anything back from them about that one last month.

No, you never do. They reach out like some hidden Gods, do their thing, and then watch us like we’re ants running around after their anthill is damaged.

That pissed me off.

The clincher came the next day. It was like, “Michael, here’s a memory of something you posted before! Share it to remind others.” So sweet. So friendly.

And yeah, it was one of my floofinitions. Like the one they condemned as spam and removed for being posted to get likes.

Well, fuck you, Facebook. I’m done with you and your capricious two-faced arrogance. They are already a repository of right-wing memes and misinformation, so they were treading on my last nerve before. I know, they’re quivering back at Meta headquarters, wailing that they’ve alienated me and lost my support. “Oh, boo hoo. We lost Michael. Woe is us.”

That’s okay. It makes me feel better. Just as their community used to do. It’s like they say, the more things change, the more they go to shit.

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sumflective

Good morning, internetters. Welcome to June’s Second Saturday, June 8, 2024. If you’re like us, we celebrate Second Saturday in June. Holiday or not, we start with feeding the cats because the little dears will pester us into surrender. Yes, they have ‘just in case’ kibble in bowls and nevermind that they didn’t eat all of the previous tinned food in bowls. The tinned food bowls are cleaned and fresh stuff is spooned in for their dining pleasure.

Once we’ve taken care of the floofs, the real festivities begin. We start with coffee. While that’s soaking my system, I make my breakfast because my wife doesn’t eat breakfast for several more hours. Next, I dress. Sometimes a load of washing clothes is started for Second Saturday. The floor was vacuumed for First Friday, so no need for that today. We just go around picking up leaves and sticks floofs carried in for us, along with food they somehow transported around the house from their eating areas, along with fur and hair they’ve dropped along the way. Next, our family traditionally gets on the computer to get a Second Saturday news update, you know, see who died, who has gone to war, who has been convicted, and what new natural disasters have struck. Then we’re free to celebrate Second Saturday by washing the car and running errands. It’s a joyous day.

This Second Saturday is also the Green Bag pickup, so our bag full of supplies for the local food bank is on the porch, awaiting pickup by volunteers who transport it to the sorting and distribution center.

Our sprummery weather continues. It’s 67 F now, up from our 56 F starting point but eighteen degrees below our expected high in Ashlandia, where the creeks and rivers are flowing and full — for the moment. Sunlight is missing kissing some clouds rear end, but a friendly cool breeze is circulating, placating the likes of me. I enjoy a cool sunny morning so long as it’s not too cool. This day is just right.

I have two net friends who had floofs pass away yesterday. Thinking about their losses after expressing something toward to them, a song from 1993 filled the morning mental music stream (Trademark upended). Sarah McLachlan wrote “Possession” in response love letters from her fans. I think The Neurons pulled it out of memory more for the song’s reflective sound about yearning, love, and hope.

Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Summer is coming. Well, in the northern hemes. South of zero, winter is coming.

Here’s the music. Coffee is being sucked up. Enjoy your Second Saturday. Cheers

The Four Buildings Dream

I was alternatively and seamlessly at different stages in my life, from teenager to middle age. I was going through four dull brown monolithic buildings. Almost featureless, their outside corners were hard right angles. They reminded me of huge parking garages, but they teemed with people.

As I went through them, I realized the buildings were familiar. Navigating them, getting lost, finding my way again, I realized that two were schools and one was retail stores, like a giant mall. Traversing the steps to different levels, finding my way through the buildings, I’d get lost and take wrong turns and circle back, searching for the right way to go. Doing this, I became more familiar with the layouts. Some was new information being learned or realized, while more came from dredging up memories. I realized that the fourth building were floors and rows of offices and cubicles, the corporate world.

Deciding I had a semblance of understanding about the arrangements, I began searching for familiar places and faces. I sometimes glimpsed people in the crowds who I thought I knew. The buildings were always so crowded and busy, and everyone was rushed and harried. Becoming firmer about my commitment and more convinced about where I wanted to go, I entered a long and tall but quiet and empty room.

A tall flight of black metal stairs was available in the room’s middle. I went up the stairs. Inside were three women. As I walked around, they asked, “Who are you?” Without letting me answer, one said, “Maybe you can help.”

As she said this, another said, “I’m not getting anywhere. Maybe he can try.”

I recognized the three women as RL blogging friends. I’d never met them but knew them online. They were at a workbench. Some electronic device was in pieces on it. “Here, come here,” one ordered. “You try. We’re supposed to use this to analyze but it’s not working. You try.”

I didn’t understand what they were talking about. I asked, “Analyze what?” I had an impression it was to locate guns being fired but then changed that idea to the device being something about interpreting people’s moods.

The one woman was talking fast about their efforts to use the device and putting it back together while she spoke. When she finished putting it together, she stopped talking and shoved it at me.

I protested and scoffed. “I have no idea what this is. What makes you think I can fix it?”

They urged me, “Just try.”

I bent down, figured out how to turn the thing on, and began messing with switches, dials, and buttons. A male voice was immediately heard.

“You did it,” the women said. “You fixed it.”

I was shaking my head, answering them, “I didn’t fix it, I didn’t do anything. I think you might have fixed it when you put it back together.”

They hugged and thanked me. I kept protesting that I hadn’t done anything and then left going back down the stairs.

Knowing where I was in relation to the buildings, I decided to visit my elementary and high schools. Taking different stairs, I left one building and entered another.

No, that wasn’t right. I reversed course and tried again. Coming down stairs, I entered a place I knew as my high school. I immediately spotted a number of people who’d worked for me during my life. “There you are,” one said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this book. You said it was a good read. This is turgid, dull, and flat. I wanted to kill myself reading it.”

I laughed, pleased to see him, shaking his hand. “It is a good book but it might not be the book for you.” I began going on about different tastes and expectations. While I talked, another person came up. This was Howard, from “The Big Bang Theory”. He said, “I thought it was a good book. I enjoyed it, although I thought there were places where it needed help.”

We spoke for minutes more about the book and then I said, “I need to go,” and told them I’d see them later. I left that room and entered a fourth-grade room which I remembered. It was full of young students at desks. Several began asking, “Who’s he,” as I walked around the room and remembered it. Others began saying, “I know him.” A teacher who I didn’t know came up. “I know you,” she said, then shook my hand. She began telling me about all these things that I supposedly did. She insisted I was famous. I clapped back, “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

I left the room. The dream ended.

Recurring Topics

I was thinking about my recurring topics as I walked today. My blog and posts are mostly about me, and so is this post.

I have several recurring subjects. Daily theme music and catfinitions are my most consistent offerings. The first came about because I stream music in my head quite often. That’s my way of saying I remember music and hum or sing to myself. Memories of where I was, and who I was with are frequently affixed to the music, so the music trigger speculation about life.

I also stream music in my head when I write. Not all of it is pop/rock, folk, rap, etc. Some classical music seeps into the streams. I don’t use it as theme music. I always wonder with this, am I alone in streaming music in my head? No, I’m certain I’m not. It’s probably part of a condition. To be sure, I encourage it because I think it stimulates my imagination.

Catfinitions were born from perceptions. I have four cats. They all came to me as cast-offs from others. We know the background to two of them. One, Quinn, came running to me one winter night and then refused to stay with his people after they took him home. He preferred us. The other, Papi, belonged to a neighbor. So skinny, we always saw him outside, learned that his people didn’t let him into their house for reasons that weren’t disclosed, and fed him and took him in to keep him safe, warm, and healthy. They moved away and left him. End of story.

The other two, Tucker and Boo, showed up, hungry and hopeful. They were fed, so they stuck around. I tried finding their owners. Nobody confessed, so the cats are mine, now.

Living with these cats always provides a reason to come up with a word to help describe our relationships and cats’ behavior. Like today’s catfinition, cateral. My wife left the bed this morning. I stretched out. Cats joined me. They, too, stretched out. I got up to pee, and then decided, twenty more minutes in bed. Except, I could not return to bed without shifting two cats. Instead of doing that, I found a different position. Cateral, I realized, as I lay parallel to their positions, chuckling. I easily amuse myself. Several readers like the catfinitions, so I keep doing them. They’re fun for me.

Writing quotes is a favorite category. I started sharing them after encountering quotes on others’ sites. I think people in every occupation are unique to that occupation. Some occupations have people who are more unique than others. Most people are fortunate that they work alongside another person from their occupation. They understand one another. This gives them comfort and strength, but also gives them a baseline for comparison.

Writing, though, is often a solitary pursuit. Non-writers don’t want you to talk about your writing, and I don’t like talking about it, because I think it saps the writing energy.

I end up having conversations in my head. Sometimes I’m speaking to myself. Other times, I discuss things with the muses or characters. The question is, are these three categories actually separate, or are they all just me?

Part of writing is that it is a different process and experience for each of us. It’s a very individual and personal effort. We may share some methodologies and styles, but so much of writing comes from our private baggage. So many of us struggle in our solitude, and we wonder, is it like this for everyone, including all those who are the greats, and those whose words and ideas awe and inspire us?

So I look for quotes to reaffirm and remember, yes, all those terrific writers out there, in every discipline and category, endured the same damn self-doubt, criticism, and frustration. The only way past it is to persevere. That doesn’t guarantee anything, but you can’t be called a failure if you haven’t stopped, and as it’s often reiterated, you won’t get anywhere if you don’t write. Even garbage can be edited.

I post about bumper stickers frequently but less often than the first three subjects. Those are bumper stickers that I see on the passing cars that strike me as humorous or interesting. Sometimes, I just don’t see any new ones, not surprising, because this is a tourist town and a college town. The students usually don’t have cars, and the tourists only come during certain seasons. That’s when I see new bumper stickers.

My personal favorite posts are about writing like crazy. These vanity posts are about my writing progress, writing success, lessons learned, and struggles. I like writing them most because they help me think through things that I’ve noticed about my efforts to write. It’s therapy, and I share, because sometimes others comment.

Last are the dreams. I dream so often. I like dreaming. I like remembering them.

My dreams don’t always make sense. Hell, they don’t usually make sense. As a writer and human, I want to know what they mean and why I dreamed what I dream.

So, I write about it. Some of those dream writings are published as posts. One, I’m comfortable thinking while typing. Two, writing and posting about my personal dreams helps me overcome my wealth of self-doubts and anxieties. Putting myself out there helps me think about words and their meanings, but it also helps me develop a thicker skin, which I desperately need.

Those are my usual subjects. There are also sometimes minor and major rants, but they’re a spur of the moment thing. I also write once in a while about current events, food, beer, coffee, politics, walking, reading, movies, travel, Ashland, and my Fitbit, but they aren’t my usual subjects.

All this comes up now because I started writing this blog in May, 2016, so it’s been two years, if my math is right. (If I was a cat, I might call this my cativersary. Sorry.)

So, thanks for stopping by.

Thanks for reading and liking.

Thanks for commenting.

Thanks for the posts that you share. Your talent, knowledge, experiences, humor, stories, and courage amaze and inspire me. Keep it up.

Cheers

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