Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mood: Scandalized
October 9, 2024, is under autumn’s spell. Clouds dab the blue sky, reflecting sunlight and lined in gold. Lemony appearing leaves dapple across the backyard’s grass, thickening into a carpet as more leaves join the exodus from the tree.
It’s Wednesday. 54 F, we’ll graze the low 70s today for our high today before the sun’s trip sends us back into darkness.
Checked on Hurricane Milton first thing on the net. Grew back into a cat 5 last night and has dipped back into a 4. Due to cross over Florida sometime this evening as present expectations go.
This dip into history. Remember when Donald Trump said this back in 2016 when first running for POTUS?
“Hillary Clinton may be the most corrupt person ever to seek the Presidency of the United States. …she’s been taking plenty of money out for herself. Hillary Clinton has perfected the politics of personal profit and even theft.”
I won’t rhetorically wonder what his supporters think of Trump’s grifting since he made that declaration about the “politics of personal profit and even theft” back in 2016; we know Trump supporters aren’t deep on thinking about him and his actions, except when it mocks, villifies, and denigrates others.
What about this quote, also from 2016: “A candidate under federal investigation ‘has no right to be running.’ Further, it would be ‘virtually impossible for (a president under indictment) to govern.'”
Yes, he said it, baby. But under Donald Trump’s Silly Putty moral standards, such declarations don’t apply to himself. Why, he’s a victim of the deep state, he squeals. Totally innocent! They’ve weaponized the DOJ against him.
Never his fault. Never, never, never. He can only take credit, not criticism, and certainly not failure, despite his long string of failures.
Thinking about Donald Trump and his endless lying litany, whining, and empty bragging and boasting brought The Neurons awake. They went along the lines of, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Next thing you know, they have The Cult with “Fire Woman” from 1989 rocking the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). It’s a classic wall of sound thumping beat stadium rock offering.
While the song is about temptation, love, and sex, it’s also about being hypnotized by something to the point that you’ve lost control. While it goes on, “Fire woman, you’re to blame,” my mind paraphrased, “Fire man, you’re to blame.” I was thinking of the deep polarization we’re experiencing as a nation, and the schisms Trump has created and widened through constant lying and wheedling. But his folks can’t see — or won’t. He’s got the power over them. Got them satisfied and pleased about being openly and defiantly hateful, racist, bigoted, and sexist.
Moving on.
Stay positive. Be strong. Vote blue in 2024. Coffee has come by on its mercy mission. Here’s the music. Just as a note, I don’t think I’ve heard this song on the radio in years. Well, there’s so much music out there, isn’t there?
Have a good one. Cheers
Sunday’s Theme Music
Mood: Rainchilledflecting
Sunday came in with little sunshine, but it’s been creeping taller, brighter, warmer through a sluggish morning. Its September 15, 2024 and about 61 degrees F. That’s about three off from an anticipated high of 64 F. Rain, thunderstorms, and sunshine will be trading places throughout the day. It’s aggravating our tentative plans to go to the Japanese Gardens for an organized moon watching thingy about 7:30 this evening. Like, will it be raining? Or too much cloud cover to take in the moon? Can’t decide now. It’ll be an event time decision.
I’ve been watching and enjoying Slow Horses on Apple TV. Based on a series of novels by Mick Herron, the series is about Slough House and MI5 rejects exiled to deadend jobs for various failures and character flaws. I’d watched the first two seasons about a year ago but decided to watch them again and then go on with two more seasons. The show is rich with characters. Gary Oldman plays a terrific character, Jackson Lamb, a cynical, obnoxious, and brooding burned-out spy. He drinks, he smokes, he eats poorly, and he insults. By the third season, everyone is telling him that he stinks.
Our other main individual is River Cartwright, an impulsive spy who wants to be a hero but often sabotages himself with his behavior and thinking. Ironically, he starts out looking suave as a spy and slowly shifts until he begins to resemble Lamb. My favorite, though, is Louisa Guy, played by Rosalind Eleazar. Her depths, grief, and stoicism intrigue me, and I want to know more about her. She’s not infrequently a surprising hero.
Besides them, we have Kristin Scott-Thomas playing Diana Taverner, the poised, intelligent, and mildly amused organization climber. Her main frustration is often brought on by Lamb and his Slough House exiles.
My wife has become sucked into it. She told me yesterday that she read that Slow Horses is currently the most popular show on television or something like that. I think it’s deserving of that. I’ve finished three seasons and I’m ready for season four. As I often do when I find a television or movies series which I enjoy, I plan to read the novels.
Today’s music is “Walk Away” by Kelly Clarkson. It’s playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark charred) because of a floof incident, also known as a floofcident. Papi, the ginger blade, rounded a corner and encountered Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), the aging black and white bruiser. Some lowly muttered threats emerged over this apparent transgression. Having witnessed the entire event, I’m not sure how their pride or territory was affected. Maybe it’s spillover from some previous encounter. Or it could be moods exacerbated by the changing weather. Who knows with floofs? Hard to read as husbands.
So, watching the incident, I said, “It’s okay, boys, there’s no reason to fight, just walk away, Papi.” The Neurons heard that and it was mental clickbait to call up the 2006 song out of the memory channels and put it in the morning stream.
Be strong, stay positive, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Coffee and I are doing our tango. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 