Another No Kings series of rallys and protests are planned for October 18, 2025. Almost 2,500 such gatherings are planned.
They’re not being organized by antifa. They are antifa in nature because the Trump Regime is Profa. If you can, participate. Here are some news pieces from different cities and areas with more information.
I heard something hit the house last night. ‘Bout midnight. Turned out to be Twosda, August 5, 2025, staggering into the siding. Cool night, and mostly clear, offering views of a waxing moon and a spill of stars. We’re relaxing in 76 F air with a cloud-stained coating of sun-filled blue sky. 86 F wil be the thermometer’s top mark for Ashlandia.
Democratic governors are pleasing me these days. First, a shut out to those Texan Dems who left the state to prevent the Trump-Abbott collusion to destroy democracy in Texas and the United States. Second, huzzah to the Dem governors who took them in, and the Dem govs standing up to the GOP bullshit. California Gov. Newsome and Democratic New York Gov. Kathy Hochul are vowing to redistrict to counter Abbott’s moves in Texas. Frankly, I think such forceful action is needed. Meanwhile, Robert Hubbell published encouraging news in More signs of life among Senate Democrats.
Hearing of the Trump Regime’s eager use of space stuff to try to distract from the Epstein list, The Neurons loaded a song about the moon in the morning mental music stream. “Walking on the Moon” is a 1979 raggae rock offering by The Police. Sting wrote the song, mentioning being drunk as inspiration and also an early love. The Neurons entertained me with visuals of Trump waddling around the moon. The Neurons thought that Trump would trip and start uncontrollabling bouncing across the moon’s surface.
I’ve had a wink of coffee. Think I’ll have forty more. Hope grace and peace has its way with you today. Cheers
Just putting out reminders who Trump is because he likes pretending he’s someone else. I know I’m getting numb to it; I’m sure others are, too. We’re angry but numb.
This is from the ‘maybe-it’s-just-me’ book of thoughts.
When I read about the growing Wolf Fire in southern California, I immediately thought that PINO Trump’s response will be: “Let them burn.”
Which I think is totally wrong and an abhorrent way for the President of the United States to think. But it’s completely in line with the policies and behavior of the TACO Regime of the Disunited States of Chaos.
We have violence escalating in the Middle East and the United States as the Ukraine-Russia War burns on. This is the forefront. In the momentary background are tariffs and trade wars, climate change and natural disasters like wildfires. Always thinking ahead *cough cough, yes, that’s very thick snark*, a Florida right wing sheriff is threatening to kill protestors, Gov. DeSantis in Florida beams and tells drivers that it’s okay to hit protestors with their cars (anyone remember Charlottesville, VA?), Gov. Abott in Texas is calling out the National Guard, and so is Gov. Kehoe in Missouri. That First Amendment and its right to assemble really terrifies the right wing. Which, I guess we can infer means that We the People terrify them.
The current situation isn’t triggering joy and optimism in me. I could play whatif games about Trump, Putin, and Netanyahu being more restrained and diplomatic. These games are as pointless as wishes Kamela Harris won the election in 2024. Or Hillary won in 2016. Or Gore in 2000. Or that spineless Republicans like Mitch McConnell stood up, did his job, and impeached Trump in the latter’s first term. Or the Roberts Supreme Court didn’t behave like an overindulgent absent father and ruled to appease the right wing. We’re beyond those things mattering, except the ripples are still going.
That’s the thing. I, we, gotta ride the ripples. Do what I can, what we can, to mitigate their impact. Survive and help others do the same. And seize the opportunity to help change the world — again — when the chance comes.
Stand up this weekend. Stay calm. De-escalate violence but stand for your principles. Be reasonable in the face of absurdity. It can be painful. It will take courage and strength. It can be done.
No kings. No fascism. Not in the United States of America. Not now. Not ever.
Frida, June 13th, 2025, breached with cold air and muzzled sunshine. 59 F, we’re pacing ourselves to climb to 74 F. It’s a chill day. Feels good out there.
Another night of dreams. They covered feeling lost and frustrated, ignored, and change that confused me. Awakened, I felt heavy with loss and disappointment, struggling to find direction and traction, like I’m spinning my wheels to stay in place.
We saw more Trump Justice Two Step last night. Judge said, “Illegal to put them National Guard into LA, Donald,” and another court said, “Keep doing it while we talk about this.” I laughed when Trump’s lawyers argued that California should not “second-guess the President’s judgment that federal reinforcements were necessary” and that a federal court should defer to the president’s discretion on military matters. Oh, they can rouse themselves to such pompous righteous indignation. Trump loves to say he’s leaving things up to the states. ‘I’m gonna wean them off FEMA.’ “The people on the ground know what’s going on and can take care of it best,” he said before.
But he’s fast to ignore the state’s rights and decisions when it doesn’t suit him and barge right in wherever the fuck he wants. The principle behind his moves are always, “Me Donald, you I hate.” In this case, he hates Gov. Newsom and California because he lost California. Didn’t get within sniffing distance of winning it.
TACO is very predictable in his lawless ways. “You spit, we hit!” But that wasn’t the case with the J6 insurrectionists. Yeah, they were attacking the nation, doing a lot more damage phsically and judicially, as the J6 gang attacked the police. No, that had TACO saying, “Me Donald, me love you,” because they were doing it for him. He’s sickening, and the GOP is sickening and shameful for going along with his twisted hyperbole. They won’t be happy until they burn the nation down and then they’ll blink their eyes wide and say, “Gosh, what happened?” Just as they did with multiple previous fiascos. See the Gulf Wars as a big fucking example. My contempt for them has surged out past Starlink.
I’m also having a good laugh at MAGAts. They’re trying to excuse the DC parade as planned BT: Before Trump. One MAGAt declared that President Obama became planning it, lazily conflating celebrating the Army’s 250 year anniversary with the bloated military display scheduled for this weekend. That’s the MAGAts, always bending over for TACO to screw them.
I have “Creep” by Radiohead in the morning mental music stream. Just that sort of morning. Here, little TACO. This is for you.
Pressing on with coffee to go get things done. Let’s be safe out there. Cheers
I think of this as, ‘Which of these restaurants would I like to go to right now?’
Like movies, books, and music for me, my favorite restaurant has a weight attached to it. Company is that weight. Time and place. Who was with me, and where did I live on the water slide of my existence.
A second question comes up. Which of these places remain in existence?
The top five, counting up to number one.
5. Yes, it’s a cafe. Coffee shop, actually. La-di-da. Half Moon Bay, California. Terrific Mexican mochas and good vibe. Ten minute Saturday or Sunday morning walk from my house. Another ten minute walk west to the Pacific ocean. A thirty minutes or so drive back into the insanity of Silicon Valley. It’s gone, baby, sold and sold again.
4. Seaside. Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, Japan. Wonderful place for a long afternoon lunch when the time for a break came. Overlooked the East China Sea. Still there, according to Kadena’s website.
3. Chanello’s Pizza. Hugh square cheese-laden, toppings-heavy crispy thing. We used to order it when we lived on Randolph AFB, Texas, in the late 1970s. Just outside of Universal City. A short drive from San Antonio. Cousins would come over and we would chow down.
2. Laughing Planet in Eugene, Oregon. Such awesome burritos. We’re fans of burritos but this place knocks us out. My wife and I sometimes play a game: which places would we like to have in our town? This place consistently arrives on our list.
1 – The Green Salmon Cafe in Yachats. We enjoy their vegan, gluten-free pastries and breakfast sandwiches. It’s another place we’d like to have here in our town.
Honorable mentions: Ruby’s, here in Ashland, Oregon. Awesome burritos, sandwiches, and burgers. Garden Fresh Chinese Restaurant in Mountain View, California. They used plant-based meat way back in the 1990s. Chevy’s Tex-Mex in Foster City, California. You know, I think we’re pretty partial to Mexican food. DeNunzio’s Italian Trattoria in Monroeville, PA. Great food, wonderful staff.
They’re all favorites. I wouldn’t mind hitting all of them just one more time.
April 8, 2025.Friday, FEMA announced that it is ending the Building Resilient Infrastructure and Communities (BRIC) program and canceling all BRIC applications from Fiscal Years 2020-2023. If grant funds have not been distributed to states, tribes, territories and local communities, funds will be immediately returned either to the Disaster Relief Fund or the U.S. Treasury. It has also canceled the fiscal year 2024 notice of funding opportunity (NOFO), where $750 million in grants was to be allocated.
Ending this program will help ensure that grant funding aligns with the President’s Executive Orders and Secretary Noem’s direction and best support states and local communities in disaster planning, response and recovery.
Just a reminder, but BRIC was established and funded by Congress. The canceled projects were jointly developed by state, Federal, and local officials using history, engineering, insights, and science to identify problems and develop ways to mitigate the potential impact.
But these projects don’t meet Donald Trump’s understanding of how government is supposed to work in the United States. He has no empathy, and as he often does, he looks backward. He’s not forward thinking. His actions are not those of a President. They are not the actions of a servant of We the People.
Peruse this abbreviated list of the many projects, states, and communities affected. And call your Congressman.
Let them know that the United States is not the sole domain of one citizen.
I’ve gone across the United States a few times. Furthest was from San Fransisco to New Hampshire via New York. I did that a few times in the military, always by train, and then SF to Connecticut via NY a few times for business, also by train.
I’ve always loved traveling by car. Back in the late 1950s and early 1960s, my parents loaded us into cars and off we went! One trip, barely remembered, was in a large Chevy station wagon from California to Pennsylvania. I think I was three years old. What I best remember about that was that I shared space in the station wagon’s back end with my older sister and a large black trunk. The trunk was useful as a fort and a table. Traffic being what it sometimes was, peering out the windows and waving to others was a recurring pastime. There were many coloring books involved with that trip, too.
My wife and I took a few almost cross-country trips. After I returned from my military assignment in the Philippines, I traveled to West Virginia where my wife stayed with her parents via commercial aircraft and Greyhound bus. Some of the logistics are a little foggy in my head, but I ended up visiting family in Pittsburgh and bought a used Porsche 914 there. I drove it down to West Virginia, and then my wife and I drove it across the southern United States to my new duty location outside of San Antonio, Texas. The first five hundred miles was through a blizzard. We then drove the reverse trip eight months later, when I decided to exit the military.
Funny enough, years later, there we were, in Texas again. This time we’d returned to the United States from an assignment in (on?) Okinawa. We’d been there for almost four years. Two things to know about driving in Okinawa was that it was on the left side of the road, with a right side steering wheel and the fastest speed we’d gone was 100 KPH, about 61 MPH. Renting a car in San Antonio at the airport, we were suddenly driving on the other side of the ride, the steering wheel on the other side, in the rain, at night, at 70 MPH. It was an awakening.
We then bought a new car, a Mazda RX-7, and drove it from San Antonio, Texas, to…ready? West Virginia. A big blizzard struck Texas that year. Interstate 10 was closed. Fortunately, Texas has Interstate ‘access roads’. We drove out of San Antonio through the blizzard via the access roads until we could get onto I-10. Man, I’ll tell you, traffic was pretty light.
I’ve flown cross country multiple times since then. The last time that my wife and I drove across cross country was from West Virginia to California. This was 1991. We’d been assigned to a base in Germany. She returned a few months early and was living not far from her parents in West Virginia. She’d bought a little Honda Civic. We loaded her and our three cats, Rocky, Crystal, and Jade, into the Honda, along with her belongings, and drove to Sunnyvale, California, via the Rocky Mountains. Let me tell you, the Honda, with its 1.5 liter engine, wasn’t happy about the Rockies. We’d swooped down the mountains as fast as we dared to build up speed to get up the next one. Geez, what a trip.
Not our actual car. Our car looked just like this, except it was gray.
I’ve also gone from Texas to Pennsylvania via Greyhound bus after finishing military basic training in 1975. But the one thing I always wanted to do was take a train across the country. We traveled by train in Japan and Europe, and loved it. It’s hasn’t come to pass in the U.S.
Maybe, someday, though, maybe someday…I’ll get to take a train ride across the United States.
I’m ensconced in Penn Hills, PA, an eastern suburb of Pittsburgh, visiting family. A light rain is scenting the 64 F air with petrichor. Temp should peak at 67 F.
Weirdly, the weather seems ‘right’ to me. I emerged from my cocoon in this area and first spread my wings. Lived with Mom and grandparents when I was a child not going to school, moved away in conjunction with Dad’s military service, then returned here. Attended school in several small burghs for second grade through my high school sophomore year. Since Mom and a buncha extended family live here, I’ve been returning again and again on my own cycadean rhythm.
Tragically, Mom only serves decaf. She and her man only drink decaf. So, they make a big pot of coffee. Once it’s done brewing, they draw from it for days and doctor it with cream and nuke it in the microwave. Gag gag gag.
So I slipped away for coffee and writing, heading for a Starbucks. That works for Mother and I and the general household, since Mom and her BF sleep in late these days. She said she doesn’t emerge from her nocturnal seclusion until almost noon. Then her BF, already dressed, ensures she’s set up for the afternoon, and goes out on his errands. His first stop is the gym, where this former boxer, now in his early nineties, works out.
The Starbucks was chosen because it’s where my niece and her boyfriend work. Both are college grads with bachelor’s degrees. Her’s is in business administration. She speaks several languages and plays the violin and is still attending college, going into software and database administration.
So guess who served me? Yes, she looked up with widening eyes when I said, “Morning, Amy.” I hope to have more of a visit with her than that, of course.
Amy and I have a running joke from when she was a child. There’s a movie called The Mothman Prophecies which came out in 2002. It’s about a bridge collapse in Weirton, WV, and a mothman warning it was gonna happy. A brother-in-law (not Amy’s father) saw the movie while traveling in West Virginia. It freaked him out because after watching the movie, his hotel room phone began ringing, just like in the movie. He and I and Amy talked about it in subsequent years. I began calling her Mothgirl. She dubbed me Mothman.
Today’s music arrives via a conversation about me living on the west coast. Everyone hearing hat immediately asks, “California?” No, I’m from the Pacific Northwest, Oregon, to add more precision, Ashlandia, to get granular. But the California suggestions kicked The Neurons into filling the morning mental music stream (Trademark with “Californication”. The Red Hot Chili Peppers released the song in 1999. I immediately took to it. It’s a drool commentary about how Hollywood sells California as the place to be. Several little plays on pop culture are woven into the song.
On to the day. Stay strong, be positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Cheers from Pennsylvania.