I read a NY Times article about Trump diehards and reality today. The story firmly demonstrates how much Trump has corrupted truth and reality.
Cindy Elgan is an Election Clerk in a sparsely populated Nevada county. Although she is a Trump supporter, other Trump supporters in the county where she works have decided that she may work for the deep state. This is despite her honest and unbending efforts to faithfully uphold Nevada’s laws to ensure fair and accurate elections. She’s been doing this for twenty years.
But because other MAGA supporters keep hearing lies about the ‘stolen 2020 election’ from Trump and other Trumpublicans, they don’t trust Cindy Elgan, even though she is a Trump supporter. So they initiated a petition to recall her.
As the article by Eli Saslow noes, “What in the world happened to these people?” Elgan asked. “What kind of person could actually believe this nonsense?”
Just as so many tens of millions across our nation and around the world are asking.
Yet, Elgan herself supports Trump.
I recommend reading the article to gain insights about what a rot Donald J. Trump is on the United States. Of course, Trump’s supporters won’t read it and will remain in the dark because he declared the NY Times only publishes fake news.
I hate taking my floofs to the vet. I recognized that today. I’d put off taking Tucker for a long time, probably to his detriment.
Veterinary offices and animal hospitals harbor bad memories. Cats hit by a car and dying in a room, waiting for treatment. Feline fur friends taken in to see what’s going on to learn they have cancer. Nothing to be done. Four friends over seven years, three spread over a four-year period, nine altogether in my lifetime.
I know. Shame on me. I should be stronger. A better human for them. Accept that death, injuries, and pain are part of life.
I do understand. Doesn’t appease my feelings of loss at their demise. It’s not all ’bout me, though. It’s about what my little friends ended up enduring, even before their illness was diagnosed. Vets always validated that they’re suffering.
We took Tucker back today. Check on his thyroid. Those numbers look good now. Other numbers don’t. He has high blood pressure. He’s gained weight, which was good, but his kidney numbers are worrisome.
A prescription was given for the hyperthyroidism. Another for the high blood pressure. Nothing for kidneys – yet. Monitor them for a bit more. See if it’s a side effect of meds or situation. Meanwhile, we continue his pain meds and his thyroid meds. Twice a day, twelve hours apart.
He goes in for surgery on Wednesday. Dealing with refractory stomatitis gingivitis. All his teeth are to be removed. Well, all which remain. Many of his teeth are already gone.
All this came to mind because my wife interpreted some comments made by the vet at Tucker’s last appointment as dismissive of us as pet mates. I didn’t see it myself. I saw it as being weak on my part. A coward, really.
Now, fingers crossed that all goes well for my black and white buddy. He remains upbeat and loving.
I’d earlier reported that a friend was diagnosed with dementia.
That’s changed.
He doesn’t have dementia. Instead, he has blood cancer which affects his blood flow and the oxygen in his blood. His brain doesn’t get enough, causing cognitive issues.
It’s early days. While the news has changed, we’ll continue doing what we can to help and support him and his family and hope for the best. It’s all we can do, and it is so frustrating.
We’ve begun streaming daylight. It’s Friday in Ashlandia, where the winds are kicking the trees around and the sun is acting tired, September 22, 2023. The cats are like, “Who turned the wind on? Find them and turn it off or kill them.” It’ll be 79 F today, although we’re at 59F now. First day of fall, according to the net, so you know it’s true. No leaves have revealed their autumn colors in my realm yet.
Brekkie is made and being consumed, and the coffee is ready, waiting for its turn. My hot water has been drunk. I’ve been drinking hot water first AM thing since I was about nineteen years old. We acquired the habit because of the Edgar Cayce readings. We were big fans. Still are.
First, an update to my sister’s cancer surgery. Removing her rectum took three hours and was successful but painful. She’s in hospital now. Was on morphine yesterday for the pain. I imagine she is on something today. She has eaten oatlmeal and French toast for breakfast. Our new family mantra is no chemo and reversed by November. She’ll be in the hospital for a week. The clock has begun.
The phone rang at 6:45 AM. My wife was up, getting ready for her exercise class but Tucker and I were purring in bed, and halfway spilled into sleep. Realizing the time, my parents’ health and age, my sister’s surgery, and other matters, I rolled out of bed and raced for the phone. Point of order, we don’t have a phone in the bedroom. I keep my cell in the office, and we still have standard cordless phones running on VOIP. I’ve had that since 2008. That’s what was ringing
So I ran down the hall. Two rings had finished. After four rings, it goes to voicemail so I needed to get there before the fourth ring ended.
But my wife had grabbed the office phone. I heard her answer and veered that way. As I went in, my wife said, “Here he is,” and put the phone toward me. I was trying to read her face when she said, “It’s the flower people.”
Relief and confusion. My wife and I ordered flowers yesterday for my sister to be delivered today. I had my sister’s phone number wrong. Extra digit. I took care of it and went back to Tucker. We snooze well together.
Today’s song is “Fix You” by Coldplay. You know, because it’s about trying to mend others who are sick or hurt. So, I pulled it up for my sister and all those others suffering diseases like cancer, or injuries, or whatever problem, mental, emotional, physical. I wish I had the power to fix others. Instead, I try to send positive energy to them, zapping them like it’s an extremely accurate healing ray.
So here is Coldplay, with guests Billie Eilish and Finneas. Stay pos, be strong, endure, and progress. The coffee has been tested, and the results are exemplary. Time to stream the day. Cheers
Back home from the trip east to visit family, and now it’s morning. Turn up the daylight. Fill the sky with blue. More. Now, some sun heat, please. Right now, Ashlandia — where the crows are chippy and the streets are under repair — is 51 F, up from the overnight low of 42 F. The cats are happy with this weather, heading outside to sleep, groom, and puzzle out the ways of the world. The weather is going to try to slap 70 F today but rain is pretending to be in the picture, at least in the weather seers’ minds. Gotta have clouds for that, I believe, so I’ll be monitoring the horizons.
Thinking about the weather had The Neurons bring up “Some Might Say” by Oasis (1996) into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fiction). Those first lines are something like, “Some might say sunshine follows thunder, go tell it to the man who cannot shine.” I should look the lyrics up but I’m lazy. I’m sure my dreams were part of the catalyst for The Neuron’s choices; as I thought about what they meant, I thought, “Some might say that these are good dreams.” But also, “Some might say that they’re meaningless products of neurons playing.
My sister went into surgery this morning and had her rectum removed as part of a cancer scare. It’s the beginning of a long road for her. Now recovery begins as analysis and monitoring for cancer continues. She’ll be in the hospital for a week and then bedrest at home for two weeks, and she’ll be wearing a bag, which really bothers her. That’s the plan. Many are stepping up to help her. My other sister, who is her big sister but my little sister, stayed the night with her in sister’s hospital room, along with a few others. They sang “Hey Jude” to her before she went into surgery this morning. We’re ready to send flowers but we need a room number first! That won’t be assigned until she’s out of recovery.
Got many things to do regarding house and writing, so I’m cutting this short. Sweeping floors — hasn’t been done in over a week, you know — and airing the tires in the cars, things like that, along with some small yard jobs. Then revising, yeah? Yeah.
Coffee has been consumed so I’m feeling it. Stay pos, be strong, and help others if you can. Here’s the bebop. Cheers
Mood: slow, mentally and physically. Took me an hour to yawn this morning. Emergency coffee begun.
Yeah, Friday. July 28, 2023. See that date, kiddos? July almost done, another young older, another year gone.
Cool mountain air has been climbing all over me through the open windows. 66 F now, we’re looking at 90 as the top end. Fires are burning but our skies remain clear, knock head. Hope everyone else surrounded by disasters or engulfed by them are doing well.
Well, sis finally told Mom ’bout her cancer, so we can all talk about it openly. Youngest one was diagnosed with rectal cancer. First reported symptoms were rectal bleeding. Went on a while before her older sister forced her to the doctor. A large polyp was removed but now her rectum will be removed. As others have said, and I have said, and will probably say again, cancer sucks.
Along with that, her young son had a severe, terrifying seizure earlier in the month. First one ever. They’re searching for the root cause. A few years short of being eligible to get a a driver’s license, he’s scared. Yes, sis and her fam are having a not very good year. There are bright spots; #1 son just got his license. He graduates HS next year and spent part of his summer visiting college campuses.
I have “Rocky Mountain Way” by Joe Walsh in my morning mental music stream (trademark surprised) today. Why it’s there is a question for the ages. Why do Der Neurons do anything? They rarely explain themselves these days, like they’ve becoming indifferent to what I think.
Meanwhile, I’ve been preoccupied with the GOP and their CRA to overturn endangered species protections for the lesser Prairie Chicken. They used gems like this to rationalize their decision:
‘Rep. Bruce Westerman, an Arkansas Republican who chairs the House Natural Resources Committee, called the Endangered Species Act an important but outdated part of U.S. history.
“The unavoidable truth about the ESA is that a listing means less private investment, which harms conservation efforts,” he said.’
So, to be clear, investment is more important than life, in his opinion.
This one by Sen. Moran was a laughter.
‘On the Senate floor, Republican Sen. Jerry Moran of Kansas said the rule threatens ranchers and farmers.
“I am confident there are ways to conserve the species without hindering economic opportunity in rural communities,” he said.
He said what Kansas needs is “more rainfall not more regulations.”’
See, the numbers for this species have been plummeting for years. I think a smart child would point out to the senator that if there were ways to conserve the species without regulations, it would have already been done.
Sure. Experts point out that this species is often used as a bell weather for an ecology’s state. As the species goes, so does the region. Meanwhile, heat records are being smashed around the northern hemisphere. The GOP actively blocks efforts to deal with climate change.
And this is the GOP in a nutshell to me, a party that ignores facts in pursuit of BAU, a reactionary party that will drag itself, the nation, and the world over a cliff while telling everyone that it’ll be fine.
Sen. Moran, BTW, also thinks that protecting the lesser Prairie Chicken will also harm energy producers, because, you know, despite record profits and high executive pay and bonuses, that industry is hurting. *end snark*
Well, that certainly did nothing for my mood. Deep breath. Stay pos and strong. Move forward, and specify what that means. Here’s the music. Coffee is half gone, brothers and sisters. Time to awaken. Here’s the music from fifty years ago to cheer us up and move us on. Am I being ironic, hypocritical, or just plain ol’ ridiculous?
It was another military dream but with a marked difference. First, a friend, Jeff, who was also in the military was in the dream.
I was at some unidentified Air Force base. I was a chief master sergeant, E9, and was due to attend a conference of CMS that was due to start. (This is two ranks above my RL retired rank.) I worried about my hair, my uniform, and my shoes as attendees began arriving. But I slipped away and pressed my uniform, taking care of that, putting razor sharp creases in it. Then I stayed low until the barber opened. When I walked into the barber shop, there were two barbers and no customers, so either one could immediately cut my hair. Both knew me by name.
After getting my hair cut, I left the shop and looked down at my shoes. They were scuffed and old. I said to myself, those aren’t my shoes, and they immediately changed into highly polished new shoes.
I felt a lot better about myself. I ran into Jeff, also a CMS. He and I chatted. I ended up telling him about a cousin who died of cancer (a cancer did die of cancer in RL). We were walking around as we talked. Female military spouses were all over the place, and they kept flirting with me. The attention flattered me.
Jeff and I stayed together through the morning, sitting down and eating. Then the conference was due to start. Another CMS came up and asked if I was going, because it was getting under way. I told him that I’d left the military twice and came back twice, but now I’m done. I wasn’t going to attend. I was taking off my uniform and leaving.
I went off to find a bathroom. When I found one, I undressed and then peed and discovered that my pecker was half purple. One of the wives walked in on me. While taking a long look at my body, she apologized for entering. I replied, “I don’t mind. I’m just wondering why my penis is half purple.”
Spring must be ready to take the scene. My sinuses said something is in the air. I guess it could be love.
We’re getting ready to ‘spring ahead’ on our clocks this weekend in the U.S. Spring ahead and win a prize: one hour of ‘lost’ time. Where will you subtract your hour?
Today is March 11, 2022, Friday, in weekspeak. The sun came for our valley at 6:30 this morning, bold, bright, and welcome, dragging warmth out the cold air and earth. Twas 31 at my house this morning but now the desk weather station claims it’s 49 F. We saw 60 yesterday and anticipate 67 today. Looks like good walking weather. Might even do some yard-tidying and weed pulling. The sun will take its light and warmth and go on at 6:13 PM.
Today’s morning mental music stream inhabitant is “Livin’ On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi from 1986. It’s cat music. Yes, it’s a repeat from back when the coronavirus kicked in on a massive global scale While Papi seems very recovered, singing a rousing rendition of “The Breakfast Song” this morning, (and more than one verse), sick cat, whose RN is Boo (our bedroom panther), seems to be losing his cancer fight. I raise a glass to all the sick and diseased, fighting wounds, diseases, sickness, and chronic pain, and their caretakers.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, get the vaxes and boosters when you can, and send out some peace energy toward Ukraine and its people. Send them some hope that the invaders won’t kill or maim all of their people, that all of their buildings and lives won’t be destroyed, that Russia will stop this assault on their rights and lives. Pray for them if that’s what you do. Ask the Universe to make Putin come to his senses, or for Russians to rise up and rein him in.
That’s a lot to do. I’m gonna need more coffee first. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 