Thursday’s Theme Music — Insanity
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 3, 2026.
Cool rainy weather continues here. Today’s high will be 63 degrees F, ten degrees above the present temp. Blue sky is a memory as gray clouds take over from horizon to horizon, no matter where I look. Rain fell yesterday, and it was very enjoyable, almost springlike to me. No more rain is expected today; just clouds and cool temperatures.
My sister, Gina, is irritated with Mom again. This is about Mom’s Amazon purchases but also this new account Gina set up. Apparently, Mom can only have six transactions a month. Mom used three on Amazon already, then Gina paid three bills but forgot to include those for her calculations for Mom’s account, so Mom now can’t spend any more money in September, according to Gina. As she’s not communicating with Mom, she is asking one of us to tell Mom for her. I think Gina needs to own it.
I admit, I’m a little irked with Gina’s thinking here. On the one hand, she’s complaining about Mom’s deteriorating mental state and memory. On the other hand, she sets Mom up with an account with expectations that Mom will think of everything she’ll need for the month and place one order. Hard to fault Gina, though, because she — almost alone — is the one child living locally trying to help Mom.
My wife told me about a mother of five being convicted. Her crime was letting her five-year-old walk a few blocks by himself in their gated community in Virginia.
My wife and I were astonished. Our parents would’ve been thrown under the jail, as much as we freely roamed. I walked, ran, and biked everywhere, starting when I was about five. By the time I was twelve, I was hitching rides with strangers. On the other hand, maybe I was just lucky that nobody wanted to get me during that era. No one tried that until I was sixteen, when a crew-cut man in a pickup truck in his early fifties begged me to show him my pecker and offered money.
Today’s news has alarming moves revealed by the US Postal Service. As expected, Trump is trying to weaponize the USPS to stop voting by mail. As he and the GOP take a wrecking ball to nation’s norms, buildings, arts, laws, economy, healthcare system, and military, Trump is trying to keep as many people as possible from voting. He claims voting fraud but has never proven it. Likewise, other than small and isolated amounts, it’s never been found or proven elsewhere in the nation in this century.
Trump, though, is at once desperate to claim he’s popular by making the mid-term elections about him. He’s also afraid of that truth that he’s not popular. Whenever a candidate backed by Trump losing, Trump blames the candidate. Of course, the candidates he’s backed aren’t generally quality people, either, so there’s a load of blame to spread around.
In Texas, Trump is both trashing the GOP candidate, Ken Paxton, and urging for people to vote for Paxton. Like talking about how bad a restaurant is and then urging you to eat there, isn’t it?
Paxton is a GOPer modeled after Trump. Paxton paid $300K to get securities fraud charges against him dropped, and his wife is divorcing Paxton after reports of numerous affairs.
Big question: is Paxton also in the Epstein files, like Trump?
This was a hilarious headline:
Donald Trump ‘will quit after midterms and hand presidency to Vance’, expert predicts
That’s so ridiculous it’s not worth addressing beyond noting its existence.
Well, I also will say, if you think Trump is going to quit, I have a Trump Bible to sell you, barely used.
Speaking of selling, the Trump coin is officially available to buy. Except it’s sold out. And it’s a collectible, not legal tender. Talking about it with my wife, she asked, “Is that all they do, sit around talking about ways for Trump to put his name on things and make money?”
I read that another judge ruled against another Trump effort to ignore the Constitution and Amendments. That prompted “I’ll Stick Around” by Foo Fighters in the morning mental music stream.
Why that song? The song was released in 1995 and was It seemed to come from thinking about refusing to accept all the crap Trump is doing to our world. Then, thinking about why MAGAts go along with it. Then, reflecting on history — McCarthyism, the Ku Klux Klan, the way blacks, the people who lived on this continent before us, women — anyone who wasn’t white CIS male — was treated.
We overcame those things before; we need to overcome them again. And this song speaks to that: “I don’t owe you anything.” I’m speaking to the MAGAts who believe they’ve had it so bad.
Sample Lyrics
I still refused all the methods you abused
It’s alright if you’re confused, let me be
I’ve been around all the pawns you’ve gagged and bound
They’ll come back and knock you down and I’ll be free
I’ve taken all and I’ve endured
One day it all will fade, I’m sure
I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything
I had no hand in your ever desperate plan
It returns and when it lands, words are due
I should’ve known we were better off alone
I looked in and I was shown, you were too
I’ll close with wishes for you to achieve and persevere today and everything, in good health, with good friends. Peace and grace to you.
Cheers
Three Dreams Last Night
I can recall having three dreams last night.
One of them is barely recalled. It’s one of those episodic dreams I sometimes have, where there’s no one who I recognize as me. It’s just a story being told, like a television show.
I remember just part of a second one. Three other men and I were traveling together in an early 1960s something Cadillac convertible. We drove through sunshine with the top down. I was very impressed for some reason that there were four of us, two blacks and two whites. I believe we took turns driving.
We wore a uniform, and I knew we were on the same team but have no idea what team. From what I remember of the uniforms, they were white with dazzling embroidery, like something Elvis Presley would wear in concert.
Hungry, we stopped at a place where we decided we would pretend to be lawyers. We thought that ruse would gain us some food because we didn’t have any money. That didn’t seem to work so we drove cheerfully on through a winding orange canyon to another town.
We decided this time to claim that we were reporters. Women were running this place. One large, barrel-chested blonde woman was in charge. She mocked our claim that we were reporters, but they fed us anyway.
Dream end
Third dream involved family and food. I was with my sisters at some gathering at someone’s home. We were outside for most of the dream, where, weirdly, my sisters were baking. Besides them, there were many children. I barely knew most of them and didn’t recognize them from real life.
I needed an engine for some reason and ended up with a V8 engine with headers, a high rise manifold with a single four-barrel carb. The engine block was painted bright blue, and the air filter cover was chrome plated. After I got the engine, I realized, “I don’t need this.” But I wanted to save it. So I picked it up and put it in one of the rooms. I thought, I’ll leave that here for now but I’ll need to move it later.
My sisters and I talked a little politics. Then one announced, it’s time to eat. We got trays and loaded them up.
As I did, I went to cross the patio. Four tiny, perfect silver and black tabby kittens were playing. They’d found something and pounced on it, batting whatever it was with furious energy. I swear, these kittens were no more than three inches long.
My older sister asked me what I was doing and I showed her the kittens. She watched with me a bit, then I moved the kittens so they’d be safe.
The children and I decided to watch television. I wanted to watch football. I knew it was Sunday and games should be on, because of the time. No games were on, confusing me. I did the math: back home, the games start at 10 AM and it was almost 1 here, so there should have been a game on.
I went back to eat more cookies. My youngest sister was still baking. I walked along long tables mounded with food and wondered, laughing, why is she baking more? I ate a few cookies, which was delicious.
One brother-in-law, the Trump-loving one, was present, stretched out on a dark-brown sofa, talking. I wanted to hear what he said, but a plastic cocoon formed over him, sealing him in. I could hear him still talking but it was only a rumble of sound, and couldn’t see him at all.
Getting another cookie and eating it, my little sister demanded in her ominous ‘mom-voice’, “What are you doing?”
Laughing, I replied, “Eating a cookie? Why are you making more? Do you know you how many cookies there are?”
I saw her move the V8 engine which I’d move. I went over and picked it up to take it away, but then didn’t know where to take it.
Dream end.
Wednesday’s Theme Music — Frank Beard
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 19, 2026.
August is moving on slow as molasses for me. I’m okay with that.
The claim is that it’ll be 96 F today. Forecasts yesterday said we’d hit 95 but we were four short of that. It’s 68 outside with high clouds clotting across the blue sky.
Our fingers are crossed that Mom’s house will finally close today. The buyers are using a grant to buy. The involved realtors say that the grant review and approval process has significantly slowed this year. It’s a federal program. A large part of me wonders if the Trump administration with its personnel cutbacks is responsible.
I’m not going to go into news and politics much on this post today. Writing a separate post on them.
I’m dedicating this instead to ZZ Top and Frank Beard. ZZ Top is an American rock band which had a heavy blues influence in its early years. They were a trio: Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill, and Frank Beard. I started listening to them in high school. Saw them in concert a few times. Now only Billy Gibbons, lead vocalist, guitar, and song writer remains as Frank Beard, 77, joined Dusty Hill in that big gig in the otherworld.
I basically divide ZZ Top’s sound into two eras. In their early years was that blues sound. Multiple favorite songs hang with me from that period. For today, I’ll go with “La Grange” and “Jesus Left Chicago”.
The second period moved ZZ Top more into commercial mainstream pop. They became phenomenally successful. My preferred sound from that era was “Sharp Dressed Man”, which my wife and I liked to sing as ‘short, fat man’.
So here we go, into the morning mental music stream. May your day be blessed with happy memories of good music and good times, and optimism for our future.
Cheers
Almost Bookends
My sister, Gina, sent some photos out to the family this morning. They’re almost bookends of Mom’s adult life.
This is Mom with her first born, my older sister, Debby.
This is actually a photo of a photo that hung on the wall. Mom is 19.
Here is Mom with me and my wife at Mom’s house about twenty years ago, in much happier times for Mom.
What’s wild in thinking about this photo is that I was fifty and Mom was my current age, 70.
That’s why taking these photos, which may not mean much at the time, can become timeless and special.
Saturday’s Theme Music — The End
Ashland, southern Oregon.
Saturday, August 1, 2026. Happy Lammas Day!
It’s 71 F in our valley at the moment. Light, high white clouds. We expect a high in the upper 80s.
A new heat dome is moving into the region. But the jet stream shifted a few years ago. Now we’re often protected from those heat domes. It can change again at any moment, so I’ll take it for now and celebrate the small win.
It’s a new month but much hasn’t changed.
Eight-five fires are burning in Oregon.
They still haven’t closed on Mom’s house. She is aware that it’s being sold, though, asking me for updates every day.
Trump is still lying. Still squirming, trying to distract us from his failures.
The Epstein files haven’t been released. Trump’s war with Iran is still going on. Affordability remains a crisis. Healthcare costs are going up.
Like many people, I’m waiting for other things. Like the old story: waiting for the other shoe to drop.
So, it’s a new month, but the same mode of waiting.
Without much surprise, The Neurons caught onto my thinking. My Neurons can be slow and flaky, easily distracted by games and cats, but like a car, they can get fired up and pointed in the right direction once in a while.
Today’s song in the morning mental music stream is “Waiting for the End”. This is a Linkin Park song. Came out in 2010. I caught it on SNL and went looking for it to hear it again.
Sample Lyrics:
Waiting for the end to come
Wishing I had strength to stand
This is not what I had planned
It’s out of my control
Yeah, yeah
What was left when that fire was gone?
I thought it felt right, but that right was wrong
All caught up in the eye of the storm
And trying to figure out what it’s like moving on
And I don’t even know what kind of things I’ve said
My mouth kept moving, and my mind went dead
So, I’m picking up the pieces now, where to begin?
The hardest part of ending is starting again
The song is about hope, paralysis, and frustration, IMO. Feels right for today. Here we are, waiting for the end, trying to figure out how we define the end.
I hope you have a strong day, whatever one it is, whatever your season, a day that comes with lasting peace and grace.
Cheers
The Sisters Dream
I was with several of my sisters. We were all younger than now.
Don’t know where we exactly were. Outside. Mostly flat and sort of muddy to start.
I’d been off doing something and then returned, looking for them, as it was time to go. I found them by a large broken cement sewer pipe coming out of the base of a dirt hill. Multiple bottles and trash was there.
One of the sisters asked, “Michael, can you help us? We want to clean up these bottles but we don’t know how.”
They had two large plastic containers with a spout on top. Way too small to put the bottles in. So I tore the top of the plastic away. They thanked me and we loaded the bottles up, often breaking them. Some bottles were already broken. As they warned me to be careful, I picked up the bottles and put them in the plastic. Then I carried those away, depositing them somewhere safe.
I was ready to go, so I began walking. My sisters were several hundred yards away. I wanted time to myself. Deciding to avoid them, I began running. My sisters called my name: I ignored them, running faster.
I crossed the muddy plain and then ended up on a highway’s wide shoulder. Traffic was heavy to my right. Dusk was coming. Left was a lot of new constructions: houses and stores were being built, but was suspended for the night.
I thought, wow, that’s a lot of construction. The construction and changes threw me off. I hadn’t been in the area for a while. Confused about where I was going, I decided to go back to my sisters.
Turning around, I gawked with some amazement. I hadn’t realized how far and fast I’d run. Running back, my speed amazed me even more.
I reached the spot where I’d last seen my sisters. They weren’t visible. I called them; no answer.
Then I found them, along with their previous husbands, and more of my family. I looked for my wife but she wasn’t there. I saw my younger sister’s ex-husband, JJ, and said hello to him, adding, “Good to see you.”
The group told me we were going to Sharon and John’s. She’s my sister and that’s her husband. Then the group kind of wandered around, dawdling. Impatient, I went to Sharon and John’s house.
It was a small place. In the dining room was a large oval, polished wood table. Arrayed in front of it on one side were three rows of seven baby highchairs. They were different colors and ages. Each had a placard on it.
I was mystified. Like, what’s going on here? Is this where they expected us – adults – to sit? We wouldn’t fit in those chairs. No, they seemed to be set up for something. Classes for children?
Then the chairs rearranged themselves. Many disappeared. Matthew Perry was seated at one of the tables. Reprising his role as Chandler Bing from “Friends”, he did a few scenes. Except, he was the size of a baby.
John came in. I said, “How was that done,” gesturing to Perry/Bing in a highchair. John explained, “Oh, that’s Matthew Perry. He was in “Friends”.”
I answered, “I know all that, but that’s not him. That’s the size of a child. Is that a puppet? Animation?” It was completely lifelike.
We went back and forth, with John explaining the same thing in almost the same ways. I kept asking questions, trying to clarify it, but never got an answer. My sister came in, interrupting us to announce that there were sandwiches in the other room.
Dream end.
Monday’s Theme Music – Fears & Monsters
Ashland, southern Oregon — Monday, July 20, 2026.
Smoke lingered until about midnight. That kept the area heat sealed in. Overnight slowly dropped into the low seventies after a daytime high of 96 F at our house.
Less smoke here today. Tiny, scattered showers. Now 80, 91 is the expected high.
Our smoke is from several fires. Dominating the skies is the East Evans Creek Fire. From the reports we’re getting, this fire will continue for several more weeks.
My younger sister, Gina, continues preparing Mom’s home for a change of ownership. She began by trying to sell a few things. Then items were given to charity, thrift stores, or the scrap man. One young woman, though, came early and bought several things. Gina kept in touch with her, giving her more items as time went by. Gina reported that she gave the woman a vacuum cleaner yesterday.
The woman said, “You don’t know how it’s helped me with all that you’ve given me.”
Gina replied, “I hope you remember and can help someone in the future.”
“I will,” the woman replied.
More US troops have been killed in Trump’s war with Iran. Trump claimed the US won the war before — 32 times. He also claimed it was over as far back as March of 2026, less than a month after he started it. Here we are, though, 142 days later, still at war with Iran, and it seems to be escalating.
The war is part of Operation Epic BE VERY AFRAID, itself part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! On the one hand, Trump does things and then tries distracting us. Then, as that fails to distract us because we become inured to his lies, he pivots and tries to make us afraid. Then Trump claims only he can fix it.
For example, back when he was running for office in 2024, Trump was all about affordability.
Your Trump Quote(s) of the Day:
Anyone can do the research and see how Trump operates. In this instance — affordability — he blasted Democrats about affordability when running for office in 2024.
About 14, 15 months later, Trump declares affordability will be much better under him and Republicans.
But, as prices don’t go down, and even increase, Trump declares affordability is a hoax. Created by the ‘opposition’, of course.
Yet, he was the one running so hard on it back in 2024.
He’s essentially declaring that he ran on a hoax.
Sure, but his hoax was enough to dupe a sufficient number of people to vote for him.
Now, though — July, 2026 — fewer people are no longer buying Trump’s excuses.
Half of Americans struggle to afford groceries and gas, exclusive poll finds
Republicans Increasingly Say Finances Worse Under Trump
With plunging popularity and approval, Trump has accelerated fear tactics. Communists. Stolen elections. Iran with nukes.
And Trump’s war with Iran takes the biggest stage, the most political oxygen.
Expect more fearful hysteria coming from the White House in the days to come.
Today’s music is by David Bowie. The Neurons caught me shaking my head over Trump’s manipulating language and unfounded declarations. In response, they fired up “Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps).
The song came out in 1980. The chorus fits Trump and his ‘be-very-afraid’ style, but I’m more drawn to Robert Fripp’s guitar work on it.
Chorus:
[Chorus]
Scary monsters
Super creeps
Keep me running
Running scared
Scary monsters
Super creeps
Keep me running
Running scared
h/t to Genius.com
I hope the creeps, monsters and fears leave you and your friends and family alone, giving you time for happiness, love, and to gorw.
Cheers
The Rabbit Dream
I was at an outdoor gathering with others. None were ‘real-life’ friends. I knew them casually in the dream, as we’d just completed some kind of training or gathering.
Setup was very casual, and I was much young then my RL age. Just wrapping up, I received notifications and tickets about my travel plans. I glanced at them but didn’t read them deeply, just making myself aware of what they were.
Walking across a large swath of grass towards where the others were with food, grill, picnic tables, I came across a large brown rabbit. It was watching me as I walked by, and I realized, oh, it’s hungry.
So I said, “Are you hungry?”
Wagging it tail, it hopped toward me.
I chuckled to myself. “Why, you’re just like a cat or a dog, aren’t you?” Then, walking on, I added, “Wait here. I’ll get you something to eat.”
The others were sitting around the tables, bullshitting. We’d eaten earlier. I was trying to figure out, what does a rabbit eat? But I knew what a rabbit ate; I didn’t see anything like that on the table or grill. I only saw buns and cookies. Then I did notice a little salad left.
I casually picked up a few things, including a cookie, not wanting to share with the others that I was feeding the rabbit. The rabbit jumped up on the table and began eating.
Pretending to be upset, I chided the rabbit, “Get down off the table, you’re not supposed to be eating that.”
But I thought, that’s what I’ll give the rabbit to eat.
The rabbit jumped down. One of the guys there said, “You were going to feed that rabbit, weren’t you?”
I denied it, but he went on, “You were going to give him that cookie.”
Shrugging, I replied, “So what if I was?”
Giving the rabbit food, I walked away. Remembering my tickets, I pulled them out to check the details. Everything was washed out by water spots.
For a moment, I thought, how did that happen?
Then I was angry about it. One of the others walked past and asked, “How’s it going?”
I explained what had happened, showing my tickets. They said, “Same thing happened to me. What are you going to do?”
I replied, “I’ll just go to the airport. There will be someone there who can help me.” Shrugging, I thought, there could also be an administrator here who could help.
As I began looking around, trying to figure out where to go to find the administrator, the dream ended.
Michael Seidel, writer 