Tag: charity

Sunda’s Wanderin’ Political Thoughts

As observers watch the Trusk Regime’s Great Shitstorm of 2025 and the Great Undoing, we await the Reciprocal Wave. History, economics, science, have all demonstrated again and again that for every action, there are reactions.

This is an era of networks. The age of the old factory plants have faded. What we have now are multiple assembly locations. Subassemplys are built and then shipped into other countries, where they’re added to other subassemblies. Those subassemblies are folded into a final component which is then shipped to an assembly plant for final inclusion into finished goods, such as a car. This is true not just in the automobile and aircraft industries, but in many electronics industries, medical device manufacturing, and pharmacueticals. Wasn’t governments who did this, either; this was the capitalists, although they worked with governments to make it so, often encouraged by tax breaks and subsidies.

Likewise, the farm-to-table model is a simplistic concept for much of the food that reaches our tables. While we do have local economies with organic farms and farm-to-table can happen, nature still commands where some things grow.

The Trusk Regime has issued orders. Broken treaties. Damaged alliances. Withdrawn from marketing and trade agreements. Bullied allies and threatened and launched tariffs.

Tariffs will drive up prices. History has demonstrated it. Higher prices bring inflation. Inflation causes less buying. People just don’t have enough money to buy more.

Less buying equals less retail volume. Lower volume means less income for businesses. Businesses compensate with increased prices to sustain operating and profit margins.

But less sales volume is less business. Less tax revenues at all levels.

Less sales translates to less need for employees. Job layoffs and terminations follow.

To ice the cake, the Trusk Regime has cut Small Business Administration funds. Too much DEI for them. Without those loans and grants, small businesses will close. Unemployment will climb. Fewer businesses means increased scarcity and less competition. Prices rise out of that equation.

That is just the tip of that egregious economic situation. Think of what that does to consumer confidence? Imagine the impact on the stock and commodities markets, and the strength of the dollar.

But you don’t need to imagine that. History is full of these things happening. They have been studied. The cause and effect is well understood. With less tax revenues and less Federal funding coming down, roads and infrastructure fall into disrepair. So history says. Hello, if you were paying attention, you know that was one of the things Trump 45 promised to do and failed to do. And, if you’re paying attention to your history, you know that President Joe Biden delivered on that promise with a bi-partisan infrastructure repair act.

The things you can learn from history.

If you’re willing.

Beyond food scarcity, high prices, and small businesses shuttering, visualize what that does to small towns and cities. Imagine what happens to farmers and their businesses with their markets closed to them in China and elsewhere.

There will be backlash and more reciprocal impacts. Unemployment will rise. Homelessness will increase. Begging on street corners will climb.

The Trusk Regime has already made that situation worse by shuttering the USAID. Through it, charities helped with lunch programs. Religious charities depended on money from the USAID to help communities cope with homelessness, unemployment, and scarce resources.

But Trusk cut that. That now traditional source of help will not be there. Forced into starvation and desperation, violent crimes will rise. That’s a fact right out of history. So will an attitude. What do I care if the world burns down? I have no future in it. Because they can’t afford college. Even if they can get more education, to what end would they put their degrees with businesses terminating employees. They will begin to work as part of an under-the-table gig economy. Take low paying jobs to get a meal.

Imagine the impact of increasing homelessness and growing unemployment will have on new car sales and new home sales. But you don’t have to: history has shown us the impact.

The Trusk Regime has already made that situation worse by terminating hundreds of thousands of Federal employees. You don’t think that’s not going to affect the unemployment numbers, consumer confidence, and the economy? People without jobs don’t spend much money. The Trusk Regime likes to offer a scenario where these hundreds of thousands of newly unemployed individuals go out and get a new job.

Where?

Especially since the Trusk Regime also cut government contracts. Schools, businesses, and communities were depending on those contracts. Some of them were still rebuilding from natural disasters. The money had been allocated by Congress. The Imperial Presidency said, no. So those projects have stopped.

They’re not hiring anyone.

That’s what Project 2025 and the Trusk Regime wholly ignore. We experienced all of this things and built networks of state, local, and Federal government with rules, regulations, and experts to deal with these problems. The Trusk Regime decided it was fraud and waste and took a chain saw to it.

Now we wait. The Great Reciprocal Wave is coming. Its form is uncertain. Could be open warfare. Massive rioting. A military coup. Other factors of the Great Undoing will come into play. Like health crises. Say avian flu. Flu, RSV, and COVID-19. New diseases. So it could be another pandemic.

This is all just a tiny piece of it. Natural disasters will begin. Tornados will tear through towns. Wildfires will start burning. Flooding. Places will be evacuated. Productivity will fail more. Scarcity will increase. Tax revenues will plummet. The economy will sag. The fires will burn on with no to little help from the Trusk Regime. They don’t think those federal agencies were useful.

Hurricane season will begin. Storms will wreck whole areas. Scarcity will increase. So will demand. Inflation will rise. Tax revenues will plummet. Homelessness will increase.

What do you think that will do to the insurance companies? Not sure? Ask the good people of Puerto Rico, Oregon, California, Florida, Texas, and other states affected by natural disasters in recent years. They’ll give you a history lesson.

While you’re talking to them, ask, too, what it did to their health and their healthcare systems. Ask them what it did to their local economy and local inflation. Ask them what it did to their state of mind.

The Trusk Regime thinks that cutting federal agencies like FEMA is a good move. They think local citizens ‘on the ground’ in those locations will be able to ‘make better decisions’.

Yes, because the people of Asheville, NC, for example, have such a deep familiarity with recovering from disasters. *head shake*

Making decisions about how to help communities is only a small element of what FEMA does. They keep stockpiles of emergency food and water supplies on hand. They keep emergency housing on hand in the form of trailers that can be moved in to solve the housing problems for a while.

Those stockpiles will still exist. But with FEMA cut or its personnel cut, who will manage those inventories? Who will ship those supplies?

And we know that this will happen.

Because history taught us. You can learn a lot from history, if you’re willing. Just cast your mind back to 2005, Hurricane Katrina, and New Orleans. Twenty years ago. Pause to remember Michael D. Brown of FEMA fame and the disastrous job he did because he didn’t have experience. “Heckuva job, Brownie,” President Bush told him.

So you can learn from history. But right now, instead, voters decided to fuck around and find out. They were willing to take an ax to all of these programs, agencies, federal employees, alliances, trade agreements, and expertise.

Well, here it comes, brothers and sisters. You’re about to find out.

Here comes the Reciprocal Wave. I’d tell you to brace yourselves but do I need to?

History has already told us.

9

Sa’day’s Theme Music

Mood: coffeelifted

We’ve punched into Sa’day, 12/14/24. The line for Ashlandia’s day is 41/46/36, meaning current-high-low. But my system’s reading informs me it’s 39 in our cut of existence. Rain is falling. It commenced yesterday and didn’t let up. Hungry gray clouds have descended, eating off the mountain and tree tops like a parent going after their kids’ holiday chocolate.

Wising up to the weather, Papi is demonstrating a willingness to be flexible about going in and out, doing less of that, opting into remaining in warm, dry shelter, i.e., le house. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) shows little interest in answering the question, “What’s the weather like out there?” He’s more inclined toward floofosphical questions like, “What’s in that bowl? What are you eating? Can I have some? Why aren’t you giving me any?” He asks these questions with bright-eyed optimism and rapt adoration. You know how it usually ends.

Went to a gospel holiday concert last night. Ashlandia’s Rogue Valley Symphony collaborated with with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival to put on a concert at the Bowmar Theater. The Florida State University Gospel Choir and their three-piece travelin’ combo — bass, drums, keyboards — were invited in, along with a soloist named Marques Jerrell Ruff. By happenstance, I ended up seated by the night’s sponsor, the guy who gave them the upfront funds to make this happen. He’s done a lot of good philanthropy work in our small town. For instance, if you ever visit Ashlanda and visit the plaza, you can check out the mural of our sister city that he and his wife commissioned. It was pleasant chatting with him about his good deeds and some mutual friends we admire.

Portion of the Guanajuato mural in Ashland, Oregon.

The concert was uplifting and fun. I definitely recommend it. Mr. Ruff and the FSU Choir are amazing singers and awesome entertainers.

It’s been a busy week and it ain’t over. Tonight is the annual Swedish Smörgåsbord at a friend’s house. Tomorrow is the Santa Claus brunch at Callahan’s on Mount Ashland. My ankle is handling most of this well, although I do reach a point toward the end where I’m ready to rip off my shoe and sock and elevate that puppy. Haven’t done that yet, despite the temptation, principally because my wife would kill me if I did.

Jill Dennison inspired The Neurons for today’s music choice. Jill is a prolific, intelligent, and insightful blogger. I admire her thinking and principles, and we frequently exchange comments. She apologized for her mood in one recent post. The Neurons responded by placing Nirvana singing “All Apologies” from 1993 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark buried). So, here’s to you, Jill.

I met coffee on a blind date in the kitchen this morning. Now I’m singing its praises. Hope your day is as excellent as circumstances allow. Here’s the music. Cheers

1

The Red Tricycle Dream

I was with some sort of military unit. A bunch of military units wre there, all living side-by-side with their families, including children in this big sort of hanger. It was a sea of chaos to my eyes.

The guy in charge held up a large white envelope. “Someone needs to go around and collect for the charities.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. Otherwise, it seemed like I was doing nothing but waiting.

Directions about what to do were in the envelope, along with a list of the units. My task was to go around and hit them up for money, not just the units, but some individuals in the units. Weirdly, I was to always get eight donations. That struck me because a few years ago, I had a series of dreams in which eight was always significant.

I began my collections, and fumbled my way through, telling others what I was doing and why, getting the required monies. After doing three, I thought, this is ridiculous. I was walking, and with the throngs of milling people and distances, snails would have outraced me. Going back and turning in my collection, I complained, “I need some way to get around faster.”

Someone gave me a little red tricycle to use, the kind of transpo suited to a toddler. I sat on the seat and grabbed the grips on the silver handlebars. The grips were white, with pink and white tassels hanhing off them. Applying my feet to the pedals, I tried to make progress, but it was ridiculous, with my knees rising above the handlebars and sometimes slamming into them.

Getting off the trike, I considered my transportation. “I need to make some changes,” I said, “but how?”

Like heat lightning on a summer evening, the idea came: I will think of the changes I want and make them happen.

First, the three-wheeler needed to be larger to fit my adultness. I picked up the thing and thought that until the trike was sufficiently sized. Next, I thought, I want the front wheel further out, like a chopper. Thought and done. Then, sitting on it again, I thought, I want the seat to be like a chair and reclined. Done.

Next, did I really need to pedal? Flying over this crowd and from unit to unit would make my task deeply easier. So I thought of wings, and then decided, yes, this can fly. Somewhere along that process, I gained a flying helmet with googles and a white scarf.

I took off on a practice run, flying around the hanger, and it was smooth as an icy pond. In quick order, I was flying to the units on my rounds. Some of the unit personnel knew me at one and asked, “How did you get that flying bike?”

I told them, “Someone gave me a red tricycle and I changed it.”

“But how did you change it?”

“I just thought of what I wanted,” I replied. “And that made it happen.”

4

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: cheery

Greetings to all Earthbound beings. It’s Tuesday, October 10, 2023 — 10/10 — in Ashlandia, where the rain is welcomed and the temperature is chilly. Autumn has swiped brushes over the window’s vistas. Overnight, plums and burgundies have been delivered to compete with green, amber, lemon, and red. Quite a splash for the eyes.

Rain plays metal notes on the roof’s vents. It’s 53 F now and will advance ten degrees up the thermometer before the sun’s retreat.

With this ambience underway, I’ve not checked the news. I’m saving myself for a few minutes more to just ensure my safe little bubble of existence.

I’m eager to continue writing. On the other hand, chords loaded with guilt on sometimes struck. I feel I should be doing more about the house. Part of this is that my wife has a busy week: Food & Friends deliveries yesterday, exercise classes every other morning, and book club Wednesday night, in which she’s the moderator. She takes moderating very seriously.

Besides those pretty standard things, Empty Bowls is on Friday. This is a fundraising effort to fund the city’s charities to help fed, cloth, and shelter the less fortunate and homeless. Local artists and art classes provide bowls. You basically buy a bowl for $25 and fill it with soup. Local restaurants and politicians provide the soups, along with breads.

An annual event, my wife has been preparing the table centerpieces for a decade. The pursuit has become more involved; Peace House, the hosting organization, has less and less resources for the centerpieces. That moves the burden to my wife’s shoulders, so she’s been scrounging for flowers and vases. The ‘vases’ are pint bottling jars. Thanks to one of my friends, we managed to procure enough of those.

All that puts her on edge. But in addition, the Empty Bowls commit also asked her to make some vegan cookies for the event.

Well, my wife isn’t one to refuse such a request. Agreeing added anxiety, though. She went through recipes and made a decision about what to make. We bought the supplies last Friday. The baking will be done Thursday. I wish I could do more to help her, and that’s why I feel guilty for going off and writing.

The cloud-heavy sky has me thinking about the upcoming ring of fire eclipse. Due on Saturday, we’re right on the path’s edge as the eclipse traverses North America but wonder whether the weather will clear enough for us to enjoy a view. Stores and businesses have been selling eclipse glasses for several weeks, but Scienceworks gives them out free. We’ll get them free and then give them a donation, LOL.

I was listening to Papi singing this morning. Papi is my ginger gentlefloof, a slender blade of a feline who exhibits a standoffish air. I’m the only one permitted to properly visit with him, although my wife is making progress with him. He’s skittish and wary to the extreme, a complete 180 from Tucker (our black and white long-haired fellow), who deeply enjoys human company. Papi avoids people and animals.

So, growing cold weather induced me to close the pet door. Papi loves the night and enjoy popping in and out. Coming in to eat kibble, going back out to witness the world. The pet door’s closure forces him to convince me to let him out. He knows I don’t like breaking out of sleep and slipping out of bed to do this, so he now sings the “I Want Out” blues.

The song starts soft and slow, just one gentle note every other minute. Gently the notes build in volume and then begin to come more frequently. Finally, a wail invested with the power of all unfairly imprisoned entities breaks the dark. I usually get up and do as bid with the first few notes. I thought that I’d let Papi sing a while before letting him out, as he has such a beautiful voice.

Naturally, rain and Papi’s blues inspired Les Neurons to conjure blues about rain in my morning mental music stream (Trademark possible). Well, first there was Tina Turner singing about rain on the windows. Then John Fogerty broke in to ask me if I’ve ever seen the rain.

Slipping into the blues, Stevie Ray Vaughn apprised of flooding in Texas. Finally, though, we had Buddy Guy singing “Feels Like Rain”. Buddy’s song struck the right balance of feeling and being so it won honors as today’s theme music. It’s a song I’ve used before as my theme music, basically for the same reasons.

Stay pos, be strong, and keep chill. Coffee has landed; here’s the music. Cheers

0

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: ennui

Hello, fellow trekkers through life. It’s Monday, October 9, 2023.

Heavy clouds clipped in under night’s cover, announcing autumn was ending our Indian summer flirtation. 65 F now, 66 F is the projected high for Ashlandia, where all ingredients are fresh, locally grown, and organic, except when it isn’t. Showers are expected shortly, the beginning of a local rainfest running this week.

Was tired this morning and didn’t want to leave my bed. Not happy news out in the world, in my mind, right? More war rising and escalating.

But, the cats clarified who has the power and how my desires fit into the morning routines when it comes to decisions about them eating or me sleeping. I also remembered that I’d committed to helping my wife.

Said wife — still the first (I know, it’s a surprise to all of us) — had Food & Friends deliveries scheduled that day. She’d be returning from exercise class, change clothes, swig down his coffee and don some lippy, and then she and I would jump in the car. I’m here driver for this monthly volunteer work.

Our last F&F outing didn’t go great. Three people didn’t answer the door or the food. Typical F&F beneficiaries are elderly, handiapped, or people coping with diseases. So, besides delivering food, F&F’s mission includes ensuring people are okay and don’t need assitance.

We picked up the food at the senior center and perused the list. Three people were off it. We talked about them, hoping they’re okay, wondering about their situation. Two new people had been added. Off we went.

It mostly went well, although there were hitches, such as being short one frozen meal. The biggest issue was that one new man didn’t answer his door. My wife called the number provided; not in service. After knocking more, she wrote a note to him on the official F&F slip and we pressed on.

Afterwards, we went back to his place. Still no answer.

The man lives in an apartment complex. The manager’s office was nearby so my wife went over to speak with the manager about the man. Turns out, the F&F client has a motorized wheelchair. He’s a smoker and likes to go out to smoke. The manager had seen him two hours before, buzzing around the campus.

Calling it a day, we returned to the senior center and my wife documented all that had happened.

The driving and waiting seemed to drain me today. Selfish of me, I reflected, but then again, that’s my writing time. Reactions involving writing doesn’t aways flow down normal culverts of thinking and emotions. Also, I volunteer to help her, and I enjoy it. Just one of those days.

I always wonder, though, what brings people to this point. Thinking about why they might be on a F&F client, I pursue the regular courses of reasons. Genetics, giving disease an unfair advantage. Bad luck, like car accidents and house fires. They might have been victimized by others, or made decisions which seemed to be the thing to do, only to have it all go south.

While sitting in the car, I listened to the radio and waited at one point. “Tailwind” by Kenny Wayne Shepherd came on. I’d only heard the song, which came out in 2019, a few times before. I know controversy about KWS was stirred a few years ago over his ‘General Lee’ replica. The General Lee is an orange ’69 Dodge Charger with a CAS battle flag painted on its roof. The car was featured in a television show called “The Dukes of Hazzard”, which aired from 79 – 85. Overseas most of the time, I didn’t see much of it.

Anyway, KWS had a nomination for Blues Musician of the Year (or some honor like that) rescinded because of his ownership of the car. In his response, KWS acknowledged he had the car but had the CSA flag covered up because he knew it represented racist elements. He apologized for it and stated that he stood against racism and oppression for everyone.

Well, hearing the song, The Neurons kept it going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark confusing) after we’d shifted into the afternoon. So, I’m gifting it to you. The Neurons and I agreed that the lyrics fit my mood.

Sometimes I feel like a man in a can
About to go hurtling through
Space, whiplash fast
Soon as the match hits the fuse
Sometimes it seems like I’m making it up
Crazy and crazier days
When fiction ain’t stranger than the truth
Turn the page
Turn the page

Roll around the world
And around again
Someplace we’ve never been
Blow a kiss and
Fly with the sun
See how lightning fast we can run
With a little luck
We might just catch a tailwind
Hey, fellow travelers
Keep travelin’

Somedays I swear that the game must be rigged
Jokers up every last sleeve
And if crooked is straight
Then what the hell does that make me

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Stay pos and be strong. Here’s the music. Off for coffee and writing. Cheers

0

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Monday found me helping my wife deliver food to elderly, incapacitated, and disabled people, part of a community effort. Someone does it everyday Monday through Friday. Meals are provided for weekends and holidays on request as part of the system.

We were delivering six frozen meals to a new person on the route. We were instructed to call him first, to let him know we were on the way. He came out of his house as we pulled into his driveway. Obese, on oxygen, in a wheelchair, he looked about fifty years old, at least ten years younger than me.

Sad and shocked, I wondered about the circumstances of luck, genetics, work, and habits that brought the guy to that point. Most of life seems like a lottery, and the health lottery seems like the cruelest and most random of all.

8

The Formal Garden Party Dream

I was hosting a formal garden party at my estate. Apparently I was quite wealthy and famous. It was catered and I had nothing to do but make decisions.

Servers were in white jackets and black pants. They were a humorous good lot. Attendees, which were mostly women, wore formal gowns. Jewels and pearls abounded among them, along with bare shoulders. Men were in suits or tuxes. Settings were elegant, with fine china and gold flatware, beautiful place settings around large round tables, linen napkins, flowery centerpieces, and lots of crystal for wine, water, champagne and other drinks.

Meanwhile, I was dressed in old shorts and a shirt, and sandals. I was lending my place and my name but I wasn’t specifically attending. Everyone else was working there or paying to attend. All proceeds went to charity. I was to give a talk but that was to come later.

They were asking me to sign things, an impromptu effort. Sign this for so and so because it would mean so much to her. Things kept going hilariously wrong with that. This pen is red ink; do you want me signing this in red ink? We had no proper paper to sign so I was tearing small bits off different things and trying them out. Then I put in the wrong name. Misspelled words. Silly things. I laughed at all of it.

A special dessert was brought in on large silver trays, to be served later. A young black man, tall, good-looking, and my friend, was overseeing this. After he had them set up, he picked one up; he gave me a nod and winked. I selected a yellow rose, took the dessert from him, and then walked through the gathering. Everyone noticed and watched, growing silent as I randomly chose a woman at a table and gave her the rose, along with the special desserts, which just looked like a small baked thing to me. She gasped in delight and others begged me to give them one, but I walked back out in my shorts, shirt, and sandals.

0

The Zeppelin Dream

Not referring to the great rock group Led Zeppelin, nor any cover group in this. We were traveling via zeppelins. I was with others but didn’t know any of them beyond their first names. I don’t know why we were traveling or where we were going. I knew it was a zeppelin because the dream actually had a scene of conversation in which it was discussed what the vessel was. Semi-rigid. Inflated. Airship. An enormous passenger compartment with plush red seats similar to a movie theater was available.

I had a mission. I was going to raise money for refugees by selling raffle tickets. I wasn’t certain what the winner would receive; that was to be resolved, although I was doing all of this on my own. I’d made the tickets, red with black marker, by hand, and carried them in a red basket. I also had red cloth napkins. Besides this, I carried open cans of wet food for cats and animals so that I could feed any animal that I encountered. After preparing myself, I entered the passenger compartment, greeting travelers as they rushed in to find preferred seats. Someone jostled me, spilling cat food onto the ground and upsetting me. As I cleaned it up, others asked why I had open cat food, so I explained that I was feeding animals while selling raffle tickets to raise money to help refugees. When asked what the prize was, I exclaimed, “The prize can be whatever you want.”

Dream end.

0

Most Disturbing

Our local disaster, the Almeda Fire of earlier this month, issues numerous disturbing points for anyone who thinks about cause, effect, and results.

  1. To summarize, ours isn’t the worst disaster of the fire season. Not the largest, nor longest burning. Fast and brutal, it destroyed a few Ashland homes (my town, about two miles from my house). Then, egged on by high winds, it went north and west and destroyed two small neighboring towns, Talent and Phoenix, and terrorized Medford. Thousands of structures were destroyed. Thousands of people are displaced.
  2. While the fire was being fought, water ran out. The fire hydrants literally ran out of water. Multiple and simultaneous demands killed water pressure. That lack of water pressure meant first, no more water to fight fires, and second, potentially contaminated several towns’ drinking water. Boil warnings were issued.
  3. We have sirens and emergency systems set up in Jackson County and Ashland. Neither were used. Why? As the fire spread, evacuation orders were issued for one neighborhood. The entire city (and the county) was put on Level 1 evacuation orders, which means, be ready to go. But the Sheriff didn’t want the emergency warnings used; he didn’t want to cause panic. So instead of using those two systems, they did nothing. We were left in an information vacuum.
  4. Spectrum’s internet (and cable TV and landline systems) went down. A major cable burned through. Those of us still with Internet were able to log on. Facebook, and a local community group, became the most valued source of information. This was basically done by monitoring other cities and towns’ emergency orders to pass on to Ashlanders what was happening. That group, which already did a great job, is now asking, what can we do better? Love the proactive approach.
  5. Cell phone capability was compromised as the fire burned down several regional cell towers.
  6. The unscathed rallied to help the survivors. Money, food, clothing, batteries, telephone chargers, water, etc., were donated.
  7. Most of the money donated through the United Way and the Red Cross remain tied up in bureaucracy. Want help? Go to them. People who’ve lost everything were being directed to go hunt down the Red Cross and United Way and apply for help.
  8. Red Cross did set up at the Expo Center, where other agencies were set up. Here’s a classic tale, though. A man got onto Facebook and told the Red Cross there, hey, we don’t have transportation. We can’t get to you. Their response: call the national hotline. The national hotline’s response: call your local chapter. A local Red Cross worker finally woke up and said, I’ll get you help. It shouldn’t be so damn hard, though.
  9. Meanwhile, FEMA has become a joke. Their guidance is to apply. Then, if you’re turned down, apply again. And if you’re turned down again, keep applying until you’re approved.
  10. How fucking broken is FEMA that their standard operating procedure seems to be to initially reject people but, you know, keep trying. Savage, especially for people who have lost everything, their paperwork, clothing, and the mobile and manufactured homes that they lived in. They were already just hanging on, keeping their heads high enough to avoid being sucked under, and this agency, established to help survivors after a disaster, prove to be inept and bungling. Infuriating.
  11. *snark alert* One noble local business, a storage place, told their renters that everyone needs to come in and clean up their space. By the way, they’re still charging the full amount for the month. Sounds like good fucking people, right?
  12. Should write about the animals, but don’t want to. It’s painful. Many people prize their animals above everything else. Now they’re scrambling to find them. Animals are being found, fed, treated, etc. Communities have been set up online to share photos, sightings, descriptions, etc. It’s a huge, sprawling mess, though. There must be a way to do it better. I end up getting diverted, looking through descriptions of lost pets and thinking, I saw that animal listed on another page, didn’t I? Then I go looking, usually without success.
  13. Some pets have been re-united, and those are noted as success. It’s also noted when animals have crossed the rainbow bridge.
  14. The photos of singed, burnt surviving animals rip your guts, you know?
  15. Think of all the services that you use. Gas, water, trash pickup, electric, banking, credit cards, phone, Internet. All needed to be called to be told, “Hello, my home burned down.” In the case of Internet, gas, and electric, they needed to be told, shut off those services and please don’t charge me. For banking and credit cards, it was sometimes, watch for fraud or send me new cards.
  16. A bright spot emerged from the local restaurants. Many locally owned places in Ashland said, you need a meal, come in and tell us, no charge, no questions asked. We’re here for you. A few made hundreds of meals and went off to the evacuation points and served them. Other businesses, schools, and churches set their parking lots up as socially distanced places where people can park and sleep, opening up their restrooms and showers (when available) for people to use 24/7.

There is more, but you know, that’s enough for one September Saturday. Be safe. Enjoy your day. Take care.

And please wear your damn mask.

6

Good Floofmaritan

Good Floofmaritan (floofinition) – 1. An animal who assists other animals or people.

In use: “Many animals are being employed as Good Floofmaritans, service animals which help people cope with their shortcomings and difficulties.”

In use: “Grandpa Cat, as he was known, was an old street fighting tom who’d finally found a home, but surprised everyone with his Good Floofmaritan side when he helped orphaned kittens adjust by calming, comforting, and grooming them.”

2. “People who help animals.”

In use: “The Internet has helped raise the awareness about animals and their plights, resulting in the growth of many Good Floofmaritan organizations that take in orphaned and abused animals, help them recover, and find them permanent homes.”

3. A parable about an animal who helped other animals and people.

In use: “Floof 10:25-37 tells the Parable of the Good Floofmaritan, a lion who came upon an injured man stayed with the man, bringing him food and warming and protecting him for three days, until help arrive.”

2

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