Tag: confusion

Thirstdaz Theme Music

It looks like we might have some fog today in Foglandia. It’s Thirstda, December 11, 2025. The fog landed on us yesterday morning and has not abated. My friend came out of meeting last night and said, “Wow, this is Jack the Ripper kind of fog.” Our forecast for today, given yesterday morning, promised sunshine and a possible record high in the low to mid-sixties. That was yesterday. Now we’re mumbling about maybe hitting 50 F. It’s 37 F now. The claims made yesterday for today have been shifted to tomorrow. Feels like a con game. Wonder how much of Trump DOGE cuts cause the diminishing weather forecast accuracy?

Another night of intriguing dreams featuring cars, women, and building had me wondering about stuff this morning. Traversing the assimilating and understanding functions of parsing the dreams inspired Les Neurons. “Clocks” by Coldplay floated into the morning mental music stream. The song’s lyrics go, “Confusion never stops. Closing walls and ticking clocks. Gonna come back and take you home. I could not stop that you now know, singing.” Which pretty well reflected part of one remembered dream sequence. Actually, minus the clocks. It was but the sentiment of confusion.

Speaking of the sentiment of confusion, have you heard Deceiving Donny’s recent speeches? Yes, he’s a rambling vocal trainwreck. Naturally, MAGA reactions are, “But Biden.” Always looking to the past, they are, always hunting for an escape route to avoid facing reality. Read a piece which tickled me from MPS, Case Study: In Your Guts, You Know He’s Nuts.

Yes, we know he’s nuts. So does AI as it reviews some sample shitalk outta the great mango babbler. Trump’s probably the greatest babbler the world has ever known. He can babble like no babbler has ever babbled before. People listening to him often remark, “What an amazing babbler. What a stunning babbler.” After listening to Dizzy Donny’s babbling, people often march up, shake his hand, and say, “Sir, that was the most beautiful babbling I’ve heard the pleasure of hearing.” One man said he told Trumpy Dumpty, “In my two hundred fifty years of life, I’ve never heard greater babble coming out of anybody like this before, let alone the President of the United States. What babble! Amazing babble! BEAUTIFUL BABBLE!!!”

I was with friends having a beer and talking last night. One related the death of his brothers. One older, one younger. Both being treated. One was denied Oregon’s “Death with dignity” to pursue assisted suicide because he was being treated and following a course of stuff supposed to fight the disease, etc. But the side effect of said treatment were blood clots which caused strokes, diminishing his capacity to speak, move, breathe, etc. Sickening and exasperating.

On that note, time to rev up the life engine and plunge into my daily routines. Which mostly circulates around going out and writing. Writing is going well but consumes so much life band. My wife is tremendously accommodating of my efforts. She deserves several prizes. Hope I can reward her faith and support with success someday. Meanwhile, onward. Cheers

2

Life in Trump’s Alternative World

My wife and I climbed into the car. I started the engine. After over revving it, I began driving in reverse. My wife asked, “Why are we in reverse?”

“Everyone says that you get better mileage in reverse.” I swung the transmission into drive. “Now I think I’ll go this way.” I turned on the windshield wipers.

My wife peered into the sunlit blue sky. “Why are the windshield wipers on?”

“We need gas,” I declared. “We don’t have enough money for a full tank.”

“I’m starving,” my wife replied. “I thought we were going out for dinner. Where can we get something to eat?”

“We don’t have money for food. Just hold on.” I pulled into a miniature golf course. “I think I’ll play a game.”

My wife objected, “I didn’t think we have the money.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get more money.”

I went in and paid for the game. Before teeing off, I went back to the car. Jumping in, we drove off.

My wife looked around in puzzlement. “Where are we going?”

“Straight ahead.”

“This is the opposite direction of where we were going.”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking a short cut.”

“What happened to your miniature golf game?”

“I played it. Set a new record. I was stripes.”

“But you weren’t gone five minutes.”

“I know. It was the fastest golf game ever. I scored more points than anyone in the game’s history.” I steered the car into the path of oncoming traffic. “They were amazed. Said they’d never seen anyone play like that. They’re giving me a special golfing medal.”

A truck almost hit us. My wife screamed. “Get on the right side of the road. What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t worry,” I replied, “they’ll get out of our way.”

The car’s engine coughed and sputtered.

“What’s wrong with the car?” my wife asked.

“I think it’s the wind,” I answered, throwing open the door.

My wife gasped. “What are you doing? The car’s still moving. You’re going to get yourself killed.” Leaning across, she grabbed the wheel and began steering.

After turning on the radio, I leaped out of the car and rolled across a lane. A car screeched to a halt, almost hitting me. Leaving their car and coming toward me, the driver said, “Oh my God, I almost hit you. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Beaming, I took off my shirt. “Aren’t I ripped?” I nodded toward my car as my wife managed to steer and stop it. “It’s my wife. She made me do it. She’s crazy. Doesn’t know a thing about flying. She shouldn’t be allowed near a boat.”

Stepping in front of a car, I waved my arms. “Help, help. Call the police. This guy’s trying to kill me.”

2

Thirstdaz Theme Music

It’s another Thirstda. With it, I realized, we’re on the cusp of August’s middle. Today is August 14, 2025.

We have a mild cooling trend underway. 68 F now, today’s high will peak at 86 F, falling from 93 F yesterday. Tomorrow is projected to be cooler yet. Rain is expected Satyrda and Sunda, with respective highs of 78 and 80 F.

I admit, I’ve never paid close attention to the Trumps. It shows; I often confuse the Trump women – Ivana, Ivanka, Marla, Melania. Lot of times, my Neurons will roll over and declare that Trump is married to Ivanka, his daughter. I suspect it’s my brain responding to casual connections projected in social media prompting my confusion. Anyway, Mea culpa.

An article I read asked and pursue the same questions in my mind about planned Trump’s White House ballroom construction: surely things like this are subject to oversight, permits, laws and regulations. The article reported that Trump has not applied for any permits. I, of course, snickered about that. I easily imagine Trump wiping out those requirements with his patented triad of weapons, the executive order, lies, and bullying. If oversight agencies aren’t checking him on other matters, why would anyone be naive enough to believe heritage, construction, and safety laws and regs will be applied? We know they won’t. This ‘law and order’ POTUS is pretty damn lawless. Part of his lawless path was charted by the Roberts Court, who decided something like, if the President does it as part of his official duties, it’s okay. So, there. He can build whatever unsafe, unregulated tacky outhouses that he wants on the land the We the People own. We the People can’t do a damn thing about it except write posts, protest, and call our elected reps. Oh yes, and try to vote him and that whole cancerous mass out of office.

Today’s theme music was caused by my wife. She and I were talking about a television show, Misfits, which we used to watch. She said, “Remind me.” With little thought, Les Neurons began playing the 2001 Nickelback song, “This Is How You Remind Me” in the morning mental music stream. This is how The Neurons work. All that’s needed is a tiny jiggle of a small connection between a song and a moment and they’re off!

Coffee is watering my nerves and energy is blooming in me anew. Time to risk getting dressed and going outside and interact with other humans. Hope grace and peace find you today and every day. Cheers

5

Munda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

If you have a brain, and some thinking skills, the full Trumpasy is all revealed. Just check out the Trump Regime’s actions. Look at the ‘One Big Beautiful Bill’. Read again Project 2025.

  1. Redistribute wealth to the wealthy. They need it to ‘build the economy’. This is called trickle down economics. It has been decisively proven not to work.
  2. Start shredding the welfare net. Cut Medicaid. Force people to work more.
  3. Cut all assistance contributed by the Federal government to the states and local communities. Downtrodden existences lead to downtrodden morale. A sick people is a desperate people, and are more easily manipulated.
  4. De-construct the education system. An uneducatd population is more guillible. Indoctrinate young people into right wing values via vouchers and private schools.
  5. Manufacture and reinforce negative stereotypes of other citizens, people who ‘are different’, i.e., people who are not heterosexual and white. This is useful for blame games and distraction, and helps neuter political will.
  6. Weaponize ICE into a paramilitary force. While laws limit what the US military is authorized to do to citizens, it’s a more wide-open field with ICE. Under the guise of rounding up ‘illegal immigrants’, the Trump Regime are also undermining due process and the concepts of ‘innocent until proven guilty’. People are being disappeared as the right-wing social media machine provides cover by declaring that the Constitution isn’t meant to be applied to ‘non-citizens’.
  7. Establish concentration camps. The first one has been built in Florida, of course. Don’t be surprised if Texas eagerly builds one in the race to be patriotic by refusing others equality, rights, and freedom. Disappearing people and creating concentration camps stoke fears and can be used to threaten political opposition.
  8. Build a right-wing Supreme Court bias that’s willing to overlook history and precedence, one which will used flawed interpretations of the U.S. Constitution to empower the Executive Branch and wipe out the checks and balance system provided by three equal branches.
  9. Weaponize trade. Try to force manufacturing back to the United States, even though the raw materials are obtained elsewhere, and even though the capital investments needed for new factories are astronomical. This provides a false hope of new jobs; there will be new jobs but they won’t pay wages needed to live in this ever expensive land, forcing people to work more, no matter their health or situation. This will also increase people’s desperation to work and make money to pay for basic goods and services such as food and housing, as prices see tariff-based inflation bound upward.
  10. But — also cut limitations on child labor laws. Encourage poor poeple to have more children to provide a larger and cheaper work force.
  11. Cut or waive environmental laws and regulations to reduce the cost of building new manufacturing facilities.
  12. Nurture confusion among facts and distrust of the news media. Confusion helps the Regime maintain control by undermining grass root organizations’ ability to effectively organize and protest. It also allows the Regime to turn citizen against citizen in a cold war that favors the Trump Regime’s heavy hand.
  13. Distract, distract, distract. In this endeavor, natural disasters are your friend; they pull focus from the political arena. Reduce the Federal government’s effectiveness in predicting disasters and helping states and communities. Again, chaos, confusion, and low morale are useful for controlling and manipulating the population. As a bonus, when a natural disaster levels a region, it opens up land and opportunity to rebuild. People with next to nothing can be more easily induced to take less pay for bad jobs.
  14. Attack other nations; encourage aggression among other nations. Make the world a scarier place.

Yes, this is cynical. It’s not my thinking, but my interpretation of what the Trump Regime and the Republican-filled Greedy Ol’ Trump Party, also known as the GOTP, is doing. Show me I’m wrong. Point to Trump’s actions and demonstrate otherwise. Parse that OBBB for clues that this is not what the Trump Regime pursues.

Time will tell. It’s already told us a great deal in the first six months of 2025.

1

Sunda’s Theme Music

It’s warmer but cloudier in Ashlandia. Like several other things that could be mentioned, I’m not certain what’s going to happen. For Ashlandia’s weather, it’s 57 F. Clouds have pressed blue sky into the background. Sunshine is a hopeful possibility but rain is in the forecast.

For the United States, markets are dropping. Our government systems are being deliberatedly sabotaged in an effort to ‘make them better’. At national parks, the Trusk Regime is telling park employees to do more with less. Measles are spreading. Vaccinations are down. Tariffs are up.

It’s just uncertainty in the air today, Sunda, April 6, 2025.

Despite yesterday’s outswelling of public protest about what the Trusk Regime is doing, nothing has changed. We remain at the same stuck place: one outraged side vehmently opposed to what Trump is doing. Another side supporting him with cultish fervor. A third side seemingly detached and uninvolved, showing questionable awarenss.

I’m read interviews again and again, and that’s where it lands. Given, I can’t vouch for their veracity. Written words on the net are suspect. Perhaps they’re AI creations to spin and confuse. But Trump voters still declare that DOGE is doing great things. That the tariffs are wonderful weapons in the fight to remake America. That Trump is looking out for the average person in the street. That’s what they claim they still believe.

I don’t know. I’m trying for a pragmatic tone but I’m jaded in a dozen ways. It’s still early. The tariff war’s ink is still drying. Results of many things still float through the air like shredded paper.

Without much surprise, The Neurons are playing “Land of Confusion” by Genesis from 1986 in the morning mental music stream.

Coffee has found its way into me again. Hope you find the energy and frame of mind to make this day what you need. Cheers

2

A Chaotic Mom Dream

Not surprising, given my conflicting attitudes about Mom, a chaotic dream had her front and center. My family was also there; not just my real life extended family. My dream added a few extras.

We were at some huge get together. This was at Mom’s place. It was a place I’ve never seen in real life. Ramshackled, part park and house, the boundaries between inside and out were nebulous and ever-changing. So were the rooms. I kept getting a little lost but then recovering and figuring out where I was.

Meanwhile, my relatives were a chaotic bunch. A person who dislikes chaos as much as cats dislike loud noises, I took charge and imposed order, telling each what they should do. I couched it in a way that it sounded like advice. Agreeing to my suggestions, they packed food, piled into cars, and left.

Ah, the silence was comfortable. Then Mom hurried in. Loose piles of money had been on one table. I remembered seeing it, I agreed. It was all gone, Mom said, frantic. She thought someone broke in and stole it.

I challenged that. She didn’t see anyone break in. No evidence of a break in was there. It was possible that the family took the money. Wasn’t that why the money was there? Mom bickered with me about it a bit, changing the history and the reason the money was there. I grew weary of it as I realized that nothing I said or did would appease her. Suggesting she call the other family members and talk to them, I wandered off.

Then came the dream’s climax. I sat down and picked at my little toe’s toe nail. This would be toe number five. The small toe. I picked at the nail; it felt like the nail was loose. Like something was under it. Unable to help myself, I conducted some prying with a finger nail.

My little toe’s top lifted off. Like the top quarter inch.

It was a bloodless event. Beneath it was another small toe nail. My toe was intact, just stubbier. To cap matters off, I did the same thing with the other toe.

Then I tossed the two toe tips aside, amusing myself with how Mom would react when she saw them, chuckling to myself about what my wife would say about my new truncated toes. I was dubious she would notice.

Dream end.

0

An Unsettling Dream

I didn’t know what to make of this offering last night from the Dream Neurons.

It was another military dream. I was in this crowded location. Nothing about it was wholly clear. A senior NCO, I looked like myself from my last years in the military before I retired.

As I say, very crowded. Mostly officers. Mostly Air Force, but a few from the others services were present.

Narrow room. Seemed like an operations center but none of the typical comm gear and crypto was in sight.

My commander, a colonel and short, blonde woman who looked remarkably like Sandi Toksvig, cornered me. “I have to go out,” she said. “Keep an eye out for those guys.” I knew which guys she meant. They were basically rogue, either on a mission they’re weren’t supposed to be on, or away without authorized leave.

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“If thy show up, and we think they will, immediately call security.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left, and I vaguely wandered about the place. It didn’t take long for the missing men to show. All were tall, young, and fit. None were in uniform.

All of my officers were pleased to see them. A generally jovial spirit emerged as my guys greeted the new guys. An impromptu party seemed in the making.

But I had to do my duty. It was going to be ugly because everyone else were overjoyed with the rogue guys’ presence. That put me in some emotional turmoil. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. But it had to be done.

So, I balked. I told the senior officer present what had transpired between the commander and me, and the directions to call security on the rogues. He listened, displeased. I finished, “I’m calling security, but I didn’t want it to be a surprise.”

He spread the news to the rest. Their expressions darkened. Sullen silence soon prevailed. I made the call.

The rogues slipped out as soon as I called. The officers immediately began disparaging me. The senior officers and a few others defended me; I was following orders. Doing my duty. That little mollified them or me.

The senior officer, one other officer, and I left for the airport. We were walking and meant to be going on some duty travel. I ran into my commander and informed her about what’d transpired. She told me, “Good job, you did what was needed.” We seperated.

I caught up with my traveling companions at the airport. It was a chaotic mess. Remaining outside we milled with others, trying to learn where to go for our flight. While that was going on, a gigantic giraffe loomed over the top of the trees.

Excited children pointed at it and shouted. I stared, incredulous. The animal was bigger than what I thought was normal for a giraffe. Also, WTF was a giraffe doing at an airport? Also, the giraffe looked fake, like it was made of aluminum and then painted. Who would do that?

We found our flight and boarded. There weren’t any seats. All of us were forced to stand. That was okay because the flight was over in an eyeblink.

We began disembarking. The senior officer sketched his plans and then asked me, “And what are you going to do?” in a booming voice.

I replied, “Whatever you need me to do, sir.”

“Do what you want. Just don’t nuke anyone.”

Weird thing to say, I thought. “I won’t, sir.”

Dream end.

0

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Warning: short rant ahead.

I don’t know if laws, customs, or behaviors are changing when it comes to driving in Ashland, Oregon. I don’t think it’s a change law. Although I sometimes zone out of what’s going on locally, I believe I would have heard about a law changing how turn signals are used.

Note: turn signals are also called blinkers. More formerly, they’re called direction indicator lights.

See, I’ve noticed a new development here. Drivers stop. As you stop behind them and wonder why they’re stopped, they start to turn and then put on their turn signal.

WTF? I thought the idea behind turn signals was to communicate with other drivers and notify them of their intention to turn. Doing so reduces the chances of accidents and injuries. Already enough of that potential when people are driving around in these powerful metal machines.

I see it in all situations, including changing lanes and at traffic lights. Red light. Stopped. Green light. They move up, begin the turn, and then put on the signal. Meanwhile, the driver they faced was starting to go. Now they hesitate because what the other drive is doing is different from what they’re communicated. The communication confusion spills down the line.

Was the driver who didn’t use their turn signal really just changing their mind? Could happen. Sure. But it’s happening so often now, I’m dubious. And they consistently begin moving into the turn first, and then put on the signal. That strikes me as premeditated.

It happened to me this morning. A large late model Ford pickup truck was stopped in the lane ahead of me. As I closed on him, I could see that no one was in front of them.

Were they broken down? Lost or confused?

Maybe. Because after the traffic coming toward them thinned, the began turning left and then put on their signal.

Yes, they put on their signal after they started turning, after they’d been stopped for about twenty seconds.

It didn’t make sense. For the record, the driver looked white, and a male — I say that because of the beard — in their late twenties to early thirties.

I’m not the only person complaining about the lack of signals. A 2019 NYTimes article explored the same sort of problem.

The NYT article asks, “So what’s the problem here? Why don’t many drivers take this simple safety precaution? When asked about their bad habits in a national study, their explanations seemed confounding.

“The study by Response Insurance of Meriden, Conn., found that 42 percent of drivers claimed they didn’t have enough time to signal before turning. Nearly a quarter of drivers blamed laziness, while 17 percent said they skipped signaling because they were apt to forget to cancel the blinkers. Worth noting: Men admitted that they were more likely, by 62 percent to 53 percent, to change lanes without signaling.”

Laziness. Really? Turning on that signal is that challenging to their strength, attention, and energy?

My situation is a little different. Drivers here ARE turning their signal on, but not until they actually start turning.

I don’t understand what’s going on in their head. It’s such a simple thing. As the NYT article notes, “Is it that some drivers just don’t care about the other guy? If that’s the case, consider this: There is evidence that the act of signaling provides a cognitive benefit to the driver.

“When you turn on the turn signal, you’re turning on your brain,” said Chris Kaufmann, a driving school instructor who specializes in teaching people who drive V.I.P.s.”

My impression is that drivers not using signals until they’re in the turn unaware of the law or they’re not mentally involved in their driving. Maybe they’re on the phone, listening to the radio, or chatting to another in the car.

Driving a car is part of a system. When some drivers don’t follow the system’s rules, it starts breaking down. Maybe it’s anal of me, but that’s how I see it.

Probably just me.

3

A White House Dream

I’ve always dreamed of houses, though I think those sort of dreams have tapered off in the last ten years. I had one again last night, though.

And it was confusing. A wealthy family was staying in this large and luxurious white house. My wife was with me, and we were young, and also staying there.

The house was for sale. It featured many layers set up in a cubist manner with steps connecting the square or rectangular rooms and halls. Exhibiting something of a mobious to the design (yes, kind of like M.C. Escher art), I found I could be in one end in a bedroom (there were many en suite bedrooms) and step one way and be on another level, in another room, on the building’s other end. Resolving to understand how it worked, I went about the house until I thought I’d gone through every room and knew my way around, and then started taking my wife around to show her.

Although the house was huge and way too large for us, I liked several of the rooms and rhetorically discussed with her which I liked. I speculated, too, on which room I would use as an office to write. Two really attracted me. I felt that both were too large. One had a bathroom and I thought that would be good to have. But because of the house’s design, people would sometimes need to walk through that room to reach other parts. Thinking that a disadvantage, I returned to the other room.

While this was happening, it was announced that the house had been sold. We wondered who bought it. The family staying there were’t the owners. We rarely encountered the parents, usually spying them walking through the house from a distance, but we frequently ran into the children. Early teenagers, they were rambunctious, mindless, wasteful, and destructive.

Going back to the other room that could be my office, my wife and I got in bed. The bed was just a mattress on legs, without head or foot boards, and there was no other furniture. I spooned her, pulled thick blankets up to our necks, and napped.

Some hubbub in another room woke us, pulling our attention. I went to see what was going on. Things had been damaged in another room. To be blunt, it was wrecked. I felt certain it was one of the male teenagers, because I’d seen him in that area with some of the damaged furniture, glassware, etc. So I told them what I’d seen before. He denied it but under questioning from his parents, with me pointing out some things, he confessed to what he did. As I walked away from this, I took more notice of that room. Its floor was white. I discovered one end had a raised circular dias, also white, and decided the room was set up as a party room, and that was a place where a small band could play. The room had a cutout running the length of a long wall and I speculated that the band could be playing on that platform or dias and be heard and seen from other rooms.

The dream ended with someone presenting me with a new car, a white Ferarri. Brand new, I admired the car but I dislike white cars. Thinking it would be rude to turn it down, I accepted the car. The last of the dream showed me getting into the car.

What intrigued me most about the dream when I awoke and thought about it was it similarity to a house I often dreamed of decades again. A recurring dream, I had a white house in a small town. When I explored that white dream house, I would discover doors to rooms and sections which I didn’t know I had. Sometimes other families would be living in those sections, leaving me confused about whether I owned it. But I also found myself in that house going to the house’s lowest realm, turning a corner, stepping through the door, and finding me back on the top, on the other end, just as in last night’s dream.

The other thing about both dreams is that these white houses were on the coast, looking out over blue ocean.

5

The Disasters Dream

Sunshine blazed down from a cloudless blue sky. I was arriving at a busy site ensconced in a valley’s flat green floor, either a fair or festival, I realized. Laughing and happy folks were everywhere. Waving to me, my wife and her sister called me over to their group, introducing me to others and then explaining in turns, “This is the Father Festival. You’ve never been to one? It’s put on every year. Free food, games, and prizes. There’s music and dancing later. Have a drink.”

Taking this in, I looked around and saw fathers of childhood friends and male teachers circulating, instructing, ordering. No, I’d never heard of this, but I participated.

Then, dream shift. The festival was nearing its end. A mountain hid the sun. Though the sky seemed clear, it was much suddenly much colder as shadows cloaked us and the light faded.

I’d been traveling and decided I wanted to change clothes. A group of us found a motel and got rooms. Entering one, I asked the others to leave the room so I could wash up and change. Talking and laughing forced me to raise my voice. “Will you all get out so I can change?” Laughing, mocking me, they finally acquiesced.

I found my long-sleeved blue shirt. That’s the one I wanted to wear. Just as I stepped toward the bathroom, the building shook. In another second, people yelled in shrill voices, “Earthquake.” Sirens rose.

A man broke into the room. “There’s a tsunami warning. We need to leave and get up the mountain.”

Dressing in my blue shirt as I left the room, I joined my wife, her sister, and a small group of people. “Come on, we need to go,” I said. “This way. We’re going up the mountain.”

We fell in with a queue of people also trying to get up the mountain. Peering ahead, I saw fire up on the mountain’s upper side. Pulling my group aside, I said, “It’s on fire up there. Come on. Follow me. This way. Don’t tell the others yet. There’s going to be a panic, and then getting away will be a problem.”

I led the rest along a narrow mountainside path that was going up. I heard them yelling behind us as they discovered the fire. People were re-directed to follow me.

Stinging black smoke descended down on us. Bending low, covering my mouth and nose with a mask, I told everyone else to do the same. We hurried on along the path.

Then I came up short as I rounded a curve. The quake had opened a wide and deep crevice, and our path was gone, along with a chunk of mountainside. There was nowhere to go but back, but back wasn’t safe because the fire was engulfing where we’d been.

Dream end.

1

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