Time to take stock of other people’s thoughts and insights into the current political scene in ‘Murica 2025.
Sadly, too many voters did not realize what the lesson was.
It’s the Trump shuffle, a dazzling tapdance of deflection, projections, and lies that easily beguiles the weak-minded.
He admits the affair but denies the abortions. He won’t run for re-election. Wonder if he’ll end up in the Trump Regime. He has the record for it.
Yep. It’s a metaphor. Funny that it’s probably driven by Trump’s mind. His subconscious is trying to tell him that he’s turning the nation into a sewer.
Yep, the greedy, unprincipled Offal Office liar is living up to his rep as a greedy, unprincipled liar
Those who chose to put on blinders and pretend that the past was different than what history says are doomed to keep trying to rewrite it.
The fact that nobody around him has told him this isn’t how numbers work shows you how afraid of him everyone who works for him is. The fact that he doesn’t know after being in business his entire adult life also explains his many bankruptcies.
57 F was our morning air temp, giving us a comfy chill for an Ashlandia summer morning. Clouds were squirreled into one sky corner, presenting the sun with an open path. A high of just 82 F, below our average, is expected to crown the day. No smoke; no fires, knock wood.
I’m just climbing back into the world today. Yesterday was chill. Wife and I visited the Oregon Cabaret to see Disaster! and have a brunch. Quite a silly musical, exquisitely campy. Taking off on the disaster movies which ruled like Marvel movies back in the 1970s, the setting was a casino on a docked ship. The dock was new, incomplete, and built on a fault line. The shady owner skirted regulations and cut corners. We had earthquakes, a tidal wave, fire, explosions, and a few love stories. One love story was behind a retired couple’s story while the other was about a couple with an aborted wedding. All this was structured around popular music from that era, such as “Saturday Night”, “Hot Stuff”, and “Sky High”. A couple of the performers, such Molly Stillens as the singing nun — it’s a 1970s disaster setting, remember? — really leaned into the campiness and made it shine. Good food and a fun show that fostered multiple belly laughs.
Back home in mid afternoon, reading to finish a book due back to the library was undertaken. Ministry of Time was well written, with deeply drawn characters and an interesting variation on standard ‘time-travel’ concepts. Kaliane Bradley is beautifully inventive polishing phrases. Then I wrote for an hour, followed by yard work. Little news was taken in.
Today’s song is “After the Gold Rush”. The Neurons remembered the song as I took coffee on the front porch and investigated nature’s plate with idle curiosity about what was planned, what was done, what was to come sort of montage. Neil Young wrote it and released it while I was in high school. Many covered it later. One famous cover came from a trio of famous singers: Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, and Linda Ronstadt, which was released in 1999. While Neil’s version as as heartfelt and raw as Neil sings everything, the trio’s harmonizing lifts the lyrics into another realm. Hope you enjoy it.
Time to let Munda stamp me with its intentions. Coffee has been had. Let me go forth. May peace and grace find you this day and everyday. Cheers
Another cool, blue-sky deal rolls into Ashlandia. It’s Sunda, August 3, 2025, and 68 F. Claims are being staked that it’ll be 86 F with thunderstorms later today but I’m living in the now. We’re enjoying this streak of average normal summer. Been a few summers since we’ve had an extended streak, knock wood. Meanwhile sympathies and thoughts to all the places enduring floods, fire, wildfire smoke, and other disasters.
The morning joke between my wife and me is, “What has he done today?” We worry that the mango Offal Office occupant will launch a nuclear strike because he had a bad day at golf or more information about him and his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein was revealed. We joke without humor, “Did he raise tariffs 1,000 percent on food and rooster about how much we’re winning?” We’ve not seen any of his ‘wins’. Prices are still up and climbing. When prices aren’t climbing, it’s often because companies are giving you less for the same price they used to charge.
We were looking at online photos of his White House ‘improvements’. A huge, tacky gold-plated ballroom, with none of the grace of the building that houses the President and their family. Sickening. And look at that paved over Rose Garden. It demonstrates such a bare, empty vision. Yes, that is PINO TACO.
Today’s music came from dialogue with my spouse. We were talking about health issues. I was helping her with putting something on. “Easy, easy,” she cautioned. “Sorry, I answered. “I’ll try to use more care.”
The Neurons snatched that up like a dog going for a dropped piece of bacon. “Handle with Care” by The Traveling Wilburys was soon bouncing through the morning mental music stream. The Wilburys were a pop rock group formed by well-pedigreed pop rock musicians: George Harrison, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and Bob Dylan. Each claimed to be a Wilbury brother. Their music was fun and relaxed, people with little to prove doing the thing that they loved to do.
“Handle with Care” was the group’s first effort, and it’s most commercially successful. Originally intended to be the B side of a song George Harrison was releasing, record company execs thought it too good for that purpose and suggested the group expand its efforts and make more music. And it all came about with serendipity. George needed another song. He met with Jeff for dinner, but Jeff was already dining with Roy, so the three of them dined together. George invited Jeff to help him with the song, and Roy asked if he could come along. A studio was needed; George remembered that Bob Dylan was local and had a garage studio. Sure, you can use it, Bob said. George needed his guitar, which was over at Tom Petty’s house. Tom asked if he could join because he had nothing else going on.
I mean, come on. What a neighborhood. Much better than mine, where we nod and complain about weather, politics, and prices. Maybe we should start writing songs about that stuff.
Time to rock on. Hope your day finds peace and grace, and perhaps something tasty to eat for your neglected taste buds. I’ve got coffee. Here we go. Cheers
The Trump Regime runs off bullshit and forgetfulness. Trump himself is a perpetual bullshit machine. Churning out bullshit, he gains energy from that bullshit which he creates. The chaos in his wake inspires more bullshit.
All along, as TACO spouts bullshit and bullshit churns, he hopes everyone will forget the bullshit which he previously spread and its results. He and his regime wants you to forget all his bullshit. Like:
Trump’s six or more failed businesses and their bankruptcies. Like Trump Air. Trump Steaks. Trump University.
His convictions and status as a felon.
Campaign promises to build the wall and have Mexico pay for it.
Trump’s “big, beautiful” healthcare plan that was always going to come out in two weeks.
That he would never golf because he would be too busy.
That he lost the 2020 election. He wants you to believe he really won. Court cases show: he didn’t.
That he inspired the January 6 insurrection, encouraging an attack on police officers doing their duty, urging his supporters to attack the U.S. government.
That he barely carried the popular vote in 2024 and probably would not have, if Kamala Harris wasn’t a woman.
Trump wants to pretend he’s a great ‘man’. That he’s ‘a warrior’ and didn’t dodge military service with bullshit excuses. Part of his bullshit is to pretend he’s Superman. He’s not.
Trump wants you to think he’s a genius. His only genius is bullshitting. Spreading his bullshit, he pretends that he never said he would end the Ukraine-Russia War on his first day. Sez now, “That was sarcasm.” Claims it was, “In jest.” But dutiful factfinders have proven otherwise.
Lawdy, it was the skunkpocalypse last night. I don’t know what was going on but skunk stink bowled through the house like a Budweiser King Pin tournament at 4 AM. After shutting the only windows open and activating the air filter, I consulted an oracle. “Is this a bad omen for August?” I asked. “I can’t work in these conditions,” the oracle answered, tears streaming down their cheeks. I took that as a yes. At the least, it seems like a ‘maybe’.
Yeah, that’s how Frida, August 1, 2025 rolled in on us. But could’ve been worse, judging from all that goes on in the world. Especially in the era of MAGALand. I mean, I could have been shot and killed from police exercising a no-knock warrant at the wrong address. ICE could’ve pounced on me when I opened the door for fresh air and stolen my ID or disappeared me. Earthquakes, wildfires, tsunamis, flash-flooding, and tornados are all real threats at this time. So a heavy skunk attack is mild.
Today, it’s 72 F. Gonna get to 86 F. Thunder boomers thrashed the area for several hours. We even had a little wetletting from the sky, just enough to call it a sprinkle. No reports of rampant lightning strikes, knock wood. Porcupine Fire to the southeast is new but just an acre. A helicopter is doing bucket work on it.
With First Frida, we have the downtown Art Walk to entertain us and the First Frida Bike Ride. On a friend’s recommendation, we’re going to see a play, Disaster! It’s a comedy.
News reading drove The Neurons to invite Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers into the morning mental music stream. “Breakdown” from 1977 is looping through. Why not breakdown? Reading about the many aspects of U.S. life slowly breaking down is tres depressing. The Trump Regime is a seriously backward lot. Like, over under the Fox newsguy’s guidance, the Defense Department personnel have been instructed not to work with any think tanks. While it doesn’t make sense from a historic and intelligent point of view, it’s tots inline with the TACO Regime: they’re against thinking.
Under Trump, all signs point to not thinking as much as possible. Fer instance, don’t think about our history of slavery and civil rights. Don’t think about sexism and racism. Don’t think about climate change and increasing extreme weather disasters. Don’t think about due process, the Constitution, checks and balances, and historic precedence. Don’t think about Trump’s campaign promises and how he’s not delivered. Don’t think ’bout education and morality. Most def do not think about Epstein and Trump, and their secrets.
But it’s only the title, “Breakdown”, which works. The song itself, about a souring relationship, doesn’t apply. Oh, wait; I guess that can apply to Trump and his voters. Seem of them might be souring, according to polls. Really, too early. Takes a while for it all to gel and hit home.
Well, I can’t just sit here typing and reading and writing all day while drinking coffee. Things Must Be Done. Like, the car Must Be Put Into The Shop, because it’s systems are saying, it is time again. More yardwork and housework Must Be Done. More vacation planning is in order. Can’t have a good vacation without intensive dialogues about what Will Be Done and What Is Needed.
Paul Vinent Cannon wrote a short poem, “Choices”. I find it perfect for these times and the TACO Regime. I attempted to reblog it but WordPress’s magic fizzled. So I have a link but also lifted the poem and posted it here.
An American Cinquain (2-4-6-8-2)
Choices
Silence sometimes bidden sometimes so moralised well sometimes I just cannot be silent.
Thirstda, July’s last day of 2025, greets us with clouds and sunshine. I’m off to a late blogging and writing start, delayed by a felt need to cut grass and weed before the sun and heat was too overpowering. Now it’s one PM, 84 F, with a ‘feels-like’ of 92, on the way to an 87F high. Light scattered rain is expected. I smelled petichor last night and went out looking for rain. While I heard what sounded like hungry stomachs rumbling among the dark clouds, rain successfully evaded me.
I’m already in the coffee shop. I noticed a sheet of paper on the counter. Handwritten, it was the inventory. That had me redoubling with chuckling. The writing, in black marker, was a combination of cursive and printing, which is my own style. Has been for years. It’s funny to me that this tech-driven computer age still features handwritten processes.
I like what a friend posted on FB yesterday:
Take your pick of weird Mother Earth events today in Oregon. Tsunami, red flag warning, lightning, thunderstorms, wind, fire, smoke. Hopefully it’s all pretty minor. Stay safe!
Jill Dennison featured a Foreigner tune on her blog. It’s the powerful rock ballad, “I Want To Know What Love Is”. The song moves many to tears and it’s not uncommon to witness folks singing along with it. I commented on the song selection, I mentioned that I enjoy Foreigner as a solid rock band. She asked me to suggest other Foreigner songs. I offered her “Dirty White Boy” and “Juke Box Hero”.
But was yesterday. Thinking themselves amusing, The Neurons slotted “That Was Yesterday” by Foreigner in my morning mental music stream. The 1985 song has a catchy chorus and is easy to mumble along to.
Working hard to undermine democracy and establish an authoritarian plutocracy, Texas is redrawing maps to exclude Democrats and their elected reps. Offering bankrupt ideas and languishing morals for most of this century, the bend to cheat results and steal power. My disgust is off the chart. We’ll see if Democrats and voters can turn back this effort. Fingers are crossed but between the heavy-handed Texas GOP and the swollen to the right SCOTUS, my hope is spider-web thin.
Peace and grace to you today. Hope both find you. On to other things. Cheers
Nan has connected to an accounting of some more Trump lies, aka Trumprications, or to use the two words separately, Trump fabrications.
But don’t read this CNN account of Trumprications if you’re already sickened and disgusted by his recurring disregard for the truth. The Daniel Dale analysis is just about guaranteed to nauseate you more. As Dale notes, “And the pattern has a purpose. Trump’s stories serve to exaggerate his foresight about and knowledge of domestic and foreign affairs, embellish his biography and record in office, and diminish his political opponents.“
More than that, the lies serve to impress and inspire the gullible and misinformed who put him in office.
Michael Seidel, writer 