Suddenly, it’s November — again! Yep, we’ve leaped onto Satyrda, November 1, 2025 in Ashlandia, where the temperature is 52 and sunshine is singing praises to blue skies. The thermometer is expected to hop up to 68 F in our area.
Seems like it was just last year when it was November and we were voting on the nation’s future in the United States. The scandal-plagued, greed monger formally known as Trump, more informally known as TACO – Trump Always Chickening Out — won the 2024 election, to the joy of racists, white supremacists, and reactionaries everywhere. The rest of us were less sanguine about it. Now, just a year after that election, the Federal government is grinding to a halt. Under Trump, the government has been shut down for a third time, and Republicans, ‘led’ by Speaker Mike Johnson (R-Hell), are refusing to work. Air traffic control and the military are working on promises to be paid, along with TSA. No worries, they’re just the backbone of safety and security. Thanks to DOGE, multiple agencies which helped farmers and families are struggling to function. Trump has stripped funding away from activities and canceled projects regardless of Congressional approval. Congress, remember, are our delegates, voted into office to work for We the People as our servants, just as Trump is supposed to be our servant.
What a servant. Stealing from us. Wrecking the White House. Trying to rewrite history and wipe out our heritage. Arbitrarily deciding what is a crime and who is a criminal, a total 180 of what is supposed to be ‘the American Way’. Taking bribes. Killing in the name of peace. Hounding and persecuting political enemies without evidence, trying to trump up charges that will stick. Dismissing real and meaningful work in the Department of Justice. He’s fired almost all of the Inspector Generals, who were there to investigate the government’s functions to ensure everything was being done legally. A general sense of disarray circles around D.C. It’s like a storm system building toward a hurricane. Distrust of Trump is growing. Disapproval is increasing as the fog thickens about what Trump is doing and how much is legal. Disapproval is rising as citizens and their families starve, employment falls off, inflation grows, and Trump goes golfing.
We still don’t know what it says in the Epstein Files against Trump. Maybe the Andrew formerly known as a prince can illuminate those things for us. I’d love to see that smirk chased off of Trump’s face.
Just a reminder to Trump, the Heritage Foundation and their Project 2025 wet dream, and MAGAland. We the People said No Kings in 1776. We the People said no to fascists in the last world war. We meant it both times. We the People still mean it.
My dreams featured hills, so The Neurons plugged a familiar song about hills in the morning mental music stream. Mind you, one major dream also featured food. People were plying me with sandwiches and desserts wherever I went, doing so as a way of thanks for stepping up and helping them. The food was so delicious and fresh! Kind of amused me in the dream, as I was just a dog with a bone, organizing things because that’s what was needed and that’s my strength. For a time, Der Neurons did consider songs like”Mean Mister Mustard” and “Long Tall Glasses” in the morning mental music stream. But ultimately, they went with “Over the Hills and Far Away” by Led Zeppelin.
We really need more peace and grace in this world. It’s a struggle to get it with Trump and his agents of chaos and destruction. May peace and grace emerge and grow and spread soon. Till then, be strong. Cheers
Good morning, Earthlings. Frida has slipped through the cracks of reality to reach us again. It’s October’s last day for 2025. 49 F, we expect to top out at 62 F. Fog is cozying up around us. Our golden-leafed trees stand out like bright lanterns.
We reached home this morning at 1 AM, this time zone. We turned up the hot water heater and unpacked. My wife then took a hot bath. The two of us were in bed by 3 AM. Travel was great, both going and coming. All flights on schedule, everything on the aircraft worked for us, and the seats were awesomely comfortable. Major shoutout to the unpaid air traffic controllers and TSA who kept it all going. Another shout out to Delta. Special mentions go to the anonymous, friendly but professional and courteous young Pittsburgh TSA agent and our Pittsburgh to Salt Lake City Delta flight attendant.
My gallbladder played nice during the travels and visit. Just finished with the pre-op nurse about what to do before my surgery on Tuesday. Must call Dad today. His birthday was yesterday but I didn’t wish to call him while traveling. He was aware of that, as we’d spoken the week before.
Sister interviewed another realtor to sell Mom’s house yesterday. Also picked up Mom’s prescriptions from Sam’s Club. While there, she told the rep about Frank. He was known there and wherever Frank was known, he was enjoyed and appreciated for being friendly, easy-going, and happy. Sis updated all the records. She reports that Mom had a good day yesterday. Was very sharp. Managed to call the bank and curtail the automatic Verizon payment that was vexing us. Of course, being mentally sharp meant she was also challenging about who was in charge. Mom and sis have a contentious relationship. Dueling pistols across the room aren’t yet ruled out.
I dreamed last night that I was looking up into a yellow sky. Swirling clouds gathered and came to me like cats expecting a treat. Craning my head back and gazing into the clouds, I heard a voice tell me that the yellow sky would give me power. In honor of that, The Neurons had to come up with a song featuring yellow. Three jumped into the morning mental music stream: “Yellow” by Coldplay, a Beatles offering called “Yellow Submarine”, and that one about tying a yellow ribbon on a tree by Tony Orlando and Dawn. I mocked their efforts. They responded with “Mellow Yellow” by Donovan. That’ll play, I decided.
Our shuttle driver last night brought us up to date on the Ashland weather and major events on our ride home. She talked about the unseasonably wet but warm October we had. She added, “But let’s not talk about climate change, right? Don’t want a goon squad ambushing us for saying something the White House idiot doesn’t like.” ‘Bout sums up Trump’s second term, doesn’t it?
We’re on, what day gazillion and ten of Trump’s Epstein Shutdown of 2025. Democrats are trying to address issues and concerns. Speaker Johnson (R-Hell) refuses to, basically mocking We the People by asking, “What’s the point?” It’s all or nothing for them. Meanwhile, maybe from getting antsy over becoming unpopular, Trump suggested that Republicans nix the filibuster and just move ahead on their own. You know, ignore over half of the nation. Do what they want and move further toward an authoritarian one-party rule. Republicans quickly pushed back against that…for now. But TACO will probably start pulling out the blackmail stuff he has on them. Then they’ll suddenly be all for it. Just as we saw Senator Hawley crow about one thing in op-ed pieces and then turn around and do the crap that he just warned against doing because Trump wanted it. Just as we’ve seen so many in the past flip from calling Trump unworthy of being office to singing his praises. Guys like Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, and Lindsay Graham. Let’s not overlook Veep JD Vance, who compared Trump to Hitler.
WASHINGTON (AP) — Mitch McConnell said after the 2020 election that then-President Donald Trump was “stupid as well as being ill-tempered,” a “despicable human being” and a “narcissist,” according to excerpts from a new biography of the Senate Republican leader that will be released this month.
Stupid. Ill-tempered. Despicable. Narcissist. That’s just the exposed part of Trump. Like an iceberg, there’s much, much, much GRRRRR-inspiring stuff about Trump under the surface. That’s why we still want all of the Epstein Files brought out. We want to see what that Smirker-in-Chief was doing with his buddy, Jeffrey Epstein.
Here’s a little floof humor for your October 31 amusement. Papi heard me play this and hurried in, looking around with that suspicious, ‘what’s-going-on’ gaze that floofs sometimes sport.
Hope peace and grace climb free of wherever they’re hunkered down and reprise their impact on our life. Till then, stay strong. Cheers
Clouds mar Monroeville’s autumnal setting. Wenzda, October 29, 2025, is surging across the land. Cars grunt with acceleration down at the intersection, punctuating the 38 F air with flat blats of vehicle noise. Last day here; tomorrow we head home.
Visited with Mom yesterday, and she was in classic elderly Mom mode, telling stories with sharp-mind clarity although, as was her younger habit but veering into lateral paths from time to time, a pattern she has passed on to me. We met with a realtor about selling the house. Sis is lead tiger on that project, with inputs from the rest. The three local sisters are circling this project, as they’re local. Reasonable, right? Disappointed with the initial selling price suggestions, they are interviewing another realtor. I usually interview three before going with one, so I have no problem with doing that. Although the qualifier is that this first realtor is a friend of one sister and sold her the last house that sister lives in. With the Trump economy throwing up all over certainty and the future, home purchases in this area have quickly declined. The realtor said it looks like it’ll be slow for this quarter and the next.
I’m heading to Mom’s to search out papers. I figure I should just box them up and convey them to Mom’s new place where they can be reviewed in comfort as needed, instead of dispatching one of us to ‘find them’ at the old house.
Today’s music is dream related. As I reflected on the dream, in which I was dealing with many famous people but also trying to invent a new game, The Neurons came up with The Police, “Message In A Bottle”, in the morning mental music stream. I don’t get the connection…
May peace and grace be with you and me and all in between, if they ever get off their duff and come see us, that is. Here we go. Cheers
I was sitting somewhere, familiar to me in the dream, but unfamiliar to me in real life. Several acquaintances came up and chatted with me. On a white wall to my left were six pieces of art. One woman asked, “What are those.”
I explained that they were books in progress with a smile, that needed to be finished. She selected one, took it down, and started flipping through it. Suddenly she started. “That character has my name.”
Yes, I acknowledged. “You were in mind when I named the character.”
She continued through the pages. “I like this. You should finish it.”
I nodded. “That’s the plan.”
She passed the piece to another person who asked for it. The second person went through it and said, “I like this, too.”
She handed it to me. I flipped it open and began going through it, then stopped. “I know how this ends. It just came to me.”
Both stared at me. “It just came to you?” one asked. “Just like that?”
“Yes. I’m going to finish this now.”
I spent the rest of the dream writing and rewriting that book. It took some weird turns. At one point, I stopped to watch golfers. Green, brown, and orange golf balls were in use, and they were playing on a mountain, hitting the balls down toward greens in valleys far below. After one teed off, the watching gallery emitted a long and low moan of appreciation and then began hitting golf balls down into the valley.
“What are they doing?” a woman seated with me asked.
I smiled. “They’re hitting golf balls down. I think they’re supposed to help locate the original ball.”
“How?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
I went back to work on the book. Sometimes as I worked on it, the print on the page was purple. Other times, the pages flared in bright purple. Yes, purple prose came to me in the dream, to giggles.
By the dream’s end, the novel was finished. I awoke very satisfied.
I heard someone reading from a book in the next room. Several women began talking about how it moved them. I thought, I want to know what this book.
But I was tired and decided I would get in bed for a nap. Just after I did, a woman entered the room. She was fully dressed but her clothes were tight, with a very low cut and revealing, sheer, flowery top. She told me that she’d been reading that book and asked if I minded if she got in bed with me. I answered that I didn’t think she should but she ignored my answer and got in bed on the other side. She moved up against me and suggested, maybe we can kiss and cuddle some. No, I replied, though I was tempted. She kept making more and more provocative suggestions. I started to give in. Would it really hurt just to kiss and cuddle? But I knew myself, knew that I’d get excited and would give in, so I again said, no. Then, I left the bed, because she wasn’t going to stop.
I went off through the house to find my wife to tell her what had happened. When I told her, she barely gave me any attention and changed the subject. I went on, talking about the book. I wanted to know what that book was and who wrote it. Saying that, I went to find the book.
This was a variation of a dream which I’ve had several times. It’s been several years, as best as I can recall. Basics include a water related disaster while I’m in a huge building. The building’s purpose is never fully clear, but it reminds me of modern office buildings.
Toward the dream’s end, I look out a window. The building is on a shoreline but raised above the beach. From my vantage, I can look down and across. I see deep blue water lapping at the upper level of rocky breakers. It’s clear that water broke over those breakers but has receded some. “Oh my god,” I said, “I didn’t realize the water got that high.”
The person I’m speaking with agrees, and tells me it was much higher. The building had been evacuated. Almost everyone was gone. I decide the time is right for me to get out. But I know where my car was parked. I know that area was flooded.
Then I think, wait, I had another car parked on another level. Do I have the key? Yes, I do. Good. Just need to reach it.
I go to use some stairs to go down. They’ve been severely damaged. Pipes and wires are exposed, blocking part of the way, and some of the wall has been knocked over. I attempt to go down one side but the way is blocked. Seeing another way, I precariously cross from one side to the other as others watch and anxiously call, “Careful.” But I make it without issue.
Going down, which in real life seems wrong but made perfect sense in dreamland, I reach my old car. It gets muddled here; the old car is sometimes an old green Mercury Comet sedan I drove as a teenager but it’s a silver Nissan 200 I once owned at other times. While I’m confused while remembering it, it seemed straightforward in my dream.
I start toward the car when three women interrupt me. All are dressed in the Air Force ‘office’ uniform that we used to wear, a light blue shirt with insignia, ribbons and awards, and name plate, along with black shoes and dark blue pants. Their uniforms are immaculate. One is a stranger, one is my sister, and the third is an actress. But they’re just friendly strangers in the dream. The one who is my sister says, “Can you answer a question for us? We’re trying to figure out if running the radio slows down a Formula 1 car.”
The actress says, “I think it would slow down a NASCAR racer but they’re still pretty fast. They can go three hundred miles an hour.”
Several responses bounce around my head. Like, Formula 1 cars don’t have radios in the way she’s talking about, which becomes clear as she explains that she thinks drivers probably enjoy listening to music. I tell them that race cars don’t have radios that play music and that it would slow them down anyway. They thank me and start talking to one another. I go on.
As I approach the car, two cats appear. They are Jade and Roary, two cats who once lived with us but at different times. They’re well, healthy, with their tails up. Neither make a noise but are waiting for me to get into the car. I open the door. They stand aside as I get in and start it without problem. Looking across the parking lot, I see another car I used to own, a blue Mazda RX-7, and think, wait until I tell my wife about that. Then I tell the cats, “Come on, get in.” They hop into the car, and I put it into gear. Dream end.
Not my RX-7 but one just like it, one of three I owned at different times.
Thinking about it, though, I was dismayed. I thought several negative aspects were being presented to me. But a voice in my head said, “Let’s talk about this dream.” Summarizing, the voice tells me, you have at least two more lives left, represented in the two cats. Also, you’re not as close to death as you sometimes think. Your old car represents you. Your car was unexpectedly remembered, found, and then started without problem. You’re being helped by female energy from three different but related sources. The water was high but it’s receding, and things will get better.
Another rock and roll October fall day has pitched itself over Ashlandia. 39 F now, we’re expected to get over the 60 F hump and cruise to 67 F before falling back down to 40. The pattern is obvious by now, Wenzdaz, October 15, 2025. The nights are taking control, lengthening, growing colder. We know that means, winter is comin’.
No change in news from Dad’s locations. On Mom’s side, sis took Mom to see Frank. Wasn’t a good visit, as he was out of it. Mom told sis, she doesn’t think she can see him like that again. Frank is on 10 L/minute of O2 now but was on 15 as of yesterday morning. He can’t be moved from ICU until he is on 5.
After the visit, sis took Mom to get a flu shot and COVID booster, then went back that evening and made her dinner and visited with her. Another sister had a visit to Mom planned for Monday. No updates from that.
The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. It’ been two weeks.
As part of the shutdown, the Trump regime employed reverse-day logic to RIF gov. employees. CNN published a story that finely chopped up the Trump-Vance-Johnson GOP tale that, “Gosh, the Democrats made us let go of people because the government is shut down.”
Vice President JD Vance said Sunday that layoffs during the government shutdown are needed to continue critical federal assistance programs, including the WIC nutrition assistance program, and to pay the military.
“We have to lay off some federal workers in the midst of this shutdown to preserve the essential benefits for the American people that the government does provide,” he said on NBC’s “Meet the Press,” blaming Democrats for the reductions.
However, budget experts pointed to several reasons why Vance’s statement wasn’t true. Among them, many federal workers aren’t being paid during the shutdown, so laying them off wouldn’t free up any funds — plus, if they were being paid, the money wouldn’t be available for 60 days, when most must actually leave their jobs, said Bobby Kogan, senior director of federal budget policy at the left-leaning Center for American Progress and a former OMB official during the Biden administration. Also, the Trump administration last week said it will extend WIC’s funding using tariff revenue.
What’s more, any funds saved by laying off several thousand federal employees would be only a tiny fraction of what’s needed to fund WIC and the military, said Michael Linden, a former senior OMB official during the Biden administration who is now a senior policy fellow at the left-leaning Washington Center for Equitable Growth.
Yes, that’s right, it’s another Trump Regime lie exposed. Should be news — well, it was, I guess, because it was covered by CNN — but the Trump Regime lies every day, almost every hour. Those of a MAGA heart pay no heed until Trump’s actions hit them hard enough on the head to shake their beliefs. The Trump WH is a swampland of lies and corruption. It’ll take some serious work to drain that swamp and rebuild it into a functioning democractic government and kick down the disastrous framework that is Project 2025. Meanwhile, farmers are going belly up from the lack of infrastructure to support them. Prices are rising. Employment is falling. Shortages are appearing, and foreclosures are climbing. The Trump Destruction Machine is tearing the nation down.
Riddle: how many Trump Regime officials does it take to tell the truth? No one can guess because it’s never happened.
Today’s song is “Skateaway” by Dire Straits. In my head, this is called “Rollergirl”. Yes, this was obliquely related to a dream sequence of moi. Had sufficient substance found in it that The Neurons made the call to feature it in the morning mental music stream.
Here’s a lyrics sampling that prompts my head to call the song “Rollergirl”.
She gets rock and roll and a rock and roll station And a rock and roll dream She’s making movies on location She don’t know what it means And the music make her wanna be the story And the story was whatever was the song, what it was Rollergirl, don’t worry D.J. play the movies all night long, all night long
Coffee is being re-homed into my body as I type. Time to rock another day before it rocks me. Hope peace and grace comes out of the shadows to warm and shelter us all. Till then, here we go, one more time around the sun. Cheers
Today is Satyrda, October 11, 2025. Thin sunshine is cutting through the windows around the blinds but it’s 45 F and wet out there. High is pinned at 52 F, but I’ll note that we didn’t get within three degrees of the projected high for yesterday. It remained brrr-y all day. That was then, and this is now, where clouds mix it up with blue sky. The precipitation and cold air brought early snow to Mt. Ashland, a few miles from here, a few thousand feet higher in elevation. We’re also down to
Absolutely beautiful snow covered image of Mt. Ashland from the lodge webcam. This is stunning to see this early in the season. h/t to Ryanweather.com
You know this made me lose my appetite this morning:
I don’t know what Trump has done for Venezuela to help with their democracy. Up here in the United States, we’re chaffing under his military heel as he tries to make the press and everyone else bend the knee to him as the first Dictator of the United States.
Meanwhile, I guess I have to trust the physician, and not my own lying eyes. From Huffpost:
President Donald Trump is in “exceptional health,” his physician said Friday after he underwent a checkup that included lab tests and preventive health assessments at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.
Trump spent roughly three hours at the Bethesda, Maryland, hospital earlier Friday for what his doctor, Navy Capt. Sean Barbabella, called a “scheduled follow-up evaluation” that was a “part of his ongoing health maintenance plan.” While there, Trump also got his yearly flu shot, as well as a COVID-19 booster vaccine.
One, surprised that they mentioned Trump getting a COVID-19 booster vaccine. The Trump Regime regularly rails against it as a Democrat hoax.
Two, Trump doesn’t look healthy. He appears obese, doesn’t move well, and often speaks like he’s half alive. Basically, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, then it’s an overweight, unhealthy person, and the proclamation that he’s in exceptional health is political theater. Then again, Trump and his minions are caught in lies every day. That is their well-established history. I’m conditioned not to believe a damn word any of them say.
It was an incomplete exam of Trump, though.
Today’s theme music is another dream product. Dream I was with others, worrying about the weather. People began running. I didn’t know why. We were on like a level paved area the size of an airfield, but it was paved in white. Huge mountains surrounded two sides. As I tried figuring out why others were running, an enormous green wave crested the mountains. After a “Holy fuck,” reaction, I scrambled to find somewhere safe. But I didn’t think anywhere would be safe. All that took too long. The wave crashed down. Water engulfed me but it was warm and soothing. I was surprised I was alive, then thought I was holding my breath but then grasped that I was breathing underwater, another WTF moment. Awakening from the dream and thinking about it, the “Iris” line, “You breathe just to know you’re alive,” came to me. The Neurons took note and flooded the morning mental music stream with the Goo Goo Dolls song.
Coffee is rocking the body so I guess it’s time to rock on. Hope peace and grace finds and embraces us, if not this year, than the next. Till then, keep calm and protest on. Cheers
I was the new guy in a small group of males. Basically smartasses and lower class with leanings toward crime and goofing off, I don’t know how I met them but was hanging around with them. They kept discounting me and making fun of me. I decided changes were needed and thought the way to do that was with my hair. So off I went to get dreadlocks.
A stylist eagerly did as I asked. I emerged with long black dreadlocks when I’d had brown hair before, with the crown being literally a crown of short dreads.
I went back and joined the group at a short track where a car race was scheduled to take place. All were surprised and taken back. One or two made fun of me for it. Then we split up. Most headed in to watch the race but one other and I stayed back, sort of watching the group’s belongings in a small corner by a counter. Catching my image in a mirror, I was horrified. “I look terrible,” I said. “Ridiculous. What was I thinking?”
The other guy, a short, white almost bald fellow said, “Well, I admire what you did. Took balls. I respect that.”
“Really? But it looks like crap.”
“Yes, but you did something.”
I met a woman who wanted to go into the track but wasn’t certain how to go about it. I asked where she wanted to go in there. “By turn two,” she answered. “Come on,” I said, “I’ll take you there.”
I took her in through the crowd. As I did, a young black woman paused to tell me with a wide smile, “I really like your hair.”
“Thanks,” I answered, pleased, amused. Showing the woman to turn two, I moved back through the crowd to the outside. Another young black woman accosted me, saying, “Nice hair.”
I encountered a white female friend as I left the race track. “What did you do to your hair?” she asked.
“I know,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m going to see if it can be fixed.” But I was thinking, it’ll probably need to be cut. Then it’ll take a long time to grow back. While this went through my head, a young black woman said, “I’m sorry but I overheard what you said. I hope you don’t change your hair. I think it looks really good on you.”
Michael Seidel, writer 