Tag: Elvis Presley

Never Trump

Hard to stomach reading today’s news. An opinion piece cited Trump’s tariffs as his biggest policy failure.

Opinion: Trump’s tariffs are his biggest policy failure

I disagree; I think the war with Iran is Trump’s biggest policy failure. It also completely undermines Trump’s whole philosophy.

Trump came in. Removed generals and military leadership. Then he hired sycophants such as Hegseth to shape military policy and develop strategy.

Screaming, “WOKE! DEI!, Hegseth bludgeoned the established military establishment. Took people who earned promotion off the list because of the color of their skin or their sex, or their political loyalties.

Trump did all of this while scoffing at the military. He declared himself smarter than generals and has repeatedly blasted them.

Trump blasted top military generals as ‘a bunch of dopes and babies’ according to new book

Yet, here we are, mired in a war that Trump started. Trump claimed to have won. Claimed it was already over. Claims it’s not a war.

Yet it’s draining us in multiple ways and exposing Trump and his arrogance. He and his chosen staff thought war was easy. Though it was just a matter of power: who has the biggest military and the most weapons.

And the war continues without a certain end in sight.

As in many other things, Trump was exposed as ignorant and wrong.

Both policies — tariffs and the Iran War — are policy failures, though.

Both are driving increased burdens to the economy and to our citizens. The war, though, also resulted in people being killed, maimed, and injured, and has devastating consequences on the people of another nation.

When I think of things that Trump boasts of as successes and triumphs, I realize that there is nothing that this administration has done that has impressed me. He’s exactly how terrible I thought he’d be, and then some. We as a nation stagger through increasing loops of disasters.

Take our healthcare issues. Rural hospitals are closing. Measles outbreaks are increasing. Healthcare premiums are rising. AI plants are being built, which will increase energy costs and use land, further driving up healthcare costs. Yet Trump pushes to build more AI centers, more data centers. Models say that will worsen the extreme heat problem as well as the water shortage. It’s like WTAF are people thinking?

Instead of real solutions, We the People are offered more political theater as another underqualified Trump nominee moves toward confirmation for a powerful Federal position.

We’re instead subjected to Trump crowing about himself winning a golf tournament. Venting at his staff about the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool fiasco.

Distracting us with AI-generated photos of himself as Elvis Presley.

While our nation is at war. While wildfires burn. While extreme heat and drought sweep the nation. While healthcare and affordability problems worsen.

That seems to be okay with MAGAts and the greater GOP, even if the rest of us are angry and disapprove of Trump. As long as Trump and his family keeps getting wealthier and speaking out for them — whatever the fuck that now means to them — they remain happy.

As far as those things falling apart and policy failures, that’s because of other people. It’s not because of Trump.

Never, in their eyes.

Never.

As for me, it will always remain, “Never Trump.”

Never.

2

Sunday’s Theme Music — Get You

Ashland, southern Oregon. Sunday, August 2, 2026.

Our weather is cool, 62 F right now. It’ll rise to the mid 80s, basically as it did yesterday. The air is clear with an AQI that says ‘it’s good’. Clouds muddle around the sky as if they’re waiting for a door to open somewhere.

I’m suspicious of it all.

Things are going well — here. Relatively. Everything is relative. We live on spectrums of changing needs, abilities, awareness, knowledge. It all seems more acute for me as I grow older.

I don’t feel particularly old now but then I look in the mirror. Like, who stole my hair? Will they be returning it?

My face just looks different. Not like my parents or grandparents. Now I’m wondering if someone stole into the house and replaced my face.

Then, why would they have taken my average white, upper middle age (ahem) face?

Answer is, of course: they’re going to use my face to commit a crime somewhere.

So now I wait to see what crime my face shows up as part of.

Watching Mom, friends, and Trump, I don’t look forward to getting much older. Mom, 91, is cranky on most days. Filled with pain, she tells me. I see a video of her in a chair, trying to exercise. She’s listing to her right as she jerks her right arm up. She doesn’t look happy or healthy, but she’s trying.

Trump worries me even more. His language, never a strong suit, has become much worse. There are reports of him crapping his pants or delivering some nasty farts. Where there’s this much smoke, I got to wonder about the truth behind it. If he’s crapping himself or emitting enough noxious foulness that others are gagging and turning away, those aren’t signs of good heatlh.

In photos, Trump’s face has that old person, mean, angry look going. He’s glaring at the world like he’s trying to hear what they’re saying and can’t.

Worse, though, are those late night texts — from Mom and Trump.

Mom reached out at 2 AM to ask me if we’re safe from the fires. She pinged me again a few minutes later to ask, “Why don’t you answer?”

I don’t see these texts until I get up a few hours later. Then reply, sorry, missed your texts, was asleep, we’re fine. And I thank her for her concerns.

My sister later reports that Mom texted her in the middle of the night, asking what did Gina do with all the clothes Mom left behind in her house.

I worry, why is Mom up in the middle of the night texting?

Trump worries me in the same way. He spends a lot of nocturnal hours texting. Then he’s shown ready to fall asleep in his chair at meetings during the day.

Trump’s texts are worse than Mom’s texts. Mom shows a belated handle on what’s going on and often shows concern for others.

Trump texted an AI generated vision of himself as Elvis Presley. What an absolutely strange thing to do, I think as I see this. Who in their right mind pretends to be someone else like that?

Let’s pause to think about it: Trump is posting an image of himself as a popular pop culture star. One who died in 1977, almost fifty years ago. What is going on in that troubled head that he entertains these thoughts?

I then think of Trump’s MAGAts. They say that he speaks for them.

Are they out there generating AI images of themselves as others? Are some of them projecting themselves as young Johnny Cash or dead young athletes and actors?

As an aside to that, I admit that I admire the new Iran War Participation Award someone created for Trump. It has the right mix of bitter humor and deadly insights.

I received other texts and messages from people worrying about us and the fires. As the fires grow in the Pacific Northwest and more are evacuated, the news shifts toward the top of the news cycles.

We’re fine, I reply to all, knock on wood. No, it’s been a remarkably ‘cooler’ summer, with us rarely challenging 100 F. Wildfire threats have been far away. The smoke has only been mild and hasn’t lasted too long — knock on wood. Hope to hell I’m not jinxing us by mentioning it.

No, our thing remains the drought. Winter supplies are down to the low 40s. We’re conserving. Vegetation is browning, which would be nice if these were pie crusts baking in the oven instead of grassy fields and mountain meadows.

Between nature’s growing extreme trends and aging, there’s a sense that something is going to get you. Trump, acting crazy, arming ICE and mobilizing them in cities, fostering more war, using violence as a mallet to try to fix things, only makes that feel worse. Especially as his main concerns are promoting himself as a young Elvis Presley, affixing his name to buildings, and destroying our heritage and cultural norms.

No surprise then, with The Neurons’ music choice for the morning mental music stream. “One Way or Another” is a 1979 Blondie song. Deborah Harry was being stalked but wrote the song with some humor injected into it.

Sample Lyrics:

One way or another, I’m gonna find ya
I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya
One way or another, I’m gonna win ya
I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya

One way or another, I’m gonna see ya
I’m gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya
One day, maybe next week, I’m gonna meet ya
I’m gonna meet ya, I’ll meet ya

Catchy. Easy to sing along with, good hard beat with a fast tempo made it a popular and memorable song. Makes perfect sense for today, with the threats being raised by nature and Trump.

Hope your day is threatfree, and that you enjoy carefree moments of pleasure and happiness with people you’re fond of, in places which you enjoy.

Cheers

3

Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts

A Democratic Party insider told me who the party supports as candidate for the 2028 nominee for POTUS.

“John F. Kennedy.”

I raised a salient objection. “He’s dead. Worse, he’s been buried.”

“True, true, true.”

“You’re not talking about a clone.”

“Of course not. That’d be silly. No, we’re thinking, AI.”

“Articial Intelligence?”

“What else? Listen, if corporations are people, why can’t AI be people?”

“I need to think about that,” I answered.

“Okay, let me tell you more. See if I can convince you. What we did is create an AI that’s modeled on President John F. Kennedy’s thinking. We fed all the interviews which we could find, all his papers, speeches, books, diaries, and journals, along with biographies about him, into a quantum computer. It then developed the ability to replicate JFK’s thinking and speaking, giving us a virtual entity who is just like him. It’s uncanny. Wait until you see it.”

I was shaking my head in skepticism. “It’ll never work.”

“We think it will. He polls very well.”

“I don’t think people are ready for AI to be elected to any office.”

“No, no, turns out that almost 80 percent of likely voters who were polled said they could support AI for president. A majority of voters think that AI is more principled and intelligent than many politicians holding office or running for nomination. In fact, more people are willing to vote for AI than a woman.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, but what about his assassination over sixty years ago? Surely, that’s a drawback.”

“No, no, no. Many people have always believed that JFK wasn’t really killed, that all of that was just a fiction to get him out of office.”

“Even if they believe that, it’s six decades later. He’d be over a hundred years old. Do you really think that people will support a candidate who is over hundred years old after what we endured with Joe Biden?”

My source grinned. “We told them that JFK was cryogenically stored. He’s only fifty years old.”

“They believe that?”

“You’d be surprised what they believe. Just to seal the deal, Elvis Presley is endorsing JFK.”

“Presley?” I laughed. “He’s been dead since — “

“No, no, he wasn’t dead. He was in storage, too. Trust me. We’ve done the research. The numbers support this idea.

“Presley and Kennedy are still alive. Along with Walt Disney and Jackie O. All are alive. They’ve all just been frozen. The time has come for the truth to be told.”

My source leaned forward. “The people are ready for Camelot’s return. JFK will kick Trump’s ass. Remember, you heard it here first.”

2

Thirstda’s Theme Music

Thirstda, April 3, 2025, is here. The day arrived in a morose mood, dangling thick gray cloud strands over the mountains, covering the sun’s influence, and acting like it planned to dump us in moisture. Then some mystical order was given. Cosmic stagehands raced out. Clouds were shoved to the scene’s edges. Blue sky lit up. Sunshine burns down with a new hope. It was 36 F. Now we’re touching 45 F. But, hey: it feels warmer.

I stepped into the bathroom. Doing bathroomy stuff, my foot landed on something hard and mildly sharp. This was an attachment to an electric razor. One I had to trim my beard and mustache. I always have a mustache. My first mustache was noticed on me when I was fourteen. Mom told me that my face was dirty and to go wash it. “There’s something above your lip.”

My older sister laughed. “That’s his mustache.”

The beard comes and goes. A goatee is almost permanent. I’ve had it since I left the military in 1995. But the electric razor that piece attached to has been gone for over a decade. Turning it over, I pushed to understand how it came to be on the bathroom floor today. Unable to come up with anything except The Borrowers and aliens, I tossed the piece into the trash. It’s another page in my Book of Life Mysteries. I think we all keep one of those record books, don’t we?

Three songs were competing in the morning mental music stream. I introduced the first one. This was “Valley Girl” by Frank and Moon Zappa. This song capture the California valley girl subculture, and their unique verbiage. ‘Valleyspeak’ swept the nation. Too many people walked around, smirking, telling me, “Gag me with a spoon.” Variations of that phrase quickly emerged.

I was singing my variant of the song to Papi. Papi is my housefloof, feline by looks and attitude. The boy loves treats such as Churri squeeze tube pastes. My wife rechristened it chumley. Chumley is how we refer to any of those treats.

Today I sang to Papi, “Chumley cat, he’s a chumley cat. Oh my my, fer sure fer sure, he’s a chumley cat and there is no cure.”

Second up was Elvis Presley with “Blue Suede Shoes.” Carl Perkins did it first, after writing in in 1955 and releasing it in 1956, the year of my birth. The Neurons delivered this one to the mental music stream. They didn’t explain why. I was in the bathroom doing bathroom stuff when it arrived. I used to perform this song for my family when I was four or five. Hip swiveling and singing the chorus. No, video and photographic evidence doesn’t exist. I remember doing it and Mom verified it.

Third up is “Don’t Bring Me Down” by the Animals. I’m feeling absurdly young kitten energetic and happy. I don’t know why. You’d think that with Trumpzilla burning down the world economy with his outlandish tariffs, I’d be more depressed. My stocks are down. 401 K and IRA worth down. Prices are up and will go higher. But here I am, happy as the mythical lark. Sensing that mood, The Neurons introduced the 1966 song into the morning mental music stream. This is today’s theme music.

Hope you’re experiencing some of what I’m getting and your day doesn’t bring you down. Do the best you can, right? Cheers

6

Friday’s Theme Music

We’ve come to Friday. Full stop. What else needs said? Everyone has a Friday sense, a feel for what Friday means for them. We do that with every day, though, depending on schedules and activities, wants and needs, desires and confusion, determination and goals.

Rain is falling on this Oregon coast August 19th. The sun’s reappearance was dampened by clouds but still took place at 6:23 this morning. Turning away from Sol — which often invokes Pink Floyd and someone singing, “On the turning away” — takes place at 8:19 this evening. By that time, we’ll expect to be at 67 F, a small jump from our current 16 C. They say it feels like 60. Whatever, it’s loaded with soft salty fishy oceany fragrances sprinkled with dirt, sand, and asphalt, along with plant smells. Know that melange? It’s a relaxing scent to inhale, one that unfolds the soul and pours out cares, at least for a little while. It also invokes memories for me, of where I’ve been, my present intersection of time, space, and being, and the final leg, who I am. Cue The Who, “Who Are You”.

Falling rain means Elvis Presley for The Neurons, today, though. They could have gone with Blind Melon and “No Rain”, I suppose, but no, they have “Kentucky Rain” (1970) circumambulating my morning mental music stream. Why? Silly one, The Neurons don’t explain their processes and decisions. Perhaps that’s only me. Your Neurons might be much nicer. Well, my neurons are nice, just as wild and free as a clowder of kitties chasing dandelion seeds on the wind.

Here’s the music. Stay positive and test negative. I must go on a coffee quest. (Yes, now The Neurons have folded “The Impossible Dream” into the morning mental music mix.)

Cheers

16

The Two Dads Dream

I encountered two versions of my father in a dream last night. One was younger, as I remember him from when I was a child. The other was middle-aged. I was also middle-aged. Both were energetic and in good-humor. Against the backdrop of having two fathers, I was starting a new job. Young Dad provided me a place to stay during orientation, a new car, and new clothes. He also provided menus for me to order food. I was sort of laughing at the offerings, telling him that they weren’t necessary, but also thanking him.

The new car was a white Alfa-Romeo convertible, a Spider similar to what was in The Graduate. Although I didn’t see myself driving it, I parked and was walking into the airport. That’s where I seemed to be working. Others I knew were working there. I was shown around and told that I wasn’t working ‘on the floor’, but in a management position. I asked to see my office but we ran out of time for the day.

I then encountered middle-aged Dad and chatted with him about the new job. I was excited about the new job. Middle-aged Dad asked me if I needed a place to stay, money, or clothing. Telling him no, my Dad was covering those things for me, I took him to my new home. My young Dad was there. I introduced the two but they were not enthusiastic about the other. I told each not to worry, that both were important to me. Middle-aged Dad left. I went to settle into my new digs, which was upstairs from where my young Dad lived. I moved all my new clothing up there. One outlandish white outfit blew me away. It reminded me of the outfit that Elvis Presley wore on his television special, Aloha from Hawaii. Holding it up, I said, “I’m not going to wear this.”

Young Dad called up the steps to me. He said that he’d had a bunch of dinner menus. “I noticed that you got rid of all those,” he said. “I guess you didn’t think they were healthy enough or something.” No, I didn’t get rid of them, I replied. As I was unpacking, I discovered a white binder. Its ornate cover said, “Dinner Menus”. It was like one of those binders of menus found in hotels. “Here’s your dinner menu binder, Dad,” I called down to him.

That’s where it ended.

0

Saturday’s Theme Music

Called Mom yesterday to exchange holiday greetings. She lives in a suburb east of Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania where they’re more or less snowed in. Four to six inches were on the ground and the snow was still falling. The roads had been plowed and salted, and appeared outside her window. But snow still fell and temperatures were low. Those are treacherous conditions. If you don’t need to go out, you don’t.

So she and her fiancée spent Christmas at home alone. They seemed fine with that. Stocked with plenty of food, they know how to entertain themselves and one another. She conveyed to me the news that the governor had announced that Allegheny county, where she resides, had received the Pfizer COVID-19. Residents seventy years old plus would be the first vaccinated. Mom is awaiting word on the schedule and details.

Conversation ended up including food — of course (Mom and my sisters love holiday meal planning, and endless discussions, texts, and emails ensue to make it all happen — which it didn’t, this COVID year) — relatives, and then music. Mom relayed to me that her two favorite songs are “Blue Christmas” covered by Elvis Presley (1957) and “All I Want for Christmas Is You” by Mariah Carey (1994). “Blue Christmas” has been around a while. In cassette days, one sister always bought her a new cassette for the holiday. Mom would pop it into her Walkman and wear it out as she listened and went about activities.

The Carey song stuck in my head. So, thanks to Mom, your after-Christmas theme music is “All I Want for Christmas Is You”. Whenever I think of this song, it’s lifted from the movie, Love Actually (2003). Enjoy the music, stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vaccine. Happy holiday!

2

Sunday’s Theme Music

With another throwback via the wayback stream, I found myself listening to the Elvis Presley’s biggest-selling single, “It’s Now or Never”.

The song was released in 1960, according to Wikipedia. I would have been four, according to the math. It being Elvis, I know the song well through pop saturation, where the mantra is, if a little bit is good, massive amounts are fantastic. 

Why is it streaming today? Sometimes there’s a direct causal stream identified, but that’s not today. I was going about, making plans for eating, dressing, and rushing out to walk and write. I think I may have thought, I gotta get going, it’s now or never, and there you have it, a wayback stream opened.

2

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑