Tag: family

Crime & Plumbing Dream

The dream found me at home – not my real-life place – with my wife. I awoke to discover that she had hired people to fix the plumbing. Thick, dark dust filled the air from the work. Three men were going all through the house, looking at the pipes and changing things.

I was floored that my wife had apparently decided to do that without consulting me. “First that I’ve heard about it,” I huffed before going off.

Coming back later, the men were in another part of the house. The three were all older, with short hair, white skin, and wore coveralls. Weirdly, usually they stayed clustering, staring at the pipes and talking about what they were going to do.

I came across my wife in another room. Wrench in hand, she was working herself on plumbing in a bathtub. I was like, “What the hell?”

I noticed that she was working on the faucet and spigots but she was on the side of the tub and had the floor torn up; but the tub still had its faucet and spigots attached on the end. I wondered, is she putting in new ones on the side to make it easier for her? Or putting in a new tub? I didn’t.

Going outside, I saw that she had people working in the garden and was building something new out there. That worried me. I knew that she had evidence of crimes committed buried there. (I was thinking that it was a murder but I didn’t seem sure.) I went back and told her that I didn’t think that was a smart decision but she was busy with the pipes and didn’t respond.

Returning outside, I saw a large rock being moved; I knew that was crucial evidence. With a sigh, I also saw that a police detective I’d seen earlier was watching and saw the rock. A little later, the police began digging up the area.

I thought, my wife is going to be going away, because her DNA is all over that. That disappointed and saddened me but I also thought, I should be okay because my DNA won’t be there.

Dream end

0

Saturday’s Theme Music – Looking back

Ashland, southern Oregon — Saturday, July 4, 2026.

Today is Independence Day in the US, another bright day in my valley, destined to be 90 plus degrees F.

Fireworks aren’t permitted in Ashland. They are allowed in our county, so there’s a storm going on about buying fireworks right outside of city limits. People then come in and set them off.

I’m one of those against fireworks. We’re in the middle of a drought, and they terrorize animals and some people. Each year, I bring my cats in and ensure they’re in a safe place. Papi heads to the darkest and most secure space, the walk-in closet in our bedroom.

I understand that people like the colors and noises. We have other tech that can be subbed for this ancient technology. I know, though, that change is slow around traditions like these.

For me, Independence Day has a very special meaning. I met my wife just a short week before the holiday. I was fifteen and she was fourteen. My father, then in the Air Force, was stationed at DESC, just outside of Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio. I went to live with him after some run-ins with my stepfather.

Dad and my future father-in-law were good friends. Dad worked for him part time years before when stationed at Wright-Pat, trying to make extra money. When Dad returned after assignments in Vietnam, Germany, Iceland, and Turkey, they renewed their friendship.

I met my FIL, Jim, in May that year, 1971, on a fishing/camping trip. Then I met his wife and daughters in June. That was just a short drop by, though. It was on July 4th that my wife and I ‘really’ met.

Dad had given me an old watch after he bought a new one. I wore that all the time. Back when I met her and my wife and I were getting to know one another on July 4th, she asked me about my birthday. As it happens, it’s on July 5th.

My wife asked if she could see my watch. Then she refused to return it. She waited until after the fireworks. She waited until midnight. Then she presented my watch as a gift and told me, “Happy birthday.”

I lost the watch a long time ago, but I cherish her and the memory.

Today’s song is “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John. For the last twenty plus years while living in Ashland, we go to a friend’s house along the parade route to watch our town’s 4th of July parade. It’s a brunch potluck. Our host used to be our neighbor across the street here; when her husband passed away over a dozen years ago, she moved into a small cottage behind her daughter’s house. It’s our daughter’s house where we and about fifty other people congregate and celebrate.

Our host, though, is Barb, the neighbor from across the street, a sweet and charming but small 96-year-old woman. Her husband told me that he met his wife when she was a teenager. She was studying dance, already in college, and he was at college and walking, when he saw her alone on the bridge, dancing, late on afternoon. He didn’t know who she was but he knew he wanted to know her. Since hearing that story, I often call Barb “Tiny Dancer”. And that’s why the song is in the morning mental music stream.

I have you have a wonderful day, whether you’re celebrating the holiday in the US or elsewhere, or just enjoying life in another nation. I hope it gives you memories that make you smile, and comes with memories about what happened before, and full of people who help make your life a better place.

Cheers

1

Post-Op Update

TL/DR: My bladder cancer surgery went well yesterday. Two tumors were removed. I’m at home in recovery and awaiting biopsy results. We don’t know when they’ll be in.

The longer version…

I’m standing up to type. I have an 18 French Foley catheter in me. It’s inflated with saline solution.

Sitting is hugely uncomfortable. Taking a few drugs for that but whenever I sit, an enormous urgent need to pee wells up and doesn’t end, even as I see urine going down into my collection bag.

All went great yesterday. First, just as we were leaving the house, the surgery called and asked if we could hurry in. If we could, my surgery would be moved up by an hour. Yes! Let’s go.

I head to the Self Check-in Kiosk. A young volunteer rushes over to help me. She’ll type for me. Okay. I read faster than her, so I answer before she finishes asking. We zip through.

My wife and I laugh about this whole process. Weird to have a self-check in that isn’t a self-check in. We’re sent over to another area. This is where my wife gets her information about waiting for me. We go into the waiting area. We’re only there for three minutes before Sophia arrives to take us back.

She confirms my name and birth and gives me my wrist band, asking me to confirm it’s right. I strip down and answer Sophia’s questions. Bowel movements, eating, drinking, then she left. Another nurse came in, Sarah, and asked questions, verified information, checked my BP and pulse, and put inflation leggings on my calves. I wondered to them, when will we get Tricorders? She laughs.

Everyone always looks at my wrist band and ask me to say why I was at the hospital – *TURBT* — Transurethral Resection Bladder Tumor with Gemcitabine bladder instillation — name, and birthday. Did I do the Hibiclens shower the night before? Under Sarah’s guidance, I wash with more wipes, get into my gown and the bed. BP and pulse taken, IV port installed. Then…waited.

My anesthesiologist, huge, grinning guy, came in with his questions and explanations. It’s a three-minute drill.

My surgeon comes in. She looks like a little blue and raspberry Samurai warrior in her surgery garb.

Another nurse came in, Sarah. She was wheeling me to the operating room. During the ride, I mentioned that she was my second Sarah of the day. “Yes, it was a popular name during the eighties,” she says.

I reply, “Yes, Michael was popular when I was born.”

Sarah answers, “I was going to be Michael. They thought I was going to be a boy.”

“Were you named after a specific Sarah?”

“No, my brother picked my name. He said he would only play with me if I was named Sarah.”

We arrived at the surgery and introduced to more team. Slid myself from the bed to the operating table. Ugh. Much less comfortable. “There’s a hole in the table,” Chris says as I move. “Aim your rearend for that hole.”

Alrighty.

Monitors were attached. The anesthesiologist said, “I’m administering your anesthesia now. Deep breaths.”

Three deep breaths later, I was gone.

Awakening, I think, oh my God, I have to pee. I’m scrambling to get out of bed. Except there’s a bar in my way.

A nurse grabbed me on the other side. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Go back to sleep.” She pushed me back down. I remembered, oh, yeah. I’m at the hospital. Man, do I have to pee, though.

I’m in the recovery area. Looking around. “How long am I going to be here?” I ask the nurse. She glances at the clock on my monitor. “Another twenty minutes.” I checked the time so I can track it myself.

Other recoverees are wheeled in. We’re half-surrounded by curtains and equipment but I can see three. I can’t see Grace, but Grace doesn’t hear well, so I hear everything that they’re telling Grace.

I’m in space 18. The guy in 19 is awake. I wave at him. He seems to be looking at me. I wave again. He waves back. I smile, give a thumbs up. He does the same, then lays back and closes his eyes. They wheel him back out ten minutes later.

A new woman is wheeled into 17. Her bare shoulders and upper chest are exposed. I wonder what’s going on with her. A nurse or tech wheels in an x-ray machine and tells her that she needs to get some shots. I expect the curtains to be pulled. They’re not. I look away, trying to give 17 some privacy. She’s wheeled out a little later.

I check the time. Still ten minutes left. Man, recovery time is going so slowly. Classic first-world complaint.

Sarah the second returns to wheel me back to my room. “How long have you been doing this, Sarah?” I ask.

“Three years.”

I nod. She’s a vet.

She maneuvers me back into my original little room SUU 3. Paula, another nurse, comes in to begin my post-op care instructions. She asks if I have anyone with me. “Yes, my wife.” Paula goes out and has someone go find my wife in the waiting area.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressing. Absorbing instructions. My penis is attached to my groin’s right side via a tube stuck on my thigh so the tube and collecting bag can go on my right, because that’s how I get out of bed, on the right side. It’s a bummer because I hang to the left. Sorry if that’s TMI.

I’m given mesh underwear to put on. A pad is thrust in there to absorb bleeding, and there is bleeding. Then I dress.

Paula explains how to use the catheter. I’m familiar with it. The one difference this time is that I was given chemo. Gemcitabine was instilled. It’ll take 48 hours to flush. I’m instructed to flush twice after emptying the bag, and to be very careful because of the gemcitabine.

Four medicines have been prescribed for pain, the urge to pee, and stool softeners.

I later read two tumors removed. Largest was a posterior papillary bladder tumor measuring 2cm x 3cm.

We’re back home by 4 PM. I have a light lunch, then read and nap for several hours.

It often burned when I urinated last night and this morning. That’s faded a lot, thank dog.

Per Paula’s instructions, I showered last night. My penis tip was caked with drying blood, and pubic hairs were trapped in it. Once that was washed off, a lot of discomfort went away.

I’m due to remove the Foley catheter on Monday. Get in the shower, cut a valve off, let the saline drain, jerk the catheter out.

It’s good to have something to look forward to.

9

Another Wandering Thought

My sister showed a photo of my nieces and nephews from fourteen years ago.

Some voice in me said, “Wow, that was fourteen years ago.”

Another voice of mine said, “Wow, that was just fourteen years ago.”

A third voice of mind said, “That was fourteen years ago?”

A fourth voice observed, “Look how they’ve grown and changed in fourteen years.”

If it takes a village, I might be okay. I got one thriving in my head.

3

Wednesday’s Theme Music – Illusions

Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, June 24, 2026.

Sunny and summery, blue skies, high of 91 today.

Mom’s doctor asked my sister to bring Mom in today. They’re heading there as I type. This was in response to Mom asking sis to call the doctor for her, because Mom said she was too busy to call for herself. My sister called last night and they want to see Mom today.

We’re into the Grand Illusion part of Trump’s second term. Increasingly disconnected from reality and voters, he keeps insisting, we won the war and everything is great!

Despite his claims, Trump’s popularity continues its freefall. This is especially true in economic matters, where a stubborn 26% still thinks he’s great for the economy. 73% say the economy is worsening under Trump.

Headlines were full of a historic bi-partisan housing bill Congress passed. That was an hour ago.

Now, headlines have shot up that Trump won’t sign the affordable bill unless Congress pass the SAVE Act.

I hope that doesn’t happen. The SAVE BS has been floating around for a while, an artificial attempt to solve a fake problem: voter fraud. In reality, it makes it more difficult for people to vote, especially if they’re facing financial hardships. Trump and the GOP believes that will give them an advantage.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

Trump, all the way: insulting someone while spreading lies.

Trump wants the SAVE Act to pass because Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! keeps floundering, what with Algaegate and the Lincoln Reflecting Pool debacle; the backlash to ICE; and the mess and exposed lies of the Epstein ballroom.

All this — ballroom, war, reflecting pool — is to keep Trump’s name in the Epstein files hidden from the American public. Despite a law that says that all of the Epstein files will be released, with certain protections.

Despite Trump’s promises to release the Epstein files. Trump then pivoted and insisted that they were a hoax.

All this is part of Trump’s Grand Illusion. That’s he’s a genius and very healthy, the healthiest ever. That the economy is going well. That he’s for peace and would never condone violence.

The record on all of this speaks for itself.

Today’s song is “Perfect Illusion” by Lady Gaga. Not a surprise. I was thinking about control and the toll the pressure is taking on Trump. Those are almost the exact words which open the song.

0

Tuesday’s Theme Music – Helpless

Ashland, southern Oregon — Tuesday, June 23, 2026.

Hot, mid 90s today, copy of yesterday for our valley.

We cope without using the A/C. I like them in cars and businesses, don’t like using them at home. At night, I cool-drench the house and that usually carries us through the day.

Smoke was in the air last night when I popped the door open. Not strong but I definitely smelled it. NextDoor had the answer: a controlled burn in the town next door. They have orchards. Blight had struck. To contain the blight and stop its spread, they cut off the affected limbs and burned them.

People were worried, though. We’re in a red flag situation. Sure, it was a controlled burn, but controlled burns can get out of hand.

Shows the complexity of the entire matter — drought, fire, trees, economy — on one succinct scenario.

At about 6, my wife went into the garage for something and returned. “I want to leave a door open and let hot air. Warm the house. It’s so cold in here.”

It was 92 outside. In the house at that point, it was 79.

She’s been having greater issues with staying warm. More issues with moving. Strength challenges. So freaking depressing to witness. Stoically bearing it, she complains little. Rocks to stand. Grunts with effort. Hangs on to balance herself.

We went to the growers market this morning. Bought baked goods for a friend and took them to him. He has Parkinsons and cancer. His wife is away on a trip with her sister to Alaska. The woman needed it.

Our friend is doing well. The housekeeper was in, finishing. Said she’d be back at 5. Meanwhile, friends are delivering pizza for his lunch at 2 PM.

It takes a community to cope with these things.

I had a pre-op telephone appointment for my bladder cancer on Thursday. Usual stuff about times, bathing with Hibiclens, drinking fluids, eating, where we’re going, where to park, how long it’ll take.

My wife asked, “What about afterward? What’d they say about that?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. This was pre-ops.”

“They’re all so compartmentalized,” she snapped.

I can’t argue that. It’s very true.

My wife and I chatted about the news. She had just read about Trump’s claim that the economy is the ‘opposite of a recession’.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

This seems like another part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, an attempt to distract us from what’s really going on.

Anyone living outside of a millionaire’s bubble will probably take issue with Trump’s claims. People are dealing with rising costs associated with energy, housing, food, consumer goods, and healthcare. Trump seems to believe that making these claims will make them true or enough people will simply go along with him on his magic thinking ride.

For the record, for example, oil prices aren’t even down to the levels they were when Trump took office.

Brent crude oil – Price – Chart – Historical Data – News

Beyond Trump’s fractured economic reality, people are awakening to the MOU that ended Trump’s Iran blunder that cost lives and money. They’re basically responding, WTF?

Besides the ongoing saga of the Epstein ballroom construction, we’re also dealing with Algaegate. Trump is straining to point the finger at someone else for the clear disaster that it’s become. It’s such ugly optics, but it perfectly summarizes Trump’s flawed grip on truth, facts, and history.

Today’s music is “Helpless” by Neil Young. Reading the news on some days just engenders that frustration and helplessness, a sense of ‘go do something.’ Protest, scream, call people, write things. Some mornings, I’m a stick stuck in the mud. But I drink my coffee, write out some of my anger. Suck in some air. Count my advantages. Move on for a short while, at least.

“Helpless” is performed by Neil and The Band. Hope you find it worthwhile to hear and watch.

Hope you’re feeling good, doing well, and looking forward to better days.

Cheers

5

Mondah’s Theme Music – Caged

Ashland, southern Oregon — Monday, June 22, 2026.

It’s a Mon-dah. Kind of eh at this point.

We’re cruising through the seventies in our valley. Degrees, I mean, not years; the 1970s would be way too modern for Trump and the MAGAts. On our way to the region of 95 F today. Blue sky. No clouds. Browning greens.

In an aside, Trump and his MAGAts is a good name for a failed punk rock band. They dreamed big but their guitars had no strings. The drummer had no bass. All anyone heard was Trump the vocalist, shouting words.

Mom and Gina are skirmishing back home again. It remains about ‘Mom’s pills’. This is actually a good sign, as Mom is again in a fighting mood and is in the moment. Gina is displaying remarkable calm and patience with Mom. Mom said, “That’s funny that you think these people are better at giving us our meds and they don’t know an aspirin from a Tylenol.”

Gina replied, “Well everything is labeled for them and they know what day it is and they document everything.”

2026 drones on with Trump in weak command of a flopping economy and low popularity. Revealing again that he’s absolutely out of reach with reality, Trump tried to pump up his ego by claiming how great everything is going. All but the MAGAts know Trump lies.

Trump touts “best economy ever.” What the data shows

Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! continues to decline into Operation Epic Dead Squirrel. Trump is thumping war drums over Iran again, pitching the same spiel that he used months ago — “They’d better, or else!” — as he blusters about Iran.

The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool continues as a fabled metaphor for Trump’s miscalculations and flophouse execution. He’s proven again, everything that he touches withers, except for his grifts. They flourish, especially with the GOP covering him, and control of the Department of Justice. Like a caveman, he uses the Department of Justice as a club to try to beat others down.

He launched another of his endlessly screeching Truth Social texts about the New York Times last night. They published an article about the useless and unneeded Iran war Trump ended, and the way he fizzled through negotiations like wet black powder.

Trump used the same strong language he always invokes when aggrieved:

“The way the Corrupt and Failing New York Times is covering stories on a very battered and beat up Iran, through FAKE & MADE UP ‘FACTS’ is, in my opinion, ‘TREASONOUS. I will be adding all of their false and ridiculous reporting to my multi Billion Dollar lawsuit against them. They are Criminals!”

In classic Trump writing, he projects himself: corrupt; failing; treasonous; ridiculous.

I have “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers playing in the morning mental music stream. Came about from looking at photos of the area around the White House. Employing my Trump writing style, I’ll elaborate:

“The WH lawn looks TERRIBLE! So NASTY! It is the worse it has looked in its Entire History! HORRIBLE!!! DISGRACEFUL!!! tRump and the Awful Repuglicants should be in prison for WHAT THEY’VE DONE!!! It’s A Crime for what they’ve done to the home of We The People!!!”

The song arose because its first line mentions ‘coming out of my cage’. As I’d been looking at the UFC ‘cage’, the Neurons — never very awake — thought that I was singing to myself about a cage, and well…here we are.

Hope your Mon-dah is better and progresses with peace, joy, and good health.

Cheers

1

Saturday’s Theme Music — Wrecking Ball

Saturday, June 20, 2026 — Ashland, southern Oregon.

We’re on the threshold of summer, among other things. Cool this day. Sitting at 75 degrees, 85 F is the expected high. I’ll accept that all day, especially when it cools at night.

Aging is a wrecking ball on Mom. She’s already gone through her new meds for an infection. The next pill was supposed to be tomorrow, three days after the first. But she thought she took the first one on Tuesday and then took the second on Friday. Insists she’s right because the date on the pills say June 16.

But my sister, Gina, picked up the pills on Wednesday, June 21, and took them to Mom. Showed Mom the screen notification from June 17 that shows the pills are ready for pick up. Mom refuses to admit she’s wrong.

Speaking of wrecking balls, how ’bout that MOU with Iran to cease hostilities? Seems like it’s already fracturing.

Part of that MOU was that the Strait of Hormuz would be open. Headline today:

Iran declares Strait of Hormuz ‘closed’ over MOU ‘breach’

Now it’s descended into another little pissing contest about whether the strait is closed and what caused the breach that enraged Iran.

As a wrecking ball of a president, former President Obama remains the most popular living POTUS, former or current, with a favorability rating of 59%. Trump came in just above former President Biden, at 39%.

I expect those positions between former POTUS Biden and Trump to slowly reverse with aging. Trump’s Iran disaster is still sinking in, as is the mess Trump has made with the once beautiful Lincoln Reflecting Pool. Those not part of the MAGA cult will turn more on Trump as his economic policies continue tanking and his many broken promises and claims sting more people. Like:

  • Immigration policies
  • No new wars
  • Reducing costs and improving affordability
  • Claims that Trump is a ‘unifier’ and ‘peace president’
  • Trump’s insistence that he would cut the national debt
  • The Epstein ballroom, which Trump said would require no taxpayer money
  • Full and unredacted release of the Epstein files

Then there’s his absolute grifting. Trump is getting wealthier; billionaires and millionaires are doing well. But most of We the People are not feeling it. Although the national average gas price gas dipped to about $4.00 a gallon and consumer confidence ticked up a little, average Americans are feeling the stress of inflation and high costs. 45% have canceled their vacation plans for the year.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

Today’s music is “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus. It’s because I often think of lyrics wrong. I was thinking about rainbows, because it’s Pride Month. To me, Miley sounds like she’s singing, “I came in like a rainbow.”

Wrong! The right lyrics are, “I came in like a wrecking ball.”

Doesn’t matter to My Neurons. They’re still singing “I came in like a rainbow” in the morning mental music stream.

Sing it along with me. In the name of Pride.

May your day be free of wrecking balls and their impact.

Cheers

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, June 14, 2026.

Summer is set to officially begin in the northern hemes next week. It’s already getting in place in Ashland. The sky is blue, blue, blue, and the sun is getting hot, hot, hot. My house saw 96 yesterday while most of Ashland felt mid 90s temperatures.

Right now, it’s 77 F with the upper 90s on the table. Officially, the weather services differ from my local reading; they say, it’s 83 and feels like 91.

Going through this heat wave with my wife is fascinating in a terrible way. When it hit 96 outside yesterday, inside was 83. Warmish to me, causing sweat to dribble down the small of my back and accumulate in my pits.

I asked my wife what she thought of the heat in the house. She said, “It’s cool to me.”

She also often needs lights on. Complains, “It’s so dark in here.”

Dismaying. The other day, I came home. It was 86 degrees outside. The room was 78. She had a space heater on.

My sister, Gina, said she thinks Mom is on her ‘last legs’. As an aside, that’s an interesting expression for humans, comparing us to repaired furniture.

Gina’s assessment came in the wake of continued complaints from Mom about headaches, UTIs, yeast infections, and diarrhea. Tests come back and show, ‘nothing is wrong’. But Mom had another fall and hit her head again yesterday.

I have felt that Mom was on her last legs for the last month. She’s continued through a spiral of pain and difficulty communicating, remembering, and moving. She still eats, though. How long her ‘last legs’ will last is always difficult to predict.

Gina sent photos of Mom’s empty rooms today. Mom’s keyboard was given away to a young woman. Gina shared stories of how Mom would play the keyboard and sing while Frank strummed along on the guitar.

I laughed at this World Cup headline:

Journalist stunned by ‘daylight robbery’ food prices at World Cup game

There’s been a few headlines and stories like that abounded, complaining about the costs of food and beverages at World Cup venues. Americans have been enduring this for years at professional sporting events. We’re not overly outraged, just savagely bitter. What makes these prices taste worse is that they’re often inflated by ‘fees’ to pay for the site.

That all helps fuel the K-shaped economy. Prices are hypermanaged to attract consumers. Then we’re gouged on ‘monetized’ aspects. For example, I can buy a ‘cheap’ airline ticket for a few hundred dollars. It won’t include food. The seat will be the worse on the plane. Doesn’t include baggage except a small carryon. And the actual price I pay will be much higher, as fees and administrative charges are added to pay for airport construction, security, and higher fuel and insurance costs.

I don’t expect it to get any better in Trump’s economy. Window dressing drives Trump’s values. He’s interested in what he thinks ‘looks good.’ So ‘low’ ticket prices are nice optics, even if they don’t reflect reality.

Americans have learned, though. We — those marginalized by the costs of living — understand how this works now. Consumer sentiment is understandably low. As this headline nicely puts it:

An update on US consumer sentiment: Gloomier outlook ahead of sunnier days

How is Trump’s war with Iran going? I don’t know; you tell me. The war is now at 106 days as Trump and Iran continue to negotiate.

The Epstein ballroom remains under construction. I believe that Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! is hosting an event involving UFC fighting on the White House lawn. BTW, in true Trump Double Standards fashion, Bud Light is sponsoring the UFC White House event. Bud Light was boycotted by MAGA just a few years ago for partnering with a transgender influencer.

Instead of a Trump Quote of the Day, I offer you this:

Here’s a little more about Trump’s declining popularity from the Political Tribune article about the Civiqs poll:

The states that remain in Trump’s column are still red on the map, although the intensity of that red has faded noticeably since inauguration day. Wyoming, still his strongest state, now sits at +25 after starting at +47. North Dakota follows at +15, South Dakota at +14, and West Virginia at +13. The more telling detail is not where they sit now, but where they began, with several of these states having effectively lost around half their initial support while staying on the positive side of the ledger.

Kentucky stands out as the only state to cross fully into negative territory, moving from +23 at the start of the term to -4 today, a 27-point swing that leads the national decline. Montana follows closely behind, dropping from +25 to +1, while Idaho slides from +34 to +11.

That’s a present to We the People on Trump’s birthday!

Today’s song is “More than A Feeling” by Boston. While the song is about love and loss, it’s in my morning mental music stream because economists keep talking about a recession vibe. They insist that the numbers look ‘okay’ if not great for the economy and we not heading for a recession. But We the People see the price and then the real cost. We know that’s a screwed-up economy.

My hope for you is that you have an enjoyable, happy day, wherever you are.

Cheers

0

Friday’s Theme Music

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, June 12, 2026.

Sunshine. Blue sky. Cool now — 68 degrees — but climbing into the upper 80s again today.

Reports from the Eastern Front were about Mom suffering. A storm knocked out power. Afterward, the temperature climbed into the upper 80s and the humidity was high. Mom was in pain with headaches and other problems. Nothing we could do…

When Mom and I text, she often repeats the same questions and statements, frequently almost word for word.

My sister, Gina, sent texts relating all that remains to be done on Mom’s house, and the progress of things. She’s doing the work of five of us. But she’s supposed to be going on vacation two weeks from now, plans established last year. The house closing is scheduled for July 23, which suddenly seems very close.

Despite Trump’s talk of peace deals and the war being over, Trump’s war with Iran grinds on. Trump said something like we could get a deal as early as this weekend, but he’ll say anything.

A report came out in the “The Independent” that Trump’s support among Independent voters is sinking. The losses are among young Independent voters, along with Hispanic voters. Trump’s support with older, white Indpendent voters is unchanging.

A lot of the news is about Elon Musk becoming richer, thanks to the SpaceX IPO. Paul Krugman did a fine job of relating how little Musk actually accomplishes to become as wealthy as he is. Like Trump, Musk made a lot of promises. Much of what he promised was supposed to be done by 2025, but it isn’t. Krugman reminds us of what a disaster X has been since Musk bought Twitter, and how Wall Street bankers are still sucking on those losses.

In other Trump news, Trump used Ariana Grande’s song, “Bye”, without authorization. Grande immediately responded, “Please do not ever use my music in relation to this barbaric, inhumane, heinous nonsense. F*** ICE.

Reading of that, My Neurons responded by instantly playing “Bye” in the morning mental music stream. I thought I’d share it with you. *smile*

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

I hope your day proceeds safely, securely, happily.

Cheers

1

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