A Dream of Dad & Others

Last night’s dream featured three dead people: my friend, Randy; Dad; and my mother-in-law, Belle. It also featured a high school English teacher, and my father’s second wife. He was married three times, although he also loved with another woman for about ten years.

I was young. At the dream’s beginning, I’m up above, in a house, with others. Down below is a large green lawn with some green maples or oaks. Dad, stumbling drunk and very loud, was down there with his second wife by the trees. She was pregnant. Dad had two long rifles.

A man and woman were walking backwards across the grass, away from Dad. The man wore a straw hat. He also had two rifles.

Although I could hear them yelling, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. But they were having some kind of argument, and it was escalating. From what I saw, the man seemed to threatening to shoot Dad.

Turning, I found two weapons beside me. Picking up a sawed-off shotgun, I pointed it down at the man and called out.

He acknowledged something about, “Oh, now you have a shotgun in the fight.”

Another man and woman seemed to be approaching from the other side of the lawn to join that man and woman.

I realized the shotgun would be ineffective because of the range so I picked up the long rifle and aimed it at the man.

He moved back forward toward Dad and raised his rifle. Then he backed away again, turned and began walking away.

At that point, Dad threw his rifles into the air, hurling them away from the house.

The man left and Dad and his wife came in.

Dad could barely walk because he was so drunk. He went into a room where he said with a sloppy grin, “I’m going to lay down.” Then he passed out on his back on the floor.

Meanwhile, I had homework to do. I shifted to being in a classroom with my high school English teacher. She was explaining to us, a small class of students, what she wanted in our assignment.

The assignment excited me. I went home and worked on it on my computer. Then the file crashed, which upset me. I had two other assignments due but now didn’t have enough time to complete it all. Thinking about what to do, I concluded that I needed to tell the teacher that I couldn’t get it in on time and go from there.

I then went out to join the others. We were in a very large, well-lit house, brick, with many windows. All of us went to one small room. My mother-in-law (Belle) was in there. Something she said or that we saw satisfied us. We concluded, “That’s taken care of.”

Moving back into a hall, I said, “Now we need to figure out where we all sleep.”

Randy, my dead friend, began walking down the hall, talking with me. We were looking into the bedrooms. They were small, with a small bed, and no doors. I saw one and thought, I’ll sleep there, though I said nothing.

Randy led me into another small bedroom. “I can put someone in here,” he said. I noticed that there was hall attached. Saying, “What’s in there,” I went into the hall, which turned out to be a huge, well-lit bedroom. As I walked in, astounded, I saw an enormous room, with a huge king-sized bed, and two other, smaller beds.

I said, “People can sleep in here,” then I realized, oh, this is Belle’s room. If we put people in here, where will Belle sleep?

Dream end

Sunday’s Theme Music — Catch

Ashland, southern Oregon. Sunday, August 9, 2026.

Got chilly last night — low 60s — which felt awesome. Even now, it’s in the upper 60s and a cool breeze is swimming past. Sky is postcard blue; no smoke or clouds. Expected to be in the mid 90s as our highs.

Mom and sis, Gina, remain at war. I’m surprised it lasted this long. Gina usually tries for another pact. Perhaps, after all attempts have failed, she’s really given up on Mom. Mom, on her side, blames Gina; sees no fault on her end. Mom did ask when her house was closing, which won’t be until after August 14.

It was a night of deep sleep and wild dreams. We have some socializing happening today, so I’m not going to dwell on the news.

Today’s music is “Catch Us If You Can”. This is a Dave Clark 5 song that came out when I was 9, in 1965. I know it because my sister, two years older, was getting into music. She had a DC5 album, along with albums by Freddie and the Dreamers, and Herman’s Hermits. She played them a lot.

Why is the song in my morning mental music stream? I don’t know. The Neurons probably conjured some secret connections with my dreams, thinking, writing, memories, but they’re as revealing as the Sphinx on a hot day.

I hope that you have a satisfying and enjoyable day, and that maybe it has some socializing in it.

Off we go. Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music — Shadows

Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday — August 5, 2026.

We hit 101.5 at my house yesterday. That was outside. Inside, we stayed below 80. We’ve yet to run the A/C yet this year — knock wood — as the temperatures drop enough at night to cool the house and land down.

We’ll see if that holds today. Right now, it’s 83 F, on its way to 101 again.

The thing about yesterday’s weather is that it climbed slowly. At one mid-afternoon point, I thought, well, this isn’t bad. 91 then, I thought, maybe we won’t hit one hundred. Then I entered a store, came back out said to myself, holy shit, it’s hot as hell. What happened?

Today, though — hot early, hot fast.

Although there are more fires burning across the United States, we’re still fire-free — knock wood. The smoke isn’t bad, either. We’re fortunate in our neck of the woods; Oregon has topped 2,000,000 acres burned this year. Washington has several large fires going. Portland (OR) now has the worst air in the world, due to the wildfires.

Mom and my sister, Gina, continue their quiet war. Mom turned to her granddaughter, Gina’s daughter — Amy — as the go-between. Amy is rejecting the role. Although Mom helped raise Amy, Amy doesn’t deal well with the tension of being the go-between. Plus, Amy is in college, working on a Masters, and she works. So I help fill the gap.

As 2026 wears on, we’re seeing the shadows of Trump’s thinking, lying, fantasizing, playing out in real time now. It’s all catching up.

US has used ‘virtually all’ of its long-range precision missiles during Iran war, sources say

  • Some of these are new weapon systems
  • There’s a bottleneck on refilling them
  • They’re expensive
  • Experts estimate that it will take 1 to 4 years to replenish the supplies
  • While Trump and his staff deny it, this is likely why Trump backed off on the Iran bombing campaigns

And what has the war achieved? Death and high prices. A more unstable Middle-East. And now, a more vulnerable US.

‘Delusional’: Donald Trump flunks reality with his ‘A+’ grade claim

Trump’s golden age reality check

Trump and his administration predicted 6% growth; it’s 1.5%

Trump’s solution to abuse in ICE facilities is pricey—and evil

Jeanine Pirro faces the choice many Trump officials confront at one point or another

Which reality do you choose?

“When Trump hits a brick wall now, as president, he just fashions an alternative reality. He can talk up tough financial data or a foreign policy hiccup as though he’s bigging up a tatty property in a real estate prospectus.“

Your Trump Quote(s) of the Day:

This is the same tired claim Trump made in January of this year:

Trump has made this claim dozens of times already. But reality does not back him up. As with many matters, Trump has a basic misunderstanding of how things work. If inflation cools, prices don’t ‘come down’; inflation is a measure of how much they’ll increase.

Trump’s claims about affordability and prices coming down, and being in a ‘golden age’ is just like his Iran War rhetoric. Trump has claimed victory again (April), again (June), and again (July). Yet the war goes on, in August. He keeps trying to distract us from the truth. Not happening, because we’re paying through the nose, and we’re feeling it.

Today’s music is “Shadowplay” by Joy Division. Seems right for today. I didn’t know the song when it came out, and discovered it when The Killers covered it for a movie. I like the original’s sonic approach to the gittar playin’. Good morning mental music stream occupant for these times as Trump’s shadow grows.

Sample Lyrics:

In the shadowplay, acting out your own death
Knowing no more
As the assassins all grouped in four lines
Dancing on the floor
And with cold steel, odour on their bodies
Made a move to connect
But I could only stare in disbelief
As the crowds all left

h/t to Genius.com

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

Sunday’s Theme Music — Lyin’ & Dyin’

Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, July 26, 2026.

It’s another 90 degree day, F, with blue skies, sunshine. Dropping nicely into the upper 50s to low 60s at night so we’re able to cool off. No smoke again, knock on wood.

Mom and my sister, Gina, both texted me to announced they’re mad at one another again. Those are the words each used. Both also said they blocked one another. Again. There will be no more texting between them.

Came about because Mom asked for a jacket from her house. Gina responded, your clothes are gone. Your house is being sold. Mom: you got rid of all of my old clothes? Why did you do that? Gina: I told you we were going to. Why didn’t you ask for them before if they were important?

I think this will last about five, six days. Then Gina will wonder, how is Mom doing? What does she need?

And Mom will think, I need my meds. Who can get them?

And the only one always there to do it is Gina.

Trump’s attacks on Iran, launched before spring began, continues through the summer. The war is almost five months old. What has it accomplished?

Trump killed Iranians in the name of freeing them, with an estimated 8,000 to 19,000 people in total killed during this conflict, including eighteen Americans.

Raised oil and gas prices.

Screwed up the global supply chain. Cost nations around the world more money while running down US supplies. Increased our national debt. Well done, Trump! Well done, GOP!

Remember when Trump said this isn’t a war and the GOP went along with that? Recall when Trump said it would be over in weeks? Do you remember when he said, “No new wars”?

I know it’s not news any longer that Trump is a liar, that many people around the world find him dishonest, and many don’t trust him. But as long as there are some out there preaching that Trump is wonderful, I’ll keep posting reminders that he’s not.

With energy prices rising, affordability becoming a crisis for many, the increasing healthcare crisis, rural hospital closures continuing, the ongoing Iran war, and the growing measles outbreaks, I wonder what the tipping point for them will be. From what I’ve read, as long as Trump continues to bully others, lie about what he’s doing, and frames himself as a champion for them — regardless of the tangible impact — they will not turn away from him.

Today’s song is “Lyin’ Eyes” by The Eagles. Seems like The Neurons made a good choice for the morning mental music stream as I think about Trump’s life and words.

Hope your day is rich with peace and grace.

Cheers

First World Blues: The Phone Saga

I entered the house.

My wife looked at me with hope. “Did you find my phone?”

“What?” I asked.

She explained. She’d called and left messages. She’d lost her phone.

My phone never rang.

After cursing that, I examined my settings. The phone should have rung. It’s possible it rang and I didn’t hear it.

Anyway…

My wife lost her phone. She thought it happened at the coffee shop. I called them to ask if they had found it. They looked all over as I called the number.

“No, sorry,” Katie told me.

We drove over to the coffee shop to look for ourselves. No sign of the phone.

Then I got a phone call from her phone. Children were making a prank call.

I tried talking to them. I offered a reward. I texted them with an offer to buy the phone back.

No response.

After two days of trying, my wife accepted, the phone was gone. She needed to cancel the service for that number.

She called the support center.

A bot answered. It explained it was a bot and asked her what her problem was.

My wife explained the situation.

“Hold on,” the bot said. A few minutes later, it came back on the line. “Can you explain your problem again please?”

My wife did.

“Please hold,” the bot said. “I’ll be right back.”

The back came back and suggested, “Turn your phone off and on.”

“No,” my wife replied. She explained again: she did not have her phone. Her phone was lost. She needed to cancel the service.

“Hold on,” the bot replied. It went away. My wife listened to hold music. The bot came back: “Turn your phone off and on.”

“That won’t work,” my wife answered. “Let me speak to a human.”

The human had her sorted in thirty seconds. If she had spoken to the human in the first place, the call would have been under a minute.

Instead, she was forced to endure having a bot tell her, “Turn your phone off and on.”

AI.

Right.

The Sisters Dream

I was with several of my sisters. We were all younger than now.

Don’t know where we exactly were. Outside. Mostly flat and sort of muddy to start.

I’d been off doing something and then returned, looking for them, as it was time to go. I found them by a large broken cement sewer pipe coming out of the base of a dirt hill. Multiple bottles and trash was there.

One of the sisters asked, “Michael, can you help us? We want to clean up these bottles but we don’t know how.”

They had two large plastic containers with a spout on top. Way too small to put the bottles in. So I tore the top of the plastic away. They thanked me and we loaded the bottles up, often breaking them. Some bottles were already broken. As they warned me to be careful, I picked up the bottles and put them in the plastic. Then I carried those away, depositing them somewhere safe.

I was ready to go, so I began walking. My sisters were several hundred yards away. I wanted time to myself. Deciding to avoid them, I began running. My sisters called my name: I ignored them, running faster.

I crossed the muddy plain and then ended up on a highway’s wide shoulder. Traffic was heavy to my right. Dusk was coming. Left was a lot of new constructions: houses and stores were being built, but was suspended for the night.

I thought, wow, that’s a lot of construction. The construction and changes threw me off. I hadn’t been in the area for a while. Confused about where I was going, I decided to go back to my sisters.

Turning around, I gawked with some amazement. I hadn’t realized how far and fast I’d run. Running back, my speed amazed me even more.

I reached the spot where I’d last seen my sisters. They weren’t visible. I called them; no answer.

Then I found them, along with their previous husbands, and more of my family. I looked for my wife but she wasn’t there. I saw my younger sister’s ex-husband, JJ, and said hello to him, adding, “Good to see you.”

The group told me we were going to Sharon and John’s. She’s my sister and that’s her husband. Then the group kind of wandered around, dawdling. Impatient, I went to Sharon and John’s house.

It was a small place. In the dining room was a large oval, polished wood table. Arrayed in front of it on one side were three rows of seven baby highchairs. They were different colors and ages. Each had a placard on it.

I was mystified. Like, what’s going on here? Is this where they expected us – adults – to sit? We wouldn’t fit in those chairs. No, they seemed to be set up for something. Classes for children?

Then the chairs rearranged themselves. Many disappeared. Matthew Perry was seated at one of the tables. Reprising his role as Chandler Bing from “Friends”, he did a few scenes. Except, he was the size of a baby.

John came in. I said, “How was that done,” gesturing to Perry/Bing in a highchair. John explained, “Oh, that’s Matthew Perry. He was in “Friends”.”

I answered, “I know all that, but that’s not him. That’s the size of a child. Is that a puppet? Animation?” It was completely lifelike.

We went back and forth, with John explaining the same thing in almost the same ways. I kept asking questions, trying to clarify it, but never got an answer. My sister came in, interrupting us to announce that there were sandwiches in the other room.

Dream end.

Friday’s Theme Music — God

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 17, 2026.

Hot today, but not overly so, with 90 F as the top end. It’s wildfire smoke knocking us down today. Smoke limits the view out the front; we can barely see the valley past the trees across the street, a sight I normally contemplate as I make breafast.

The East Evans Creek has been going on and growing for several days. Started when a car hit a power line, people have been evacuated from several of the surrounding areas.

‘Back east’ as the expression goes, in Pittsburgh, PA, my sisters are complaining about the Canadian wildfire smoke saturating their region. Can’t breathe, they note; gives you an instant headache. One brother-in-law stayed out there yesterday and lost his voice. Surprised that he was out there, as he was stented several years ago and then went through open-heart surgery. On the other hand, he is a MAGAt.

Get ready for more Trump-inspired price increases! Ha, ha, just kidding!

Trump is imposing more tariffs on Brazil.

Coffee is already trading at historically high prices. Last time Trump put a tariff on products from Brazil in 2025, the fallout from high coffee prices politically hurt him. So he exempted food, coffee, and oil this time. It’s only things used in construction, like steel and wood. So housing costs will go up. No problem, right?

Home Listing Prices Post Sharpest Drop in 9 Years as Sellers Face Reality Check

Today’s song in the morning mental music stream is “American Jesus”. Came out over a few handfuls of years ago. By Bad Religion, it’s an anti-war song inspired when President George Dubya Bush said during the Gulf War, “‘We’ll win, because God is on our side!”

As many historians have said since, we may have won that war, but we lost the peace.

Fortunately, we have Trump, a genius among geniuses, in the Oval House and he’s learn all the lessons from that war because he’s the smartest man in the universe’s entire existence. Sorry, I gagged and puked writing that bit of snark.

May your day go well, your health be strong, and your food be tasty.

Cheers

Thursday’s Theme Music – Brianstorming

Ashland, southern Oregon — July 16, 2026.

Cooler today as we move toward summer’s zenith in the valley, just mid to upper 80s F.

Today is my wife’s birthday, so happy birthday to her!

News came through late yesterday that the closing on Mom’s house has been moved out a week. Details are vague but seemed related to the buyer’s loan. Fingers crossed, knock on wood, it all goes through.

The rest of the world is pushing back against Trump and the US under him:

Europe and the Gulf just drew a legal red line on Hormuz — no permits, no tolls, no exceptions, for Iran or America

Trump will keep stewing about this. It’ll reinforce Trump’s ‘we’ll do it alone’ mantra, no matter how much it costs the US.

I laughed over this headline today:

White House teleprompter operator accused of making $100k off Trump speech bets

This is a classic Trump scam. Trump wasn’t the one doing it, though, so the teleprompter operator has been fired. If it was Trump, MAGAts would be whispering, “What a genius.” It’s classic Trump Double Standards (TDS).

Making another attempt at using Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! to distract and terrify Americans, Trump is making a prime-time address. I’ll be sure to avoid seeing it. Can’t stand his face, voice, smirk, ignorance, or lies. This one promises to have some of all of that.

Meanwhile, Trump is trying the old Red Scare stratagem. Hey, it worked for McCarthy in the fifties… That’s where many MAGAts still mentally reside.

What will Trump try next? “The red coats are coming! The red coats are coming!” Oh, I know — the old pre-war Domino Theory. Instead of countries, Trump will name blue states as falling under communism and scream, “They’re taking over everywhere!”

Or maybe he’ll just press harder on “Be afraid. Be very afraid.” Worked on weak minds when Trump invoked immigrants and ‘woke’.

I am more angry than afraid, contemptuous, even. MAGAts and even mainstream Republicans might quake from the Red Scare and other fear tactics, but the rest of us have learned.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

The poorly educated put Trump into office, and they keep helping him up when he topples over.

Today’s morning mental music stream offering is “Brianstorm”. I watch a lot of Brit television — along with Scandinavian, Australian, Irish, Welsh, and German — and encountered “Brianstorm” by Arctic Monkeys on one of those a few years ago.

I laugh whenever I think of the title. So Trumpian: I can see him on a stage, talking about having a brianstorm…

But the lyrics are also delicously mocking:

(Brian) Calm, collected and commanding
(Top marks for not trying) You leave the other story standing
With your renditions and jokes, bet there’s hundreds of blokes
That have wept ’cause you’ve stolen their

Thunder
Are you putting us under?
‘Cause we can’t take our eyes off the t-shirt and ties combination

Well, see you later, innovator

See what I mean? Or is it just me? *smile*

Hope yours is a grand day, no matter your season or age. May peace grace you with joy and happiness.

Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music — Blind

Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, July 15, 2026.

Gonna be 95 F here again. 79 right now. Will drop tomorrow to 85, they say. We’ll see.

Happy birthday to my younger sister. A mother of two, grandmother of two, she just retired from a long and very successful career in banking, and continues to have a happy marriage after 48 years.

To the news.

Heather Cox Richardson’s letter for yesterday — July 14, 2026 — relates how the United States slowly created and built its national parks and monuments. Presidents from both parties embraced the idea of saving natural lands for people to enjoy.

Armed with Project 2025 ideas and declaring a national energy emergency, Trump has rolled back protections. Even though people love the parks and the parks bring income into the nation’s coffers and create jobs, Trump is more interested in what it can do for the timber, mining, and energy industries. Under him, the parks will be smaller and trashier than they’ve been since the 1890s.

Shaking my head.

This article made me laugh this morning:

Fox News viewers savage Donald Trump for ‘redneck garbage dump’ White House decorations

The best comments for me:

“White House every day is looking more like a red neck garbage dump,” someone else blasted, with a fourth viewer weighing in, “Just because it’s gold doesn’t make it elegant. At some point, it starts looking less like a palace and more like a casino lobby.”

An article from TNR asked a question which many of us wonder:

Can We Lose the Same War Twice? With Trump, Anything’s Possible

Nice summation of the current mess in Trump’s war with Iran right here:

“The two New Jersey property managers Trump sent to negotiate his surrender produced a poorly written memorandum of understanding, or MOU, that captured the new power relations—Iran got nearly everything it demanded, including a $300 billion reconstruction fund, while the United States got vague promises of talks on all the issues Trump had started the war to resolve.”

Now Trump is back at it, launching attacks, still after the same objectives that he claimed to have achieved before, fighting the way he claimed to have won before.

Feels like just more Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! to me.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

Classic Trump word weave. Little meaning, less truth, far less connection with reality.

I’m not an expert but based on experts’ opinions and history, I believe this policy will dramatically increase the costs of goods in the US, thereby increasing inflation, straining affordability and healthcare for many Americans.

Today, in honor of MAGA and Republicans, Les Neurons served up a song called “Love is Blindness”. U2 came out with it first. It was too mellow and chill for me. I prefer Jack White’s harder, more challenging edge.

Sample Lyrics:

A little death
Without mourning
No call
And no warning
Baby, a dangerous idea
That almost makes sense

Love is drowning
In a deep well
All the secrets
And no one to tell
Take the money
Honey
Blindness

h/t to Bing.

May this day come with peace, grace, and joy for you, and gently carry you forward to the best times possible.

Cheers

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