My surgery has been over for hours. After catching up on sleep, I’m ravenous because I haven’t had food since ten last night. With a diet limited to cold soft foods, I’m eating sorbet and thinking about what I can eat.
My wife begins reading an article aloud. “Women are having problems creating intimate relationships with men because of men’s addiction to porn.” One part is about a woman asking men if they watch porn. They deny it until she shares what kind of porn she likes.
The story swerves into men spending hours in the bathroom. The writer mocks the idea that they’re having long bowel movements and mentions they probably wouldn’t be in there that long without their phones.
“They’re watching porn on their phones?” I ask.
My wife nods.
“I don’t get that. What in the world would you be able to see on that little screen?”
“I know.” My wife points at our television. “We have that big screen. I watch carefully and feel like I still miss a lot.”
“Yes, and people watch sports on their phones, too. I don’t get that. During football games, they’re always blowing up scenes to show, is the knee down? Was his toe out of bounds?”
“How do people see these things on phone screen?” my wife responds.
“Exactly.”
My wife puts her feet up and closes her eyes. It’s been a long day for her. She had to go in with me and stay for the entire surgery, then drive me home.
I finish my sorbet and wonder what to eat next that’s cold and soft and fantasize about a hot bowl of chile.
Part of the annual spectacle is the halftime show, which expanded from marching bands in early years to a huge production with significant musical headliners. This year’s show is headlined by Bad Bunny and Green Day.
Bad Bunny is one of the current era’s hottest young entertainers. The Bad Bunny choice has agitated conservatives. Many decree Bad Bunny as a bad choice becausethey want an American, and they don’t like that he sometimes performs in Spanish.
I was floored. A Puerto Rican, Bad Bunny often performs in Spanish, because that’s a natural language in his area. I want to scream at them, “Don’t you understand that Puerto Rico is part of the United States? Bad Bunny is an American.”
Their ignorance is probably one reason Bad Bunny performs in Spanish.
A thin grey cloud layer is sliding in. Eastern sunshine sings off the dwindling golden leaves hanging on the neighborhood trees. Autumn has a firm grip on Munda, November 3, 2025, in Ashlandia. 50 F, showers are going to visit amid an attempt to reach 62 F.
Sis made stuffed green peppers with the final harvest from her garden. The peppers were smallish, she said. Gave two to Mom with mashed taters. Mom ate one pepper and all of her potatoes, so she was rewarded with a cookie for dessert. Mom has been sharper, and sis, conversing with Mom, reports that Mom barely recalls what happened in the week in which Frank died. Mom acknowledged to several of us that it was a deeper shock than she realized. I think she’s happy to be out of the house where she and Frank spent more than twenty years together between their dating and living arrangements. I know from losses that every look around a corner and usual routine delivers a stab of painful realization about the loss. I’m like Mom so I believe that’s what she was feeling. And that pattern rocks emotions and disrupts focus. Prying her from her home was a good move. I think Mom even is beginning to realize that.
Sis is talking about putting a stair glide in her house for Mom. Sis’s house is a split level. Mom is in the lower level. A stair glide would provide her with more independence. While true, I worry that more independence and movement will also provide Mom with more falling opportunities. Fingers crossed, I’m wrong if the stair glide is installed.
Today’s theme music is “Blue Monday” by New Order. You must address questions about it to The Neurons. I was minding my own business as I went about the biznez of breakfast when The Neurons put it into the morning mental music stream. Here’s the part that was bumping through the MMMS.
How does it feel To treat me like you do? When you’ve laid your hands upon me And told me who you are?
I thought I was mistaken I thought I heard your words Tell me, how do I feel? Tell me now, how do I feel?
Those who came before me Lived through their vocations From the past until completion They’ll turn away no more
h/t to Bing.
Been a full month since the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 began, hasn’t it? Sure, started October 1, 2025, didn’t it? Trump has been too busy golfing and partying to end this shutdown. It’s like he’s channeling the spirit of his old smirking partner, Jeffrey Epstein.
I mean, problems start from the top and they have to get solved from the top. And the president’s the leader and he’s got to get everybody in a room and he’s got to lead. And he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t like doing that. That’s not his strength.
Like a stopped clock, Trump is right: the problems of this country start with him. He’s not a leader. It’s not his strength. He can’t even get everybody in a room.
I read about Trump complaining about the NFL’s revised kickoff rules introduced last season.
“I HATE WATCHING THE NFL’S NEW KICK OFF RULE,” Trump wrote.
“IT’S RIDICULOUS — TAKES THE PAGEANTRY AND GLAMOUR AWAY FROM THE GAME, AND DOES NOTHING FOR SAFETY.
“THEY SHOULD CHANGE BACK TO WHAT IT USED TO BE. HOPEFULLY COLLEGE FOOTBALL WILL NEVER MAKE THIS RIDICULOUS CHANGE! IN THE MEANTIME, I’M GETTING READY TO WATCH PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP (ME!) ON 60 MINUTES.”
Well, one, it’s RIDICULOUS HOW HE TYPES IN ALL CAPS. Two, if it’s so offensive, turn it off. As I did you, on 60 Minutes.
Does Trump have a point about the NFL kickoff rules. Well, I bow to his extensive football career.
Donald J. Trump football record by position, including regular and post season, professional, amateur and coaching, by year and results.
(This space intentionally left blank)
It compares favorably with his RIDICULOUS MILITARY SERVICE RECORD, doesn’t it?
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Very impressive.
Gotta go on to other things. Watching for peace and grace’s arrival through the front window. Should be here any minute now. I’ll just have some coffee while I wait. Cheers
Good morning to the world once again. This time, it’s Twozda, September 30, 2025. Blustery day for September’s final shout, chilly and wet in Ashlandia. 46 F outside. Summer has packed its bags. Autumn has slid in. 62 F will be Ashlandia’s high.
I hoped Trump doesn’t read about the Taliban’s move. 1440 tells me, “Taliban seversfiber optic connections across Afghanistan in its first nationwide internet shutdown amid morality crackdown”. That sort of morality move has a TACO vibe. I could see him making an announcement that he’s shutting down the Internet without understanding of the rippling effect across the nation and world, blaming the Democrats for making him do it or some shit.
I also couldn’t avoid the news that Bad Bunny is the next Superbowl halftime headliner. While congratulations to Bad Bunny are extended, I’m indifferent to the halftime show and typically just walk away. I’m not actually deep into watching the game unless my team is in it. I do casually tune in if my team is not. My wife, who is a social observer, does like to clock the commercials for the freshest and most interesting, an outgrowth of her time in the advertising industry over a quarter century ago.
One must wonder if the NFL knew that Bad Bunny would be a controversial choice.
The Superbowl halftime show used to have a ‘theme’. The last theme listed in Wikipedia’s list of shows was in 2004, when the theme was Use or Lose, an MTV effort to encourage people in the United States to register and vote. I think it ironic, given Trump and the GOP’s efforts to curtail the vote by making it harder by doing things like challenging mail-in ballots and baselessly screaming about voter fraud and stolen elections. Trump understands, though, scream loud enough and often enough, and people will begin believing, contrary to the old adage about people crying wolf too many times.
Maybe this year’s Superbowl theme is, Screw You, Donald Trump. It’d be great if there was a Jumbotron display of Donald J. and his BFF, Jeffrey Epstein, and their mates during the show. Wouldn’t that be great?
Today’s theme music comes from a juxtaposition gumbo. Like Trump’s declining ratings, the arguments washing around the looming Federal gubmint shutdown, frustrations with a Pandora’s box of personal matters that aren’t about me, per se, and about generalizations about enshittification of modern U.S. first world life. Although yes, I read that Trump’s approval rating has mildly ticked up recently, an abomination of common sense and critical thinking, but that’s how he was elected to start. Overall, I hold to a sense of free fallin’, hence the Tom Petty song choice today from 1989, “Free Fallin'”.
Got my lucky shirt on so I have hopes for the day. But I’m not sure about the providence of my other garments, particularly my underwear. They’re newish, and unproven. Here’s hopes that grace and peace find their way out of the woods and into our lives once again. Till then, cheers.
I’ve known my sister-in-law for over fifty-five years. We get along great. She’s been married three times, has two children, and has had three boyfriends that I’ve met. She’s also a successful businesswoman. I wasn’t sure what to expect from her new BF, Norm. We had learned little about him. Here are the results.
A Florida resident for most of his life, he still lives there, but now in a Key West condo. Originally moved there from western Pennsylvania when he was twelve years old in 1967. We found out he lived in the same general area as me when both of us lived in Pennsylvania as boys. A year plus older, we ended up with much in common via classic rock and musical preferences, along with politics. He’s not much of a reader, but he believes, as I do, that Justified is an excellent TV show. Married twice, with a son and daughter and a granddaughter, along with four sisters.
An avid golfer and fisherman, he roots for all pro sports in which Pittsburgh, PA, has a team playing. He’s almost fanatical about the Pittsburgh Steelers, which is the team I root for.
Norm didn’t shy away from having a drink. Beer is his go-to preference. He doesn’t like lagers or IPAs. I introduced him to Caldera Brewing’s porters, Mogli and Pilot Rock. They happen to be two of my favorites. He declared them as excellent.
He worked as a wastewater engineer in Florida, retiring after 27 years with one plant. He’s pretty passionate about it, too. He retired when he was sixty and then had triple bypass surgery.
An outraged anti-Trumper, he’s been involved with the Everglades for a long time, working to keep it preserved. So he was very informed about what was going on with Alligator Alcatraz and was passionately anti Gov. ‘DeSatan’. He’s also a fan of Southpark and their brutal take on Paramount, Trump, and the right-wing.
The way that Mr Mackey is hired by ICE, his ‘orientation’, and the depiction of Kristi Noem is so bloody sharp and satirical.
We had a good time. Kept very busy but he was interested in all things Ashland and Oregon, and displayed charm and intelligence.
In this dream, I was in my early teens. Our school had a football team. I was not very good but they let me be on the team. I mostly played the bench.
We’d traveled away for a game. I suddenly had a feeling, I was going to play, and I was going to score a touchdown. In fact, as I thought about it, I became convinced that I was going to score three TDs. Moreover, I knew that one of these touchdowns would be on offense. The other two would be defensive scores.
The game began and I was not playing. Both teams were lackadaisical and the game was boring. I kept waiting to get in. Then, halftime arrived. The team sat around, joking and being silly. This frustrated me. I wanted the game to get on. I wanted to be in the game.
Halftime ended. Instead of continuing the game, a disorganized and chaotic scene ensued. I kept waiting for us to get back on the field. I didn’t know why, in accordance with the game’s rules and everyone’s established expectations, this wasn’t happening. But finally, yes, word came, the teams were to take the field. And, lo, I was sent out onto the field.
Some fast, intense violence, aka football, followed. I was playing okay. Then, I was on defense when a pass was tipped. I rocketed forward and got a hand on the ball. I meant to catch it and run but I instead batted and juggled it for several intense seconds as other players closed. Finally, just as someone was about to slam into me, I got control of the ball and raced into the end zone.
Then, just a few short plays later, I was on offense as a slot wide receiver. The ball was snapped. I stepped out right and cut sharply in toward the center of the field on a slant. The quarterback hit me in stride, and I was gone, and scored my second touchdown, my first on offense. Confusion swirled among my team mates. Some were asking, “Who was that?” Others were trying to confirm if I was the one who scored on the previous fumble recovery. A few were congratulating me and complimenting me on how well I was playing that day.
I was kept in the game on the opponent’s next drive. We were behind in the score by a few points. The other team’s offense set up to drive the field. But reading the play, I intercepted a pass and ran it back for a touchdown as the game ended. Amidst the jubilation, a reporter came up for an interview and confirmed that I’d scored my team’s only three touchdowns and asking me for my bio and playing info. While still on the field, sweaty and in my yellow and black uniform, I was shown a newspaper with a photo of me making the interception.
We landed on Sunday, December 8, 2024, or maybe it landed on us.
Light rain graced us most of yesterday. We’ve been rewarded with a chilly, damp 38 degree F morning with silvery-gray fog as thick as my breakfast oatmeal, and I like my oats thick. No worries, as they tell us the valley’s high temperature will crack the low forties.
Papi the ginger blade is driving us nuts with this weather. My wife claims that he expects me to change the weather for him, and is disappointed that I haven’t. But rain, wind, fog, chilly weather, he keeps going out one door and returning to the other to tattoo his message to us, “Let me in.”
My wife and I watched the University of Oregon Ducks take on Penn State’s Nittany Lions yesterday. I lived in Pennsylvania for a decade plus when I was a child and have live in Oregon for months short of twenty years, and have family living in Pennsylvania, so there’s a flimsy personal attachment to the game. This is football, BTW, where the Ducks are undefeated and nationally ranked #1, while Penn State wore the #3 ranking and one loss. The game was the Big 10 Championship. The Ducks won but I’m amused how often I heard that they ‘held on to win’ as Penn State, seven points down, was trying to drive the field in the last two minutes and score a touchdown and get a point after (or two) to win. My preference for how it should be stated was that Penn State lost.
My wife had two questions about the game; what is a Nittany Lion, and why is Oregon’s team called the Ducks? Well, my wikipedia researched revealed that a Nittany Lion is made up, based on eastern U.S. mountain lions and a local geographic feature, Nittany Mountain. As for the Ducks, they were originally the Webfoots. These were fishermen who became Revolutionary War heroes who settled in the Williamette Valley. As ducks have webbed feet, some writers began referring to the Webfoots as ducks. The name was eventually changed.
I read a summary of the highlights and statements emerging from Drumpf’s ‘first network interview’ since he won the election. First, it’s wearingly to read this and think that anything he says is worth its weight in air. I mean, he has a history. Second, he sounds like he’s still disconnected from reality. In example, he still plans his mass deportation plans because, “You have no choice. First of all, they’re costing us a fortune. But we’re starting with the criminals and we’ve got to do it. And then we’re starting with others, and we’re going to see how it goes.” But economists tell us otherwise, that illegal immigrants do not cost us as much as he claims and actually add to the economy. Likewise, stats and studes show most illegal immigrants are not criminals and are less likely to commit crimes [1] [2] [3]. Doesn’t matter in Drumpf world. Likewise, he still insists on “Drill, baby, drill,” to increase oil production and drop prices, even though U.S. oil production is at record levels and oil prices are dropping due to a global lack of demand. But dinosaurs like Drumpf — and his MAGA GOP — cling to disproven and outmoded ideas.
We’re attending a holiday concert today. I was making the bed and thinking about what I would wear when The Neurons began playing “Secret Agent Man” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark chillin’). Naturally for me, it was the Johnny Rivers version of the song, which we had in our household on a 45 RPM record when I was still a singleton. I know and like the guitar oriented song. But hearing it in my head this morning, my reaction was, WTF? Where did that come from? I asked Les Neurons, what brought this on? They said nothing. I thought of what I’m writing in my fiction, and it’s not at all related. I’m reading several books but none of them mentioned secret agents. Now, I am watching “The Agency”, “The Diplomat”, and “The Day of the Jackal”. Maybe their combined weight slipped into the liminal cracks and stirred memory of the song out of its slumber in its grey cell nest. I was surprised, as other songs and ideas had been stirring in the mmms, but here we are.
Let’s get positive and move forward. I’ve moved forward with my morning coffee and feel better for the effort. Here’s the music. Cheers
Ahoy everyone, it’s Sunday, February 11, 2024. Here are today’s top headlines.
Ah, never mind that for now. We’ll do that later. In weather, sprinter had dashed back into the Ashlandia, with strong spring highlights overtaken weak winter elements. 52 F, with classic strong sunshine lording over bright blue, it’s a good day to do many things. Today’s high will be 58 F.
House painting continues with no issues at all. My wife and I did a walk around to see the progress yesterday, and we’re pleased. The housefloofs have adjusted the situation. Tucker went for an outside visit this morning, conducting a recce of the painters’ supplies. Not at all concerned by appearances, he then returned to the door and was granted re-entry. Papi, having seen it all now, is little bothered, dashing in and out several times with barely more than a head bob toward the painting gear, confirming, yes, that stuff is all still there. Hustling in before they returned, both cats are now retired in the house in sunny places filtered by the flimsy plastic over the windows.
As it’s super Sunday in the U.S., the day when the two NFL conference champions play a final game to decide who is number 1 and end the season, I thought I’d blink back at 1993. T’was the year the marching bands and drill teams were gently shuffled aside, and the Super Bowl pop era. Game number XXVII was being held at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. The Buffalo Bills, representing the AFC, faced the NFC Champions Dallas Cowboys. The Bills were there for the third straight year. They came again the next year to make it four in a row, setting a record as the first time to appear in four straight Super Bowls. Sadly, they remain winless in that realm.
For that first pop Super Bowl, they hired a pop icon, Michael Jackson. One of his songs performed that day was “Billie Jean”. Released ten years before, featuring a deep bass line and telling a story, it was and is a song the people enjoy dancing to. It’s not ranked the best Super Bowl halftime show, but it’s the first commercialized pop version. The league and network had never done anything like that. They’ve since learned from mistakes and improved the show until we’re at this point. Frankly, the shows have become fat to me and can use some simplification, but that’s me.
If you’re watching the game — or the commercials, or halftime show, as so many people do, I hope you’re entertained. I’ll watch the game and cheer the KC Chiefs in honor of my neighbor, Walt. After being a lifelong KC fan, waiting for another SB victory, he died the year before Andy Reid and Patrick Mahommes delivered the first SB win since Hank Stram and Len Dawson took them to the big show in 1969 and defeated the Minnesota Vikings and Al Kapp.
Stay strong, remain positive, lean forward, and register and vote, if you’re in a democracy and afforded the opportunity. Here’s the music; coffee has been guzzled. But first, a 1993 SB commercial break from Lee Jeans, featuring a young Alan Cumming.
Forty-one holiday bowl games are coming up in the next several weeks.
I live in Oregon. I’ve quasi-adopted the two major colleges’ sports team. More like surrendered than adopted, as the colleges and their sports teams are frequent news and conversation topics. Both college football teams are ‘ranked’ this year and will play in bowl games.
The names of these bowl games are psyche shredding. The Oregon State Beavers face Notre Dame in the Tony the Tiger Sun Bowl. Seriously.
Oregon University’s Ducks will play Liberty in the VRBO Fiesta Bowl.
You should check out the names of these corporate sponsored NCAA college football bowl games. Remember, this is about amateur sports. Among them is the Cricket Celebration Bowl in the Mercedes Benz Stadium. Avocados from Mexico Cure Bowl. Famous Toastery Bowl. Roofclaim.com Boca Raton Bowl.
I wonder how many years it’ll be before the teams have corporate sponsors. I’m sure many will watch the Nike Oregon University Ducks vs the Eli Lilly Fighting Irish of Notre Dame in the VRBO Fiesta Bowl or maybe, instead, the Columbia Sportswear Company Oregon State Beavers (sometimes just called the Columbia Beavers) against Freddie Mac Liberty University in the the Tony the Tiger Sun Bowl.
Michael Seidel, writer 