Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
A physical therapist showed up at my sister’s house. My sister — a physical therapist — was surprised, because the therapist was there for Mom.
Sis explained that Mom was living at Heritage Grove now. The therapist replied, “This is the address I have for her.”
Mom’s been at HG since late February.
It’s one of those things that make you go, hmmmmmm, and wonder about record-keeping.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Saturday, June 27, 2026.
A cool summer day, overcast and dark. Rain showers came and went yesterday, and the high never broke the low 60s.
Today, it’s 51 F and seems like it might not get as warm as yesterday. I’m okay with it but I worry about how it affects the local agriculture. The good news that emerges from it is that we’re less likely to suffer from a wildfire in our area.
I’m doing much better today with post-op. Moving more like myself. Not bothered by a feeling that I constantly need to pee, I’m also able to sit and bend much more comfortably. The hiccups continue, though; violent hiccups awoke me at 2 AM on Friday morning. They lasted about thirty minutes. Had two more attacks yesterday, mollifying them with Manuka honey. Another attack this morning but it ended after just a few minutes on its own.
Hiccups are common after being intubated, and I was intubated after I was sedated. Several reasons for the hiccups are given, including irritating Vagus nerves and diaphragm tissue.
As an aside, I did wake up several times last night to ensure my tube was draining correctly. I don’t know what prompted that concern, as it always was. Thank you to everyone who texted, emailed, or commented on my medical issues and wished me well.
Catching up on the news, I see that Utah is now on the wildfire front. I feel for them and wish them safety.
My wife pointed me toward an article about the new US commemorative passports Trump created. They feature Trump’s likeness face and say, “Welcome, but be good.”
Like, WTF, old man, do you understand that the passport is for US citizens to go overseas and return?
Meanwhile, we continue to deal with Trump’s messes: Iran war, Epstein files, tariffs, the ballroom, a worsening economy, and the ongoing problem of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, otherwise called Algaegate. The thing about all of these is that he took a fair to middling to good situation and worsened. That is the Trump legacy.
In the Iran War, the US and Iran have signed some kind of something to agree not to fight but are shooting at each other once again. Neither side trusts the other.
As part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, Trump threatened European countries with a 100% tariff if digital services taxes are implemented. Everyone mostly shrugged. One, this is TACO: Trump Always Chickens Out. While he frequently threatens, Trump also slinks away without carrying out on his threats. The pattern has been well-established.
Two, a February Supreme Court ruling limited what tariffs Trump can legally employ. That results in a more complicated and limited process.
I also read that Trump’s Freedom 250 celebration was sparsely attended, leading to him pleading for greater attendance. That brings us to your Trump Quote of the Day:
Newsflash, Trump: historians are rating you as one of the worst presidents ever! As the Trump disasters stack, we expect Trump to cement that legacy as the worst ever. As for popularity, Trump keeps sinking in almost every poll except for the ones he and his staff fake to appease his ego.
Today’s song is “Who Made Who” by AC/DC. The song is in today’s morning mental music stream because of a dream. Not a great deal of the dream was remembered but in one point of it, I remember asking someone else, “Well, who made you do that?” As I sat and remembered that piece of dream, using it as a lure for the rest of the dream to follow and re-emerge, My Neurons — who don’t always pay attention to what I’m doing — began playing the song.
The song was released in 1982 as part of a movie soundtrack. I’ve often thought it as I wonder about people like Donald Trump: who made you? How did you get into power?
In a funny way, I found a good summary of Trump in an historic fiction book, “The Winter King”. This is by Bernard Cornwell. I enjoy many of his books and was re-reading “The Winter King”, which is based on who the mythological King Arthur may have been, and that era of pre-England when Britons were fighting the invading Saxons. In later Cornwell historic series, including “The Last Kingdom”, the Saxons are fighting off the Danes to establish ‘one England’. What a history.
Anyway, in “The Winter King”, paraphrasing, a character describes Lancelot as a man who makes lying a choice and always lies to cover his weaknesses and to make people like him. Lancelot is portrayed as a coward who takes others’ victories as his own and is able to charm others into believing his lies. I’m fascinated because that’s exactly how I think of Trump, and this description of Lancelot was published in 1995.
I hope your day is full of positive energy and that you and yours stay safe and secure.
Cheers
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.
I have bladder cancer surgery tomorrow. I’ve been told what they’ll do, and I have my instructions for washing, sleeping in clean clothes, when to show, what to wear – what I can and drink, when. Anyone who’s had surgery or knows someone who went through surgery is probably familiar with these guidelines.
I’m in a good space for it. Inconveniences abound, yes, and some potential for a life-altering outcome, but I have the healthcare insurance to cover it. Have a team to do it, and a safe place to recover. I won’t need to worry about food or shelter, and my wife is there for me.
I was thinking about how much worse this is for my wife than me. She has to endure the waiting. I mean, if something happens to me, well, it happens. She must deal with the aftermath.
So, I worry about how she worries. I’m anxious about her anxieties.
I asked her, “How are you feeling about my surgery tomorrow?”
She replied, “I feel good about it. I’m not worried at all.”
Which is exactly what I wanted to hear.
No matter what happens to me, I hope she’ll be okay.
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 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.
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
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
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:
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:
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
Ashland, southern Oregon — Thursday, June 11, 2026.
It’s blue skies and warmer temperatures for us today. Like the weather has just awakened to the season and decided, alright, let’s go.
Tear it up, break it up, go for it. That’s Trump. He alone decides what ‘we’ the nation will do. This is true whether we’re going to war, escalating violence, tearing down the White House, remodeling it, building, modifying, or renaming monuments.
Trump ignores the law, goes around the requirements, skips past reviews. Then, as work begins and We the People protest, we go to court. While the issues are adjudicated, Trump keeps tearing and down and building. He’s been doing this with attacking Iran, building the Epstein ballroom — well, it’s a long list.
It’s also a giant middle finger at We the People, our political norms, checks and balances, laws, and Constitution.
The GOP is okay with it. Him. Speaker Johnson metaphorically shrugs. The media tiptoes around what he’s doing, because the other thing Trump does is threaten. His administration holds a bunch of keys. Everyone knows it. And Trump has demonstrated he has no concerns for anything and anyone but himself. Beyond his words, his policies reflect it. He thinks, oh, the war will end and prices will drop.
Really? Is that what happened when prices rose during COVID?
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Trump was lying, of course. He always lies. He began acting like a dictator on day one, and still is.
That’s why protests are important. When Congress stands aside, SCOTUS enables, and the press backs away, We the People must stand up.
No Kings is coming up again. Sunday, June 14, 2026.
Show up again. Keep showing up, please. We don’t like the direction Trump is taking us and must change it.
Today’s morning mental music stream song is “Invisible Sun” by The Police. I was reflecting on my childhood and pictures of smoky, polluted skies we would see in the newspaper. By then, our skies were much clearer and cleaner. Now, Trump is turning it back in the name of making money.
Sample Lyrics
It’s dark all day and it glows all night
Factory smoke and acetylene light
I face the day with my head caved in
Lookin’ like somethin’ that the cat brought in
My hopes for you are that the sun is warm, the air is fresh and clean, and your spirits are high.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 