I’m pleased to share Annie’s recap of about Simon Rosenberg. “Hopium” Rosenberg’s insights into the 2024 polls — and why they’re wrong — make tremendous sense to me. Read and think about what his take, and you’ll see what I mean. Like these significant points:
Can you explain why? This goes back to the midterm congressional elections in 2022, as I recall?
“Yes. The argument I made then was threefold. One was that the Republicans did something unusual in 2022. Usually when a party loses elections, they run away from the politics that caused them to lose. And Republicans were running toward it. They were becoming ever more MAGA, even though MAGA had lost in 2018 and 2020.
“Second, that Biden was actually a good president, and we’d have a strong case to make. And third, there’s been this huge increase in citizen engagement in the Democratic Party. We’ve been raising crazy amounts of money and have an unprecedented number of volunteers because of the fear of MAGA”.
“We were stronger and better than was the conventional wisdom. The constant mistake everyone’s been making since the spring of 2022 has been the overestimating of their strength and the underestimating of ours. We went into Election Day with there being this huge belief that the Democrats were going to get killed. I believed those three things were going to allow us to do better than people expected in 2022. And I have that basic view now about 2024.“
I mean, shouldn’t we ask why what didn’t work in three previous elections will work in a fourth? No; three strikes; Trump is out.
Hello, fellow peepers. Today is Wednesday, April 2, 2024.
It’s raining again in Ashlandia. The temperature as dropped back into the forties. Oh, but that day, yesterday, when the temperatures resided in the upper 70s (Fahrenheit — could you imagine what it’d be like if it was 70 degrees Celsius?) was glorious and spirit lifting. I remind myself that the rain will help things grow and continue to nibble away at our drought problem. The rain is a good thing, as long as the rain is kept to a moderation.
The rain displeases my house floofs, Tucker and Papi. I released them to the backyard per their demands. The patio is covered, so they weren’t in danger of melting from the rain. And the rain imbued our air with a lovely, fresh scent. But when I opened the back door fifteen minutes later, they scurried right in and demanded treats, because it’s raining. They made a good case, so I treated them. Then I treated myself with a lemon scone to go with my coffee.
Today’s reading for me included coverage of Senator T. Tuberville. He’s an R out of Alabama, although he might be living in Florida. That’s okay, though; Alabama wrote its laws so people representing their people don’t need to live among the people they represent; they only need be a resident for a day. Seems sensible *snark*.
Sen. Tuberville was campaigning in Utah where he claimed that supernatural forces were undermining the United States. Was he talking about Jesus? Because I agree, those people saying they love and believe in Jesus but then do everything possible to be contrary to Jesus’s teachings are undermining our country. Some — not all — of these GOPers for Jesus stand against the whole ‘love thy brother thing,’ at least in words and actions, if not in thought.
Well, hey, BAI, I claim that I’ve been to the Moon and Mars. Does that make it true? That’s what I’m looking for, BAI. Actual evidence beyond a claim.
See, I don’t trust Tommy T. as a reliable source. He made claims before which didn’t hold up. See the things he said about his father’s military service. Or his foundation for veterans. Check the actual donations made after he declared every dime would go to Alabama vets.
In the end, I’m not overly worried about Sen. Tuberville’s declaration musings “supernatural forces” undermining our government. After all, he once declared the three branches of the US government to be “the House, the Senate, and executive.” I don’t believe he’d know a supernatural force if it bit him in the ass. The way he sometimes appears, I think they might be biting him in the ass. Then again, that could be Trump or one of his sycophants.
Today’s music comes by way of the news. I was thinking about the impact of state abortion laws which deny women the right to control their own health when it comes to pregnancy. The same laws handicap medical staff from helping women who are pregnant, in more than one state. For an example of one of the worst, see Texas.
Besides taking away women’s rights and insisting women carry fetuses to term, these states often do very little to help people their unwanted children are born.
With all that thinking scrambling The Neurons, I wasn’t too surprised when those Neurons posted “Love Child” to the morning mental music stream (Trademark unrealized). The 1968 song was another Motown gem. Performed by Diana Ross and the Supremes, the song lyrically relates the stigma of a girl born in poor circumstances, wearing rags or second-hand clothing, and having an unwed mother. They experience guilt; they feel scorn.
Now, she’s addressing the matter of sex for herself. What if she becomes pregnant? They might ‘end up hating the child they’re creating.‘ The song deftly shows the complexities suffered by someone who is an unwanted who is now forced to address that same situation. Abortion is never mentioned. For my sensibilities, it’s there, waiting to be discussed. Remember, Roe v. Wade didn’t happen until 1973, five years after “Love Child”. Abortions were often dangerous and frequently illegal, depending on the state.
Afternote: even in Texas, back in 1968, abortions were illegal, except when when necessary to save the mother’s life. Now the great Texas legislature has decided that the mother’s life is worthless if she’s pregnant; only the fetus matters now in Texas.
Well, I hope I got that all out of my system. Hope someone is still reading. Had to put it out there to understand what I think.
Remain positive, lean forward, and Vote Blue to put us back on track toward a nation and world where women have the right to control their own body again, and a place where another’s religion or privilege doesn’t dictate everyone else’s rights. Here’s the song. Let’s have a good one, shall we?
March 26, 2024 is a Tuesday. I mention it because it is upon us. Winter and spring heroics are vivdly displayed in a skybleau vivant of blue, gray, and white pieces. Rain was here yesterday and last night. Might it come again today? All signs point to ask again later. It’s 42 F. Sunshine is shimmering in around the clouds, alleviating the chill. 58. That’s what they say our high will be.
When I looked out at the mixed composition of clouds, The Neurons began “Cloud Nine” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark cloudy). I enjoy the 1968 song by The Temptations. It sets up a tempting tableau.
(Cloud 9) [Paul:] You can be what you wanna be. (Cloud 9) [Dennis:] You ain’t got no responsibility. (Cloud 9) [Eddie:] Every man, every man is free. (Cloud 9) [Dennis:] You’re a million miles from reality
The interplay by the singers and the upbeat tempo and optimistic lyrics made it a childhood favorite. Don’t mind it in the morning mental music stream at all.
When I was young, I wondered, “Why cloud nine?” What’s going on with clouds one through eight? Are there higher clouds? Like, number ten?
The first question was answered by a teacher. Sort of. He suggested that “Cloud Nine” was from Dante’s Paradiso. As a twelve-year-old, I’d never heard of it. An elderly neighbor later said it was about angels. In a meteorology class in the Air Force, a sergeant talked about the classifications of clouds, telling us that nine is the highest level of clouds.
While musing about it today, I found a neat little article on udiscovermusic.com covering these things. They also noted that it used to be cloud seven used as a euphoric state.
‘Indeed, improbable as it sounds, as far back as 1896, the first edition of the International Cloud Atlas defined ten types of cloud, of which the cumulonimbus, rising to 6.2 miles, was declared the highest that a cloud could be. In 1960, the Dictionary Of American Slang defined “cloud seven” – not nine – as meaning “in a euphoric state.”’
Despite all this, today’s edition of “Cloud Nine” is by Beach Bunny. It’s a 2020 TikTok hit and no at all like he 1968 beats. I like checking out TikTok to see what our young are tuning into and heard the song on there. I don’t recall when. But dialing up the song today on YouTube reminded me of it existence. So I’m playing it just to spite The Neurons. Yes, it’s petty.
I’ve read Beach Bunny’s song described as a ‘giddy love song’. With a quick beat and a breathless, sometimes abrupt delivery, that seems like an apt description for the quick little number.
Stay strong, be positive, lean forward, and vote blue if you’re’n the U.S. and a citizen, etc. Coffee has been served. French roast. Here’s Beach Bunny. Cheers
TL/DR: It’s spring. Today’s song is “Why Worry” by Dire Straits. President Biden’s predecessor and current GOP candidate is enamored with dictators, promises a bloodbath if he doesn’t win, and thinks some humans “aren’t human”.
Hello, my traveling peers. It’s Sunday again, March 17 again, but adding the year, 2024, makes it a whole new date.
The average daily high for Ashland in March is 58 F degrees. We expect to hit 71 F. I think I’ll be higher.
I checked a local weather station’s temperature, along with the SOU (Southern Oregon University) weather station, and a web weather source. Here are our temp variations:
My house: (Clay Street, southern end, in early morning mountain shadows, 1836 feet elevation): 45.5 F
Wimer Street: (2 miles west of Clay Street, above downtown, 2050 feet elevation, in mountains): 46.2
SOU: (1.1 miles southwest of Clay Street, 1890 feet elevation, in sunshine by East Main Street): 42.1
MSN.com: 50 F.
Honestly, SOU’s elevation — 1890 feet — seems suspect to me. We descend to that location via a series of hills. For the record, Ashland’s official elevation is 1949 feet. We consider ourselves ‘the valley’, but the valley floor is a little bit lower than us. It’s a pinched and rolling place on this end of the Rogue Valley.
Whatever the temp, it’s a spring day out there, with colors along the spectrum breaking out all over the region.
Then there’s the story circulating about Trump’s other comments during a campaign speech. This is from an article on TheHill.com, but it’s in WaPo and others, too.
“I don’t know if you call them people,” he said at the rally. “In some cases they’re not people, in my opinion. But I’m not allowed to say that because the radical left says that’s a terrible thing to say.”
See, I am ‘the radical left’ because I think others are people. I base this on biology. Genetics. Not politics, religion, or circumstance. It doesn’t matter where they come from. Or how they reached our land. But in Donald J. Trump’s opinion, some people are not people. That’s just laying the foundation to treat other humans as less than human as justification for inhumane treatment.
Okay, class, can anyone name a fomer world leader and dictator who said things like that about other humans?
Well, no. I agree. However, a surprising chunk of Americans seem to disagree. People — and I was one — overlooked how many Americans backed Hitler before WWII and even during WWII. There are Americans among us who still back Hitler because they’re antisemites. They want someone to blame, and remain willing to claim Jews are causing them problems.
That’s one reason they like and support Trump. Trump isn’t bothered by Hitler’s record. His former chief of staff related that “Trump said Hitler did some good things.” That’s worrying for someone threatening bloodbaths if he doesn’t win, and chatting and joking about being a dictator on day one if he does win.
But what about the greater Republican party? I share Ms Pequeño concern, “Will Republicans ever care?” I’m concerned that many don’t know and don’t care because they’ve convinced themselves that Trump is something else, someone special to them. They write off the rest of us and our dire threats about Trump as the lies of outsiders who don’t see Trump as they do.
I agree, too, with Ms Pequeño’s final assertion: “So, everybody who is bothered by this, Republicans and Democrats alike, should keep pointing to his comments for the rest of this election. Then voters can ultimately decide if they support this or not.”
Today, The Neurons posted “Why Worry” by Dire Straits to the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). I know exactly what’s going on with me this soft 1985 song by Mark Knopfler.
I’m a worrier and regularly talk myself down. I recognize that the view I get of the world is skewed and imperfect, no matter how many sources I use. Many of those sources are political or commercial. Each uses buzzwords and headlines to gather attention. Some of them are just trying to rile me up or say things to help their revenue streams. So, while I will continue to worry and voice my thoughts about my worries, I’ll also try to talk myself down.
The cats are outside in the fenced backyard, loving the warm air and sunshine. I’m about to do the same. Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. Hope your weather is to your approval at your place. Here’s the music. There’s the coffee. Let’s bring it all together. Cheers
I came across a plague in Ashlandia’s railroad district. The plaque identified the tree beside it as a slippery elm and announced that it had been the tree of the year.
The tree of the year is an annual tradition in our city. Stepping back, I admired its height and thick, expanding branches. Sunlight backlit them against blue sky.
I didn’t have a camera with me — yep, not even a phone — so I don’t have a photo of the plaque nor tree. I ran a search for a photo of it but nada emerged. I need to return to the scene with my phone, I guess.
Forty-seven years had passed since the tree had been honored. It still looked like it could be the tree of the year.
It’s March 14, 2024, and we’re swimming in blue skies and sunshine. It doesn’t make this a warm day — yet. The furnace is still running, dragging up the house’s internal temperature as the day recovers from its 33 F start in our area. 44 F is what the digital thermometer now reads. We expect its readings to climb over 61 today.
That’s why I like spring. I enjoy the shift from bareness and cold, or the white of snow and ice, to the brisk green sprouting, sunshine, and warmth. Summer is lovely but becomes cruel, overdoing it with heat intensity. Thunderstorms add a troublesome facet in the summer, lancing the hot dry land with lightning and sending fires across the fields and mountains and smoke through the sky. Spring is full of possibilities and growth. It feels like a season to relax.
I skimmed the news and marked things to go back and read in depth. Hopeful signs, suitable for spring, emerges along several trajectories. Nothing to get excited about — yet. They must play out. That’s the most difficult aspect of modern life for me. I’m given so much information to digest. It accumulates and shifts with the slow effort of tectonic plates until some resolutions emerge. Often takes years, though.
I occupy a mellow place this morning. Sensing that — they can be very observant — The Neurons lined the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with Eric Clapton’s acoustic version of “Layla”. The initial rock version came out in 1970. Eric Clapton and his buddy, Duane Allman, playing behind the curtain called Derek and the Dominos. The accoustic version came about 22 years later, 1992. MTV was involved.
There’s a lot of personal behind this song for Clapton. George Harrison was his running buddy. They played for Delaney and Bonnie and Friends on the road. George was married to Pattie Boyd. Clapton fell in love with her. This song helped him express his suppressed feelings. A model, Boyd inspired George to write four songs about her while Clapton wrote three. She divorced Harrison in 1977 and married Clapton in 1979, divorcing him ten years later.
Stay strong, be positive, and lean forward. I’m leaning forward for my coffee cup at the moment, strategically placed right of my computer, but an arm’s length away. That leaves room for my black and white wonder floof, Tucker to get up here and supervise my ‘puter efforts without knocking my coffee over or getting fur into it. I’m very fond of not having fur in my coffee.
I want to give a shout out to the US Postal System. Rates went up again recently. We know that probably means systemic improvements…right?
Of course! Although, um, postal workers in my area are concerned with mail not being picked up. Thanks to the price increase and a new modernization effort, we’ve gone from having five trucks to collect the mail and start its journey. Now we’re down to one. Wow, that’s efficiency!
Except, ah, my Visa credit card people are often concerned, sending emails, reminding us to pay our bill because the due date is coming up. “They should have received it,” my wife and I agreed. She added, “It’s due the fifteenth and I mailed it before the first.” This was back in November. “Maybe weather delayed it,” I put in. But this had never happened before. Now it’s happened three times.
Jeremy Schilling, president of the American Postal Workers Union Local 342 here in the Rogue Valley may have given us the answer. Going from five trucks to one doesn’t work well, he asserts. “Talent and Phoenix are now on the same route as Ashland. As a larger population center, Ashland requires its own truck. That being the case, the one truck (for all three cities) is already full when it reaches its next stops. This is happening across the whole state right now,” Schilling said. (h/t to rv-times.com)
This is the plan that Postmaster General Louis DeJoy’s 10-year “Delivering for America” plan has delivered to us. Besides the one truck replacing five idea, his plan calls for dropping the second daily pickup. So instead of racing to the Post Office to get something into the mail before the early collection time, it’s just the one collection at five PM.
See what higher price stamps get us?
But it’ll save a lot of money, DeJoy asserts. Schilling’s response speaks for me. “With this new truck route that saves so much money, are they telling me the money saved is because they’re going to abandon mail every day because the truck is too full?” Schilling asked. Seems so from my vantage, but I’m only a customer, which makes me an outsider.
Reduced trucks and fewer collection times are just two of the improvements which DeJoy has imposed. Under his plan, there is consolidation in the name of efficiency. The Institute for Policy Studies asserts what this could mean for me and my mail in their study, The USPS Network Consolidation Plan: What’s at Stake for Southern Oregon. Among their findings are Potential slower delivery times and Risk of transportation disruptions, which you always want when you’ve established an improvement plan for your delivery system.
The study found that under DeJoy’s improvement plan are several nuggets.
Under the USPS plan for the Medford facility, mail and packages posted by local residents and business will travel to Portland for processing – even if the destination address is in the local tri-county area. The state of Oregon has just one major artery going north-south, Interstate highway 5. In normal conditions, the 280-mile route between Medford, which is near the California border, and the Portland regional distribution and processing center site at the northern edge of the state takes about 4 hours and 28 minutes, or 9 hours round-trip.
A First Class letter shipped from Klamath Falls in Oregon to Sacramento, California would today travel 387 miles and take 6 hours. Under the consolidation plan, that letter, passing through Portland, rather than Medford, would travel twice as many miles, and take twice as long to make the journey – 858 miles and 13 hours of travel time.
Wow, longer time and further distances for things to be delivered! That has to be better, right, because more is better, isn’t it? Apparently that’s how DeJoy thinks. And think of how this will affect traffic, air pollution, and additional costs in gas and wear and tear on vehicles. Win win win! Fortunately, they are moving to electric vehicles. Money has been commited, but the transition has been slowed by none other than DeJoy.
You might be thinking, where have I heard of Louis DeJoy before? Well, the man was put into position by President Donald J. Trump (but not appointed), and we know that Trump is all about efficiency (yes, that’s sarcasm) and has an eye for capable people (yes, more sarcasm, given how many positions in his A team turned over in his only term. Answer: 92%.President Biden’s is 71%). Likewise, Trump’s cabinet appointments turned over more than Presidents Obama, Dubya and his pops, and Reagan.
DeJoy advocates for privatizing the USPS. So he doesn’t really want it to excel as a government service. What better way to gain advocates for privatizing a government system that’s working than by sabotaging it?
DeJoy is also the guy who handicapped the USPS and its ability to support dealing with COVID-19 and ensuring mail-in ballots arrived as expected during the 2020 election.
So he’s doing a heckuva job, as President Bush told Brownie ten days before Brownie resigned because he hadn’t done a heckuva job at all.
Yep, heckuva job, DeJoy. Way he’s going, it’ll cost a dollar for a stamp and the mail will take a month to reach its destination. Such efficiency!
Donald Trump has officially earned the designation of Worst President Ever. Predictably, he and his supporters are screaming and whining about why he isn’t the worst, usually rationalizing their position with lies, bullshit, fantasies, and conspiracies. Clay Jones lays it out for you.
Welcome to Sunday, February 25, 2024, where the sun is above average in Ashlandia. Spring seems to be cementing its hold as our current season. 55% chance of snow in our area in the next 7 days. 47 F now we’re heading for the same region for a high as yesterday, about 65 F. I’m sipping coffee and assessing the sky. Faded blue around the horizons, clues point to clouds creeping around the valley’s protective mountains and ridges. There’s no precipitation anticipated for today.
The cats are lovin’ it. Tucked into a loaf, Tucker has taken up the living room catbird seat. I raised the blind and sunshine is dumping on him, and he has a sweet backyard view. Papi, of course, being the rugged floof he is, is out on on the sunwashed back patio, braving the clear sky and sunshine as he grooms.
We spent yesterday running around on a staycation. No writing for me and little computer time. No errands were run; we just explored and buzzed around they valley. Sadly, we found two of our favorite used bookstores have been lost to history. A third, Bookmarks, has moved closer, making it more accessible. That’s four used bookstores gone to the area since we’ve lived here. We still have two new bookstores and two used ones. I wonder if someone will open another. Lot of vacant business locations available for rent.
Speaking of that, we went to the Rogue Valley Mall. Haven’t been there since last summer. We’re not really mall people. Fascinating to in and see what’s gone. Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Victoria’s Secret. We didn’t know what were in other places. Looked like seven or eight empty spaces. Wasn’t overly busy for a Saturday. We’re of the belief that most people prefer shopping online these days. Escape traffic and crowds.
Today’s music is Beyonce’s country song, “Texas Hold ‘Em” (2024). By topping one of Billboard’s country and western charts, Beyonce became the first black woman in history to have a #1 country song. I was interested in it because I heard it briefly during the Super Bowl, and then my wife played it for me again. The Neurons were wrestling with what they thought of it and kept it in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks), strangely, alongside George Benson and “On Broadway”. I find the videos unusual. One just has a gun on a church firing. I watched for something else to happen but it didn’t. The other showed people dancing; it was mostly their legs and feet. The video also shared Beyonce modeling different outfits. I’ve included both of these videos.
Then there’s also a visualization. I’ve included it so we may keep up with pop trends.
Of course, it being Beyonce, a black woman, the bouncy upbeat song has found controversy. One Oklahoma radio station refused to play it with the excuse that they’re a country station and don’t play Beyonce. They added that this song also had to chart higher before they would play it. Also, ahem, and this is a big ahem, they weren’t aware that it was country. So, you know, they fully vetted the song before responding.
Stay strong, be positive lean forward, and vote. I’ve had coffee, thanks. Off to write now. Be good, y’all. Here’s the music. Cheers
Hello, fellow sojourners of season and space. It’s Tuesday again, but this time it’s Feb. 20, 2024.
Sunshine is crashing through the eastern and southern windows and it’s already 54 F outside, though a bit ‘o wind is still stirring up the trees and ruining the cats’ outings. Layers of grey clouds smother my western view, darkening the pines’ green lines with long, heavy shadows. Rain is expected, but so is a high of 67 F. Can you dig it?
Ah, rain falls through sunshine. Where is the rainbow?
Tucker, my black and white house floof, continues improving. A side effect has emerged. He’d become less interested in Papi while he was feeling ill. Papi thus became bolder. Now Tucker is feeling better and beginning to notice Papi more. Papi has noticed he’s being noticed and is letting Tucker know he knows he’s being noticed, and warnings have been issued.
Finishing up Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism by Rachel Maddow. It illuminates corners of United States history I didn’t know, such as the conspiracy circulated by the Silver Legion or the Silver Shirts. Led by William Dudley Pelley, they believed all Jews are communists, and all communists are Jews. Rising during America’s Great Depression, the movement seemed to flourish in small, rural towns and was favored by white Christians. (Any of this sound familiar?) They believed Jews were starting all the wars in the world and wanted to turn the United States into a communist nation. To save the United States, they wanted to instead turn it into a fascist nation and were looking for America’s Hitler.
I’m summarizing, of course. Ms Maddow offers more details in rousing style. This is just one of many surprising stories about fascism in America. Depressing and infuriating, it’s more history that we Americans should know. I hugely recommend the book. I, for one, was unaware of the deep roots about conspiracies that have circulated through right wing circles for decades. I always believed that my fellow Americans supported the principles espoused in our Declaration of Independence, Constitution, Bill of Rights, and subsequent amendments. My ignorance embarrasses me but also blows my mind. Just shows again, I know so little about so much.
On the fiction side, I’m finishing Crime Manifesto by Colson Whitehead and beginning Widows by Lynda LaPlante.
Today’s music comes by way of JJ Cale, Brian Eno, and a television show called “The Bear”. The show often uses interesting and diverse music. I’ve been a fan of JJ Cale and Brian Eno since the early seventies. When they collaborated and released an album in 1990, I went right out and bought it. The album, Wrong Way Up, didn’t fail me. The first song on it was “Lay My Love” and showed up on “The Bear”. Since hearing it, “Lay My Love” has flickered in and out of my personal mental playlist. Today, The Neurons pushed it through into the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks).
I believe, though they won’t confirm it, that the lines hooking The Neurons were, “I am the crow of desperation” and “I am the termite of temptation”. Instead of those, though, my head rang with “I am the bastard of misinformation”. The Neurons continued my imagined stanza, “I live with what I don’t know. I try to find and remain behind, the knowledge that goes before.” Yeah, I know, I’m not a songwriter.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote, please. Coffee drinking has progressed. Onward. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 