Tag: humor

Twozdaz Theme Music

Twozda arrived on January 6, 2026 looking for all the world like it was December of 2025. It’s the same greyness which tamped down spirits and kept us chilly, forcing us to turn on the lights during the day and keep the heat running. Temperatures dance the spectrum from 38 F at my house to 41 according to Alexa with Microsoft announcing 47 F. Southern Oregon University comes in with 40.5 F.

My wife joins me at the window. “Are we in it yet?”

“I don’t know.”

She’s referring to the winter storm we’ve been warned about. Located in a protective valley, Ashland’s zone warns snow is expected above 2000 ft in Jackson County with total accumulations up to 6 inches. My house is at 2100 ft, so we in wait and watch mode.

As uncertain as the weather comes more political news. The Trump administration announced they’re withholding social services funds for five states, all of which happen to have Democratic Party leadership. Here I was, nursing the impression that we’re a nation who harbors an all for one and one for all mentality.

Actions like this from Trump undermines our unity. He does so without offering evidence other than a announcement that there’s fraud.

Not offering any evidence is the Trump way. No evidence was ever offered that the boats he ordered to be destroyed carried any drugs. They were destroyed on Trump’s insistence that they carried fentanyl and other narcotics.

As others noted, although Trump kept insisting that Venezuela and President Maduro were involved in transporting fentanyl to the United States, fentanyl wasn’t mentioned in the charges against Maduro and his wife.

After reading the news about Trump’s activities, my mood was cratering. Fortunately, Papi the ginger blade and The Neurons rescued me. Fresh in from the cold weather, I offered Papi, “Treat?” All signs pointed to “Yes!” as his tail went straight up, his back arched, and happiness glinted in his amber gold eyes.

Laughing, I provided the treats. As Papi gobbled them up, I joked about our home being his treat shack.

In a cosmic flash, The Neurons brought “Love Shack” by the B-52’s into the morning mental music stream. I didn’t mind at all. That jaunty 1989 rocker about a funky little place where people went to have fun and socialize is the perfect antidote to the blues attempting to take over. Singing and dancing and a general elevation of spirits can’t be denied when I hear it.

Once again, I put out hope that peace and grace arise to counter what’s happening to our nation and the world. Perhaps we coffee and time, we will prevail. Cheers

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife came in, sighed, and gave a book report. She reads a lot — over one hundred novels in 2025. I read but not nearly as much, in large part because I write fiction.

I often hear two or three book reports a day from her. Today’s report launched from a familiar sore spot for her.

“Well, I’m enjoying this book, but. I have nine pages left. I know that they’re not going to wrap this story up in nine pages. Not if it’s going to make sense. That means there’s a sequel, a book two, maybe more. Why do they do this? It should be illegal. It should be a crime. If you write a book, it should have an ending, not another thousand book to read.”

Report finished, she stalked back out. A minute later, I heard her singing and cleaning the kitchen. She gets angry about it but at this point, she’s resigned to the situation. I don’t think it’ll be much longer before she begins confirming that the book has an ending before she begins reading it.

We all have our limits.

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Mundaz Theme Music

Munda, January 5, 2026. Fog imposes a grey, wet-looking wall beyond the houses and trees across the street. 37 F is shown on the thermometer and forecasts call for rain and snow, with a ceiling of 38 F forecast. Looks like winter is finally taking an interest in Ashlandia.

I will note that a friend in Alaska was raving about her weather, displaying a thermometer that said it was -2 degrees F. That was the high. She insisted that she prefers it when it stays cold and frozen. According to her, the cycle of warming, melting, and re-freezing is much worse than a steady, consistent freeze. I’ll take her word on that.

My wife and I have been concerned about weather. Videos of king waves slashing the coast and heavy rains and flooding up north and down south worry us. People have been enduring so much foul weather. We’ve been spared but watching the situation, it feels like the storms were slowly pinching in around us. My conspiratorial mind, where I go to harvest ideas, whispers, maybe somebody is controlling the weather.

As we slink into 2026’s first Munda, we’re coping with news that another friend suddenly passed from cancer. More details aren’t yet known. Like Steve, who passed last year, this was another individual we saw at the lake with friends last summer. He seemed fine at the time and didn’t mention any health issues. Just another shock to the system in a cascade of shocks.

As I perused news and texted Mom and Dad’s widow about matters, I told myself to try to be more upbeat and optimistic this week. Weather and the general news tone levels a heavy burden, though.

Considering the weather, I find myself reflecting about Dad more. Born in the 1930s, Dad lived and worked in multiple states and every region. Dad was born in Pennsylvania. Mom was from Iowa, and he met her in either Minnesota or Nebraska.

After my parents married, they lived in Virginia, Texas, and California. He and I lived in West Virginia and Ohio. He was also stationed in the south and in New York and Indiana. Then he moved to Texas and met his third wife, and stayed in Texas.

A poker and pool fan, Dad enjoyed renting an RV and driving from San Antonio in Texas to Laughlin, Reno, and Las Vegas, Nevada. He also rented an RV to visit his other son in Utah. Then the RV was turned east and Dad visited his brother in Kentucky. The next leg was a drive to Georgia so Dad could visit his daughter and grand- and great-grandchildren.

Dad’s wife didn’t go with him. She’d fly to each place and return home! Oh, it’s all so funny to me, and remembering lifts my spirits.

While trying to adjust my mood today, The Neuron suggested a song called “Old Time Rock and Roll”. Bob Seger recorded and released it in 1978. Nothing particularly called me specifically from the lyrics. I appreciate the song’s beat and energy. It’s a good rhythm in the morning music mental stream to kickstart my energy. I’ll also drink some coffee, which will also help.

Hope your day is brighter and warmer than mine. May peace and grace lift your spirits and give us all a shot of optimism. Cheers

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It’s A Church Thing

Papi the ginger wonder was beating on the front door. Technically, it wasn’t the front door but the narrow vertical window alongside the door. Seeing me approaching, he opened up and let out an indignant meow.

“Okay, okay,” I said, letting him in. Papi dashed past towards his refueling station like an Indy 500 pit stop. As I shut the door, I saw a flyer hanging from the knob.

I walked into the office reading the flyer. “This was on the front door. It’s about a church grand opening.”

My wife answered, “I don’t think we’re interested in that. We’re not church people.”

“I know but I want to know what church it is. Huh, it’s on Siskiyou. It’s a Baptist Church.”

A chortle spilled from my wife. “Oh, hell no. I’m a recovering southern Baptist. No way I’m setting foot in that place.”

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Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

While out shopping yesterday, my wife and I took a break and had dinner out. Our waiter introduced himself as Zack and displayed charm, humor, and natural friendliness. We’ve eaten at this place regularly, so we quickly ordered and off Zack went.

Our salads were brought and eaten. Then we waited Zack kept coming by, asking, need more beer, more bread, or anything else? We smiled, turned everything down, and waited for our meal.

When it finally arrived, Zack grinned. “I’m sorry it took so long. I was getting worried.”

I replied, “You were getting worried? I was asking myself, what did that Zack do with our order?”

Zack rewarded me by doubling up in laughter.

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Satyrdaz Wandering Thoughts

Eating oatmeal remains a little messy and problematic. It almost slipped off the spoon and down my chin.

Wait, I should set it up right: I’m talking about reverse days. That clarifies it, doesn’t it?

Maybe if I go further back, this will begin making sense.

I’m right-handed. Years ago, I decided that I would be right-handed on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’d be left-handed on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Sunday was dealer’s choice.

I began easy and worked my way into more difficult efforts. Along the way, I grew deeper appreciation for what left-handers must suffer in order to cope with our right-hand biases. My house feels specifically set up for a right-hand user. I never thought about that when I bought it; I accepted it as ‘normal’. I realized that many things can be changed to accommodate a left-hander, matters like how the faucets are oriented, and the way the dryer and refrigerator doors open.

After my practice with reverse days, I can only imagine how difficult daily life must be for natural left-handers. Learning to drive must require a Herculean effort.

Beyond those, I’ve become fascinated with how my right and left hands have negotiated into who does what. Holding and eating a banana, for example. I found that I hold my banana in my left hand so I can peel it in my right. Yet, I continue to hold it in my left hand while I eat it.

The most daunting task for reverse days: definitely shaving. I can shave my face okay with my left hand. But my left hand hasn’t earned my trust for trimming my mustache and beard. An electric razor is used for that task. Using it to shape things requires careful movement and concentration. I like it just so, you know. Although I’ve picked up my razor with my left and braced myself to do it and yet…wincing, returned it to my right. Yes, I am a chicken.

I’m sure I’ll someday summon the courage to permit the left hand to give the electric razor a go. Until then, the left hand won’t know what the right hand is doing.

Then it’ll learn just how hard it is being right.

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

I was at Albertson’s. The people ahead — man, woman, and younger woman — were paying. Setting my items onto the belt, I spotted a tub of deli pasta salad and held it up. “Who does this belong to?”

Attention swiveled. “Whoops,” the man said, laughing.

In the same instant, the young, blond cashier cried out, “Oh, no, I made a mistake, I missed something!”

The woman fluttered a hand. “It’s not a problem. Don’t worry about it.”

The young woman gasped. “Oh, no, we can’t go without that!”

Amused as the error was fixed, I hid a private chuckle, entertained by the reactions.

We’ve all been there.

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Fridaz Theme Music

Welcome, welcome, welcome. It’s First Frida, January 2, 2026, a day traditionally celebrated with food, drinks, and jokes. Here is my joke. Fittingly for this era, it’s AI provided.

I once tried to do nothing.
It took all day.

Currently 49 to 54 F in Ashland with an expected high of 54 to 57. Strong winds are singing their warnings. Grey clouds and sunshine square dance.

I sent my stepmother a condolence card today. I was just expressing my appreciation for what she and her family did for Dad, providing him the love and comfort of a family. Mom, Dad’s first wife, and his biological children from that union, could never work that out. Too many variables to reduce it to understanding. Dad was part of that. As he once told Mom, he didn’t mature until he was 35.

My mood is all over the place today. As I shift away from Dad’s death and the reflections they provoked, I’m moving into the new year and trying to re-engage politics. I don’t want to be a downer. I want to be honest. My mood is up, as is my spirit, but then I read about the latest news, and the sighs creep out of me.

While a new year has begun, Trump hasn’t changed for the better. He’s projecting again, calling Democrats ‘the worst’. I suspect criticism of him squeezed past his handlers. He knows he’s not being held in high regard, and actions he lauds as being great are being disparaged. So it goes in 2026 as it was in 2025, 2024, 2023… That leopard doesn’t change his spots.

After reading political news, my cheeky Neurons introduced “Radio Ga Ga” into the morning mental music stream. That made me laugh. The 1984 Queen song is a nostalgia look back at the radio era as television and music videos rose in popularity. The Neurons jumped on the a chorus after reading about Trump.

[Chorus]
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio goo goo
Radio ga ga
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio blah, blah

Radio goo goo, radio ga ga, radio blah blah. That’s too often Trump.

The song itself, though, uplifts me. This particular version, with Freddy Mercury out in front, feels powerful.

With 2026 underway, I hope to see meaningful and positive changes for you and me. May grace and peace come together with us. Cheers

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Dad

Reviewing life with Dad after he’s passed away.

Married while they were young, divorced while I was young, Mom seemed to give Dad a bum rap, something I didn’t appreciate until I was older and knew Mom and Dad better as adults.

Dad married three times. He sired seven children, two girls and five sons. Only two of his sons lived to adulthood.

One son tragically died in a car accident when he was just five years old. Dad was at his saddest and most silent then, and I was beside him at his son’s funeral.

I only lived with Dad twice: when I was very young until I was about five years old, and then again between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. I’d run away from home. Dad, in the Air Force and just returned to the U.S. from assignment in Germany, gave me a place to live. I was at his wedding with his second wife.

I’ve seen and visited him sporadically throughout the years. We talked on the phone more during the last few years, something that he actively pursued, trying to mend and improve our relationship.

Dad at 92, August of 2025.

Dad taught me to pee behind a bush. We lived in Arlington, Virginia in a rented house on a cul-de-sac at the top of a hill. Dad was in the Air Force; Mom was a telephone operator. Mom was working, and Dad, with the children, was locked out of the house. I announced that I needed to pee. Dad led me behind some bushes by the side of the house and told me to go. I was horrified but did it with his encouragement.

Mom came home just after I finished my business. I rushed out to her to inform her of my milestone. She was shocked and angry. Dad just laughed and laughed. He would’ve been in his mid-twenties.

I also give Dad credit for teaching me how to wrestle, how to catch and throw a ball, and how to ride a bike. He gave me his baseball gloves and bats when he came home on a visit and realized that I didn’t have either.

He also gave me his love of automobiles and encouraged me to think about problems and find my own solutions. Looking back, he was surprisingly patient and positive.

I don’t remember any Thanksgivings with Dad. We did share a few Christmases, and some July 4th celebrations. Most of those, though, were with Mom. He did take me on a fishing trip and gave me my first and only fishing rods.

Like many of us, Dad was a balance, a study in life, striving and trying, learning, and sometimes failing. But he always got back up and went on. I haven’t seen him much since he turned 85 seven years ago. I’ll miss him.

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Twozdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

In under-reported news, I discovered that Trump found Sasquatch. He posted a text about it, but the fake news didn’t cover it, probably because they hate him so much.

“It wasn’t hard to find him,” Trump wrote. “Turned out he’s a nice guy, a great guy. So smart, amazingly smart. We talked about thirty minutes. Then he told me, ‘Sir, you’re the first person I’ve ever encountered who just wanted to talk to me. I am so honored to meet you.’”

Trump said he later received a text from Sasquatch on Truth Social, inviting Trump to publicize the meeting. Trump wrote, “I told Footy – that’s what I call him, Footy, because some people call him Big Foot. He does have big feet, really big feet. I don’t call him Big Foot. Because that’s rude, that’s a rude thing to say, a terrible thing to say. So I call him Footy. I told Footy, you have an open invitation to visit me any time, anywhere, day or night. My door’s always open to you.”

Trump also visited Area 51 last week. Area 51 is a top secret military facility where all the aliens who have come to Earth are kept.

Trump reported that he met several aliens.

“Good looking little guys. All green, with big black eyes. Nice guys, great guys, so smart, amazingly smart. We talked about thirty minutes, me and three of them, four of them. They told me, ‘Sir, you’re the first person we’ve ever met who just wanted to talk to us. We are so honored to meet you.’ The aliens told me that they’ve been trying to go public, trying to get out of the secure area, but that Democrat scum wouldn’t let them out. I told them, ‘Don’t worry, little guys, I’ll get you out. I promise you, I’ll get you out. If anyone can get you out, it’s me. I’m better at getting people out than anyone in history. I’ve gotten more people out than anyone else ever has, huge numbers, huge. More numbers than you can imagine. It’s just amazing what I’ve been able to do.”

Continuing his amazing streak, Trump said that he went to Ireland and hunted down some Leprechauns.

In an interview, Trump said, “Good looking little guys. Dressed in green. Nice guys, great guys, so smart, so amazingly smart. We talked about thirty minutes, two, three of them, and me.

“They told me, ‘Sir, you’re the first person we’ve ever met who didn’t try to take our pot of gold.’ They had the pot of gold just sitting there. I noticed it, big, beautiful pot of shiny gold, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I noticed it. How can I not notice something that beautiful? But it’s gold. I’m the wealthiest person in the world. You know that, right? I’m the wealthiest person in the world. First person in the world worth a gazillion dollars. That’s me. The first one. What do I need with more gold? I don’t. I already have most of the gold in the world. I have like 90, 99 percent of it. There’s a little bit I don’t have, but not much, not much. The Leprechauns told me, ‘Sir, go ahead and take our gold. We know you’ll put it to good use.’

“So I took it. I took their gold. Not because I need it but because they invited me to take it. Why shouldn’t I take it? Who wouldn’t take it? It’s not really that much gold. I already have more gold than I know what to do with. I’ve been melting it down, making things out of it. You should see the things I make. Beautiful stuff, beautiful. I show it to people when they visit. I show them all my beautiful gold things that I made. Pens and stuff. Shoes. Computer disks, whatever I see, coffee mugs, razors, stuff like that. Underwear. I’m wearing gold underwear now, did you know that? Gold speedos. Speedos made out of gold. So comfortable, amazingly comfortable. You should wear them. That’s why I walk the way I do. That’s why my posture is so good. My posture is perfect. You’ve probably noticed it. It’s perfect. It’s the gold underwear, the gold speedo. Of course, you have to have the right body to wear gold underwear. You can really only wear it right if you’re perfectly built, like me.

“I also make more practical things. Guns. Bullets. Knives. Golf clubs. I have so much gold, I don’t care. People tell me, ‘Sir, it’s amazing what you do with gold. You truly have the Midas touch. You should put this on display. People would pay to see it.’

“But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to put that stuff on display. I’m too modest. If I wasn’t so modest, I’d probably get more credit for all the great things I’ve already done, and the great things I’m going to do. I’m not like Sleepy Joe Biden, always going around LYING ABOUT WHAT HE DID. That’s not me. That’s why I don’t get enough credit. That’s why I didn’t win the Nobel Peace Prize. Didn’t win the Pulzer Prize, either, what’s it called? The one they give for books? Yeah, the Pulzer. I should’ve won that, too. I’ve written so many amazing books. Beautiful books. I always put them under other people’s names. But they’re like, number one on all the lists. They’re the best-selling books of all times. But I don’t tell anyone that I wrote them. I just write them for fun. I don’t need the money. What do I need with more money? I’m the richest man in the world. Only person in the world worth ten bazillion dollars, did you know that? No, you don’t know that, because nobody gives me credit for how rich I am. That’s because they all hate me. I don’t know why. I think it’s because they’re so jealous of me because I’m so rich and successful. What do you think? Think that might be why they hate me?”

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