Tag: humor

Munda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

Trump wants a Peace Prize. I believe him worthy of winning an Ig Nobel Peace Prize this year.

As a man of peace, he has successfully orchestrated a roundup of violent people in the United States. These people were in the U.S. posing as farmworkers, housewives, day laborers, food plant workers, mothers, fathers, and children. Using the Trump branded ESP called TSP*, his minions swept up violent criminals who are illegally in the United States by using just the power of their nose to sniff out crime before it takes place. Most amazingly, with TSP, Trump’s ICE agents are capable of identifying child criminals just by their skin color. To buttress his need for Peace, Trump had the amazing Peace Confinement Base built in Florida. After befriending alligators, Trump trained the alligators to peacefully guard the Peace Confinement Base. Unfortunatly, evil opponents to Trump’s peace efforts use that fact to malign the place as “Alligator Alcatraz”.

Trump will do anything for peace. Searching for peace between Russia and Ukraine, he humbly employed his amazing skills at changing the past to show that Ukraine was the aggressor in that war and urged their leader to accept those new facts at any cost to win peace.

Trump’s third stake in the running for the Ig Noble Peace Prize is his use of America’s military force to launch a pre-emptive strike on Iran, bravely ignoring his own military intelligence’s insights and assessments of Iran to do so. In doing so, Trump modestly noted, “Might makes right, and we have the rightest military in the world.”

Finally, Trump deserves consideration for repetitive efforts to bring peace to others in the world by bringing them under his Umbrella of Peace**. This includes violently afflicted hellholes such as the barbarous and backwards New York City, the swamp of killing named Canada, the miasma of murder known as Greenland, and the Panama Canal.

Surely Trump’s words and behaviors have earned him the right to stand before the world and accept an Ig Noble Peace Prize.

Trump has won an Ig Nobel before, for his bold influence on medical science in 2020 after the COVID-19 pandemic began. He shared that prize with many others, though, who offered the same sort of impact on life in that trying period. I believe the time has come for D.J. Trump to stand alone and get recognition for his impact on peace.

Unfortunately, he will not win. The Ig Noble Prizes are satirical and made to make people laugh and think. There is at once too much and nothing to laugh about with Trump, and none of it is satirical.

But if he doesn’t win, surely a billionaire friend will create the Trump Peace Prize in his honor and make him the first recipient. Then they’ll need to retire the prize. Nobody else can ever be worthy. Unless they offer enough money.

*TSP: Trump Special Power

**Trump brand gold-plated Umbrella of Peace is available online for $25,000. Autographed editions are available for an additional $5,000. Order yours fast, as supplies are limited to the first 47 people. Made in China. Not subject to tariffs. Not available to Democrats or Liberals. All sales are final.

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The Writing Moment

I’d been to the coffee shop, typing, writing a new novel. I love writing new novels, letting the ideas jump out of my head and into a document. They’re often crazy, and I frequently struggle to get it right on the digital pages.

Reaching home, talking with my wife, I shook my head. “I really wrote some weird stuff today.” I was honestly baffled. “It wasn’t planned at all. I don’t know where it’s going.”

It scared me, too. My nerves were screaming, that stuff is all so crazy. And it was completely contrary to what I’d planned. Yet, you know, it felt right.

That night, I awoke thinking about what I’d written and how it had ended. Suddenly, lights went on in my head. The dark and twisted path of the plot and story that I could barely seen was brightly illuminated. I knew what to write next, and abruptly comprehended the novel’s full course. At least for now.

Who the hell knows how it’ll change? It’s all a mystery to me. I’m just the writer.

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The Look

A woman entered the coffee shop. Not a busy place this day, I typed, half-watching her as I do with almost everyone who walks into my line of sight. I noted that she put down her small case and then paused, head swinging around, a small frown creasing her face. Picking her case up, she drifted toward the coffee shop’s center.

I knew the look. Walking over, I said, “Excuse me,” and pointed at the table she’d been at when I had her attention. “There’s an outlet in the middle under the bench.”

Seeing the outlet, she laughed and said, “Oh, thank you!”

Nodding, I answered, “I knew the look,” followed by, “You’re very welcome,” and headed back to my seat, feeling really good about helping someone else in such a small way.

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Floofsy

Where is the fur

Where is the purr

Where is the regarding gaze

Maybe out in the sun

Somewhere having fun

Or resting in some shade

Then he arrives

Taking me by surprise

Leaping onto my lap

To tell his news

Through chirps and mews

It’s my buddy, my fur friend, my cat

3

Frida’s Theme Music

Frida’s here and the smoke is here, and the heat is coming. It’s July 11, 2025, 68 F locally, 93 F pitched as the day’s high. I stepped outside to check it all out and smoke jumped into me and kickstarted my sinuses into broken water line mode. I ditched the outside work planned and vacuumed instead.

My spouse last used this vacuum. Like many Boomer Americans, we are over vacuumed. A cranky, ancient Hoover is on standby along with some Black & Decker Dustbuster copy cat, and a central vac system. I was using the central with the power head. This system features three outlets and a 30-foot long vacuum hose.

The hose was tangled into several knots. As I untangled it, I grumbled to myself about my wife’s tangling habits. I’d just untangled her hair dryer cord and her Apple laptop cord. This seems to be a world of tanglers and untanglers. Knotters and Unknotters.

Firings, tariffs, lies, and bullshit highlight the Trump news day cycle. More flooding struck several states; more wildfires have forced evacuations. The biggest news circulating at the mo seems to be Trump’s efforts to coerce Brazil not to enforce due process in their nation by slamming them with a 50% tariff. Such a law and order person, isn’t he? Yeah, that’s snark.

Today’s song is “Ride Captain Ride” by Blues Image. The song was popular in the U.S. in 1970. I recall being with my friend, Scott, and talking about the song, as he was supremely enamored with it. It’s a mellow rock tune and one that invoked a faraway cast to his gaze. I heard that he died of a drug overdose a few years later and have always wondered if the song about sailing to another world was his secret fantasty. Come on, we all have them, those secret fantasies. Before I move on from the song, I want to mention, this is the only Blue Image song I know.

Off to pursue my not-so-secret writing. Have the best Frida available. Cheers

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Sunda’s Theme Music

Sorry that I’m late with posting. Hope all were still able to carry on.

Today is Sunda, July 6, 2025. Temp right now, at 6:30 PM, is 94 F. Sunshine floods the valley and clouds have are absent, giving us an endless blue vision.

Slept the day away after requesting wife drive me to ER at 2:20 AM. Spent three hours there. Paralyzing and mounting abdominal plague began haunting me at 10:30 PM. Despite a pain killer, some antacids, and a couple glasses of water, it kept ratcheting up, and nausea began a background chorus. So, with deep and persistent mutterings about intercourse and life, we went to our local ER. The pain began in my back against my spine but soon became a traveller, going all over my upper abdominal area. I joked that an alien was in there trying to break out. BP was way up, temperature was normal. A couple rounds of morphine were IV’d into me. Blood was drawn. EKG was completed: looked great. Everything came back normal. With kidneys working, a CT scan was done: all normal among my organs. They finally said: looks like gas.

WHAT? WHAAAT? WHAAATTT?

Oh, wait. There might be something going on with your gall bladder. A follow-up course was established to investigate it.

The doctor said, avoid fatty foods and fried foods, and hydrate. Still moaning and groaning with pain and ab tenderness, my wife transported me home. I went in and violently puked for a couple minutes. With the tv on for company and a hot compress on my abs, I played with sleep. Pain subsided enough for a few hours and sleep was brokered. At 9:30, I consumed painkillers and anti-nausea meds they’d sent home with me. I returned to the idea of sleeping and fitfully did a Z dance for the next few hours before finally getting pain free at noonish. A bowl of buckwheat mash with blueberries and a couple chucks of papaya were cautiously consumed. Deep sleep came in for a four hour shift. And, BTW, my wife did a great job of taking care of me, as she always does

After being morphine’d while I was at ER, The Neurons ordered a dose of “King of Pain” by The Police for the early morning mental music stream. I laughed at the little skunks and their humor but the 1983 hit song is today’s theme music.

It’s been a no-coffee day. Dinner was a sweet potatoe with steamed veggies. Triple digits are playing for the area tomorrow. Time will tell with what comes next. Cheers

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WP Blues

WordPress blues struck again. Reading another’s post, I moved to comment. WP responded, hey, is this you? We’re asking because you’re not logged in.

I clicked to another tab which indeed showed me logged in.

That led me to an uncomfortable place. I don’t want to log in and re-enter my password on a page asking for such when I’m already demonstrably logged into that site. Cause, suspiciously, even though the URL looked okay and the page seemed genuine, it smelled. It this wasn’t a digital offering on a laptop but instead something tangible, it would stink like milk left out in a hot apartment for a month. It would arouse suspicions like a Nigerian prince offering me a million dollars if I just loaned him five grand for a day.

That’s how we live these days, at least in my abode, where phones aren’t answered unless the number is known, where unexpected packages are treated with deadly caution, strangers knocking on the door are ignored, and links in emails are triple-vetted.

Of course, it might have been some sort of WordPress malfunction. That kinda happens, too.

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Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

Sunshine hangs long and hot. The temperature rests at 95 F. The sky darkens, heralding a fleet of clouds. The fleet burgeons as more clouds drift over to see what happens. Darkening and darkening under added layers of clouds, the sunshine skips out on the rest of the day. So dark at 4 PM, we’re forced into turning on houselights. Thunder cruises through with long throat clearing. We look out, talking out our thoughts, “Looks lik it’s going to rain.” “It’s going to storm.”

Wind dashes around and through the trees. Then it sinks.

The day grows still and dark. Feeling bored, the thunder slinks off. The darkness stays, the clouds remain, and the temperature puts it hat on 87 F, and stays there. Tension builds as we wait and look, asking each other, looking outside for clues, surfing the net for information. Friends share on the net, “weird weather.” No one knows nothin’; we wait.

It’s weather’s move.

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