Last night’s dream was a masterclass in chaos. Had a lot of fecal matter, too.
Backing up a little, I was again in the military, running some operations center. They’d been having issues there and I arrived to fix them. Which I immediately started doing, explaining it to the young airmen there. They began to understand what I was doing.
Weird thing was, the operations center wasn’t the classic secure and windowless, vaultlike facility where I usually worked during my military career. No, this place was part of some kind of large and busy convention center. People were coming and going. Loud, it was getting busier.
After arriving and doing some things at the ops center, I drifted out and changed clothes. Well, I basically took off everything except my underwear. Then I decided to go back to work to ensure everything was okay. To do that, I donned a short, furry pink robe that barely covered my rear end. Wearing only it and my undies, off I went to work.
Musicians were finishing a conference in the ops center, something which was entirely aligned with what I expected. Although they didn’t have instruments, I knew they were musicians, holding a meeting in the ops center conference room. I talked with them a bit, asking about how it had gone, small talk.
Others were impatiently waiting to use the conference room. I rushed around to get it ready for them but so many people were going in and out that I struggled to get anything done. Part of my cleaning was to check the commodes.
The first was out on a busy floor’s center. On carpet. No walls, no way to have privacy.
Which didn’t surprise me. Getting to the toile, I found – OMG, it was completely full with feces!
I was disgusted and angry. What was wrong with people that they kept using it when it obviously not working? How did they even do it? They would have had to squat over the toilet to avoid the piled crap.
I had no idea how to clean it out; there was no water, no way to use a plunger. I would need to shovel that shit out first. I was going to find someone else to do that, and that was an issue for later.
There was another toilet availab. I rushed to check it, confirm it was okay, and tell everyone to use it. But guess what? It, too, was stopped up. It at least had water and wasn’t as full but as soon as I put a plunger in, feces-filled water slopped out.
Nuts. Filling conspicuous in my short pink robe and bare white legs, I decided to go change before trying to fix this mess. Along the way, I ran into my superiors and gave them an update on the twin messes. Then I went on to change.
Thank you to those in Ireland who took the time to make Trump a greeting for his pending visit.
h/t to Daily Kos.
Couldn’t put it better myself.
Over in sports, they’re talking about the Trump Curse. Two of the three teams Trump he mentioned as capable of winning the Superbowl, New England and the Los Angeles Rams, lost their season’s first game. It’s a long season, though. Trump will probably deny he ever said it.
Trump is scrambling like a quarterback under a fierce pass rush, trying to buy time, searching for ways to remain in power. First was the effort to block voting by mail, now thrown out by another court — or was it Republican efforts to gerrymander their way to power? The two actions were being done in parallel.
More recently came the $5K ‘Trump Dividend’, money Trump is willing to pay out of the nation’s funds if his party stays in power.
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Sunday, September 6, 2026. Ashland, southern Oregon.
I went out with Vee — our visitor cat — to check the weather situation. Heavy gray asserted itself overhead, especially to the south. 48 F, one small cup of blue sky was visible and sunshine was lost behind the clouds. “Doesn’t look like it’ll be sunny today,” I said.
“Yeah, feed me, please,” Vee answered.
‘Bout ten minutes later, rain fell. Ten minutes after than, sunshine crashed through the clouds.
Bottom line for us, it’ll be 68 F as our high, with clouds, rain, and sunshine. More springlike weather on this late summer day. Autumn is on the way.
We can use more rain. Not far away, Emigrant Lake is down to just 4% of itself now because of the long drought and the lack of snow last winter.
All quiet on the family side of life. Last I heard from any of them was the other day, when sister Gina was caught in heavy downpour in Pittsburgh while taking her grandson, now a high school student, home from his clarinet lessons. Winds blew down trees and power lines. Streets were flooding, forces many route changes. But they made it safely. Bonding with weather, I can imagine them remembering this together when he has a family and he’s visiting grandma.
Meanwhile, the White House is pushing forward to stop voting by mail, challenging recent court setbacks in the Roberts Court. I wouldn’t be surprised if they rule that Trump can proceed, 5-4, with Roberts again dissenting, questioning the legality.
Trump’s approval rating remains anchored to about 35% of the nation’s voters. The rest of us disapprove of him. So it’s no wonder that Trump is trying to game the system. That’s how he’s always gotten ahead.
Trump Approval Rating: Underwater in the Newest National Polls
I’m basically drifting right now, waiting for the Roberts Court’s ruling, waiting for the next evolution in the Iran War, waiting for the midterms, waiting, waiting, waiting. I can’t wait until Trump is gone. He’s a pox on civilization.
I ended up with Stevie Nicks and “I Can’t Wait” in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons put the 1985 there because of the song’s title. But Stevie is singing about a different kind of anticipation when she’s waiting.
Sample Lyrics
I can’t wait, I can’t wait Sometimes she talks to him Sometimes, well, she’s only dreaming Then, when she wakes up Somehow, well, she still believes him Yes, I know you Though we’ve been out of touch Yes, I know you To be continued, it’s too much, well
Although that final line, “It’s too much”, does fit.
May your day proceed without waits to find out what the hell is going to happen. Be strong and go in peace.
I was stripping off my clothes this evening when I spotted a peeping tom at the bedroom’s sliding glass door. Eyes big, they watched everything that I was doing.
Then I saw that it wasn’t a tom — it was Vee, the cat who likes visiting us. She’s not a tom. She’s a queen!
I went over and let her in. Giving a friendly chirp, she popped in and wound herself around my legs.
Knowing the ritual, I headed for the treat bag. Vee trotted alongside, veering right to rub up against my wife’s leg for a moment.
“Who is this?” my wife teased.
“Peeping tom,” I replied. Picking up the treat bag, I gave it a shake and jogged to the back door.
The peeping tom beat me to there. Back outside, I gave her treats, scratched her ears, and admonished, “Now stop peeping on me, girl.”
Walking through a sun-filled day, enjoying the shade given by the large old trees, I came up a small hill to the town cemetery. Large crows making a racket descended toward one grave.
They are such intelligent birds, I wondered what had their attention and stopped to watch.
Falling silent, the crows went into the ground.
Gawking, I stopped and waited for the crows to reappear. A wind gently stirred the trees. There must be a hole in the ground which I couldn’t see, I decided.
Looking for traffic, I started across the street but couldn’t lift my feet. My shoes felt anchored to the pavement. Run, my mind shouted. Go the other way.
Then the crows emerged from the earth.
My breath caught.
I swallowed hard. They carried something.
A large body.
The crows carried a limp, black-clothed body with their claws.
Loudly cawing, the birds flew up past the trees, lifting their burden into the blue sky. A black cloud rapidly grew above them. Cawing all the way, the crows took the body into the black cloud.
Then the cloud and birds disappeared, leaving me wreathed in a quiet, late summer day.
I stayed almost frozen, attention shifting between where the black cloud was before and the grave. After some seconds I blinked, refusing to grasp what I saw.
The grave was gone. Unmarked green grass grew where the crows had entered.
Suspecting I probably wouldn’t remember any of this, I strode on, picking up speed. Glancing back over my shoulder, I struggled to recall, what did I see back there?
Laughing at my failing memory, I went down the street, soaking up the late summer day, saying hello to a person on a bike going the other way.
Lifting my face, I deeply inhaled. The weather felt wonderful. Anything is possible on a day like this, I thought.
Saturday, August 29, 2026. Ashland, southern Oregon.
A chilly, cloudy morning. Rumors of rain are trickling around conversations. The sky is mostly blue, hazing toward white and gray as clouds collect. 58 F now, today’s high is expected to top out in the mid 70s.
I’m off to a late posting start because I instead wrote in the novel. Had been thinking about a series of scenes last night. Today, they were just there, so I sat and wrote three thousand words before I did anything except feed the cat.
Mom has responded to my texts about her house and accomplishments by first, thanking me. Her texts then devolved into complaints about how I’m her only child who will talk to her. Then she demanded that I come and visit her. She finished with complaints about the assisted living facility and staff and wished she ‘woke up dead’.
On to news, where it’s here we go again, on the hideous Trump merry-go-round.
Possible cover-ups are in line with the Trump and his administration’s standard functioning. Exhibits offered as evidence:
The Epstein files
White House ballroom
The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool
Hush money to Stormy Daniels
USS Abraham Lincoln
Trump and his cabinet insist that everything is great, but they go through acrobatic gyrations whenever they’re challenged. Threats escalate fast on their end. They blame others and insult whomever questions them. They pull credentials, threaten to sue, bluster on social media, and give hostile interviews in which they insist they’re right and everyone else is wrong.
Meanwhile, Trump’s ideas of democracy, freedom, is fully on display. He clearly doesn’t think much of serving We the People. Just wants the power of the office. Nor does he care much about history, treaties, and laws.
Trump has now announced that he secured ‘majority US control’ of much of Venezuela’s oil reserves. This comes after Trump removed Venezuela’s president by force. We the People who pay attention to history remember how regions around the world evolved into dangerous and unstable regions because nations went in, established themselves as the de facto rulers, and then began plundering their national resources.
The United States has long moved toward away from these policies, pushing for democracy. Success is erratic because it’s a messy process, involving wealthy, power, and people. Additionally, the US continued to secretly use the military or CIA to kill. Trump, though, has escalated it, and is doing so blatantly, oblivious to how these policies affect world opinion of the US.
History has shown, these kind of moves often bite us in the ass. For evidence, just look how things have played out in Iran with US intervention.
Today’s theme music is “You Talk Too Much”. This was a hit for Joe Jones in the early 1960s. I was about five years old when I first started hearing it, I think. A popular song, it achieved a lot of air play. It was also song which Mom sang while doing things around the house. She would also sing it to my sisters and I when we were trying to ask her for something. Frankly, that was very irritating.
Sample Lyrics
You talk too much You worry me to death You talk too much You even worry my pet
You just talk… Talk too much
You talk about people That you don’t know You talk about people Wherever you go
You just talk… Talk too much
You talk about people That you’ve never seen You talk about people You can make me scream
The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream in honor of Donald Trump. He talks and texts, often before engaging any brain cells. This week after thinking he can change the name of Lake Ontario with the stroke of a pen, he went on to talk about changing the names of other places in like ways.
What Ding Dong Donnie doesn’t understand, either, is that by having the US flex its powers and just do things on whims, he encourages other strong-armed nations to do the same.
What’s funny, though, is how Ding Dong Donnie doesn’t see what he’s done to the world order. He thinks other nations are jealous of us. He was angry — and probably still is, as he is one who likes to indulge in deep sulking — when other nations refused to participant in his Trumped-up war on Iran. He didn’t understand and doesn’t see that he’s burned so many bridges which were carefully build through years of diplomacy, negotiations, and practices.
I correct myself: more than not understanding, Trump doesn’t care.
Trump’s legacy of ego and failures is stacking into one of the world’s ugliest historic periods. Meanwhile, I wish he would shut up. He’s become like a dog barking all night long without reason.
I wish you the best of the best days in every way which you and I can think of.
