It’s a flat Mickey Mouse circuit. Enter from the main road. Then into the quick left right complex. Hard 90 follows. Accelerate up the short side straight.
Then a fast lefthand sweeper into to the end of the line. Creep up, order, and shoot back out into traffic.
Or, the less used option. wheel around and rush into a parking slot. Park, jump out. Fast walk to the door. Get inside and then —
Options: pick up order at the counter and hustle back out. Or order at the counter. Stand back, cross arms and wait, hip thrust out, staring as they prepare your order. Tap foot as needed.
Rare option: enter, order, sit. Pull out ‘puter. Do typy/clicky things.
I logged into my wife’s email account to help her sort an issue.
Correction: I tried to log into her email.
They — Hotmail, or whatever mastermind now behind it — wanted to send me a code to my wife’s second email address to log into the Hotmail.
So I filled in the second email account and went to log into it to receive a code to log into the first email account
Voila. The second email account wanted a code to log into it. They wanted to send it to the first email account.
To summarize: to log into one email account, they wanted to send a security code to a second email account but to log into the second email account, I had to log into the first email account to get a code to get into the second email account.
I always knew this was where tech was heading. It’s pretty FUBAR.
Mood: Bureausilized (when activities are rendered useless by bureaucracy and become fossilized)
Good morrow, gentle folk and fellow coffee guzzlers. Today is Tuesday, May 14, 2024.
For the record, we’re fully overcast in Penn Hills, PA. It’s comfortable out, 61 F, with rain and thunderstorms chugging our way. They’re scheduled to arrive noonish. Today’s high will stroke out at 72 F.
Trump on Trial (the hush money/business fraud business) holds my family enthralled. Details are reiterated and explored. They’re also enjoying Trump’s latest tax issues, whereby he seems to be on the hook for $100,000,000 in taxes.
But doubt has been expressed that anything significant will emerge from either of these matters. Trump is white, male, and wealth, even if he may not be as wealthy as he claims. He’s also an ex-POTUS and the woeful GOP’s current candidate. Looking at the crime and punishment Venn diagram, significant punishment and karma don’t seem likely. The lesson reinforced for most of us, I think, is that the U.S. has a tiered justice system that mocks ‘and justice for all’.
The Hunt for Mom’s Caregiver goes miserably. All agencies contacted have suggested other agencies to contact. It’s a quagmire of links and promises, but little of substance is ever found. Others have found caregivers, so it is possible. Just need to moving out of expectations that any government agency will be useful.
Likewise, there’s no movement on Mom’s hospital bed request. In his case the road goes through her PCP’s office. Calling it is like shouting into a sewer. There’s not even an echo in response.
Today’s theme music veers to remembrance of David Sanborn’s work. The saxophonist died this week, robbing us of another wonderful musical talent. While more talented musicians keep emerging, the ones who marked us with their style should remain recognized and appreciated.
One of the first songs The Neurons pulled up for David Sanborn was David Bowie’s “Young Americans” from 1975. Then, as I read appreciations about him, many more people mentioned this same song. Sanborn’s body of work was much better than that, though.
I like this video which I found to showcase Sanborn. Not the best sound quality, but there’s a lot of talent on display here beyond Bowie and Sanborn. So many of them have passed.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Meanwhile, create and adhere to a vision of a better world. We make it happen, yes, we can make it happen.
Take them in and grin, giggle, and guffaw at existence. I particularly enjoy the Presidential goals. True yet funny, it aptly encapsulates GOP goals and progress for most of the last forty years.
Infloofpacitate(floofinition) – Movement, positions, or activities limited by an animal or animals’ presence. Origins: Early Common Floof Era, from Middle Floofish. First noted use in England, circa 600 CE.
In Use: “Many people find themselves infloofpacitated by an unwillingness to disturb a furry friend napping on their body”
It’s arrived at last, Saturday, May 11, 2024. Those who have been waiting for this day can let their breaths out. It’s here.
Sun is here as well, gleaming off metal and glass, raising hopes that spring and winter has passed. Not for Mom, though; she prefers winter’s cosy parameters, disliking the heat and humidity that summer ladles out once it’s in control.
All is not perfect out there. White clouds are fronting the hazy horizon. It’s a comfortable, even refreshing 53 F now. But — you knew it was coming — the weather masters inform us that rain will be here in three hours. So precise, aren’t they? Our high won’t eclipse 60 F. Meanwhile, my wife told me that they’d squeaked past 80 F back in Ashlandia.
I watched a lot of “Trump on Trial” with Mom on MSNBC this week. Man, they love discussing the details on those shows, trying to spin, what does it all mean? They emerge with titillating ideas about whether each witness was positive or negative for Trump, the defense, and the prosecution. They’re giddy over what Cohen will say.
But wait, there’s more! There are two witnesses next week. Who will it be besides Cohen? What does this mean for the trial? It is fascinating theater. I’m more interested in the outcome.
Listening and watching, I do wonder what’s going on in Trump’s head. He looks like crap. I wonder what the jurors are thinking. Will they buy the idea, one, that Trump didn’t pay any attention to these $35,000 checks he was signing from his personal account because he was too busy, that he had no idea what they were for?
Can the jurors agree that there was no sex at all? That’s it’s just a con job by Stormy Daniels?
Is it conceivable for the jurors to conclude that Cohen came up with this on his own, that Trump was totally clueless and uninvolved?
Well, there are people who think the Earth is flat.
Weezer is riding the morning mental music stream (Trademark buried). The song is from 2005, “Perfect Situation”. The Neurons introduced it after I rhetorically inquired of myself this morning, am I insane? That dovetailed with the song’s opening lines, “What’s the deal with my brain? Why am I so obviously insane?”
Stay fresh and regularly bathe. Also, be positive and stay strong. Aaannnd, Vote Blue in 2024. I’m drinking coffee now, and it’s good going down. Yeah, baby.
Michael Seidel, writer 