After Donald J. Trump, former POTUS, and forever liar and criminal, was found guilty of 34 counts of falsifying documents last May, Republicans jumped up to whine about the legal system.
“The weaponization of our justice system has been a hallmark of the Biden Administration,” Johnson said, “and the decision today is further evidence that Democrats will stop at nothing to silence dissent and crush their political opponents.”
Hilarious, Speaker Johnson, just hilarious. Love how you’re conflating New York state’s legal system with President Biden’s DOJ, a part of a Federal branch of government.
“Absolute injustice,” Sen. Tim Scott (R-S.C.), who is vying to be Trump’s vice presidential pick, said in a statement. “This erodes our justice system. Hear me clearly: You cannot silence the American people. You cannot stop us from voting for change.”
Yes, sure, Sen. Scott. I think the American people on the jury spoke clearly, but you didn’t listen. They, after listening to testimony and examining evidence, said, “GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY.GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY. GUILTY.”
And what, Sen. Scott, is the ‘voting for change’ that you’re pursuing? You planning to change the Sixth Amendement to the U.S. Constitution?
As the Jennifer Bendery and Arthur Delaney Huffpost article notes, Republicans aren’t denying that Trump isn’t guilty. Nope, they just lobbed accusations without evidence or proof, and whined.
Except for a small number, the GOP has become such an abhorrent party of empty-headed sycophants.
It’s Saturday, June 1, 2024. The year is plowing into its second half. Probably will be as fucked up as the first half, perhaps more. The board has been set for that.
I’m back home, where I’m happy to be, although I was living a good life back in Penn Hills, visiting with family and enjoying Mom’s company. I can tell you about the long day of travel to reach home but I made it unscathed. Although it’s much better than taken wagon across the nation or driving backroads in something like a Ford Model T, this mess of late arrivals and departures, full flights, and constant jockeying for a place in an aircraft feels like the new norm. Airports must be thrilled; bet business is up at all those airport restaurants, and that’s probably good for the restaurant. Airlines are probably indifferent: the bottom line is financial and not customer satisfaction.
It’s a pleasant 79 F here in Ashlandia, where the ground is dry and the greenery is browning. Left the house Thursday at 5:30 AM back in Penn Hills, got home Friday at about 1. Been playing catch up since. That’s what you do when you return from traveling. But my wife, cats, and house all seem fine, as does the town.
I leaned about former POTUS Trump’s convictions while traveling. I was surprised. I honestly anticipated a hung jury and can tell you I’m really happy to have been wrong.
Listening to reactions since amuses me but brought little surprise. His stout supporters, which seems to be most of the GOP these days, still insist that the doddering, inept individual who is too old to be POTUS has pulled another one over Trump and the GOP. While I don’t agree with their characterization of President Biden, even the GOP must admit that their party and its candidate must be woefully unprepared and even more inept to allow President Biden to take down the GOP and Trump as he’s apparently done. I mean, to cast President Biden as so incapable and then have someone that’s so incapable beat Trump and the GOP down so completely must feel like a huge burn.
But no; they can’t hold such reasoning in their mind. Even though some of them claim Trump is sent by God. Guess their God abandoned them. It’s bizarre and sad thinking over there in MAGA Land.
Telling you, though, I think this trial chewed Trump up. Here he is, one unsullied by justice and the legal system suddenly being forced to sit in a courtroom and listen to the truth being told about him. Hearing 34 times that he’s guilty. Hearing twelve impartial jurors saying that he’s guilty.
Look at him. He looks tired. Worn out. OLD.
Listen to that speech after he left the courtroom. OLD. TIRED. LISTLESS.
Yes, his mojo took a big hit.
Today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark unsullied) comes from Taylor Momsen. Seems that a bat bit The Pretty Reckless vocalist when they were opening for AC/DC. I thought, that’s pretty fucked up.
Bang, The Neurons leaped on that. See, one of The Pretty Reckless’s songs is “Fucked Up World” from 2014. It’s a fairly raw rocker:
Back to these back door bitches begging me to behave Jamming Jesus down my throat, no, I don’t wanna be saved Ain’t a chain on my brain, I’m nobody’s slave I got one foot in the cradle and one in the grave
It’s Thursday, May 30, 2024. Beautiful light blue sky with a little haze is outside the window. Sunny and 52 F.
I’m seeing the world through the Pittsburgh airport windows waiting for my Alaska Air flight. I was supposed to be leaving at 7:50 AM. About six minutes from now. Instead, estimated take off is now 9:18 AM.
That prevents me from my next leg, which was to be my final leg, Seattle WA to Medford OR. Now I’m going from Seattle to Salt Lake City to Medford. Instead of arriving about noon in Medord, I’m arriving about midnight. That sucks for my wife, who is picking me up.
Yeah, it’s all first world blues, innit? Still have food and a decent life. Just a series of bumps on this travel day, so I’m whining about it. I mean, I’m not out in a storm or getting shot at. I’m wired with a computer and reading the news.
And there’s a comic aspect. As I cope with these fight changes, the airline is urging me to start planning my next flight with them.
With this skewed schedule echoing in my head, The Neurons have Molly Hatchett performing “Flirtin’ with Disaster” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark delayed). The 1979 song isn’t quite right for the situation but I’d need to feed them more java before The Neurons will come up with something better.
Thank you to my sweetheart of a little sister and her daughter for getting up and picking me up and driving me to the airport. They’re both awesome people. They’re always doing things for me and treating me like a friggin’ prince, so I’m always in debt to them.
I’m coffeeing up. Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Let’s Vote Blue this year, shall we?
Floofsize(floofinition) – To have something upended or knocked over by an animal. Origins: late 1890s, first noted in Mississippi.
In Use: “Karol the Terrorcat walked along the dresser, leaving floofsized bottles and items on the floor in her wake.”
In Use: “Galumpfh, originally named Wilson by the family’s youngest member, often floofsized furniture when he galloped through the house, shaking the floor with his floofnormous thunderpaws.”
Floofraiser(floofinition) – Actions, sounds, or activities which will draw an animal’s attention or make them move. Origins: Mid 1960s, modern Floofish, first reported use in western Pennsylvania.
In Use: “Many people quickly find that cans opening or a kibble rattle are sure floofraisers, with animals galloping to the source as soon as they hear the sound.”
In Use: “The vacuum cleaner was a floofraiser for Barney, causing the big dog to hustle to another room floof haste, but Stormy merely yawned and dared the roaring machine to come closer to her.”
I heard thunder. Racing outside, I witnessed the end of a rain shower. Sunshine was back on the scene.
That delicious smell of rain-freshened air and earth pulled me in. Moving to the porch’s edge and look up into a deep well of dark gray clouds. Capping the view across the valley was a bold, full rainbow stretching over the entire scene.
Infloofuate(floofinition) – Behavior or attitude by or toward an animal filled marked by or filled with excessive, foolish, or extravagant admiration, love, or affection.
In Use: “Making biscuits whenever she jumped on Brenda’s lap, following her around and engaging in everything that Brenda did were just a few of the signs that Crystal was infloofuated wth Brenda.”
In Use: “Demonstrating how infloofuated she was with her new floof buddies, Carla built a huge catio and bought her boys a fancy litter box and several trees and beds.”
Boys and girls in clean baseball uniforms come into the coffee shop and wait for drinks. Last names and numbers adorn the jerseys. The young players all wear their caps with its team insignia. Crocs, or Croc wannabes adorn their feet so they’re not wearing their cleats into the shop.
The parent situation varies. Sometimes a solitary adult accompanies the young athletes; less frequently, it’s a couple. I wonder about the family situation and whether about the significance of the adult situation.
None seem particularly happy. Phones are often studied, arms crossed, as they wait. But one father and the children talk, joke, and laugh.
All so different from my years of young ball playing. This is part of the new Americana, Starbucks, phones, and Crocs. I wonder how many times these scenes play out across the land on this Monday American holiday.
Note: Returned home to discover a technical glitch in The Neurons resulted in a failure to launch.
Mood: understated
Good day. Please come in, come in. Welcome to May 26, 2024. It’s 65 F now, sunny with blue sky outlining a fleet of sulking white clouds. Thunderstorms are possible.
Thunderstorms struck yesterday
Today is part of the middle of the Memorial Day weekend. Take a mo’ to recall all those who lost their lives trying to support the United States’ ideals of freedom, equality, justice, and independence. I know those ideals have always taken some shots. Written by white men, it was mostly written to white men’s benefit. Females and other races were eventually ‘given’ the same rights and benefits as white men.
Well, that’s what it said in the words and documents. They’re based on ideals and logic. Emotions are harder to wrestle. People who don’t like those changes are hostile members of our nation and are regularly rolling over our ideals while bizarrely claiming to be promoting our ideals through their abhorrent behavior. It’s a headscratcher.
My sisters and BIL and I went to the Pitt Floyd show in Oakmont last night. It’s a beautiful old theater, and we had a good time. Most of my good time was because I was with family. The sisters and I laughed and acted silly, and BIL gave perfect support.
The music was okay, as were the accoustics. The show could have used a good sound engineer to balance the notes and volumes, but we can’t have everything. Hearing the collection of PF songs fired a spectrum of emotions. Their early music came out while I was a teenager. Their music was part of my life as albums came out and I went to their shows and cheered the new stuff. They aged, of course. Several members died. This is life. I thank them all for their talents, and thank last night’s musicians for their talents, too.
I had a bizarre incident after I left the show. I’ve been having an issue with my right foot. A matter of pain, motion, and support. Those facets all wax and wane, sometimes limiting my effort to properly walk but generally ceasing after a few minutes.
Well, last night, we left the show. Encountering the band’s female vocalist, we complimented her for the show and her talents. Then, walking across the street, I made a step and turn.
Snap, went my right foot. Crack followed. My foot released its support. My right leg felt like it was kicked out from under me.
I caught myself before I went over. Pain burned through my right foot. Righting myself, I hobbled to the car. By the time I was home, agony has established a home in that foot. Diclofenac Sodium Topical Gel was liberally applied. I slept with my foot on a pile of pillows. It was an uncomfortable night. As a 68 year old man who drank two beers earlier, I had to pee twice. Fortunately, I found an unused cane.
I stayed home this morning, eschewing writing, instead icing, exercising, and massaging my foot. I can’t see any swelling or discoloration. It’s not working right, especially when standing on it alone as I put on my underwear, and going down the steps. Especially the down part. I will live, however.
With Pink Floyd’s songs ringing in my brain and thoughts of the nation’s founders mixing in my head, The Neurons dropped a Pink Floyd tune into the morning mental music stream (Trademark censored). Mom and I had been talking about political news and she commented, “I wonder what the men who wrote the Constitution would say about what’s going on.”
Boom! The Neurons plugged “Wish You Were Here” in. What would John Adams et al say about our current situation? I think they would need to be updated about history, like the American Civil War, the Civil Rights Movement, the ERA, Roe v. Wade and Dobbs decisions, and the other wars which shaped our nation and world.
I don’t know what those guys would say. I’d hope that they’d condemn Trump’s lies and hateful propaganda. I hope they would chastise Trump’s supporters for their appalling ignorance and hypocrisy. I hope they would lecture the corporations for their greed, newspapers for doing a poor job of informing the citizenry, and come down on we citizens for not being being more involved in our nations affairs and our poor voting records.
Enjoy your day. Be strong. Vote Blue in 2024. Gotta go. A cookout calls.
