I heard someone reading from a book in the next room. Several women began talking about how it moved them. I thought, I want to know what this book.
But I was tired and decided I would get in bed for a nap. Just after I did, a woman entered the room. She was fully dressed but her clothes were tight, with a very low cut and revealing, sheer, flowery top. She told me that she’d been reading that book and asked if I minded if she got in bed with me. I answered that I didn’t think she should but she ignored my answer and got in bed on the other side. She moved up against me and suggested, maybe we can kiss and cuddle some. No, I replied, though I was tempted. She kept making more and more provocative suggestions. I started to give in. Would it really hurt just to kiss and cuddle? But I knew myself, knew that I’d get excited and would give in, so I again said, no. Then, I left the bed, because she wasn’t going to stop.
I went off through the house to find my wife to tell her what had happened. When I told her, she barely gave me any attention and changed the subject. I went on, talking about the book. I wanted to know what that book was and who wrote it. Saying that, I went to find the book.
Today is Thirstda, October 16, 2025. Fall sky and trees are in concert with sunshine and a spectrum of leafy colors to play against blue. Kind of visual that shows up on postcards and travelogues. Chilly 47 F but dry. Sun and air will take us to the upper sixties.
Met with my supplier last night. “Here,” she said, offering a brown paper bag. I glanced around for police or witnesses before accepting the bag. “Thanks.” She smiled. “Enjoy.”
Back in the truck, I told my driver, “Hit it.” Only then did I open the bag and peer in. Grins spread over my expression at the pretty collection of late-season figs.
Bad news for us on the ‘No Kings’ front. Ashland’s rally for this Satyrda was canceled. Couldn’t get a permit. We’ll attend the one in Medford instead.
The Epstein Shutdown has consumed over half of October of 2025. We’re still well short of the longest shutdown. That would be the Trump Shutdown of 2018-2019, which lasted 35 days. Large differences between the two include what DOGE did to the government before this shutdown, gutting the Federal infrastructure, mobilizing national guard units before this shutdown, and the deepening darkness of what’s going on with Federal spending as those functions have been kneecapped or muted. Also different this time is the capitulation of so many mainstream media outlets, aided by billionaire ownership who donate and support Trump. Last, of course, is the notorious masked ICE. They weren’t the unleashed paramilitary group they now are. Led by Kristi Noem, this force has demonstrated an eagerness to violently assault anyone who might by the wrong skin color, is in the wrong place, speaks with the wrong accent, or rolls their eyes at them.
The unsurprising news was delivered to us today that Mom’s boyfriend, Frank, passed away this morning. He would have been 96 in January. Love and light to Frank.
When Frank had his fall that precipitated his hospital stay and passing, he didn’t want Mom to call an ambulance or take him to the hospital. Told her that he was fine.
Today’s song is for Frank. Frank was a rock, dependable, reliable, steady, consistent. Not surprising that The Neurons placed “Carry On” by Fun in the morning mental music stream when the news came. Sample lyrics.
If you’re lost and alone Or you’re sinking like a stone. Carry on. May your past be the sound Of your feet upon the ground. Carry on.
Time to carry on after a few more gulps of coffee. Hope peace and grace finds us and lifts us up, and does so pretty damn soon. Okay, here we go. Cheers
Infloofspection(floofinition) – Reflective examination of animals that enhance understanding of their moods or behavior. Origins: Circa 1777, Floofin introspectus, past participle of introspicere to look inside, from intro- + specere to look + floof, for animal.
In Use: “Living with five dogs, seven cats (and counting), and several pigs, goats, birds, and a turtle, Kiki developed her infloofspection skills before she was seven.”
In Use: “Modern floofcologists have noted that human infloofspection skills are improving, in large part because of videos people share about what their furry, feathered, and scaled companions are doing, often telling why.”
The barista called out, “Regular coffee for here.”
I swear that all conversation stopped. Everyone stared, surprise mingling with wonder on their expressions. Then came a slow scan. What was that drink? Regular coffee? What is ‘regular coffee’? Who is it for?
After a few minutes, a person busily scarfing up a wedge of mushrooms and spinach quiche rushed the counter. “Is this mine?” she called as she put her hand out.
“Yes,” the barista agreed. The woman seized the cup and slurped up coffee, seemingly oblivious to the wonder going on around her.
Another rock and roll October fall day has pitched itself over Ashlandia. 39 F now, we’re expected to get over the 60 F hump and cruise to 67 F before falling back down to 40. The pattern is obvious by now, Wenzdaz, October 15, 2025. The nights are taking control, lengthening, growing colder. We know that means, winter is comin’.
No change in news from Dad’s locations. On Mom’s side, sis took Mom to see Frank. Wasn’t a good visit, as he was out of it. Mom told sis, she doesn’t think she can see him like that again. Frank is on 10 L/minute of O2 now but was on 15 as of yesterday morning. He can’t be moved from ICU until he is on 5.
After the visit, sis took Mom to get a flu shot and COVID booster, then went back that evening and made her dinner and visited with her. Another sister had a visit to Mom planned for Monday. No updates from that.
The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. It’ been two weeks.
As part of the shutdown, the Trump regime employed reverse-day logic to RIF gov. employees. CNN published a story that finely chopped up the Trump-Vance-Johnson GOP tale that, “Gosh, the Democrats made us let go of people because the government is shut down.”
Vice President JD Vance said Sunday that layoffs during the government shutdown are needed to continue critical federal assistance programs, including the WIC nutrition assistance program, and to pay the military.
“We have to lay off some federal workers in the midst of this shutdown to preserve the essential benefits for the American people that the government does provide,” he said on NBC’s “Meet the Press,” blaming Democrats for the reductions.
However, budget experts pointed to several reasons why Vance’s statement wasn’t true. Among them, many federal workers aren’t being paid during the shutdown, so laying them off wouldn’t free up any funds — plus, if they were being paid, the money wouldn’t be available for 60 days, when most must actually leave their jobs, said Bobby Kogan, senior director of federal budget policy at the left-leaning Center for American Progress and a former OMB official during the Biden administration. Also, the Trump administration last week said it will extend WIC’s funding using tariff revenue.
What’s more, any funds saved by laying off several thousand federal employees would be only a tiny fraction of what’s needed to fund WIC and the military, said Michael Linden, a former senior OMB official during the Biden administration who is now a senior policy fellow at the left-leaning Washington Center for Equitable Growth.
Yes, that’s right, it’s another Trump Regime lie exposed. Should be news — well, it was, I guess, because it was covered by CNN — but the Trump Regime lies every day, almost every hour. Those of a MAGA heart pay no heed until Trump’s actions hit them hard enough on the head to shake their beliefs. The Trump WH is a swampland of lies and corruption. It’ll take some serious work to drain that swamp and rebuild it into a functioning democractic government and kick down the disastrous framework that is Project 2025. Meanwhile, farmers are going belly up from the lack of infrastructure to support them. Prices are rising. Employment is falling. Shortages are appearing, and foreclosures are climbing. The Trump Destruction Machine is tearing the nation down.
Riddle: how many Trump Regime officials does it take to tell the truth? No one can guess because it’s never happened.
Today’s song is “Skateaway” by Dire Straits. In my head, this is called “Rollergirl”. Yes, this was obliquely related to a dream sequence of moi. Had sufficient substance found in it that The Neurons made the call to feature it in the morning mental music stream.
Here’s a lyrics sampling that prompts my head to call the song “Rollergirl”.
She gets rock and roll and a rock and roll station And a rock and roll dream She’s making movies on location She don’t know what it means And the music make her wanna be the story And the story was whatever was the song, what it was Rollergirl, don’t worry D.J. play the movies all night long, all night long
Coffee is being re-homed into my body as I type. Time to rock another day before it rocks me. Hope peace and grace comes out of the shadows to warm and shelter us all. Till then, here we go, one more time around the sun. Cheers
It’s not an accident that my house keys are always in my right-hand pocket. As part of the setting, we have two cars and one house. My wife and I don’t put our house keys and car keys on one ring. She’s apparently just emulating me. I asked her why she does it, and she told me, “You don’t put them together.”
I don’t put them together because I didn’t like keys bouncing around in the car, making noise as we drove. Attribute that to my misophonia. Certain sounds jar and irritate me. I reacted by segregating the house and car keys to reduce my sound-related irritation. Now it’s my practice to always put the house keys in my right-side pocket. Never in the coat either, but in the pants or shorts I’m wearing. I do not buy pants or shorts without pockets. Not having those pockets is just unacceptable.
Now, the house keys are in the right-side because I’m right-handed. My spouse has a habit of locking the door between the house and garage. She often does it absentmindedly. But after parking and going to enter the house, often with my hands full, it’s easier to free my right hand and pull those keys from my right-side pocket. I don’t need to wonder where they are or shift anything because I know.
See? Everything is connected. Bet you’ll sleep better knowing all that, right?
Papi’s scowl said it all. The orange boi was not happy with the weather’s latest ideas. Rain, no sunshine, chilly air? That is not orange boi weather! How dare they change the weather. He looked at me to change it back. “Sorry, dude, I wish I had that power.” Although, after I said that, I’m glad I don’t. Think of the pressure that would put you under, having the ability to change weather.
Unmollified, Papi went out and sat and sulked in protest to what I was doing to him, relenting to come in after a few minutes of protesting gave me some something to think about.
This is Twozda, October 14, 2025. 45 F now under clouds that are effective sun blocks, 66 F is the dreamed of high temp for today. Don’t know if that’s possible with that quilted sky cover. Sort of a bland gray-burnt-marshmallow tone. Not pretty. Bland, toneless. I’m surprised that car manufacturers don’t jump on it. “Ugly sky”. They seem to want to offer colors which are different these days. I find many of the new colors strange. Uninviting.
Today’s song is “Burning Heart” by Survivor. I honestly lack insights into why this song this day. The Neurons started it in the morning mental music stream as I hunted down breakfast. I tried backtracking along my thinking and peered back into the dim remnants of dreams and conversations for clues but nada answered.
Coffee is percolating through my body’s systems. Time to move ass cheeks. Hope grace and peace find us. It’s my eternal hope. For today, at least. Cheers
My wife and I climbed into the car. I started the engine. After over revving it, I began driving in reverse. My wife asked, “Why are we in reverse?”
“Everyone says that you get better mileage in reverse.” I swung the transmission into drive. “Now I think I’ll go this way.” I turned on the windshield wipers.
My wife peered into the sunlit blue sky. “Why are the windshield wipers on?”
“We need gas,” I declared. “We don’t have enough money for a full tank.”
“I’m starving,” my wife replied. “I thought we were going out for dinner. Where can we get something to eat?”
“We don’t have money for food. Just hold on.” I pulled into a miniature golf course. “I think I’ll play a game.”
My wife objected, “I didn’t think we have the money.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get more money.”
I went in and paid for the game. Before teeing off, I went back to the car. Jumping in, we drove off.
My wife looked around in puzzlement. “Where are we going?”
“Straight ahead.”
“This is the opposite direction of where we were going.”
“Don’t worry, I’m taking a short cut.”
“What happened to your miniature golf game?”
“I played it. Set a new record. I was stripes.”
“But you weren’t gone five minutes.”
“I know. It was the fastest golf game ever. I scored more points than anyone in the game’s history.” I steered the car into the path of oncoming traffic. “They were amazed. Said they’d never seen anyone play like that. They’re giving me a special golfing medal.”
A truck almost hit us. My wife screamed. “Get on the right side of the road. What is wrong with you?”
“Don’t worry,” I replied, “they’ll get out of our way.”
The car’s engine coughed and sputtered.
“What’s wrong with the car?” my wife asked.
“I think it’s the wind,” I answered, throwing open the door.
My wife gasped. “What are you doing? The car’s still moving. You’re going to get yourself killed.” Leaning across, she grabbed the wheel and began steering.
After turning on the radio, I leaped out of the car and rolled across a lane. A car screeched to a halt, almost hitting me. Leaving their car and coming toward me, the driver said, “Oh my God, I almost hit you. What’s going on? Are you alright?”
Beaming, I took off my shirt. “Aren’t I ripped?” I nodded toward my car as my wife managed to steer and stop it. “It’s my wife. She made me do it. She’s crazy. Doesn’t know a thing about flying. She shouldn’t be allowed near a boat.”
Stepping in front of a car, I waved my arms. “Help, help. Call the police. This guy’s trying to kill me.”
Michael Seidel, writer 