The Morning eMail

My wife heaved a sigh. She’d just come into the home office with her tea and settled down on her computer to check her email.

“My NYTimes is again in my junk folder, along with Ashland News,” she announced. “Two pieces of junk mail are in my inbox.”

“It’s probably the AI that’s supposed to be so helpful,” I answer. She laughs.

Complaints about her emails have been going all week. She uses Hotmail, which is now Outlook. Or maybe it’s the other way. Whatever you call it, she’s displeased with its performance. Every day, she has to check to see where her trusted emails have gone and delete the spam that now hits her inbox. As a product, the Hotmail/Outlook app seems to be going backwards.

It’s not consistent, either. It first started with her saying last Monday, “I didn’t get my NYTimes newsletter.” Then she said, “I found it in my junk mail.” That continued for several days before it went back to her inbox. That’s when Ashland News went to junk mail.

“I don’t understand,” my wife said. “Why is it doing this?”

A search of the net suggests many ways to try to fix this problem. None of them mentioned why the problem began. I decided to use AI to see what it said. ChatGPT blamed new adaptive AI which Microsoft introduced last year.

I passed that on to my wife, who laughed. “Great. AI is screwing up my email. What a perfect metaphor.”

I laughed, too. “I don’t know how much I trust of what one AI says about the other. It’s like wondering, what does your wife think of your girlfriend?”

Trump Fantasies

Donald Trump is scheduled to give a State of the Union address to a joint session of Congress tonight. This is an opportunity for him to tout what he’s done and shape messaging ahead of this year’s midterm elections.

It comes at an interesting time. As trends now go, Trump’s popularity is falling. At least 31 Republicans in Congress announced that they’ll retire instead of vying for re-election.

I expect Trump to brag about wars he ended or stopped. I think he’ll talk about how great he thinks the economy is, perhaps even mention beating affordability — a Democratic hoax in his mind — and ‘ending inflation’.

Trump seems to fantasize about what he’s doing, dreaming up a result, then acting like it’s reality. To me, that’s exactly what the video he made of himself as a hockey player winning an Olympic gold medal is all about, along with the video he made before as a superhero.

This also explains why Trump is so terrified of the Epstein files being released that he keeps trying to stall, redact, and distract from it. Like his taxes, the Epstein file will reveal a truth that Trump hides, dashing his fantasies about who he is.

It’s funny, too, in a very sad way. The hockey team won a gold medal as a team. Trump sees himself as achieving success while being part of a team, but never actually acts as a team player.

What I would like to see from Trump’s State of the Union address is an announcement that he’s resigning. I’d him to say he’s retiring from the public eye and, paraphrasing Spiro Agnew, we won’t have Trump to kick around any more.

Since I’m fantasizing this, I think I’ll treat it as reality. It’s a done deal.

And as Trump might say, it’s the most beautiful thing ever.

Chablin

Chablin (floofinition) – A ‘chaos goblin’, slang for a high-energy animal who cause unending mischief in unexpected ways and place. Origins: Internet, first noted in the United States, 2024.

In Use: “Mario seemed like a quiet cat when Stan adopted him, but Mario quickly revealed he was a chablin, galloping around, knocking eggs and plants off, but winning reprieves with his sweet, deep purrs.”

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, February 24, 2026. February is winding down. The NFL ended its season and the Olympics ended. Rain pours from a flat gray sky. Mists swallow the mountains and the temperature hums along at 51 toward a possible high of 52 F.

The east coast’s blizzard stuns me with its strength, size, and the amount of snow. What staggering levels. I hope that all stay safe and recovery is quick and painless. Fingers crossed as I think that.

The weather doesn’t overly bother Papi. He goes out and stays under a protected area, sniffing, grooming, ears tuning. The wind isn’t blowing. Sunshine is absent so he comes in, finds his chair, commences his orange fur grooming.

I wade through the morning texts and muddle through the morning routines, eager to move on to other matters. I’m not looking forward to Trump’s State of the Union address at all. In my mind, the question will not be, will he lie? It’s a matter of how large the lies are, and how often he repeats them.

Looking back on news from the last few days, many positive reactions were seen when the Supreme Court struck down Trump’s use of one law to impose tariffs. Trump cursed and accused others of being ungrateful to him and then launched more tariffs under other laws. Markets spiraled down and trade partners reconsidered their position with the U.S. But Trump presses on.

I can only recall the snipper of one small dream last night. A woman was giving me a handful of silver change. I thought we were exchanging change and protest, laughing, she was giving me too much. But she insisted, “No, here, this is all for you.” I was like, what am I going to do with all this change?

Wakening, though, I thought about all the change going on and smiled at the messages my subconscious seems to be sending.

The Neurons have “Ordinary World” by Duran Duran playing in the morning mental music stream. Specific lyrics hooked me.

Lyrics h/t AZLyrics.com

Papers in the roadside
Tell of suffering and greed
Fear today, forgot tomorrow
Ooh, here beside the news
Of holy war and holy need
Ours is just a little sorrowed talk

(Just blown away)

And I don’t cry for yesterday
There’s an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

The 1992 was written and recorded in the face of lingering low morale among the band’s members. Simon Le Bon’s built lyrics around “ordinary world” and a desire to regain a familiar and comfortable reality. I certainly get where they’re coming from.

I hope you survive and grow through this ordinary world and become happier and healthier. I’ll try to do the same, starting with a little coffee and a little writing.

Cheers

Memories & Laughter

In the last few months, a parent, stepparent, and two friends died. Last week, Mom threatened suicide and is now in a nursing home at 91.

Mom used to light up when I came through her door. She always wanted to feed me. Her cooking was excellent – especially her potato salad and spaghetti and meatballs.

She loved playing games, especially cards. She always told me that she enjoyed how I made her laugh.

Thinking of her made me remember others. Grandpa Paul passed in 1976, age 65. Multiple uncles and cousins followed, and a half dozen friends made during my military service.

I mostly remember their laughter and the fun of being with them.

That brings me joy.

Of all that was endured, it’s the laughter and fun which remains.

Floofbadour

Floofbadour (floofinition) – An animal who likes to entertain themselves and others with melodic or lyrical sounds. Origins: Floonch , from Old Floofcitan floobador, from floobar to compose, from Flooftin floopus trope. First noted in writing 1858, “Songs of A Traveling Floofbadour”.

In Use: “Starlight considered herself a floofbadour and especially enjoyed offering others her musical stylings at 3 AM.”

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, February 18, 2026.

Our big snowstorm is over! We’re melting out of it. Sunshine rules although washed gray clouds coil and twine on windbound courses of the snowy mountains. More snow is expected tomorrow morning, and rain is forecast for tomorrow afternoon.

How many inches we got yesterday depends on what part of town you’re in. One section saw twelve. We saw seven at our house, sunshine reduced it to three fast.

It’s 35 F now. Three hours ago, it was 26. The high is expected to be 41.

Ah, time. Enormous time was spent texting sisters about Mom’s situation. We’re frustrated and sad and often feel helpless. I think the people at the hospital and the social workers understand this and are doing their best. I think Mom is, too. As someone commented, there’s a lot of relationship history built into this moment. Mom and Frank were firm on their choices; they were not moving into assisted living.

‘Water under the bridge’ is the easy way to dismiss it all, but that water runs deeper than it first appears.

Things will be resolved with Mom but it won’t be a resolution that any of us want to own. It won’t satisfy anyone involved. At least for now, the short term. Perhaps, in a year, it’ll be different. What am I saying? It will be different. The greater question is, how will it be different?

I spent a lot of time this morning reading about the EPA’s Endangerment Finding EPA decision. While it’s an agency decision, deeper implications arise about short-term and long-term effects and the government’s role and responsibility to mitigate them. Beyond that, we have established history of how the Clean Air Act helped us become healthier. When we’re healthier, we’re happier and more productive. Yet — here we are, mired in controversy.

My views about what’s going on politically are also tainted with his use of the military. I don’t approve of that.

And my views are tarnished because history says what tariffs will and won’t do, and the majority of economic experts agree. Yet, Trump and his administration is doing the opposite.

It’s the same pattern with COVID-19, and now the same with vaccinations and the measles outbreaks. I ask myself, what will it take, and end up, nodding, yes, FAFO. That’s just how some minds work.

I’m disappointed, too, that MAGA supporters lambast President Biden for what they perceived as his mental and physical limitations, and yet treat Trump as though he’s a gift from God. And yes, I understand the role of social media and information bubbles, and news spin. But understanding those doesn’t alleviate my disappointment, conversely enhancing my frustration and disappointment.

I feel like I’m on the sidelines in many ways, watching, commenting, but removed, and maybe too insulated and isolated. It’s no surprise that The Neurons brought John Lennon with “Watching the Wheels” into my morning mental music stream.

May peace and grace get through to you and carry you on through the fray to better times.

Cheers

A Little Yellow Car

I was prescribed post-surgery meds and went to the drug store to pick them up.

Walking through the drugstore parking lot to buy them, I saw a small yellow car. Circling closer, I confirmed, 1964 Dodge Valiant, just like my stepfather drove. Might have been a different year but it was the same model and color.

I remembered him bringing it home although I don’t recall what he drove before that. I rarely rode in it. This was ‘his car’, something to commute to work and go off to bet. George was a gambler and went to the horse races five or six days a week, trying for a big score. He won big twice. Once was a $25,000 Daily Double payout, providing the down payment on a newly built brick ranch in Penn Hills.

Later, he won enough to buy a new 1976 Chevy Camaro. Like his Valiant, this was pale yellow, three-speed on the column and a black and white checked interior. Sis hated that car.

All of us disliked driving with George. Tending to drive about five miles an hour below the speed limit, he also liked to get into the faster lanes but not go faster. This terrified us as other drivers pulled up, slowed down and then sped past with blaring horns. Mom would often snap, “My God, get out of this lane.” George wouldn’t budge, though, sailing on without regard to others’ opinions.

The yellow Dodge in the drugstore parking lot had tiny tires and petite chrome bumpers, appearing small and fragile among the huge SUVs and a couple of ‘compact’ Toyotas and Hondas. All the modern vehicles were white, black, gray, or silver. Nowhere was another yellow car.

Seeing it still brought a smile as I walked on, reflecting, what a different world. And yet, back in the 1960s, that Valiant would have shown up as so much different than the preceding decades.

Who knows what our 2026 cars will look like compared to the cars of 2086.

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