Tag: Information

Satyrdaz Theme Music

Welcome again to Satyrda, home this month to August 30, 2025. The sky is blue but small white clouds are sneaking in, then slowing to loiter, waiting for other clouds. I think they’re up to something. 61 F now, we’re peeking at a coolish day, with a high of just 91 F. Smoke free, our Air Quality hovers around 28, a solid green and healthy showing.

My sis-in-law and her boyfriend of six months are visiting this week. They met through a senior dating app. My wife is already annoyed with the new BF. He’s rejected all advice and insights offered but then asks for more advice. They’re arriving in SFO and driving up to Eureka for a night. Then they’re driving on to our place via Highway 101 and 199. They’re staying in a spa resort that’s actually outside of the town. Little is around it except a car dealership. We suggested places in town to stay where they can step out the front door and enjoy our small city. No; BF didn’t want that. They also specified no hiking and no walking, no river floats, no boat rides. They want to drive to Crater Lake, drive around it, and then back. Okay. Then, after three nights here, they’re driving to Carmel, south of San Francisco. O-kay. Sounds like a plan. Not a fun one, to me. They’ll be in a car quite often. We shall do what we can to provide them with good memories and a pleasant visit.

Today’s music is “Desire” by U2. Papi the ginger blade prompted it with a request for his special treats. Checking out Trump’s plans and disgusted by his love of money, The Neurons agreed that “Desire” is a good choice and thrust it into the morning mental music stream. After all, the band sings, “For the love of money, money, money, money, money.” For the love of money, power, and adulation, Trump and the GOP will do anything except anything good. Their love of money and power perverts their sense of justice and stacks their sense of entitlement and privilege to higher levels. Nothing is beneath them in their pursuit of money and power. Just when I think they can’t be an crappier as human beings, they lower the bar.

Hope that grace and peace find and hold you today and always. Coffee has found me once again. Here we go, onward. Cheers

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But, But, But

Daily writing prompt
How are you feeling right now?
View all responses

I feel like I’m on the edge. See, I’ve been writing a novel manuscript. Almost at the end, confrontations are underway. It’s tense and violent. I don’t want to stop writing, but —

Yes, life is littered with buts, those interruptions to intents and purposes. Several buts are engaging me. First, honestly, is my derriere, aka, my butt. I’ve been sitting and typing for about 80 minutes straight, and my butt is crying, “Up, damn you, up. Give me a break.” It’s classic writer’s butt.

My stomach is also complaining that it’s been too long since food was introduced to my mouth. And my coffee is cold. Just two swallows remain.

A war, then, is raging between the Writing Neurons and the Practical Neurons. The Writers want to stay and keep writing. “Damn it, man, you’re on a roll. Don’t stop now.” But the Practicals are urging, “Go get food. Run errands. Get other things done.”

The final piece of it all is time, though. Time is the empress. Much as I want to keep writing, I have real-world commitments to fulfill. So how do I feel?

Well, resigned to the inevitable brought on by the buts.

2

The Optimist

My wife exercises three mornings a week at the local Y. I’m typically abed, reviewing dreams, when she leaves. She normally comes by to say good-bye. I generally wave a foot or hand in acknowledgement.

Well, today, I was buried in sleep and didn’t respond to her. I got up and did all my usual things. As I finished dressing, I heard her arrive home. I didn’t go out and say hello, as I had something going on in my head.

Coming down the hall, she called, “Where are you?”

I didn’t answer but I walked around to meet her. She said with real relief, “Oh, thank God. I saw your car in the garage. Then I didn’t see or hear you anywhere. You didn’t give me a wave when I left this morning. I thought, oh, no, he died and I didn’t notice.”

We laughed but I had to note, “You are such an optimist.”

4

Fridaz Theme Music

Chill morning it is on 29 August, 2025, Frida. 59 F at my house. Worry not: blue sky mildly scored with white haze and a climbing sun promise we’ll be in the 90s F before the sun finishes its daily mission.

We went a-bluesing last night. A place called Revolution Wine Co. hosted a blues group called The Brisbane Project.

“Where’s that?” my wife asked.

“Who are they?” I asked.

Someone had dropped the info on my Facey page. Research was chased. Puzzlement ensued. “Revolution seems to be down on the corner of A and Oak,” I said. My wife and I hadn’t been to that area in yonks. We reminisced about the location and what used to be there. ‘Used to be’ are some of our favorite words. We also talked about Brisbane and Revolution to friends. None were familiar with either. We talked about it, bought $10 tickets, and headed to the show. Well, BP did an awesome job. The power trio offered us some excellent ZZ Top, Stevie Ray Vaughn, BB King covers, among others, along with some original, impressive blues tunes. Running from 6:30 to 9:00 in the P, this was well-spent time. Most noteworthy covers were “Voodoo Chile”, “Jesus Left Chicago”, and “La Grange”.

As Papi and I checked out the stars last night, we agreed that today should be a blues day. Something to shake our souls. The Neurons stayed rarely mute on the subject. After some shame casting, they finally brought up Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa into the morning mental music stream with “I Wanna Know You”.

Gritting my teeth now, I note that our ‘august President’ is at it again. The man, one Donald J. Trump, can’t help but lie and crow with imaginary success. His brain-dead sycophants don’t help by showing him with adulation. They love to claim that he’s the most amazing, beautiful, healthy, and wonderful president ever. Logic, facts, history, truth — things that are MAGA and GOP Kryptonite — prove that’s Trump is none of the things they say. Doesn’t stop any of them. In his latest ‘gaffe’, as the press politely labels them, Trump claimed to stop ten wars. While unable to name them all, he did give birth to a nation, The Republic of Condo. Dunce Donald kept on with it though, undeterred by the stunned gazes on people listening to him, because nobody ever tells Donald the truth. He goes on the attack when they do, firing people for presenting correct information, calling the people and their questions nasty and ugly, and generally verbally assaulting and bullying them. His admirers think that makes him ‘strong’. We know it reveals that he’s an insecure coward.

On the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s appalling destruction of New Orleans, another news outlet reports about the Trump Regime’s cuts to programs which provide data critical to weather forecasting. As we see too often, PINO Trump thinks he’s taking the nation a step forward while leaping backward. ‘Drastic’: Life-saving California weather forecast data is about to disappear. It’s like claiming you’re saving money by leaving doors and windows off your house. You might save a dollar now, but such short-sighted moves cost magnitudes more later.

Hope peace and grace find their way to you. Coffee is providing The Neurons a pep talk as I type. Time to go crack this egg. Cheers

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

Today is Thirstda, August 28, 2025. We awoke to a pleasant 65 F. A cloud regatta keeps the sky from being blue and free. 96 F is expected today.

After dreaming about having a new kitten, I got up and faced a new challenge: remembering who was in the Partridge Family. The Patridge Family was an American pop singing group and television sitcom.

I owe this AM conundrum to an exchange during Mexican Train on Saturday night. Someone said something about getting happy. It was late. We were giddy by then. That’s when we have the most fun. Usually, we play off words and sing songs. Hilarity ensues. But in parallel, we’d been pursuing 1960s pop culture trivia. I asked our group, “Who sang, ‘Come On, Get Happy’?” None remembered the song, forcing me to sing it. None still remembered, so I played found a Youtube video of it. Now I pass it on to you.

Except, The Neurons were hijacked by The Go-Go’s, “Our Lips Are Sealed”. That video followed the other. I found the 1981 offering more interesting. I remember watching that video in some club on Okinawa, where I was assigned to Kadena Air Base from May of 81 through the end of 84.

My wife and I mentioned the Mexican Train game to multiple people. Many were familiar with it. One friend said she hated it but never explained why. She’s a very controlling individual who likes order, so I suspect the game’s chaos might annoy her. That’s just my suspicion and I really want to hear her explanation.

One thing that’s offered here in Ashland is lithium water. One can drink it straight out of the fountain at Lithia Park’s entrance. I mention this because we discussed the value of lithium in treating dementia last night. One individual said, “All we need to do is take a sip out of the fountain every day.” Another responded, “But that water tastes like wet farts.”

I read an excellent Mother Jones article today: The Brain Rot Cabinet. As the article points out, Trump’s cabinet are deeply invested in wild and unproven conspiracies. What’s important to Trump is that they share his values and are obedient lapdogs. They will do nothing good for the nation nor the world. Meanwhile, all those of us still anchored to reality can do is grit our teeth and resist.

Representative Ashley Hinson (Iowa, MAGA) got an earful when she tried convincing her constituents that the Big Beautiful Bill was wonderful, claiming it raised wages and improved the cost of living. We the People in Iowa weren’t having it. According to an article in The New Republic (via Yahoo), people shouted back objections.

“Higher wages?” shouted one woman incredulously. “For who? For you?”

“Cost of living is higher than it’s ever been,” another woman said.

“You are a fraud,” a constituent shouted at her at the time.

I only hope more wake up, stand up, shout back, fight back, and resist.

Coffee has made a controlled landing into my system once again. I hope peace and grace shadows you in all your endeavors today. Here we go, one more time. Cheers

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The Haunting

Just ‘Cause

One must see this! Attribution is still unknown.

Donald Trump’s hand, and his secret shame, where Jeffrey Epstein keeps showing up. “Out, out, damn spot,” Trump has been heard to shout with a mouth full of burger.
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Twozdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

Listen to this. This video presents us with the results of a beautiful, beautiful mind at work, probably one of the greatest minds ever, communicating as only it can, delivering such beautiful words. It’s probably, and I don’t offer this lightly, no, I do not, but this is probably one of the greatest Offal Office demonstrations of thinking and speaking ever made in the history of the entire world, in the history of the entire universe.

PINO TACO is speaking on the matter of burning the U.S. flag. His grasp of history and rhetoric is so beautiful, it’s amazing. If I was there, I would tell him, “Mister President, that is one of the greatest and most beautiful speeches I’ve ever heard.”

Well, except, of course, in a pre-school class. I have heard pre-school children make more sense and do it more beautifully. Many children just learning to speak make more beautiful speeches asking for a glass of water. They make more sense and enunciate more clearly than this blithering dolt in the Offal Office.

When it comes to speaking, Donald Trump is not John F. Kennedy. Nor is he Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, or Abraham Lincoln. He will never be known as a great thinker. Nor will he ever be known as a great orator. He will, as this speech demonstrates, be perpetually derided and ridiculed as a bumbling bloviator except for the legions who pucker up and bend over to kiss his ass.

Oh, BTW, shortly after Trump fumbled through his wilted thought salad, someone burned a U.S. flag. The person was arrested for starting a fire, but not for burning the flag.

Protester Sets Flag Ablaze Outside White House Hours After Trump’s Order

No riots were reported. Of course not. TACO was lying.

As usual.

6

Regulars

I am a known coffee-shop regular. The manager gives me a wave and a grin as she deals with the guard picking up the previous week’s take. I put in a fake order, an oat-milk iced siracha dusted with chocolate. The barista laughs. My usual order already awaits me at the pickup station despite five people in line ahead of me.

My favorite corner table is available. I’m soon in the writing realm, pretending to be a famous novelist. Habib approaches, bag in hand. “Michael? Cinnamon.” I don’t catch the other words as a wave of sound takes them out to sea.

I know it’s not mine. But I know another Michael is here. He’s one of five other regular Michaels I see coming through.

“No, it’s Michael’s,” I tell Habib, pointing out the other Michael. The other Michael waves and then gives me a thumbs up. Habib pivots his way.

This is how it goes in the life of a regular.

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