Trump’s agenda has lost popularity. Democrats swept the mid-terms. Hope this is the start of something more.
Maybe it was the destruction of the White House East Wing and the construction of that ballroom while the government is idled by the longest government shutdown in U.S. history, the ongoing Epstein Shutdown of 2025.
The smirker-in-chief, with his smirking BFF, Jeffrey Epstein, of the Epstein Files.
Perhaps Farmers have become convinced, or people employed in factories where productivity is declining, or people in danger of losing their homes because they can’t afford them any longer. Perhaps it’s the measles outbreaks and the loss of SNAP benefits, or Kennedy’s vacuous guidance on medicine that’s contrary to established facts.
Perhaps it’s because he capitulated to China on tariffs, showing that he is TACO. Maybe it’s the Epstein Files or ICE’s cruel, illegal raids, or Trump sending National Guard units in to U.S. cities to intimidate U.S. Citizens, or the fact that prices are going up, not down, in general, or that Trump is using the U.S. military to attack and kill unarmed civilian combatants at sea. Or maybe it’s because of Project 2025, Trump’s continual overreach, or open and widespread greed, or the fact that he’s enshittifying the United States at an incredible pace and scale. I don’t know. But people Voted Blue.
Through the fog creeps Thirstda, November 11, 2025. 52/57/48 are the numbers for the day: present, high, low. It’s a remarkably narrow range, with fog and clouds gaining the lower hand over the sun’s position as an influencer.
Mom continues to improve and impress, according to sis. Had her first PT session today and did great! Wife, on the other hand, is not doing well, in her words. Not surprising for me. She and stress aren’t good friends. Her anxiety climbs and she becomes physically challenged with a great deal of pain. She’s working through her protocols to cope. As for me, other than physical limitations and restricted diet, I feel fab. Didn’t do much yesterday except nibble on crackers and binge on a series called “Suspicions” with short naps. Found I wasn’t comfortable sitting at the desk, as that strained my abs, so the planned typing didn’t come about. Tried other places and positions but all felt wrong and I didn’t have enough to push through. Part of this is because my wife gave a steady stream of reminders not to do too much. I didn’t want to add to her stress, so I backed off.
I also ate too many crackers, I think. I had some vegan, gluten-free vegetarian broth. No flavor, at all. Really disappointing, so I went back to the crackers. We had picked up some TJ’s garlic-flavored naan crackers, water wafers, and something from Costco, potato crackers seasoned with seaweed. I didn’t think much of the water wafers, but my taste buds highly rated the other two.
Plans today are to catch up on writing, reading, and blogging. I finished reading my last two books, both fiction on my travels. Gravity’s Rainbow is available at long last. Yes, I confess, I haven’t read the classic. Found it in the library system and put it on hold back in July. I began reading a terrific (so far) historical fiction book by Amy Stewart called Woman Waits with Gun. Ironically, I’d purchased it at Half-Priced Books in Monroeville on the 2023 visit to attend my nephew’s marriage in Pittsburgh. I know this because the receipt was inside. It sat in the TBR stack by the bed until I came back from Pittsburgh. I’d just finished a romantasy and a crime thriller and needed a read, and ‘lo, there it was.
Over on streaming land, we are into the latest season of “Slow Horses” and “Down Cemetery Road” and are ready to begin “King and Conqueror” and the latest season of “Diplomat”. This is augmented by “The Graham Norton Show” and rewatching “Would I Lie to You”. I cut the last short because laughing and coughing really rile my incisions.
Today’s music is out of dreamland again. The Neurons, looking over my shoulder as I reviewed my strange and amusing dream, came up with “Rocket” by the Smashing Pumpkins, in the morning mental music stream. That was sort of funny on their part, as I’d been dreaming about being on a spaceship. I’ve gone through this before, dreaming of being traveling in space, then awakening to bafflement about where I am.
Another of my dreams was very short. This was about kittens gamboling on me, mewing until I got up to feed them. I thought there were two kittens but when I put out the food, four more appeared with sharp cries, “Me, too!” I rhetorically responded, “How many kittens do we have,” as one more little grey fluff of floof waddled in. That was all the dream offered.
I’ve been looking at news but don’t have many thoughts on it at this point. Trump is being Trump, as far as I can tell, with all the mendacity, greed, and arrogance that implies.
Hope peace and grace find their way out of the fog to you. My body is suggesting it’s time to lay down again. Think I’ll do as it says. Cheers
That’s like a dog warning us there’s going to be barking.
The Trump Regime’s chaos warning would be funny and ironic under other circumstances. They are, by popular agreement, the greatest agents of chaos in the world. Trump has broken trade agreements and withdrawn from commitments whenever and wherever his whim strikes.
Judging from his texts, speeches, and decisions, Trump seems to thrive on chaos. “I’m raising tariffs on China by one billion percent! I’m going to bomb Venezuela. I’m not going to bomb Venezuela. I love Russia! Jeffrey Epstein is a great guy! I might bomb Nigeria! I’m going to build the biggest, greatest and most beautiful ballroom ever and will not touch the White House East Wing. The Gulf of Mexico is now the Gulf of Trump! I’ll stop inflation the first day I’m in office! Google google gaga. Lowering inflation is hard and I can’t do it! I’m lowering prescription drug prices by six thousand percent! We hate Ukraine. I have the concept of the health plan I promised to give you ten years ago! I’ve never heard of Jeffrey Epstein! We love Ukraine. China and I made a deal and I’m lowering tariffs on China by two billion percent! We’re demolishing the East Wing to build my big beautiful ballroom! Russia is mean! I will release the Epstein Files as soon as I’m elected. I saw a giraffe when I was at the doctor! Jeffrey Epstein is a hoax! He’s AI invented by the mean Democrat deep state who run everything out of a bathroom in Bill Clinton’s bathroom, an idea he stole from me, by the way. Tuesdays will now be called Trumpsday. God told me so when I was making water.”
Yes, I made some of that up. But in fairness, it doesn’t include all the crap Trump did through Elon Musk and Doge and the chaos which that spawned. Nor does it address the chaos spread by the dog-killer known as Noem and the extra-military troops known as ICE which she sics on anyone who sneezes the wrong way.
But here is a headline hot off the net about that vacuous agent of chaos, Donald Trump, warning us that because of the Epstein Shutdown which he started and will not address until the Democrats completely capitulate to him and promise to never ever have any more children, the Trump Regime will need to close some air space, which may cause travel chaos.
I suffered from writer’s block this past week. Yes, it’s real. Writer’s block exists. And it affected me.
I traveled with my wife to Pennsylvania to see Mom and celebrate her 90 natal day celebration and see family last week. I thought I’d write on the side. But no. Each time I sat down to write, my phone would ping with a text or ring with a call. I love ’em, of course, and was happy to do whatever favor was being asked, and appreciated getting updates, but The Writing Neurons were not as accepting.
Even on the flights, I had writer’s block. I pulled out my computer. Set it up. Began writing and typing.
Tap, tap, tap.
Wife: “How do I turn the volume up?”
Tap, tap, tap.
Wife: “I can’t get my tray up.”
Tap, tap, tap.
Wife: “Can you open this bottle for me?”
Tap, tap, tap.
Flight attendant: “Would you like more wine, sir?”
Yes, I know, I’m really stretching the complaining envelope here.
It’s good to be back in my cossetted, coveted writing routine. The Writing Neurons had become manic about getting more of the novel-in-progress written, pinging me via the headnet with new insights and plot points.
Now, time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
I encountered two hotel trends which displease me during my recent travels. Yes, here is your warning: this is a first world rant.
When I was making reservations, I specifically sought a place with a bathing tub. The hotel said they have tubs. My wife has medical issues, and a hot soak in a tub helps alleviate many symptoms.
Guess what the hotel didn’t have when we checked in our room? Yeah, no bathtub. I spoke to them about it. Can we move to a room with a bathtub? Alas, only one room in the hotel’s entire offering has a bathtub.
Say whaaaat?
That hotel, the Courtyard by Marriott, told us we needed to change rooms. They’d made an error. The entire second floor had been promised to another party. We could stay in the room but not use the elevator. Whaaat? So, we left that hotel and moved into the Hampton Inns.
It was much better. Guess what the room didn’t have? Yep, no bathtub. The hotel only has one room with a tub.
Whaaat?
My wife and I had already been aware of this trend toward showers only in hotels. This was the first time it slammed us directly in the face.
I will predict that as this trend spreads, a counter trend will kick up: we have bathtubs! They’ll be advertising the presence of tubs as they once boasted of air conditioning, cable TV, HBO, and free Wifi. Time will tell, of course.
The other disturbing trend was the lack of a ventilation fan in the bathroom. There’s no switch to throw to circulate the air, help clear the air when the room is steamy, or, ahem, help us cope with body functions, if you know what I mean.
According to brief research (I queried search engines), the reasoning behind this: reduce costs. Aesthetics.
Flooftronage(floofinition) – The support or influence of an animal honored, chosen, or named as a special protector, supporter, or guardian. Origins: 1707, from The Book of Floofs & Other Mysteries.
In Use: “Bogart’s flooftronage was apparent the first day Megan was brought home, approving her with a thorough sniffing, warming the infant with his furry body, attentive to every cry and motion she made, ready to defend her against the world and oversee her upbreaking.”
I have been reminded of how privileged I am. How easily I succumb to convenience.
I’m back in my regular drive. Mazda CX-5. Nothing fancy, we’ve had it for ten years. It’s packed 64,000 miles around its waist. The thing about this, though, are the automatic creature comfort features. And the key.
When we were visiting family in the Pittsburgh, PA, region, we trundled around in an older Toyota RAV4. Fine car but nothing special. But it lacked things like a key FOB that let me unlock doors just by pressing a button as I walked up to the car. The FOB permits me to start the Mazda without taking the key out of my pocket.
Man, did I miss that. I ended up putting the RAV4 keys in and out, out and in of pockets multiple times across the day. Oh, the horrors, right? But see, this is a matter of connections. With the FOB, I stick it in my left pants pocket and leave it there. With this RAV4 key, I was constantly putting it into a pocket or setting it down somewhere and then asking myself, where is that fucking key?
Wife and I approach car. It’s cold. About 40 F. Gray, with a light drizzle falling.
ME: “Wait.”
“What?”
“I can’t find the key.”
Wife stands, stares, waiting, not tapping her foot but looking like she’s on the verge.
Pockets are patted and felt, squeezed, then reached into it. “Here it is.”
My wife’s restrained look called me IDIOT so loudly, it hurt my brain.
One time I got out of the car to put gas into it. When I returned, it’s like, OMG, where is that damn key? Pat pockets again and again, dive into them…”Oh, here it is.” Damn it.
It was one of those big, long keys on a clunky handle. The key itself could be swung close to make it ‘more compact’. That was good because otherwise that thing gets caught on clothing. You press a button to flick it out, like a switchblade knife. This all required additional thinking about what I was doing, soaking up Neurons’ limited attention.
Me: “Where’s the key?”
Neurons: “We don’t know.”
Me, looking around and feeling pockets. “No one knows?”
Neurons: “We weren’t pay attention.”
Me: “Here it is.”
The button is clicked. The long key extends. I unlock the door. Put the key back into pocket. Get into car. Go to start it by putting my foot on the brake and pressing a button. The button is missing.
Neurons: “Dude, what are you doing?”
Me: “Trying to start the car.”
“You need the key. You must put it in the ignition and turn it.”
“Oh, yeah. Where’s the key?”
Neurons: “We don’t know.”
Thank tech that I’m back home where I just stick the FOB into my pocket and forget it.
A thin grey cloud layer is sliding in. Eastern sunshine sings off the dwindling golden leaves hanging on the neighborhood trees. Autumn has a firm grip on Munda, November 3, 2025, in Ashlandia. 50 F, showers are going to visit amid an attempt to reach 62 F.
Sis made stuffed green peppers with the final harvest from her garden. The peppers were smallish, she said. Gave two to Mom with mashed taters. Mom ate one pepper and all of her potatoes, so she was rewarded with a cookie for dessert. Mom has been sharper, and sis, conversing with Mom, reports that Mom barely recalls what happened in the week in which Frank died. Mom acknowledged to several of us that it was a deeper shock than she realized. I think she’s happy to be out of the house where she and Frank spent more than twenty years together between their dating and living arrangements. I know from losses that every look around a corner and usual routine delivers a stab of painful realization about the loss. I’m like Mom so I believe that’s what she was feeling. And that pattern rocks emotions and disrupts focus. Prying her from her home was a good move. I think Mom even is beginning to realize that.
Sis is talking about putting a stair glide in her house for Mom. Sis’s house is a split level. Mom is in the lower level. A stair glide would provide her with more independence. While true, I worry that more independence and movement will also provide Mom with more falling opportunities. Fingers crossed, I’m wrong if the stair glide is installed.
Today’s theme music is “Blue Monday” by New Order. You must address questions about it to The Neurons. I was minding my own business as I went about the biznez of breakfast when The Neurons put it into the morning mental music stream. Here’s the part that was bumping through the MMMS.
How does it feel To treat me like you do? When you’ve laid your hands upon me And told me who you are?
I thought I was mistaken I thought I heard your words Tell me, how do I feel? Tell me now, how do I feel?
Those who came before me Lived through their vocations From the past until completion They’ll turn away no more
h/t to Bing.
Been a full month since the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 began, hasn’t it? Sure, started October 1, 2025, didn’t it? Trump has been too busy golfing and partying to end this shutdown. It’s like he’s channeling the spirit of his old smirking partner, Jeffrey Epstein.
I mean, problems start from the top and they have to get solved from the top. And the president’s the leader and he’s got to get everybody in a room and he’s got to lead. And he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t like doing that. That’s not his strength.
Like a stopped clock, Trump is right: the problems of this country start with him. He’s not a leader. It’s not his strength. He can’t even get everybody in a room.
I read about Trump complaining about the NFL’s revised kickoff rules introduced last season.
“I HATE WATCHING THE NFL’S NEW KICK OFF RULE,” Trump wrote.
“IT’S RIDICULOUS — TAKES THE PAGEANTRY AND GLAMOUR AWAY FROM THE GAME, AND DOES NOTHING FOR SAFETY.
“THEY SHOULD CHANGE BACK TO WHAT IT USED TO BE. HOPEFULLY COLLEGE FOOTBALL WILL NEVER MAKE THIS RIDICULOUS CHANGE! IN THE MEANTIME, I’M GETTING READY TO WATCH PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP (ME!) ON 60 MINUTES.”
Well, one, it’s RIDICULOUS HOW HE TYPES IN ALL CAPS. Two, if it’s so offensive, turn it off. As I did you, on 60 Minutes.
Does Trump have a point about the NFL kickoff rules. Well, I bow to his extensive football career.
Donald J. Trump football record by position, including regular and post season, professional, amateur and coaching, by year and results.
(This space intentionally left blank)
It compares favorably with his RIDICULOUS MILITARY SERVICE RECORD, doesn’t it?
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Bone spurs – did not serve
Very impressive.
Gotta go on to other things. Watching for peace and grace’s arrival through the front window. Should be here any minute now. I’ll just have some coffee while I wait. Cheers
Rattlefloof (floofinition) – An animal who behaves in a flighty or silly manner. Origins: 1707, from The Book of Floofs & Other Mysteries.
In Use: “Just as the house settled for a quiet post-dinner reading and talking, the rattlefloof known as Digit galloped into the room, leaping over tables and chairs and non-stop talking before sprinting away with the sound of claws scrambling for traction on the hardwood floor.”
Suzanne’s post about her phone trying to … Well, I don’t want to spoil it. Her post had me laughing with sufficient joy that I had to share it with my wife. Partly it’s because Suzanne is a wonderful writer and this is hilarious, but also because we’ve experienced these things with our phones and Alexa and other computer and technology that’s supposed to be helpful but often seems to be messing with us. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
