Cold and dark outside on this Thirstda morning. We’re in the airport, listening for the call to board, packed close to others in the same situation. Conversations rock and roll, mostly one end of cell calls. I’m ready for more sleep. My wife sits tight against me, watching like a bird, observing with sharp eyes. It’s October 23, 2025. 40 F outside. Our trip home has begun.
Today’s music came out of nowhere. I don’t understand what The Neurons had in mind when the entrance to the morning mental music stream and “Champagne Supernova” by Oasis was allowed to flow in. I think about the words, and that refrain, “Where were you while we were getting high?” I think too, of the exultation that, “But you and I, we live and die, the world’s still spinnin’ round, we don’t know why, why, why, why, why.” I like the song’s flows. It’s soft, reflective gentleness at the beginning, like lapping the waves. The hammering, conflicting guitars challenging one another, escalating with the vocals later. Then the gentle fall at the end as the last line repeats over and over with different inflections, “We were getting high.” It’s all about life and courses, and changes to me, how some things lift us up and other matters dump us, and how we sometimes feel different and alien from others. But almost all of us play with those ideas about ourselves, I think, as we slip and slide on the spectrum of being, of what we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going.
Goodness, that’s a lot of thinking and typing before having any coffee. Done worn me out.
Breaking away from writing, I step out for a walk. The sun has warmed us to a comfortable level. I stride along, nodding and saying hello to others encountered.
A shineless brown hot rod comes along. Roadster. Something out of the forties. Driven by a man who looks like he also originated in the forties, and a woman who might be a little younger, maybe even his daughter, as a passenger, bundled up in heavy clothes.
Putting along at 20 MPH, he guides the car to the side and waves a following vehicle past. Silver SUV, its twenty something driver gooses it faster. An electric vehicle, it glides by with a rising brash hum.
The scene on a small-town street seems so perfectly emblematic of change. Trees and their colors tell of the season changing around us, and there goes an old internal combustion car of a kind rarely seen, passed by an electric car, of the kind now commonly encountered.
Thinking about my travel packing this morning. Long ago, I developed a habit of packing my toilet bag a few days before I leave. Then I use my toiletries from it as though I’m in a hotel room. In that way, I sometimes realize something was overlooked, and I’m not rushing through packing it at a later time. This is all my own in that I’ve never read about it, subject to memory limitations. I’ve never mentioned it to others till now, either. Wouldn’t surprise me to learn that others do the same.
Follow me for more tips about drinking beer and coffee.
Another Wenzda has shifted in. It’s October 22, 2025. We’re getting into October’s last legs. Trees are still lively with colors. That huge old oak across the street hasn’t begun shedding yet. When it does, a blizzard of gold will fall to the winds. Meanwhile, seeing its high golden leaves up against the sky’s purest blue refreshes me, and adds depths to my contemplation of what in the world is going on. Now 46 F with the heater on in the house, sunshine, a front, and clear sky will help Ashlandia breach the low seventies today.
Mosquitoes found in Iceland for the first time, says a headline. Well, surely that’s a one off. They just had some record heat. The story says that Iceland and Antarctica were the only places without skeeters. Now there’s just the southern ice cap. I hear it’s been warming and shrinking, so set your calendars. I evaded stories about bomb threats, cars ramming buildings, and other signs of increasing unrest and violence in the U.S. With familiar weariness, I read about Trump rambling through another nonsensical conversation and temper my rage that this is accepted as okay by GOP senators and his donors and minions. I slipped past war updates from Ukraine and edged around the shooting involving a marshal, ICE, and another person, who was supposed to be ‘an immigrant’. Some flirting was done with the tale of the AWS outage that crashed parts of the web over the last several days. My heart and mind were wary of delving into those stories without coffee’s strength first.
The packing for our trip is done. Papi’s minder moves in tomorrow morning. I will miss my furry orange friend. A taxi will whisk us away like refugees in the night. Fingers crossed, etc., by this time tomorrow we’ll be aloft in one of aerospace machines, heading east for Mom’s birthday, seeing family, etc. Sis sent photos of Mom’s new lair. She included the little electric fake fireplace Mom had in her living room. Mom and Frank bought it an estate sale and were so happy with it. I know Mom will find comfort in having it on, warming the air and her heart.
Dad’s birthday is next week. Day after Mom’s, the day before Mom’s late brother, a few weeks after my late mother-in-law, and a week after my brother-in-law. Anyway, I wrote Dad a letter this morning, thanking him for what he’s done for me, telling him how much I enjoy our telephone conversations and laughing with him, etc. Afterward, The Neurons felt it appropriate to insert Dido’s song, “Thank You”, in the morning mental music stream. So here we go.
May peace and grace find their way back to us. Many wonder if they still exist. I believe it’s still being cultivated in many places where protections are in place to keep it from being smashed. Till then, roll on. Cheers
Meanwhile as Trump has the White House transformed into a shit house more suited to him and his regime, he steps forward with his micro balls to demand that the DOJ reimburse him for past cases.
President Trump is demanding that the Justice Department pay him about $230 million in compensation for the federal investigations into him, according to people familiar with the matter, who added that any settlement might ultimately be approved by senior department officials who defended him or those in his orbit.
The situation has no parallel in American history, as Mr. Trump, a presidential candidate, was pursued by federal law enforcement and eventually won the election, taking over the very government that must now review his claims. It is also the starkest example yet of potential ethical conflicts created by installing the president’s former lawyers atop the Justice Department.
Just as with much of Trump’s behavior, there is no precedence. No precedence for the Supreme Court to rule someone is above the law.
No precedence for a convicted felon to be elected to the nation’s highest office.
No precedence for Trump’s trashing of the U.S. Constitution.
No precedence for Trump’s contempt for due process and law and order.
No precedence for a grifter to eagerly and actively use their position to enrich themselves and their family.
No precedence for a liar using a fake narrative to use the military to attack We the People.
That’s the Trump Regime, the GOP, and Project 2025, unprecedented in their hatred of the United States and their eagerness to destroy it.
We were once again facing the eternal question: where should we sit?
My wife and I agree upon many things. We also disagree on many things. She’s much more probable to violently curse when something goes wrong than I am. She’s better at remembering birthdays, faces, names, and gifts. I am really good at untying knots and finding things. None of that is really related to today’s topic. In essence, she’s an indo and I’m an endo.
I generally give her to her when the challenge arises. That means that we’ll sit in the middle. “Let’s move to the middle. We’ll have a better view.” That’s typical indo logic.
As an endo, though, I prefer the row’s endcap. Let’s face it, being on the end has multiple obvious advantages. If you’re leaving, you can stand up, turn, and walk away fast, without the bother of waiting others to stand, stretch, grunt, wake up, and realize where they are. As an endo, bathroom breaks are more easily possible. In an emergency, of course, being on the end is the place to be, preferably by the emergency exit. That’s how endos think.
I started as an end in school, though. I just preferred a little separation from the other young animals who’d been brought together to be taught. Being on the end offers more perspective to me. Easier to turn around and stare at someone. In the middle, you’re part of the end. On the edge, you’re, well…the edge.
It’s amusing when a group comes together and they’ll all one group or another. This come up at the beer group last week. Most of the initial joiners were endo. We ended to corner seats, leaving the middle free. But latter people were like, “Guess I’ll sit in the middle here.” Then they tried making it positive. “Hey, I can hear and see more from here.”
That’s an endo, trying to be an indo.
Not that it’s really important, but where do you fall on the seating spectrum? Are you an endo, or do you enjoy the middle?
Munda, October 20, 2025, has set upon us. 36 F, a clear deep blue sky crowns the valley. With solar influences working through this clear air, 71 F is the hoped-for high.
Bad news from home. Sis reports that she let Mom sleep in this AM. Yesterday, she went over at 11 AM and Mom was still asleep, so, she worked off that. When she reached Mom by phone, Mom said she’d fallen two more times. Mom said she just stayed on the floor and slept there. Sis headed over to see if Mom needed to head to the hospital. That’s at least Mom’s fourth fall Mom reported on herself since last Friday. Not a reassuring trend.
The Epstein Shutdown is creeping toward its third week.
Trump and the GOP shrug. Moderate Dems are unfortunately leaning toward ‘working’ with the GOP to pass something. They have not, apparently, had their FAFO moment with the Trump Regime.
I began pulling up news to see the latest Trump Destruction Machine’s moves. Instead, I came across the graphic below and thought, that’s the way to go.
I will say that many MAGAs and conservatives commenting about the No Kings rally are trying hard to pretend it was very small. Meaningless. They insist Trump is very popular. Also, he’s not doing anything wrong. It’s a familiar scene. We know that people often remain oblivious or accepting until there’s a FAFO moment for them.
I was not surprised that the TACO Regime announced they were ‘investigating’ the No Kings rally. Shows their worries and fears’ depths. Think they can manipulate us into submission via fear and intimidation. They think that Democrats, liberals, and progressives are as easily manipulated as that MAGA base and the Fox fed GOP.
Music choices are swirling in the morning mental music stream. Several music-related celebrity deaths were announced, alongside former NFL and college football players. One of them was Jack White, a producer. He produced Laura Branigan’s cover of “Gloria”. The Neurons are fond of the song, so that won a residency in the morning mental music stream and another turn as theme music. Alas, we lost Laura B way back in 2004.
Time to rock on. Coffee is starting to rock me awake. Yes, I’ve been sleep typing. Hope peace and grace come out of seclusion to give us a sign that they’re still alive and well. Cheers
I know I’ve been a bit AWOL what with finishing up school, planning my move, and all that, but I had this idea. The MAGA goons/the Trump Administration is spewing out all this nonsense about Antifa, so what if we (the collective resisters) take the hashtag #AntifaWasHere and attach it to posts ranging from volunteer activities to random acts of kindness for friends, neighbors, elderly, etc. etc.?
Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, and other Republicans in Congress are calling today’s protests a “Hate America” rally sponsored by extreme leftists, pro-Hamas activists, hardened criminals, and terrorist organizations like ANTIFA.[2] Apparently, they’ve never read the first amendment to the Constitution.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
I think that We the People proved to the leaders of this regime that we will not lie down and let them kick us, will not give in and will fight to the death against their lawless attempts to replace our democratic republic with a dictatorship run by a cruel and evil tyrant. Remember these images next time you hear Felon Trump say that “everybody” loves him or “everybody” believes what he is doing is right.
No act of resistance is wasted, and no act of resistance is unsuccessful. Because in resisting, we redeem ourselves, we consecrate ourselves, we reclaim our dignity, and we assert our agency as American citizens who control the destiny of our nation.
Yesterday’s No Kings Rally wasn’t just a protest — it was a reckoning. A mosaic of causes, signs, and voices, all bound together by one unifying thread: We the People have been stirred to action. Not by policy differences. Not by party loyalty. But by the cruelty, the malignant narcissism, and the corrosive influence of Donald Trump.
Fascism began as a Roman metaphor: a bundle of sticks (fasces) symbolizing strength through unity. One stick breaks easily. A bundle resists. Mussolini twisted that into authoritarianism. Hitler weaponized it. And Trump? He tried to make the bundle serve only him — demanding loyalty, punishing dissent, and mocking the vulnerable.
But yesterday, we reclaimed the bundle. Not as a tool of domination, but as a symbol of democratic resistance. Many years ago, Chief Tecumseh taught the same lesson with arrows. The Founders echoed it with E Pluribus Unum. And yesterday, the signs told the story.
It was so amazing to see older folks and younger people alike coming together, and I saw a friend there who gave me a sign, so I was thankful for that. It was such a great feeling to look around and see everyone coming together for the same cause, to speak up against the tyranny and tell the world (or at least Miami County) “this is not okay.”
Thousands of people turned out to participate in the #NoKings March, which started at Grand Army Plaza and ended at the southern end of Prospect Park. We were surrounded by people carrying signs and chanting “Hey hey hi ho/Donald Trump has got to go.” Many signs were very clever. I couldn’t photograph them all.
I liked the little girl who had a sign that said, “I should be worried about tests/Not my rights.”
This No Kings Day was the one of the largest demonstrations in U.S. history—with upwards of seven million Americans estimated to have gathered across all 50 states, with thousands more protesting across the world, to stand up against tyranny; stand up against corruption; and stand up for the ideals that make this nation exceptional.
WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In yet another indication of the heavy turnout for the No Kings rallies, over 400 of Elon Musk’s children attended the protests, according to estimates released on Sunday.
Donald J. Trump, furious at the size of the No Kings crowds, claimed that the estimated attendance of 7 million “is much lower when you subtract all the people who were there to show their hate for Elon.”
