Tag: Information

Thirsta’s Wandering Political Thoughts

It’s Trump’s morning in America.

“The stock market is down over fourteen hundred points,” my wife greets me.

“Hey girl,” I answer. “Good morning.”

If my wife seems gleeful about the stock market, it’s because she’s angry. Bottom line, she’s in the FAFO camp. Reads ‘The Leopard Ate My Face’ tales daily. Spoons up all those tales about Trump supporters and apologists who are now Trump victims.

Trump said he would do tariffs when he ran for POTUS in 2024. Professional economists have almost all agreed, bad, bad, bad, bad, terrible idea. Trump always thinks he knows better than everyone else. He usually doesn’t. I mean, this is the guy who bankrupted a casino.

Facts don’t matter to Trump. You knew that if you watched his tariff announcement yesterday. He displayed a chart with bogus tariff info. It shows tariffs imposed on U.S. goods. Almost all those supposed tariffs by other countries are inflated by significant amounts.

With almost no surprise, then, worldwide markets dropped after his tariffs announcement.

Some people rationalize what Trump is doing as necessary. They prophesize Trump’s tariffs will bring jobs back to the United States. Factories will spring up like mushrooms after a rain across the nation. And those factories won’t use robotics, as many modern factories do. No, they will employ human, American workers. Even though the U.S. must import many of the raw and finished materials used in modern products, imported materials which will be high-priced due to Trump tariffs, those goods produced in these new factories will be amazingly cheap because they’re made in the U.S.A. There won’t be any profit taking and price gouging, because that’s not how corporations work in the United States. And the workers in those factories will be magnificently compensated for their hourly labor because companies in the United States are known to generously pay hourly employees. Why, it’ll be the greatest economy ever!

If you believe all that, I have an automobile manufacturing plant in Ashlandia to sell you.

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Thirstda’s Theme Music

Thirstda, April 3, 2025, is here. The day arrived in a morose mood, dangling thick gray cloud strands over the mountains, covering the sun’s influence, and acting like it planned to dump us in moisture. Then some mystical order was given. Cosmic stagehands raced out. Clouds were shoved to the scene’s edges. Blue sky lit up. Sunshine burns down with a new hope. It was 36 F. Now we’re touching 45 F. But, hey: it feels warmer.

I stepped into the bathroom. Doing bathroomy stuff, my foot landed on something hard and mildly sharp. This was an attachment to an electric razor. One I had to trim my beard and mustache. I always have a mustache. My first mustache was noticed on me when I was fourteen. Mom told me that my face was dirty and to go wash it. “There’s something above your lip.”

My older sister laughed. “That’s his mustache.”

The beard comes and goes. A goatee is almost permanent. I’ve had it since I left the military in 1995. But the electric razor that piece attached to has been gone for over a decade. Turning it over, I pushed to understand how it came to be on the bathroom floor today. Unable to come up with anything except The Borrowers and aliens, I tossed the piece into the trash. It’s another page in my Book of Life Mysteries. I think we all keep one of those record books, don’t we?

Three songs were competing in the morning mental music stream. I introduced the first one. This was “Valley Girl” by Frank and Moon Zappa. This song capture the California valley girl subculture, and their unique verbiage. ‘Valleyspeak’ swept the nation. Too many people walked around, smirking, telling me, “Gag me with a spoon.” Variations of that phrase quickly emerged.

I was singing my variant of the song to Papi. Papi is my housefloof, feline by looks and attitude. The boy loves treats such as Churri squeeze tube pastes. My wife rechristened it chumley. Chumley is how we refer to any of those treats.

Today I sang to Papi, “Chumley cat, he’s a chumley cat. Oh my my, fer sure fer sure, he’s a chumley cat and there is no cure.”

Second up was Elvis Presley with “Blue Suede Shoes.” Carl Perkins did it first, after writing in in 1955 and releasing it in 1956, the year of my birth. The Neurons delivered this one to the mental music stream. They didn’t explain why. I was in the bathroom doing bathroom stuff when it arrived. I used to perform this song for my family when I was four or five. Hip swiveling and singing the chorus. No, video and photographic evidence doesn’t exist. I remember doing it and Mom verified it.

Third up is “Don’t Bring Me Down” by the Animals. I’m feeling absurdly young kitten energetic and happy. I don’t know why. You’d think that with Trumpzilla burning down the world economy with his outlandish tariffs, I’d be more depressed. My stocks are down. 401 K and IRA worth down. Prices are up and will go higher. But here I am, happy as the mythical lark. Sensing that mood, The Neurons introduced the 1966 song into the morning mental music stream. This is today’s theme music.

Hope you’re experiencing some of what I’m getting and your day doesn’t bring you down. Do the best you can, right? Cheers

6

What An Idiot

A Refill of Stupid?

What an absolutely brainless sack of meat Tommy Tuberville reveals to be again anagain anagain. That doesn’t paint his constituents as a very bright crowd, either.

6

The Godzilla Dream

I was with several other people cowering in a building’s wreckage. Trying to rest.

The building was in a disaster area. It’d been storming. A dark day was ending. Night was arriving. The storm was beginning another act. It wasn’t the storm which caused the wreckage.

Talking to one another, we knew it was time. The creature was regular and consistent. It would be returning. The creature caused all the destruction.

We also knew that it knew about three of us. We’d been fighting the creature, as others had done. One by one, the creature had found and killed the others. Through conversation, we agreed, the thing knew where it was. We discussed who would fight it next. A young woman said that it would be her.

Noises told of the thing’s approach. Peering out through broken walls, we looked for the thing. Dusk was giving up its last hold. In it, we saw the unmistakeable profile of the towering fictional lizard monster, Godzilla.

Godzilla came right for us in our building. Scrambling for cover, we went in three different directions as the building was ripped apart. Cement walls flew past my head. Ducking into a dark safe room, I caught my breath and got ready to go fight.

Jumping up, I ran back out to confront Godzilla. The mechanism of how any of us were expected to defeat the creature was unclear but I was sure that I could do it.

Breaking out onto an office building’s flat rooftop, I spied the young woman raising across rooftops, jumping from building to building. Tearing buildings down, Godzilla thundered after her.

Then his tail swept around and took out the building I was in.

I saw it coming but didn’t react in time. As the building went over with cascading thunderous crashes, I drew my body into a ball and fell through the building and into a street.

I wasn’t hurt.

Godzilla was visible over a mile away. The sky was growing lighter, like dawn was coming. Then Godzilla disappeared.

I watched for him to reappear. Word arrived: Godzilla was dead. Gone. The young woman had defeated him but died in the process.

I was amazed and overjoyed. With the sun rising, we could see the city flattened in every direction. People were crawling out of the wreckage.

Gazing across the wreckage toward blue sky, I saw another creature emerging. I knew I’d need to fight it, too. As I prepared to go, I wondered if there would ever be an end to monsters.

Dream end.

Note: I’m aware that I referred to PINO Trump as Trumpzilla recently. My mind apparently worked that into a dream for me. I’ll let you decide what it all means.

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Wenzda’s Theme Music

Ah, sunshine. Yesterday had the sunshine working around us in a revolving door. The changes were stark. One minute, sunshine is blazing in the windows and we’re raising the blinds to cut it. Literally the next minute found my wife asking, “What happened to the sun? It’s dark in here. Turn on the light.”

She looked out. “It’s pouring outside.”

Sitting with her book with the light on, we’re suddenly engulfed by bright light again. We both rise to look out the window. I shield my eyes. “It’s sunny again.” I lower a blind. “How long will this last?”

About three minutes, as it turned out.

That’s spring in Ashland. Probably similar in many other locales.

Today is Wenzda, April 2, 2025. It’s 38 F and sunshine is splashing off the solidly wet world. The cat feels things have regressed. Instead of trying to leave again, he’s positioned himself for a groom and nap. “Can’t trust that weather out there, can you?” I ask him.

He pauses in a mid-leg lick to swivel his ears and give me a gaze. His expression is like he’s trying to conjure the right words. “Cat got your tongue?” I ask.

That drives him back to washing.

My wife and I applauded the Wisconsin Supreme Court results last night. We also applauded Senator Booker’s record-setting filibuster. We want stronger action and are dubious about the senator’s effort and its impact. It probably flew past most people’s attention, we feel. But it may buoy a few people. Every little bit might help trigger a bigger movement and greater awareness.

Stevie Wonder is playing in the morning mental music stream. Wonder’s cover of “Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday” came out in 1969. It’s catalogued in the childhood section of my mind. I don’t think I’ve heard it in a while. Even with a few swallows of coffee to encourage them, The Neurons aren’t elaborating about their choice. From the one dream remembered from last night, I don’t think it’s from that. Other Neurons suggest that it could just be association from thinking about the weather yesterday. Could be, I agree. Could also be a function of news and politics. The song does address what happened to all we had yesterday and how it’s change.

What happened to the world we knew?
When we would dream and scheme
And while the time away?
Yester-me, yester-you, yesterday
Mm, yeah

[Verse 2]
Where did it go (Where did it go?), that yester-glow?
When we could feel
The wheel of life turn our way
Yester-me. yester-you, yesterday

[Bridge]
I had a dream. so did you
Life was warm and love was true
Two kids who followed all the rules
Yester-fools, and now

h/t to Genius.com

The coffee seems to be working. Heading off to get things done. Hope your day gives you a chance to feel happy, satisfied, and eager to do more. Cheers

0

Twosda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

Bit of good news on Oregon’s political front. The Trump et al hates the mail-in ballots. Although he has used them to vote, he claims that he doesn’t trust them. Thinks they’re vulnerable to cheating. Facts show it’s otherwise, that Oregon’s voting by mail system works well. Facts, along with loyalty, empathy, history, and intelligence, have never mattered to PINO Trump, so he HATES Oregon’s voting system. (Trump also hates mail-in voting because mail-in voters tend to vote Democrat. That makes Donald sad because he’s all GOTP.)

Well, that Trump hatred drove loyal trumpdog and Oregon Sen. David Brock Smith to introduce SB 210 2025 to change Oregon’s system. Smith wanted to force us to vote only on election day, only in person.

I am proud to say that Oregon voters responded. We sent in so many comments against changing our voting system, we swamped the legislature’s website, brothers and sisters and everyone else, and the matter is being dropped.

Well done. Very well done.

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Twosda’s Wandering Thoughts

We passed the Ford dealership today on the way home from shopping. The selection of new and used cars was impressive. We’d been talking off and on about buying another car before the TTs (Trump Tariff) blow the market up. Three friends had all purchased new cars. All are EVs. We were feeling a little EV envy. Guess I could write that as EnVy but would anyone but me understand?

“Art and Marsha bought a Kia,” my wife said. “Mary and Bruce bought a Hyndai. Priscilla and Alan also bought a Hyundai. Nancy has ordered a new Japanese car that’s being made to order.”

Those were things I already knew. I suspected my wife was reminding herself. I was drifting toward a pretty, new Mustang Mach e. I probably wouldn’t buy one. Car & Driver ranks it as 4th in the compact EV SUV category. Two Kias and a Hyundai rank above it. But those are what my friends are driving. I don’t want to drive the same car as them. I also know that C&D thinks highly of the new Mazda CX 90 Hybrid. I like Mazdas but the 90 is a big beast. Way more SUV than we need.

Then I spotted it. Midnight Silver Metallic. A 2024 Tesla Model S.

I checked out the sticker. 11,000 miles. 52,000 dollars. Loaded. Still under warranty.

“That’s a great price,” I told my wife. “But it’s a Tesla. And…you know.”

She nodded. “Yes. But.” She looked at me. “Let’s do it.”

So guess what we did?

We laughed our asses off. Ha, ha. April Fools! There’s no way we’d buy one of those overpriced ego machines. Car & Driver ranks the Tesla 13th in that category, which is the luxury EV scene. All sorts of better machines available that we’d buy before a Tesla. But before buying in that category, I’d shop more practical categories first.

Rain began falling anew. We trotted to our ten-year-old CX 5. I patted it on the steering wheel. “Who needs a new car when we have you?” Although, as we pulled out, I spotted a pretty little Tesla Cybertruck.

Oh, please. Would anyone ever call a Cybertruck little and pretty?

0

Twosda’s Theme Music

Not a good night of sleep to end March of 2025 for me. Twosda, April 1, 2025, has begun with overnight lows in the bottom of the 30s F. 38 F now. Highs will hit the 40s. Squirmy grey clouds shoulder down onto the mountains and separate into misty tendrils. Rain falls. Blue sky is off limits. A skittish sun reassures us it’s daytime.

Papi disliked the rain. He was in and out a billion and seven times between 6 and 8 AM. Fed up by the stale routine, I lectured him. “You’re the cat who cried in and out too many times. If you go out this time, you’re staying out there.” He was mute in response but went out. Thereafte, he beat to come in every ten minutes. I finally let him in after an hour. He reproached me with a look. Nothing has been learned here.

Dreams then contributed to my sluggish state. I had a dream in three parts. The cat kept disrupting it but I kept returning to it. Now I’m on my cup of coffee, looking to it to prompt more blood flow through me.

“We could get a tushy,” my wife says. “It’s very popular.”

She’s referring to a bidet seat. She’s been off and on about this for six months. First on. She wanted one with warm water. Than off because we don’t have an electric outlet by the toilet. I suggested having one installed. She thought about that for a few weeks and then turned that down.

“Do you want a cold water one then?” I asked. That was the natural follow up.

“Let me think about it.”

So she’s back on it today. “We need to measure the toilet,” I tell her. “To ensure it fits.”

“It fits ninety percent of all toilets,” she says.

I’ve heard that before. “We need to measure and confirm it fits our toilet seat’s shape and size. What’s a skirted toilet?” I will do these things later, I tell myself. I don’t want to disturb my morning routine. It already feels wrecked.

Part of my wrecked sensation came from a foot episode. The one which has recovered from surgery. When I arose to partake of Papi’s ingress/egress routine, the foot was painful and stiff. I’d not had any issues with it. So I responded to self, “WTF?” Thoughts of what I did with the foot the previous day were pursued. Nothing meaningful was found. It feels fine now. I register it in my permanent record as another life mystery.

Tame Impala is performing “Let It Happen” in the morning mental music stream. Maybe it’s associated with the dreams. Could also be from thinking about ordering and installing the bidet seat or from pondering the crumbling United States and the GOTP and MAGA response is to it. Although The Neurons have been with me for a few years, I’m still trying to understand how they work.

“Let It Happen” came out in 2015. I didn’t remember that. Looked it up on the net. Wiki thingy’s summary says, “Let It Happen” is about “finding yourself always in this world of chaos and all this stuff going on around you and always shutting it out because you don’t want to be part of it. But at some point, you realize it takes more energy to shut it out than it does to let it happen and be a part of ‘it’.” That’s according to Kevin Parker. Parker is the Australian who wrote the song and performs it.

I think I’m seeing some glimmering of why The Neurons have it racing around my morning mental music stream.

Coffee is not helping much this morning. My bed is singing me a lullaby. But it’s April 1. No foolin’. We’re washing the bed linens. And I want to get on to things. Writing, um, showering and dressing. I also have a bidet to order.

Hope your day is going better. Cheers

0

Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

It feels wintry cold in the coffee shop. They don’t heat the place much. I’m wearing a fleece piece. I usually wear something like that or a sweatshirt here. While they don’t heat the place in the winter, they ice it in the summer. I’m told all of this is for the workers behind the counter. I accept that. Today it feels like gloves are appropriate.

Winter’s influence is edging up. Snow covers the northern ridges down to about thirty-five hundred feet. Reports of snow falling in other places percolate around the net. It’s 42 here and light rain is falling.

I feel like I’m ready to stop writing. Go home, get warm, read a book and eat lunch. I typed and edited for several hours. Made substantial progress.

At least, that’s what I’m pitching to myself. Writer, beware.

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