Tag: just goofing around

Trump Is Doing Great!

Trump is doing so damn good, it’s incredible! Certainly the most amazing thing any of us have ever witness in the history of the entire world.

Yes, Trump is doing great — as long as you ignore a lot of the economy. Prices have gone up since he’s taken over, but inflation is dropping a little. So if you ignore those prices and focus on the declining inflation, Trump is doing great — and so are we!

Except, well — okay, you also need to ignore the July jobs report, and, um, the jobs reports for every month that Trump has been in the Oval Office since January of 2025. Those numbers are not good, but — here’s the good news which you need to focus on — unemployment is still down and a little lower than before. Of course, that’s because there are less people working — but if you just ignore that, the employment picture is rosier than ever!

Although, in order to conclude that Trump is doing great, we will need to forget that he promised no new wars. But those were just words, am I right?

We’ll need to pretend that Trump didn’t attack Iran, driving prices UP FOR EVERYTHING. We’ll also need to adjust our thinking so that it doesn’t look like Iran is dragging us over the coals, or that Trump said the war that isn’t a war which he started in February and claimed would last just a few weeks isn’t going on for over six months and burning through military resources.

Also, to support the reality that Trump is doing great, we’ll need to, ah, ignore the national debt, and how much we’re borrowing to pay that off. I mean, if we start thinking about that! Well — ha, ha — Trump isn’t really doing that great, but if we IGNORE that, then things are SUPER under Trump.

Also, proving how great everything is under Trump — except measles outbreaks — yikes! — which used to be almost eliminated but is now at some kind of high we haven’t seen in decades in the United States — but ignore that, please. Proving how great everything is under Trump, even Trump says it’s going great! He says his poll numbers are really terrific.

His poll numbers certainly are great — well, if you discount over half of the Independent voters, almost all Democrats, and a quarter of Republicans. Also, ignore young voters — three quarters of them disapprove of Trump — and Latino voters, as almost three quarters of them also disapprove of Trump.

Also, umm, over half of mothers with young children disapprove of Trump and the job he’s doing, so don’t talk to them, ha, ha! Along with Gen Z women, who disapprove of Trump more than any other age group! In fact, overall, over sixty percent of women don’t approve of Trump, so…you know…

Other than those small groups, Trump is doing great. And so are we!

I must say, Trump also looks so good — well, if you overlook his apparently obesity — and I wouldn’t want to body shame him — and his posture, skin, and hair — and that wig! — and the way he walks — but let’s not go there. If we overlook all of that, you gotta admit, he looks pretty…um…fair.

For an old, tired, rich white guy.

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The Optimist

The price of gas has fallen in the US, and so quickly!

Now it’s just $.95 a gallon more than it was when Trump took office in 2025.

Follow me here. That means that if I buy ten gallons a week every week, I’m only spending $9.50 a week more, or just $494 a year more. Peanuts, really!

I’m doing even better with my electricity. Used to cost me $159 a month back in January 2025. Now I’m only paying $183 a month!

I’m laughing all the way to the bank.

Grocery prices, too, are really falling, and fast! Used to cost me $235 a week for groceries, and now it’s just $243 a week. Hahahaha. I’m only paying $9 a week more, just $468 more a year! My gosh, isn’t this great?

Add it all up, and I’m only spending $1,250 a year more than eighteen months ago, and it’s all coming down so quickly!

And don’t get me started on my healthcare insurance. Really, don’t. Please. There’s no comparison to be made because I can no longer buy insurance. That’s cool, though, that’s cool. I’m kind of young. Kind of healthy. Just a little overweight and diabetic, with a little stiffness, although I don’t sleep well and I feel tired all the time.

But man, things are going so great now that ICE is rounding up all those people. Yep, it’s all so great.

So very, very great.

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The Garbage Can

I was in the living room, doing light exercises and watching the television.

It was 10 PM. The temperature had hit 101.5 F at our house. Now it had dropped to 80. I’d gone around, opening the windows to cool us off.

Strong skunk smells began coming in with the cool air. Cursing, I went around closing the windows I’d opened about ten minutes before.

As I was doing this, my wife came in. “I heard something knock over a garbage can.”

“Our garbage can?” I asked. It’s behind a fence so –

“I don’t know where it was. I think it was on the street.”

Confirming that Papi was safely inside, my wife went to the front door. Picking up a flashlight, I joined her, turning on the porch light and unlocking the door. She did a little start. As I went out, she took hold of my shirt and followed.

I shined the flashlight along the dark street. Sirens were rising. Emergency vehicles raced along the main road about a hundred feet below us.

“See any trashcans?” my wife asked.

“Just that one.” I shone the light on a bulky shape across the street.

“That trashcan has eyes,” my wife said.

“It does,” I agree.

At that point, we knew it was a bear. Black bears are common in our area. Down on all fours, the bear looked about four feet tall at its shoulders. It casually turned and took a few steps toward us.

My wife took a few steps backwards.

I laughed.

The bear disappeared behind some bushes lining the street. “Let’s go in the house,” I suggested.

“Okay.” As we went in, my wife said, “I was ready to give you a quick push and then shuffle backwards into the house.”

I chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. I know I’m faster than you.”

She laughed.

I looked back with the flashlight. The beer loped up the street.

My wife said, “I smell skunk.”

We went inside. I resumed closing the windows.

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Monday’s Theme Music – Failure

Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, August 3, 2026.

It’s cool now but heat and fire weather warnings are up. Our present temp is 68 F but we’re bracing for a 96 F high as the heat dome comes our way. Will the jet stream save us? If it doesn’t they warn us, brace yourself for temperatures over 100 with a heat index that pushes it much higher.

My wife and I had the case of the missing mangos this morning. “Hey, didn’t we buy mangos?” she asked, looking around.

Yes, I agreed, also looked around. We began a search. Not in the frig, on the counter anywhere. Didn’t ‘somehow’ get left in the car. At last: the last place we looked: with the potatoes.

My wife said. “I was tired when we were putting the food away.”

Case solved.

This is unlike the case of the missing senator. “He’s alive,” the GOP proclaims, but Mitch McConnell still hasn’t been seen in public for almost two months. It’s starting to be a lot like Trump’s war.

Trump’s war with Iran is also in a limbo states. Back in March, Trump and Hegseth claimed the war was over, with Trump declaring it was an “unmitigated success”.

That was six months ago.

Then Trump has gone on and off the record about what’s happening, swatting away any attempt to being held accountable to We the People. “I’m gonna bomb them,” he texts, then reverses himself. Oil prices rise and drop. Oil companies are making record profits. The rest of us scramble to deal with rising prices. That’s standard under GOP guidance: the rich get richer, the poor are told to suck rocks.

The Iran war is just one of many incomplete Trump mysteries. Other is, what happened to releasing the Epstein files? Trump promised he would release the files. A law was passed that they must be released. After months of distraction, Trumpnions are still holding them back on behalf of the bossman.

Thanks to Pirro’s terrible legal skills in leading the DoJ, the case about the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is much stronger. Let the records show that it’s just as we thought, that Trump’s contractor botched the job and Trump scrambled to save face by screaming, “Vandals! Plots! Democrats!” Just as he does every time he screws up.

Likewise, the Freedom250 celebration isn’t as profitable and successful as Trump crowed it was, which required that We the People made up the shortfall. We all kind of saw that coming: Trump announced the performers and almost all immediately said, “No, no, we’re not part of this.”

Yes, it’s been the summer of Trump failures. Building toward a year.

Except for grifting; as always, he’s taking care of himself, making a ton of money by making the Oval Office into a crime boss’s golden lair. Between his ruthless need to be honored and his insane hunger to appear rich and powerful, he’s become a Bond villain caricature, which is something, since they’re often caricatures to begin.

Except, also, for the tournament he won at one of his golf courses. He won that. Everyone outside of his grift circle immediately questioned whether he cheated. This is because he’s Donald Trump, a known liar, adulterer, and cheater. Just pick a topic. Look what he promised and claimed. If you’re a MAGAt or Republican, you’re fine because the ends justify the means for you. So, Trump Double Standards are employed.

But they’ll reach that final FAFO moment when they’ve burned it all down. Given their recent history, they’ll pivot: create conspiracies. Blame others about what went wrong.

Just like their leader, Donald J. Trump.

Your Trump Quote(s) of the Day:

Trump on Jeffrey Epstein:

Trump on Affordability:

And the only truth Trump has ever uttered:

Today’s occupant in the morning mental music stream is “Power Failure” by Procol Harum. Released in 1971, it’s an old favorite of mine from a distant era. The song is about bands and the struggles they face. But I think it translates well to politics.

Lyrics (h/t to AZLyrics.com)

Climbing out of open windows
Crashing down from broken stairs
Keeping watch on smoking cinders
Falling over burning chairs
Tossed and crossed and screwed in transit
Broken , splintered, bruised and thrown
Badly shattered, gale force frighty
Rrushed across and shown alone
Speech reduced by poor relations
Strung from weeks of self abuse
Chopped up, churned out weeks of greazy
Spark plugs burned up, power’s fused

That imagery spells Trump failure and GOP collapse.

Hope your Monday — or whatever day — sparkles with magic that invigorates and moves you on to new heights and familiar joys.

Cheers

2

Sunday’s Theme Music — Get You

Ashland, southern Oregon. Sunday, August 2, 2026.

Our weather is cool, 62 F right now. It’ll rise to the mid 80s, basically as it did yesterday. The air is clear with an AQI that says ‘it’s good’. Clouds muddle around the sky as if they’re waiting for a door to open somewhere.

I’m suspicious of it all.

Things are going well — here. Relatively. Everything is relative. We live on spectrums of changing needs, abilities, awareness, knowledge. It all seems more acute for me as I grow older.

I don’t feel particularly old now but then I look in the mirror. Like, who stole my hair? Will they be returning it?

My face just looks different. Not like my parents or grandparents. Now I’m wondering if someone stole into the house and replaced my face.

Then, why would they have taken my average white, upper middle age (ahem) face?

Answer is, of course: they’re going to use my face to commit a crime somewhere.

So now I wait to see what crime my face shows up as part of.

Watching Mom, friends, and Trump, I don’t look forward to getting much older. Mom, 91, is cranky on most days. Filled with pain, she tells me. I see a video of her in a chair, trying to exercise. She’s listing to her right as she jerks her right arm up. She doesn’t look happy or healthy, but she’s trying.

Trump worries me even more. His language, never a strong suit, has become much worse. There are reports of him crapping his pants or delivering some nasty farts. Where there’s this much smoke, I got to wonder about the truth behind it. If he’s crapping himself or emitting enough noxious foulness that others are gagging and turning away, those aren’t signs of good heatlh.

In photos, Trump’s face has that old person, mean, angry look going. He’s glaring at the world like he’s trying to hear what they’re saying and can’t.

Worse, though, are those late night texts — from Mom and Trump.

Mom reached out at 2 AM to ask me if we’re safe from the fires. She pinged me again a few minutes later to ask, “Why don’t you answer?”

I don’t see these texts until I get up a few hours later. Then reply, sorry, missed your texts, was asleep, we’re fine. And I thank her for her concerns.

My sister later reports that Mom texted her in the middle of the night, asking what did Gina do with all the clothes Mom left behind in her house.

I worry, why is Mom up in the middle of the night texting?

Trump worries me in the same way. He spends a lot of nocturnal hours texting. Then he’s shown ready to fall asleep in his chair at meetings during the day.

Trump’s texts are worse than Mom’s texts. Mom shows a belated handle on what’s going on and often shows concern for others.

Trump texted an AI generated vision of himself as Elvis Presley. What an absolutely strange thing to do, I think as I see this. Who in their right mind pretends to be someone else like that?

Let’s pause to think about it: Trump is posting an image of himself as a popular pop culture star. One who died in 1977, almost fifty years ago. What is going on in that troubled head that he entertains these thoughts?

I then think of Trump’s MAGAts. They say that he speaks for them.

Are they out there generating AI images of themselves as others? Are some of them projecting themselves as young Johnny Cash or dead young athletes and actors?

As an aside to that, I admit that I admire the new Iran War Participation Award someone created for Trump. It has the right mix of bitter humor and deadly insights.

I received other texts and messages from people worrying about us and the fires. As the fires grow in the Pacific Northwest and more are evacuated, the news shifts toward the top of the news cycles.

We’re fine, I reply to all, knock on wood. No, it’s been a remarkably ‘cooler’ summer, with us rarely challenging 100 F. Wildfire threats have been far away. The smoke has only been mild and hasn’t lasted too long — knock on wood. Hope to hell I’m not jinxing us by mentioning it.

No, our thing remains the drought. Winter supplies are down to the low 40s. We’re conserving. Vegetation is browning, which would be nice if these were pie crusts baking in the oven instead of grassy fields and mountain meadows.

Between nature’s growing extreme trends and aging, there’s a sense that something is going to get you. Trump, acting crazy, arming ICE and mobilizing them in cities, fostering more war, using violence as a mallet to try to fix things, only makes that feel worse. Especially as his main concerns are promoting himself as a young Elvis Presley, affixing his name to buildings, and destroying our heritage and cultural norms.

No surprise then, with The Neurons’ music choice for the morning mental music stream. “One Way or Another” is a 1979 Blondie song. Deborah Harry was being stalked but wrote the song with some humor injected into it.

Sample Lyrics:

One way or another, I’m gonna find ya
I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya
One way or another, I’m gonna win ya
I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya

One way or another, I’m gonna see ya
I’m gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya
One day, maybe next week, I’m gonna meet ya
I’m gonna meet ya, I’ll meet ya

Catchy. Easy to sing along with, good hard beat with a fast tempo made it a popular and memorable song. Makes perfect sense for today, with the threats being raised by nature and Trump.

Hope your day is threatfree, and that you enjoy carefree moments of pleasure and happiness with people you’re fond of, in places which you enjoy.

Cheers

3

The Wake Up Ping

WARNING: It’s ‘nother first world blues rant.

I don’t usually keep my phone near me when I’m in bed. Had a lifetime in the military, along with my time in marketing. People always wanted me immediately available.

Well, no longer! It’s one of the declarations of independence I made when I retired from all that work stuff. The phone stays in the other room.

Except, yesterday, it didn’t. I wasn’t feeling well. My car was in the shop for routine maintenance. I was waiting for them to call or text to tell me it was ready. So I had the phone on my nightstand.

They called about four-ish, asking if they could keep it overnight. No, nothing major found; they were just short-handed and overscheduled.

Shrugging it off, I agreed, sure. “Call me in the morning when it’s ready.”

I went back to sleep, off and on, and forgot about the phone.

Until six AM this morning.

The phone pinged with a message. In irritation, I thought, sisters. That was more a matter of my mood than anything. My sisters have habits of getting up early and sending texts early. They’re on the east coast of the US, so they’re three hours ahead of me. Texts that they’re sending at 8 AM are pinging on my phone at 5 AM.

But it wasn’t my sisters.

Nor was it the car repair shop.

No, it was Google Health, formerly known as Fitbit.

Google Health pinged me awake at 6 AM to tell me that I didn’t have a good night of sleep.

Sure; that made total freaking sense.

As Mom often grumbles, “Those so and so’s.”

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