Saturday’s Theme Music — Circles
Bandon, southern Oregon coast. Saturday, August 15, 2026.
We’re in Bandon to do the Circles in the Sand walk. Back then, it was about 60 F. Clouds played keep away with the sunshine. I dropped my wife off at the Face Rock Wayside at 8:15. Then I drove back to the hotel and walked back to do the walk with her. We finished the walk at 10 AM, then I walked back, got the car, and picked up my wife. So it was a refreshed, relaxing morning by the sea.
Back in the room, I spoke with the house sitter. She and Papi are old familiars so he’s comfortable with her presence.
After that cool morning, it’s a gorgeous afternoon — 61 but feels 71. Sunshine washes over the coast.
Now:
The labyrinth — well, a third of it, from the parking lot overlook:
A few news headlines attracted my afternoon attention.
‘The government cites no binding authority’: Trump admin’s losing streak continues in lawsuits seeking ‘unredacted’ voter
The buck stops somewhere else: Trump takes blame game to a new level
‘This is Trump’s economy‘: Nobel winner butchers president’s claims
Retail sales collapse as Trump slump continues
Trump Is Still a Loser: Courts Edition
These aren’t news headlines so much as they’re affirmations of who Trump is, and how his poor decision-making and aggressive power moves are backfiring on him.
Trump and his administration refuses to learn or change course, so we keep going in circles. Trump attempts the same policies; they’re taken to court and are often denied or overturned. Trump then tries another tack to see if it’ll stick.
Over and over again — round and round in circles.
Meanwhile, the United States economy is circling the drain, along with many political norms.
Not surprising that between Trump circling the drain and walking the circles in the sand, The Neurons put a song about circles in the morning mental music stream. “Circle in the Sand” was released by Belinda Carlisle in 1977 and was a global hit.
I signed my name at the beach. The tides will erase it by tomorrow, but I have the photograph and memory — as long as they don’t fade…
Cheers
Thursday’s Theme Music — Simple Minds
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, August 13, 2026.
Another cool one for us, 71 F and 86 later. Blue sky, sunshine, clear air. You have no complaints from me about it.
Still worried, though; red flag warnings have been issued for much of Oregon for later today. Lightning, which too easily translates to more wildfires.
Although I live in Oregon, north of California, I checked out this news article on SF Gate this morning:
Here’s what the ‘extraordinary’ new El Niño forecast means for California
It’s supposed to be a super El Nino. The conditions creating the super El Nino is why we’re not having as many hurricanes in the Atlantic this year.
But the article begins, “All eyes are on the unusual power of this year’s El Niño.“
I laughed when I read that. I don’t think Trump’s eyes are on the impending El Nino at all. Led by Trump, his administration has focused on policy actions that roll back climate science initiatives and downscale the federal agencies responsible for tracking things like El Nino. Erika Spanger, director of strategic climate analytics at UCS, summarized it well:
“This is the year when the triple crises of climate change, a reckless authoritarian government, and economic insecurity will start to collide.”
That’s Trump: reckless. His path of destruction screams about the reckless nature of his decisions. Trump doesn’t learn; he hears some bullshit that his supporters like hearing and adopts it as policy. Traditional conservatives and members of the GOP supports him because he’s not a Democrat.
Meanwhile, look at how poorly the job market is doing. How much cases of measles are rising. The slog unofficially known at the Trump Iran War — TIW.
Look at his lies about one thing after another.
It turns my stomach.
We’re watching El Nino here, of course. We’ve been enduring wildfire damage. That sets us up for erosion, flooding, and landslides. That’s compounded by the drought conditions we’ve had for several years. With drought, the earth can absorb less water. Hence, more flooding. Additionally, we’re expecting warmer than usual weather; we aren’t expecting the snow we need for next year.
Based on his history, I expect Trump and MAGAts to shrug and say, “It’s weather.” Talk about simple minds.
Today’s music is “Sanctify Yourself” by Simple Minds. A dream deposited it in my morning mental music stream. At one point in the dream, my wife and I, along with my sister-in-law, went into what seemed a hotel suite — or our house. Not really clear on that point. I heard the song play in the dream and briefly wondered, hey, is Simple Minds here? But in classic dream fashion, I then pivoted to other matters.
A dream deposited it in my morning mental music stream. At one point in the dream, my wife and I, along with my sister-in-law, went into what seemed a hotel suite — or our house. Not really clear on that point. I heard the song play in the dream and briefly wondered, hey, is George Thorogood here? But in classic dream fashion, I then pivoted to other matters.
This is a 1986 song that I’ve always enjoyed myself. I found a Night of the Proms performance of this song. I frequently enjoy the way the Proms series present these songs. Hope you enjoy it as well.
Sample Lyrics
Is this the age of the thunder and rage
Can you feel the ground move ’round your feet?
If you take one step closer, it’ll lead to another
The crossroad above is where we meet
I shout out for shelter, I need you for something
The whole world’s out, they’re all on the street
Control yourself, love is all you need
Control yourself in your eyes
Sanctify yourself, sanctify (sanctify)
Be a part of me, sanctify (sanctify)
Sanctify yourself, sanctify (sanctify)
Sanctify yourself, set yourself free
May your August day be one that’s sweetness and light, with peace and grace, in the face of the mess that keeps building.
Cheers
Tuesday’s Theme Music – Money
Ashland, southern Oregon. Tuesday, August 11, 2026.
We continue slowly cooling in our area. 78 F, 92 F is the expected high. But we never saw the forecast high yesterday, coming up a few degrees short. I was alright with that. Smoke has been absent from the sky, too, knock on wood, despite so many fires plaguing Oregon and the United States in general — indeed, the world. The world’s oceans had their highest recorded temperature in July.
My sisters and I entered an extended text session a few days ago. Continued into today. All about the family. Turns out we aren’t “Parks” except in name. Mom’s maiden name is Parks. Her father was Parks. But his father was Slacks. So we’re Slacks. After Alfred Parks died, Mom’s grandmother married Slack and had our great-grandfather. She then divorced Slack and resumed life as Parks, re-naming her two children from Slack as Parks. Family legend from another part of the family claim that Alfred Slack’s side was shady, which might explain things.
It’s probably just me, but Trump’s Patriot Games seem to be going on with little notice. I think he imagined something grand but as usual with Trump efforts, the execution was shoddy. Besides having to move it from D.C. to Ohio, because of competing events — which Trump ordered — participants weren’t selected for their athletic prowess from great competitions. Most of them turned out to be white, which isn’t a surprise to me. Some represented states they weren’t from — which, yes, also aligns with classic Trump sloppiness.
Athletes attending Patriot Games reveal how it devolved into MAGA madness
The games themselves are a very strange choice, it seems like:
Qualifying rounds, along with kickball and dodgeball, took place on Sunday. On Monday, male and female competitors participated in a “varsity circuit” that strung together many sports: athletes had to throw footballs at targets, catch tennis balls out of the air, kick a soccer ball at a target, spike volleyballs over a net, hit wiffle balls with a bat, and sprint around a baseball diamond. Also on Monday, athletes competed in “operation endurance,” in which they had to maneuver through an obstacle course that involved army crawling, climbing nets, lifting heavy tires, monkey bars, and balance beams.
Let’s just call it what it is, more distraction from what a crappy job Trump is doing, more Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIREEL!, just like the Epstein ballroom, the war on Iran, the threats about Greenland, the attack on Venezuela, the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, the pathetic arch, calling Democrats ‘dumocrats, renaming buildings and airports after him, TrumpRx, Freedom Fuel, Trump’s denunciation of President Biden’s economy — which is way better than the Trump economy, America’s state fair, the blustering about commies stealing the election — hell, all the election fraud crap Trump spouts all the damn time — and other things, like Haitians eating pets. Lies, corruption, and distractions: that’s Trump.
While we have real problems in the US and around the world, Trump attacks imaginary problems, trying to magnifiy their impact, trying to scare people. Meanwhile, our real problems worsen.
I checked this morning and the measles outbreaks are still breaking out. We’re already into new modern records. Texas and South Carolina are the nation’s hot spots, with significant outbreaks taking place in Texas, Virginia, and Pennsylvania.
I have “For the Love Of Money” by the O’Jays playing in the morning mental music stream. Song came out in 1973 and was a top 10 hit for in the US. I’m thinking about it today because of how it’s screwing up existence. Capitalism, right? And dark money, which has assumed such a dominant role in modern US politics. Then there are the wealthy oligarchs and billionaires, hunting more for themselves to the detriment of everyone and everything else.
Then there’s the top of the greed pyramid, Donald Trump. Greed and money drives Trump — along with his fantasies about how wonderful and brilliant he thinks he is, ignoring all evidence and facts that consistently confirm, is actually pretty damn inept. He’s an excellent liar and con, and that’s about it.
Sample Lyrics
(For the love of money) people will steal from their mother
(For the love of money) people will rob their own brother
(For the love of money) people can’t even walk the streets
Because they never know who in the world they’re gonna beat
For that mean, oh mean, mean green
Almighty dollar, that money
(For the love of money) people will lie, Lord, they will cheat
(For the love of money) people don’t care who they hurt or beat
(For the love of money) a woman will sell her precious body
For a small piece of paper, it carries a lot of weight
For that mean, mean, mean, mean, mean green
Almighty dollar, talkin’ about, talkin’ about
I know that money is the root of all evil
Do funny things to some people
Give me a nickel, brother, can you spare a dime?
Money can drive some people out of their mind
(For the love of money) no good, no good, no good
(For the love of money) don’t sell your soul for the money, no, no
(For the love of money) lay down, lay down, women will
Money is the root of all evil
Do funny things to some people
Give me a nickel, brother, can you spare a dime?
Money can drive some people out of their minds
Hope your day brings you safety, peace, and security, along with good things to eat and drink. May you live long and prosper, as others used to say.
Cheers
A Dream of Dad & Others
Last night’s dream featured three dead people: my friend, Randy; Dad; and my mother-in-law, Belle. It also featured a high school English teacher, and my father’s second wife. He was married three times, although he also loved with another woman for about ten years.
I was young. At the dream’s beginning, I’m up above, in a house, with others. Down below is a large green lawn with some green maples or oaks. Dad, stumbling drunk and very loud, was down there with his second wife by the trees. She was pregnant. Dad had two long rifles.
A man and woman were walking backwards across the grass, away from Dad. The man wore a straw hat. He also had two rifles.
Although I could hear them yelling, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. But they were having some kind of argument, and it was escalating. From what I saw, the man seemed to threatening to shoot Dad.
Turning, I found two weapons beside me. Picking up a sawed-off shotgun, I pointed it down at the man and called out.
He acknowledged something about, “Oh, now you have a shotgun in the fight.”
Another man and woman seemed to be approaching from the other side of the lawn to join that man and woman.
I realized the shotgun would be ineffective because of the range so I picked up the long rifle and aimed it at the man.
He moved back forward toward Dad and raised his rifle. Then he backed away again, turned and began walking away.
At that point, Dad threw his rifles into the air, hurling them away from the house.
The man left and Dad and his wife came in.
Dad could barely walk because he was so drunk. He went into a room where he said with a sloppy grin, “I’m going to lay down.” Then he passed out on his back on the floor.
Meanwhile, I had homework to do. I shifted to being in a classroom with my high school English teacher. She was explaining to us, a small class of students, what she wanted in our assignment.
The assignment excited me. I went home and worked on it on my computer. Then the file crashed, which upset me. I had two other assignments due but now didn’t have enough time to complete it all. Thinking about what to do, I concluded that I needed to tell the teacher that I couldn’t get it in on time and go from there.
I then went out to join the others. We were in a very large, well-lit house, brick, with many windows. All of us went to one small room. My mother-in-law (Belle) was in there. Something she said or that we saw satisfied us. We concluded, “That’s taken care of.”
Moving back into a hall, I said, “Now we need to figure out where we all sleep.”
Randy, my dead friend, began walking down the hall, talking with me. We were looking into the bedrooms. They were small, with a small bed, and no doors. I saw one and thought, I’ll sleep there, though I said nothing.
Randy led me into another small bedroom. “I can put someone in here,” he said. I noticed that there was hall attached. Saying, “What’s in there,” I went into the hall, which turned out to be a huge, well-lit bedroom. As I walked in, astounded, I saw an enormous room, with a huge king-sized bed, and two other, smaller beds.
I said, “People can sleep in here,” then I realized, oh, this is Belle’s room. If we put people in here, where will Belle sleep?
Dream end
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.
Another Military Dream – Almost
I wasn’t in the military. Young again, I discovered that I’d volunteered to do something. Many others had volunteered. We were waiting for the results.
While doing that, we went into a chowhall. The place seemed chaotically organized. I decided to fix a burrito. I managed to get a plate, tortilla, beans, rice, but then could find nothing else. I was watching people select other foods but none of those foods were familiar. I eventually found some corn chips. Crunching them up, I added them to my burrito and ate it. It was not very satisfying.
An announcement was then made. I, along with others, had been chosen for a special project. We were being told that it was a great honor and we would do a wonderful job. I have no idea what that was about, although I seemed to understand it in the dream.
We were told that we had new quarters we’d be sharing. Find someplace and stake a claim.
I knew no one else there; in fact, that seemed common: no one knew anyone else. So I’d be bunking with strangers.
I entered what was indicated as available quarters. What I encountered wasn’t what I expected. The walls were painted in bright white. Furnished, it was strangely arranged and organized. Wide, tall, the floor sloped like a meadow. Different rooms were indicated via arched halls. Whole thing reminded me of a hobbit’s place.
I encountered one of the others. A tall, white guy, bald, he was in Air Force dress blues. I gawked at his medals and ribbons; they were a collection unlike any I’d ever seen.
I told him so. Abashed, he replied, “Oh, yes, they rewarded me for being part of some special projects, but they weren’t really anything.” He then explained two of them but I don’t recall those details. One was a huge, blue and white ribbon with a large gold B on it.
Needing to use a restroom, I spotted one ‘down the living room slope’. The bathroom was a small, well lit cave with a rounded entry and door. The bathroom itself was gold and pink. Strings of bright white and gold lights were attached to the arched door frame.
I went in and sat on the commode, then tried to close the door. It would not stay close. We have to fix this, I thought.
A tall, muscular black woman in green shorts and a green top pushed the door in. I told her the room was in use. Never saying anything, she left.
The door remained open. Going out, she called out to the man in the dress uniform, “I can give you three four eight for seven. That should get you there.”
Leaving the room, I did up my clothes and asked in general, “What’s that mean?”
Dream end.
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.
