Tag: love

Thursday’s Theme Music — Insanity

Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 3, 2026.

Cool rainy weather continues here. Today’s high will be 63 degrees F, ten degrees above the present temp. Blue sky is a memory as gray clouds take over from horizon to horizon, no matter where I look. Rain fell yesterday, and it was very enjoyable, almost springlike to me. No more rain is expected today; just clouds and cool temperatures.

My sister, Gina, is irritated with Mom again. This is about Mom’s Amazon purchases but also this new account Gina set up. Apparently, Mom can only have six transactions a month. Mom used three on Amazon already, then Gina paid three bills but forgot to include those for her calculations for Mom’s account, so Mom now can’t spend any more money in September, according to Gina. As she’s not communicating with Mom, she is asking one of us to tell Mom for her. I think Gina needs to own it.

I admit, I’m a little irked with Gina’s thinking here. On the one hand, she’s complaining about Mom’s deteriorating mental state and memory. On the other hand, she sets Mom up with an account with expectations that Mom will think of everything she’ll need for the month and place one order. Hard to fault Gina, though, because she — almost alone — is the one child living locally trying to help Mom.

My wife told me about a mother of five being convicted. Her crime was letting her five-year-old walk a few blocks by himself in their gated community in Virginia.

My wife and I were astonished. Our parents would’ve been thrown under the jail, as much as we freely roamed. I walked, ran, and biked everywhere, starting when I was about five. By the time I was twelve, I was hitching rides with strangers. On the other hand, maybe I was just lucky that nobody wanted to get me during that era. No one tried that until I was sixteen, when a crew-cut man in a pickup truck in his early fifties begged me to show him my pecker and offered money.

Today’s news has alarming moves revealed by the US Postal Service. As expected, Trump is trying to weaponize the USPS to stop voting by mail. As he and the GOP take a wrecking ball to nation’s norms, buildings, arts, laws, economy, healthcare system, and military, Trump is trying to keep as many people as possible from voting. He claims voting fraud but has never proven it. Likewise, other than small and isolated amounts, it’s never been found or proven elsewhere in the nation in this century.

Trump, though, is at once desperate to claim he’s popular by making the mid-term elections about him. He’s also afraid of that truth that he’s not popular. Whenever a candidate backed by Trump losing, Trump blames the candidate. Of course, the candidates he’s backed aren’t generally quality people, either, so there’s a load of blame to spread around.

In Texas, Trump is both trashing the GOP candidate, Ken Paxton, and urging for people to vote for Paxton. Like talking about how bad a restaurant is and then urging you to eat there, isn’t it?

Paxton is a GOPer modeled after Trump. Paxton paid $300K to get securities fraud charges against him dropped, and his wife is divorcing Paxton after reports of numerous affairs.

Big question: is Paxton also in the Epstein files, like Trump?

This was a hilarious headline:

Donald Trump ‘will quit after midterms and hand presidency to Vance’, expert predicts

That’s so ridiculous it’s not worth addressing beyond noting its existence.

Well, I also will say, if you think Trump is going to quit, I have a Trump Bible to sell you, barely used.

Speaking of selling, the Trump coin is officially available to buy. Except it’s sold out. And it’s a collectible, not legal tender. Talking about it with my wife, she asked, “Is that all they do, sit around talking about ways for Trump to put his name on things and make money?”

I read that another judge ruled against another Trump effort to ignore the Constitution and Amendments. That prompted “I’ll Stick Around” by Foo Fighters in the morning mental music stream.

Why that song? The song was released in 1995 and was It seemed to come from thinking about refusing to accept all the crap Trump is doing to our world. Then, thinking about why MAGAts go along with it. Then, reflecting on history — McCarthyism, the Ku Klux Klan, the way blacks, the people who lived on this continent before us, women — anyone who wasn’t white CIS male — was treated.

We overcame those things before; we need to overcome them again. And this song speaks to that: “I don’t owe you anything.” I’m speaking to the MAGAts who believe they’ve had it so bad.

Sample Lyrics

I still refused all the methods you abused
It’s alright if you’re confused, let me be
I’ve been around all the pawns you’ve gagged and bound
They’ll come back and knock you down and I’ll be free

I’ve taken all and I’ve endured
One day it all will fade, I’m sure

I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything

I had no hand in your ever desperate plan
It returns and when it lands, words are due
I should’ve known we were better off alone
I looked in and I was shown, you were too

I’ll close with wishes for you to achieve and persevere today and everything, in good health, with good friends. Peace and grace to you.

Cheers

1

Sunday’s Theme Music — Beginning

Sunday, August 23, 2026. Ashland, southern Oregon.

We’re again fortunate to have ‘good’ weather. Sunshine, blue skies, 74 F now, 90 F later. Some rain would be nice. Through today, we’re at 7% of normal precipitation for the year. Seven.

My wife and I greet each other many mornings with, “What’s the news? He dead yet?”

Then we laugh and say, “I know he’s not or you would have shouting the news.”

You know, this is the only person in our lifetime together — over fifty years — that we have ever said such things about. And we never specify who we’re talking about. That’s. Not. Needed.

Mom is complaining about her relationships with her daughters. “Three of them live nearby and none of them will take me to my appointments. Which will only HASTEN my death anyway.”

My sister’s daughter, May, is going to visit Mom tomorrow. We’re interested in the after-visit report. Mom helped raise May, and she and Mom had a great relationship until about four years ago. Then Mom became so angry and bitter, complaining about so many things, May declared, “I can’t do that any longer. It’s just too much.” Which is the case with my sisters and the rest of their children. Mom just became too much. I’d seen that trend developing and told Mom over and over through the last several years that all she does is complain and scold, that she’s always angry and bitter. Once she said that her partner, Frank, had just told her the same thing.

Trump has big action happening in DC with the Freedom 250 Indycar Grand Prix. It’s all part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! He’s just trying to distract all he can from how crappy things are going. Lots of corporations are going along with him. Retail sales are down, reflecting people’s challenges with the increasing affordability of living in the US. But corporations overall are doing well, with energy and technology companies doing particularly well.

So, yes, many corporations are all in for Trump’s Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! distractions. Hey, they’re getting theirs! Make hay while the sun shines! So what if the wealth gap continues to widen, if personal bankruptices are increasing, rural hospitals are closing, measles outbreaks are increasing, and the extreme weather gets worse? Corporation execs and shareholders are making money. Later, when the situation changes, they’ll contritely reduce prices, announcing ‘we’re all in this together’.

No. We’re not. They make that clear. They’re only in it together with us if it’s going to affect their profits, and then, they’ll only act under duress.

Today’s music emerges from my dream. I didn’t hear it in the dream but as I went through the night’s third dream, I suddenly heard Karen Carpenter singing “We’ve Only Just Begun”.

That could be an apt song for now, as far as the title’s sentiment. We’re about to go through some heavy duty loads with Donald Trump. He tried staying in power when he lost his bid for re-election, encouraging his supporters to resist the bona bide election results, encouraging them to ignore the law, resulting in death and destruction while widening the trust gap and polarizing the electorate. This year, he’s been working on trying to undermine the system.

Here’s the irony: Trump is cheerleading the nation’s 250th anniversary while simultaneously undermining the system that we’ve developed and improved for 250 years, the system which actually delivered him victory — twice.

Yet, Trump keeps whining and complaining about stolen elections without evidence. Is cutting much of the federal government in order to shift loads to states because of states’ rights. Meanwhile, he’s working hard to hollow out the states’ role in the national elections, basically usurping it so he can mold it as head of the executive branch of the federal government. It’s such a naked, wanton, power grab.

Trump is doing it because he’s a failure. His policies are failures, and people are awakening to this. His only way to get ahead, as always, is to lie, cheat, and steal.

So get ready: we’ve only just begun.

May your day begin with love and happiness and end on a high note.

Cheers

7

Friday’s Theme Music — Ignored

Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 21, 2026.

It’s a cool 75 F under cloudy skies right now. Looks like it could rain but rain is not in our forecast. Today’s high is expected to be 90, ten degrees lower than what we saw yesterday.

Mom is really down right now. She feels trapped and ignored, and that’s very understandable.

Mom texted me that her PCP told her she looks tired and old. Mom’s claim; don’t know if that’s what the doctor said. Mom also texted me, “I don’t want to see another birthday,” “Why won’t God let me die,” and “I don’t want a memorial service when I die. I don’t want anything.”

Mom, to me, always depended upon the structure of routines and schedules. Now her aging, medical issues, and medications has fractured her norms. She used to use cleaning as an outlet to stay on track, along with writing copious notes on her calendar about what was going on: children’s schedules and visits, appointments, bills due and paid, house and car maintenance. Those mechanisms are gone, too. She’s being told one to sleep, eat, and socialize, and she doesn’t like it. Additionally, she and her daughters who live closest to her have a huge emotional schism relating to their lives together and Mom’s choices.

Mom reacts to the gap with anger; the sisters react to Mom’s anger with more distance.

It’s like a self-fulfilling doom loop.

The closing for the sale of Mom’s house is next Tuesday at 5 PM. I texted Mom to ensure she was aware.

She didn’t respond.

Without real surprise, I see that Trump is encouraging the construction of AI and data centers. Backlash against AI/data centers is growing across the United States, creating an ideological trap for Donald Trump.

Part of this is that these types of sites take up land, water, and electricity, but nothing tangible that can be held in your hand emerges from it.

The other part of the trap is that the corporations often demand huge tax breaks and subsidies for the privilege of building there, and the locals are not usually consulted. That pisses them off, because nobody is listening to them. That was exactly the angry and emotional fodder Trump used as fuel to win their votes; he was speaking for them, ‘telling them like it is’.

Now, as others have done, Trump is ignoring them.

And it’s happening on the cusp of the midterm elections.

Those of us who understand who Trump is aren’t surprised. He used MAGA to achieve political power. Then he used that political power to enrich himself. Now he’s using it to further enrich the ultra-wealthy. There are no surprises there, if you’ve been paying attention.

Trump is breeding discontented supporters. They won’t vote for Democrats — “Never Democrats” is probably one of their most repeated mantras — but they won’t come out and vote for Trump, either.

All this thinking has The Neurons playing “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M in my morning mental music stream. When people feel ignored, they hurt. Released in 1993, the song was written about and for teenagers and what they endure. I think it’s sensibilities are more universal than that.

Sample Lyrics

When your day is long
And the night, the night is yours alone
When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this life, well hang on

Don’t let yourself go
‘Cause everybody cries
Everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it’s time to sing along

When your day is night alone (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (hold on)
If you think you’ve had too much
Of this life, well hang on

‘Cause everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts

May you prosper today, enjoying peace, joy, and happiness. Hopefully, you won’t feel ignored or alone.

Cheers

0

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.

0

The Sisters Dream

I was with several of my sisters. We were all younger than now.

Don’t know where we exactly were. Outside. Mostly flat and sort of muddy to start.

I’d been off doing something and then returned, looking for them, as it was time to go. I found them by a large broken cement sewer pipe coming out of the base of a dirt hill. Multiple bottles and trash was there.

One of the sisters asked, “Michael, can you help us? We want to clean up these bottles but we don’t know how.”

They had two large plastic containers with a spout on top. Way too small to put the bottles in. So I tore the top of the plastic away. They thanked me and we loaded the bottles up, often breaking them. Some bottles were already broken. As they warned me to be careful, I picked up the bottles and put them in the plastic. Then I carried those away, depositing them somewhere safe.

I was ready to go, so I began walking. My sisters were several hundred yards away. I wanted time to myself. Deciding to avoid them, I began running. My sisters called my name: I ignored them, running faster.

I crossed the muddy plain and then ended up on a highway’s wide shoulder. Traffic was heavy to my right. Dusk was coming. Left was a lot of new constructions: houses and stores were being built, but was suspended for the night.

I thought, wow, that’s a lot of construction. The construction and changes threw me off. I hadn’t been in the area for a while. Confused about where I was going, I decided to go back to my sisters.

Turning around, I gawked with some amazement. I hadn’t realized how far and fast I’d run. Running back, my speed amazed me even more.

I reached the spot where I’d last seen my sisters. They weren’t visible. I called them; no answer.

Then I found them, along with their previous husbands, and more of my family. I looked for my wife but she wasn’t there. I saw my younger sister’s ex-husband, JJ, and said hello to him, adding, “Good to see you.”

The group told me we were going to Sharon and John’s. She’s my sister and that’s her husband. Then the group kind of wandered around, dawdling. Impatient, I went to Sharon and John’s house.

It was a small place. In the dining room was a large oval, polished wood table. Arrayed in front of it on one side were three rows of seven baby highchairs. They were different colors and ages. Each had a placard on it.

I was mystified. Like, what’s going on here? Is this where they expected us – adults – to sit? We wouldn’t fit in those chairs. No, they seemed to be set up for something. Classes for children?

Then the chairs rearranged themselves. Many disappeared. Matthew Perry was seated at one of the tables. Reprising his role as Chandler Bing from “Friends”, he did a few scenes. Except, he was the size of a baby.

John came in. I said, “How was that done,” gesturing to Perry/Bing in a highchair. John explained, “Oh, that’s Matthew Perry. He was in “Friends”.”

I answered, “I know all that, but that’s not him. That’s the size of a child. Is that a puppet? Animation?” It was completely lifelike.

We went back and forth, with John explaining the same thing in almost the same ways. I kept asking questions, trying to clarify it, but never got an answer. My sister came in, interrupting us to announce that there were sandwiches in the other room.

Dream end.

1

A Dad Leak Dream

There was a leak in the bathroom.

A thick tube of clear water spurted out of the wall. White tiles had been removed above the tub about five feet up. Oh, dear, what a mess, with some black fuzzy thing happening in the opening.

A trio of engineers, casually dressed, of different styles, heights, ages, one woman, two men, came in on behalf of the townhouse association. Because this wasn’t unique to this townhouse. It’d happened throughout the complex. This trio was going unit to unit to assess and strategize. I was just watching them from back by the door, listening as they ignored me. The spoke of how to fix it, what must be done.

Leaving, I headed across a common through sunshine to my own townhouse because, hey, that had been my father’s place, which slightly changed everything. He wasn’t there to look after it, so I was acting on his behalf.

I entered my own townhouse where the same problem existed but seemed to be on a much smaller scale. Some wall had been removed from the bathroom to the right which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the leak. I didn’t understand what that was about but I knew where to go for explanation.

I sought that women and this little rotund blonde explained something that kind of made sense and eased my anxieties. Going off again, I found I had a broken arm. No, not broken, just not working right. I’d been advised to keep it in a sling. I didn’t have a sling, so I fashioned one, and then modified it again and again, decided this was a good place to keep things, like my wallet, keys, and glasses.

So I tucked them in but then needed more material, so I added other things, and reshaped it, and reshaped it. People were going past as I did this and I turned away, trying to keep things private.

I decided to call my stepmother to tell her about Dad’s townhouse. Then I realized that Dad was dead and this was a dream. That I had actually a dream in a dream, and that the townhouse with the plumbing problem wasn’t real.

But I called my stepmother. I said, “I was thinking about Dad because it’s his birthday.” Then I realized, that’s not right. I said, “No, because it was my birthday.”

She was talking but it came to me, this call isn’t happening; it’s also a dream.

I awoke.

0

Sunday’s Theme Music — the Craziest Thing

Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, July 5, 206.

It’s another hot summer day. Clouds are in the air and the temperature will be about 90 degrees, not nearly as life-threatening as so many others are enduring around the world.

We attended the Independence Day parade in Ashland yesterday. Very tepid. Low turnout to watch, low enthusiasm for the people marching by, dull interest in the music. The ‘flyby’ came about ten minutes after the parade ended.

It could all be me and my friends, of course, but I walked around to hear what others were saying. One young man pushing a stroller, a woman and another child with him, were all dressed in the national colors. “That wasn’t much,” he was saying, walking away. “Where should we go?

Trump broke more promises yesterday, of course. He said he was going to speak no matter what the weather, but then waited until it was cool, much later. That’s TACO for you. He also said he was going to speak for a very long time but spoke only 40 minutes. More TACO.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

Trump was said to be talking about the crowd at the July 4th celebration. He thinks that crowd is “the craziest thing anyone’s ever seen.”

No, Trump, the craziest thing ever seen remains how much you lie and steal, and yet people keep saying how wonderful and great you are. That’s the craziest thing anyone’s ever seen in the last fifty years.

Trump promised a ‘golden age’ during his speech. I’ll tuck that promise in with these previous Trump promises:

We’ve seen the outcomes of these Trump promises. Trump has attacked several countries. He went to war with Iran. Inflation is still up and affordability is a hot issue for many people. Trump was frequently golfing during the war with Iran. Medicare has been cut. A new healthcare plan never emerged. Trump is still building the border wall; Mexico isn’t paying for it.

With MAGA’s unquenched love for Trump going strong, The Neurons unspooled “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen in the morning mental music stream.

I’ve read essays during the last few weeks about how Republicans have weaponized words like patriotism, woke, freedom, God, and religion. They essentially coopted and twisted these words and their meanings in the finest “1984” fashion. So while I use ‘love’ as a descriptor for what MAGAts hold for Trump, I’m not certain that it’s love in the sense that the rest of us employ it. If it is, it’s love in the sense of too many tortured relationships, where one is the abuser and the other is abused, yet the abused cannot quit the relationship. I know that I’m thinking of it from my side of the perspective, and not the abused MAGA position.

But how else can I think of it? Trump continually lies to them. He makes and breaks promises, just as it’s seen in many abusive relationships. Yet, they can’t quit him; they love him. They love him even though he made two billion dollars and did little to improve their lives, even as they struggle more and more with worsening conditions and deteriorating affordability.

So here we go: theme music for the MAGAts and Trump.

Hope your day brings you the best life you can live. May peace and grace smooth your way and take you on to better things.

Cheers

3

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