Thirstdaz Theme Music

Today is Thirstda, August 28, 2025. We awoke to a pleasant 65 F. A cloud regatta keeps the sky from being blue and free. 96 F is expected today.

After dreaming about having a new kitten, I got up and faced a new challenge: remembering who was in the Partridge Family. The Patridge Family was an American pop singing group and television sitcom.

I owe this AM conundrum to an exchange during Mexican Train on Saturday night. Someone said something about getting happy. It was late. We were giddy by then. That’s when we have the most fun. Usually, we play off words and sing songs. Hilarity ensues. But in parallel, we’d been pursuing 1960s pop culture trivia. I asked our group, “Who sang, ‘Come On, Get Happy’?” None remembered the song, forcing me to sing it. None still remembered, so I played found a Youtube video of it. Now I pass it on to you.

Except, The Neurons were hijacked by The Go-Go’s, “Our Lips Are Sealed”. That video followed the other. I found the 1981 offering more interesting. I remember watching that video in some club on Okinawa, where I was assigned to Kadena Air Base from May of 81 through the end of 84.

My wife and I mentioned the Mexican Train game to multiple people. Many were familiar with it. One friend said she hated it but never explained why. She’s a very controlling individual who likes order, so I suspect the game’s chaos might annoy her. That’s just my suspicion and I really want to hear her explanation.

One thing that’s offered here in Ashland is lithium water. One can drink it straight out of the fountain at Lithia Park’s entrance. I mention this because we discussed the value of lithium in treating dementia last night. One individual said, “All we need to do is take a sip out of the fountain every day.” Another responded, “But that water tastes like wet farts.”

I read an excellent Mother Jones article today: The Brain Rot Cabinet. As the article points out, Trump’s cabinet are deeply invested in wild and unproven conspiracies. What’s important to Trump is that they share his values and are obedient lapdogs. They will do nothing good for the nation nor the world. Meanwhile, all those of us still anchored to reality can do is grit our teeth and resist.

Representative Ashley Hinson (Iowa, MAGA) got an earful when she tried convincing her constituents that the Big Beautiful Bill was wonderful, claiming it raised wages and improved the cost of living. We the People in Iowa weren’t having it. According to an article in The New Republic (via Yahoo), people shouted back objections.

“Higher wages?” shouted one woman incredulously. “For who? For you?”

“Cost of living is higher than it’s ever been,” another woman said.

“You are a fraud,” a constituent shouted at her at the time.

I only hope more wake up, stand up, shout back, fight back, and resist.

Coffee has made a controlled landing into my system once again. I hope peace and grace shadows you in all your endeavors today. Here we go, one more time. Cheers

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: Dreamy

Hello, Terra dwellers, aka Terwellers.

Today is Saturday, January 27, 2024. This is January’s final Saturday; the month will soon be history and 2024 will be 1/12 done. Roughly.

Sprinter continues its reign in Ashlandia, where the dogs are happy and the cats are above average. We never dipped below 50 F last night. The weather dwarves, Windy, Sunny, Cloudy, and Rainy, continue their stay here. Foggy has departed but Warm and Blustery have joined us. 53 F now, today’s high will park in some zone just south of 60 F.

Ol’ Tucker. He’s my young elderly black and white floof. After feeding him and Papi, I headed for the office for coffee, news, and posting. Outside the room, Tucker sang his people’s song with a spirited voice. Going out, I asked, “What is it? What do you want? What do you need?”

“Mrff,” he answered, striding to the closed coat closet.

“What, you need a coat? You leave a mouse in there?”

Tucker stopped at the door and stared at me. “Mrff.”

I opened the closet. Muttering, “Mrff,” in a soft voice, he stepped in and went left. I leaned in and watched. He went about sniffing. I let him be. Ten minutes later, I checked on him and found him asleep in dining room sunshine.

Had a boatload of dreams last night. I awoke thinking, what did I eat or do to inspire so many dreams? None were about me. Instead, they were stories being told. I developed novel concepts out of three of them. The burst of nocturnal creativity was startling.

Speaking of startling, I read three different net tales about how well President Biden is doing. First came an updated list from Daily Kos, what has Biden done? This was a bulletpoint compilation of his administration’s accomplishment. Next from Robert Hubell was a piece about Biden going on the offensive. Finally, again from Daily Kos, was a story about Fox News gushing about the Biden economy. Sweet stuff for Democrats and Biden supporters.

With all these newsworthy tales in mind, The Neurons broke out “Second Hand News” by Fleetwood Mac in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). The news wasn’t necessarily second hand news; more likely the word ‘news’ evoked the 1977 song for Les Neurons. I remember when the song came out, as I was in the Philippines, in the military, but without my wife, and the song spoke to me about being alone. I am pretty familiar with it.

Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee and I are in sync, having sipped down most of a cup. Here’s the music. Enjoy your day. Cheers

Things I Don’t Miss

Didn’t need to scrap ice off my car this morning because it’s garaged. I felt for the neighbor out there de-icing his vehicle. There, I thought, is something I don’t miss, which launched me into musings about what else I don’t miss.

I don’t miss lite beers in any shape or vintage. Thank the gods for micro-brews and craft beers!

I don’t miss saving and counting pennies to buy a bag of pretzels as a treat or to go the movies. My years of extremely tight budgeting taught me the value of budgeting and saving but I enjoy indulging myself now, and I don’t miss those days at all!

I don’t miss military recalls, deployments and twelve hour shifts. I don’t miss midnight shifts, either, or pressing uniforms and getting haircuts all the time. Mission success was satisfying and I met some excellent people and saw the world, but I don’t miss all those other military accouterments.

I don’t miss cable television. Cable was cool and fun for a while but as it developed into a commodity and charged more and more while offering me less and less, it became a huge weight of disappointment. The smart television, Roku and streaming services aren’t perfect but they’re better than cable.

I don’t miss all those company meetings. Six AM, 9 PM…on some days with IBM I was on telephone calls and sorting and answering emails for hours. Don’t miss them at all, nor the annual performance report rituals. I really don’t miss completing expense reports. Just like the military, I enjoyed the company of some great people while I was with IBM (and the companies IBM absorbed, NetworkICE and ISS). Them, I miss. I also get a little misty eyed about the absent paycheck and its company.

I don’t miss old technology.  Take my old floppies – please (badaboom – tish). You can take them to where the IBM Selectrics and my Brother portable typewriters are buried, along with my old KayPro 10 and Zenith 150, and my clunky SVG and EVG color monitors, and 4.87 and 10 megahertz operating speeds.

It’s a short list of what I don’t miss. I had a good time through it all and came out fortunate in the end.

What don’t you miss?

 

 

‘Phooon Party

Okay, first for the schmaltz alert. This post will get schmaltzy.

Like many, Gene Wilder’s demise dredged up memories. I associate specific music, movies, actors and events with epochal life moments. Gene Wilder is a large swatch of the moments because his rising fame coincided with VCRs rising and my long term assignment to Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, Japan.

Arriving in May of 1981, base housing wasn’t immediately available. We put ourselves on the wait list and then found an off-base residence in Kadena City. The apartment building was a fort-like three story cement structure with minimal windows and external doors. The owner/managers lived in a bottom residence, and American service personnel and their dependents occupied the ten apartments spread throughout the rest. Keeping with the local way, none of these domiciles were large, but they were well built. A water cistern was on the roof. With it and the stout walls, the building was great for enduring earthquakes, typhoons and droughts.

Typhoon watching was almost a sport. Armed Forces Radio and Television Services provided us with our news and entertainment, and we tracked the storms across the Pacific and through the various seas. Which base was it going to hit? Hickam in Hawaii, Anderson on Guam, Clark in the PI? Or was it heading our way in Japan, or north to Korea?

Whichever place it struck was a cause for intense business on the base. If it was heading for us, we scrambled to launch the aircraft out of the typhoon’s path while securing the base. If you were on duty when the typhoon struck, you were on for the duration. Otherwise, you stocked up on food, water and things to do, and settled in at home.

This all took planning. Lines grew everywhere, but especially at the Commissary where we bought our food, and the USO where we rented our movies.

That’s where Gene Wilder enters. As AFRTS didn’t offer exciting programming options and often went off the air during a ‘phoon, we bought a VHS player. A huge, toploading Magnavox unit, it cost a grand, weighed over fifty pounds and took up the top of our twenty-five inch console television. But with it, we could rent movies from the USO. Thus we could sign out ‘Blazing Saddles’, ‘The Producers’, ‘Young Frankenstein’, ‘Silverstreak’, and ‘Stir Crazy’, along with movies like ‘Blues Brothers’. ‘Absence of Malice’. ‘Body Heat’. ‘Pennies from Heaven’. ‘Eye of the Needle’. The offerings were not broad, and it was serving the entire base population stalking entertainment, so you grabbed what you could, and then traded with others in the building, watching movie after movie and trying to catch some sleep as rain deluged the island and the wind hurled items through the charcoal skies.

Back on base, working in the Command Post, it wasn’t so good. We were pretty limited to what was available to watch. Scrambling aircraft and dealing with the emergencies, nobody raced out to rent movies. Then once that was done, the phones and radios went still as our status changed to monitoring the passing storm and waiting for it to clear. We watched what was on hand. How many times did I see ‘Silverstreak’, ‘Young Frankenstein’, ‘Blazing Saddles’ and ‘Stir Crazy’? Enough that we would start going stir crazy. Enough that I remember the characters and who played them, and whole scenes of dialogue.

Yet, now, watching scenes from these movies as I remember Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor, and the others, I laugh and laugh, again. Remembering these things last night with my beer buddies, we just had to mention a character or a line from his movies to trigger laughter.

Thanks, Gene Wilder. It was a memorable stint with you through the many, many typhoons.

 

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