Such a broad, specific expression. Back in the day for me is specific to a time period for me and others of my age, but when you’re a different age, well, back in the day is a different time.
Quick sidebar: while the youngest generations take up the expression, or will back in the day fade away?
Well, back in the day, it was easy to keep up on the news. Read a newspaper, turn on one of the big three network’s nightly news offering, and watch the local news.
Complications arose with the information age explosion and the digital age tsunami. Suddenly, I’m clicking on a story and there’s ten thousand variations on it. What was said, who said it, and what does it mean? You click and read and click, chasing the crumbs to learn what’s right.
Tough work these days, keeping up on truth and facts, and dodging lies and misinformation.
It’s a wonderful fall day, aka autumn, in Ashlandia this Monday morning. 14th of October, 2024. We’re approaching the month’s midpoint, don’tcha know. Skies as blue as Paul Newman’s eyes. Unabated sunshine splash off autumn’s colors. 71 degrees F outside now, with a few more degrees yet to be gained today before the sundown show begins.
I was out last night — early Monday morning, actually, but you know how our language is when you’re addressing a time that’s a half past midnight; it’s night but it’s morning — checking the sky for northern lights, asteroids, and meteors. Saw none of that. Was accosted by a spaceship. I believe they were aliens but could’ve been Trump supporters, as they were very weird. Anyway, the waxing moon was well short of full but the light it dished out into the night was impressive on its own. Lovely cool air felt me up and a serene silence serenaded me. Love nights like that. They lend a sense of calm optimism to me. With that moon, I could’ve called this Moonday.
Looks like the MAGA belligerence and lies toward FEMA in Hurricane Helene’s aftermess came home to roost. Funny, how when someone took a shot at Trump in PA, the GOP was all about softening the tone. Yet, now that a man was arrested for threatening FEMA in North Carolina amid stories that armed militia are threatening FEMA, the folks that were shushing the Democrats for their attitude and verbiage are letting the crickets sing in the silence. It is notable that many GOP leaders on the ground in North Carolina are pointing out that Trump is lying when he says that FEMA isn’t there helping. Sadly, mainstream media covers that news, and Trump’s MAGAts treat such media as fake news.
Got a ditty about “Jack & Diane” from 1982 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark flooding). Heard the John Mellencamp song on the radio as I aided my wife in her Food & Friends deliveries. This is our county’s version of Meals on Wheels. When I heard J&D, sitting in the car as my wife headed off to door knock, shout out “Food and friends,” and wait for the door to be answered so she could hand over the food items, I started listening to all the instruments employed. The song features an unusual, fragmented musical structure. Different instruments are employed to suggest moods in a way not usually employed in rock music. I think I even heard a recorder or a flute toward the song’s end among the pianos, guitars, drums, and clapping.
It also stayed in my head because I modified the words after I returned home and sang, “Little ditty about Tucker and Papi, two house floofs doing best they can.” BTW, that’s Tucker, pronounced Tuck-ah. The song actually lends itself well to singing about the cats. Example: “Papi sits back, scratches his neck for the moment, washes his paw, and does his best lion king.”
Last note, I want to reiterate that Donald J. Trump is unworthy of holding office. Latest reason for me to make this declaration is his falsehoods, which are known as lies in many places, about Kamala Harris and her cognitive abilities. He likes reflecting back. Whenever he shows signs of something, he immediately uses that issue as a cudgel to bludgeon voters into confusion. Clearly, when listening to Trump and Vice President Harris, it is Trump and his windy, meandering, fraying, old ‘weave’ — and I’m not referencing that abomination on his head — is the cognitively impaired individual seeking our nation’s highest office.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. We will need all of these things if we’re going to subdue the Orange Menace and his anti-Democracy hordes.
Coffee and I have furthered our fling.
Here’s the music. See if you hear that woodwind somewhere around the 3:17 mark. Cheers
It’s Mumday, October 7, 2024. The night had a chilly mountain breath but the sun is again restoring warmth, a practice that’s been going on for millions of years. 64 F now, blue sky and sunny, nary a worrying cloud, we’ll top out in the mid to upper 80s. Air quality is again close to excellent.
Many are familiar with expressions about ‘staying mum’, ‘keeping mum’, or ‘mum’s the word’. These imply that they’ll be silent on a subject. Many don’t know how the expression is derived from the same origins which gave Monday it’s first ancient name: Mumday.
The Mums were a religious sect. Their original idea of ‘being mum’ began as a process for honoring the dead. The society was a small religious outlier in ancient Egypt, where the practice of preserving the deceased involved mummifying them. The Mums would wrap their heads as though they were mummified and remain silent in a day of worship and respect of the dead. During the day, they were tasked with doing good deeds and charity in the name of the day, all without speaking. They were allowed to utter, “Mmmm,” to acknowledge that they heard. As this day was often done the day after Sunday, the day after Sunday became Mumday in recognition of the practice. Later societies modified the expression into Monday, which was supposed to be a nod to the Moon. But historians ‘dug up’ the truth while excavating sites where mummies were found.
Later, after the switch to Monday and the re-discovery of the Mums in the late sixteen hundreds, the popular variations on ‘being mum’ evolved.
Always good to start the day with a new fact, isn’t it?
All kinds of music is inspired by Monday, but The Neurons went with a rocking pop tune. “Walk Like An Egyptian” by the Bangles occupies the morning mental music stream (Trademark mum). The Bangles did’t write it, though. From Wikipedia.org:
Liam Sternberg said he was inspired to create the song while on a ferry crossing the English Channel. When the vessel hit choppy water, passengers stepped carefully and moved their arms awkwardly while struggling to maintain their balance, and that reminded Sternberg of the depiction of human figures in ancient Egyptian tomb paintings.
Ah, hah. He did a demo of it and offered it to Toni Basil. She turned it down. Lene Lovich recorded it but never released it, and then ended up offering it to the Bangles. Three of the four Bangles share lead vocals. Lovich deemed the drummer’s efforts, Debbi Peterson, so Debbi was relegated to backup vocals. If you check out the accompanying video, you can see that Peterson also isn’t playing the drums; that was accomplished by a drum machine while she played tambourine. Can’t be surprised to learn that the dual actions about her role caused some tension in the group. Nonetheless, the song became the Bangle’s first number one hit. It’s a fun song to me, a good one to energize a Monday.
So happy Mumday. Be strong and positive. Vote blue and don’t stay mum. And yes, powered by coffee, I made all that up about Mumday. My tongue was firmly in my cheek.
Today is October 5, 2024. It’s a Sattyday. For this post, I used the day’s original spelling. Sattyday was so named in the early days of designating days of the week in England after a dog, Satty. This was just as the Saxons were fighting with Dane invaders and trying to establish England. A conversation between warring participants took place in which they postponed the battle, allegedly because Satty was dying and the Saxon leaders wanted to honor the old, faithful companion. The name stuck as a joke but eventually, its origins story became lost for a while. As spelling was standardized around the 12th century, the name became attributed to Saturn, based off existed, earlier Roman calendars. That stuck. Researchers later discovered the true story. Their findings were published the day before Pearl Harbor was attacked, so the story was overcome by the bigger news and lost once again. I later read about it in Reader’s Digest.
It’s 55 F now. We expect to put 30 more degrees on the thermometer (originally named for the cat, Thermo, but that’s another tale) on this day before we strike the high. We’re fluctuating between summer and autumn, the transition season known as autmer. It’s so named because autumn’s features are stronger than summer’s features, whereas sumumn is reversed. Yes, trees are lively with reds in many parts of Ashlandia, and gold leaves abound, all under a sun drenched bright blue sky.
Today’s music is offered by the Alan Parsons Project. It has a straighforward path. Jill on her blog featured the Hollies. One of their songs is “The Air That I Breathe”, a song from my youth which I remember and enjoy. Alan Parson was the engineer on the song, as Jill mentioned. Hence, listening to the song in my morning mental music stream (Trademark engineered), I drifted toward Alan Parsons and then the Alan Parsons Project. As this was on top of reading bizarre and false political news generated by Trump and Vance, The Neurons called up “I Wouldn’t Want to Be Like You” from 1977. As I’d never seen the original video based on the song, I decided to go with that.
BTW, it’s pretty fucking disgusting to me how Vance, Elon Musk, and other MAGAs like Matt Gaetz (who voted against addional FEMA funding just before Helene hit) eagerly embrace the disaster of Hurricane Helene to plant false stories about FEMA trying to stop help to Republican dominated areas. They really have no plans or strategy but to lie and obstruct. Exhibit two from Friday’s news cycle is how Vance was out there denigrating the strong jobs report by claiming that the new jobs don’t matter because they’re just taken by undocumented immigrants (paraphrasing). They’re such craven opportunists with no regard for the truth or facts, and they display this with same consistency as the Earth traveling around the sun. But of course, we know the Republicans aren’t casually lying; they’re brainwashing their base and hope to sway more by their relentless screed.
Here’s the music. Be strong, stay positive, and vote blue in 2024. BTW, I made all that up about Satty, as if you didn’t know that, right? Have a better one. Cheers
Today is Thursday, September 12, 2024. A chilly morning here in Ashlandia, the rain has stopped and the sun is crowning over obstacles, trying to toast us a little today. Right now, it’s 54 F, and the high won’t wander much more than the low seventies.
Yesterday was supposed to see us in the upper seventies. We never made that mark at my place. When I was out writing, rain was dumping on the intersection where the coffee shop sits. Like, wow, very cool to see the silver bullets splashing up on the soaked asphalt and cement. Heavy streams built up fast, gushing into sewers. But driving home, just a four minute event, I was quickly out of the rain; we didn’t see that rain event at our place. Weather can be fickle like that.
The cats took to the rain like cats who don’t like water. After some feeble efforts to assert himself as an outdoor animal, Papi stretched out in front of the fireplace. Although it wasn’t on, it has a pilot light when I lit a few days ago, so it emits some heat. He stayed there for hours, deeply asleep. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) on the other hand headed for the bed and sacked out.
Last night at the beer gathering, a small group ended up discussing birds. One asked about robins and their migration habits. Like me, he’d been taught in grade school that robins fly away for the winter. Like many life aspects, it gets more complicated than that. Our retired biology professor recounted that a friend of his did several bird counts at a slough for several years and discoverved exactly where the local robin population went each winter, living off various winter berries.
Other than that, we talked about the election and the debate, and the vice president’s pearl earrings. You now, on the right, they believe those were audio devices, giving Vice President Harris an affair advantage over Trump. That’s why he did so poorly. Because how else could he have done so poorly when she did so well? Yes, that was morning snark, undiluted by coffee.
The Neurons fired up Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble from 1989 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark caught). The song is “Crossfire”. It seemed to come into mind as I gazed across the valley. The air feels like autumn but most of the trees didn’t get the text in this area. And then I just sort of mused about how we were caught between the two seasons. And ‘lo, “Crossfire” began playing. I always particularly enjoyed the lines, “Money tight, nothing for free. Won’t somebody come and rescue me.” Used to sort of identify with it.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote blue in 2024. Breakfast has been consumed; so has some coffee. Time to get up and do things. Here’s the music. Cheers
The facts matter but the GOP can’t win if the facts are being used; facts are against them. So, just as Trump has lied and lied and lied, and his sycophants consistently lie, the RNC presented lie after lie after lie during their great gathering this year in Wisconsin.
It’s all the GOP can really do well any longer: lie.
My wife asked in irritation, “Name some citrus fruits.”
My first thought was, huh? Second came, why? But we’ve been married almost fifty years, so I played the game. “Lemon, lime, orange, grapefruit, citron, kumquat, tangerine, tangelo…what are you looking for?”
“Is a peach a citrus fruit?”
“No.”
“Is a necterine a citrus fruit?”
I laughed. “No. Why are you asking this?”
“There was some story on the radio about how eating too much citrus fruit can be dangerous for you, and one of the people, the DJs, I guess, said, ‘Oh, no, I love eating peaches and nectarines. I’m in real trouble.’ And nobody called her on it! I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt and thought maybe they’d changed their classification since I learned what a citrus fruit was when I was young. But, no, they haven’t changed it.”
She was shaking her head. “No wonder people are so stupid these days, if this is what they’re listening to.”
I read a NY Times article about Trump diehards and reality today. The story firmly demonstrates how much Trump has corrupted truth and reality.
Cindy Elgan is an Election Clerk in a sparsely populated Nevada county. Although she is a Trump supporter, other Trump supporters in the county where she works have decided that she may work for the deep state. This is despite her honest and unbending efforts to faithfully uphold Nevada’s laws to ensure fair and accurate elections. She’s been doing this for twenty years.
But because other MAGA supporters keep hearing lies about the ‘stolen 2020 election’ from Trump and other Trumpublicans, they don’t trust Cindy Elgan, even though she is a Trump supporter. So they initiated a petition to recall her.
As the article by Eli Saslow noes, “What in the world happened to these people?” Elgan asked. “What kind of person could actually believe this nonsense?”
Just as so many tens of millions across our nation and around the world are asking.
Yet, Elgan herself supports Trump.
I recommend reading the article to gain insights about what a rot Donald J. Trump is on the United States. Of course, Trump’s supporters won’t read it and will remain in the dark because he declared the NY Times only publishes fake news.
Michael Seidel, writer 