Ashland, southern Oregon. Sunday, September 20, 2026.
We’re sitting on the cusp of autumn at 78 F, anticipating a rise to 90 F, so sunny and blue that you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s the middle of summer.
But the changing leaves on the trees defy that assessment. And the night temperatures have been coming down…cooler…cooler.
Sunset comes more quickly, and sunrise seems to lag.
It’s summer’s end, autumn’s beginning.
Seasons don’t slow Trump down! First, he tells us that he’s built the world’s greatest military, seizing all the credit, as though he conceived and built everything while selecting and training every soldier, marine, sailor, and airman.
Then, while building the White House ballroom on the site of the East Wing that he illegally tore down, he embellished his ballroom dream, declaring it would be ‘drone-proof’ with a drone port, a military installation with snipers.
Now Trump is saying the same thing about the new Arch he wants built.
Trump says new arch will also deploy drones, position snipers and store ammo
Who are all these invaders Trump is fearing that he’s obsessed with adding snipers to everything he builds?
Well, wiser heads suggest that Trump is pitching the security angle because the beautification scam isn’t working any longer.
More cynical people like me like me believe that it’s a three-prong attack on common sense and decency. The reasons include both of the previous reasons, but it’s also another distraction as part of Operation Epic LOOK SQUIRREL!
Trump using the security angle for the arch does make sense; when courts heard about ‘security concerns’ after the Epstein ballroom construction had been halted, they yielded to Trump.
He is ridiculous. So are his supporters, especially those zealots, the MAGAzens.
All this Trump thinking about wars, guns, and shooting provoked Les Neurons to bring JoJo Gunne into the morning mental music stream. The band was named after a Chuck Berry song and the song came out in 1972. No much to the lyrics, to be honest, but it’s upbeat and easy to sing along with.
I hope this is a good day for you, using whatever metrics are meaningful to your life.
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.
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.
I distinctly remember other times when ‘survival’ was the prize during other times and researched to confirm I wasn’t making things up.
What is most interesting is that we went into ‘survival prizes’ whenever the nation was in a crisis, such as the 1973 Arab Oil Embargo and the 2008 recession.
We’re not supposed to be in a recession now or crisis now. Trump keeps telling us how great everything is.
Yet, economists such as Paul Krugman keep noting that people are talking about recession vibes, or ‘vibecessions’. The economy doesn’t have a ‘feel-good’ tone. Instead, what’s manifesting is a ‘feel-bad’ sense.
I have the feel-bad tingles. Although financially secure, whenever I shop for groceries these days, I experience shock about how much prices have gone up.
For instance, Ben & Jerry’s was my ice cream of choice for years. Actually, I was a froyo guy but I can no longer find it in local stores. I still look, though.
I used to get a pint of B&J froyo for under $3. We’re talking about fifteen years ago? This week, an Albertson’s was heralding a sale on B&J pints: almost $8 with a digital coupon.
I flipped. $8 for a pint of ice cream? Has the world gone insane?
It’s not all Trump, but he’s done us a lot of damages.
It started with his tariffs and his crazy insistence that We the People won’t be paying for them. Any who took basic high school history lessons knew that wasn’t true.
We see his damages when we look at the photos of the laughably cheap props created under his eye for the Great American State Farm and the empty fairgrounds. We see it when he shows us photos of tacky gold embellishments on the home of We the People.
We see it when we look at the mess Trump made of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, listening and watching as he squirms, trying to blame others for how it looks, denying what he did and its results.
We see it in the paved over historic Rose Garden and the destroyed White House East Wing. We heard it in the lies when Trump proclaimed it would cost us nothing.
He didn’t realize how much it already cost when we saw what he callously did to the property that belongs to We the People.
We hear it when Trump weaves one lie after another about why he ordered attacks on Iran, how long it would last, and what objectives he’d established and didn’t achieve.
We heard it when Trump talked about how much richer he is now after being back in the White House for over a year.
We felt it when Trump laughed and said, we’re all profiting because the stock market is up, exaggerating that it’s up 85%, because we knew that wasn’t true.
And we knew it when Trump said that he couldn’t fix inflation. We knew it when he said he didn’t care about affordability. We knew it when he said he was a peace president and began ordering attacks.
We knew it when Elon Musk and DOGE made wanton wholesale cuts to government programs established by the government through meticulous processes.
We knew it when Trump’s Congress cut subsidies to healthcare premiums. We knew it when Trump promised not to touch Medicare and then cut it in the monstrously ugly named, One Big Beautiful Bill.
We knew it when Trump’s budget was all about defense, setting a record high, telling us that we couldn’t afford childcare. We knew it when he directed that the United States build battleships, an obsolete weapon system. We knew it when Trump said it was a Trump-class battleship.
We knew it when Iran fought the US to a standstill and closed the Strait of Hormuz.
As we approach our celebration of 250 years as a nation, the feeling is not of being united and free. Nor is it a feeling of hope or patriotism.
Nor is there optimism.
It’s a feeling instead, that we’re in a mess. We’re fighting to extricate ourselves, but we’re torn about how to do it.
That’s the crises we now face, and why survival is now the prize.
I’m reminded once again why I’m suspicious of businesses and corporations. Why I think that they’re all about making money at the expense at everything else.
I also remember the Sackler family, Purdue Pharma, Oxycontin and the opioid epidemic that swept the US beginning in the 1990s.
There was also the environmental pollution that took place in Woburn, Massachusetts in the 1980s involving Beatrice Foods, resulting in so many local cancer cases.
Not to mention the case involving PG&E and the Hinkley drinking water which brought Erin Brockovich fame.
Who can forget the 2007-2008 recession caused by derivatives, CDS, the housing bubble and AIG (American International Group)? Remember all those corporate bailouts?
While I’m in this memory hole, I might as well remind everyone of the savings and loan schedule of last century, Charles Keating, and the Lincoln Savings and Loan scandal.
These are just a few examples of Why. I. Don’t. Trust. Corporations.
Now comes this.
Three egg producers will pay $3.3 million and donate 53 million eggs over price-fixing
And there was Donald Trump throughout 2024, up there ranting and raving about President Biden’s inability to control egg prices, ignoring the bird flu of that time.
Now we learn that companies actively worked together to raise prices.
Meanwhile, during the 2024 election season, MAGAts regularly posted photos of grocery receipts and egg cartons, arguing a dozen eggs cost roughly $1.50 during Trump’s first term but spiked significantly under the Biden-Harris administration.
To which I say to Cal-Maine Foods, Versova/Centrum, and Hickman’s Egg Ranch: you assholes.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, July 1, 2026.
July has landed in Ashland. Looks much like June: blue sky, sunshine, but unseasonably chilly. 52 F when I rolled out of bed and fed Papi. Now 60, climbing to the high 70s.
Some of the larger news stories coming out this week, beyond Trump’s Great American State Fair Disaster and the various Roberts Courts rulings, is about how much wealthier he’s become while in office a second time.
Donald Trump has boasted about how much money he is making during his presidency as cost-of-living pressures continue to soar for millions of Americans.
The extraordinary comments came as new figures revealed the president reported more than $1.4 billion in income from his family’s crypto ventures last year, fueling claims that he is using the presidency to enrich himself.
To summarize, as most Americans struggle with affordability, job insecurity, and inflation, Trump made more than $1.4B. As POTUS. While We the People pay for him to golf.
Remember when Trump said he would not golf as President, criticizing President Obama for golfing? Ha, ha, fool me once..
Defending himself, Trump insisted that ‘everyone is profiting’. Which. Is. Bull. Shit. That brings us to some Trump quotes.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Many reflect that Trump’s handling of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool — Algaegate — reflects his terrible management skills, and how frequently what he claims and the results seen are almost diametrically opposed.
In the same way, Trump’s quote about the stock market and 401Ks in regard to his wealth and affordability show his uncanny ability to lie and exaggerate while demonstrating how out of touch he is with average people and reality.
Trump claims the stock market is up 85%. It’s not: the Standard & Poor’s 500 index has risen 24%. No market has gone up 85%.
A 401K is a retirement account. If you’re not retired and withdrawing from it, the gains are all on paper. They do nothing to help with buying groceries.
Few Americans own stock, 58% by most recent calculations. They own it mainly through a 401K. About 21% of Americans have stock investments.
The wealthiest 1% of Americans own more than the bottom 90% combined.
Trump made his money through his crypto, not the stock market, so talking about the stock market is another distraction, just more of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
I am not surprised to read and report that the MAGA faithful and most conservatives applaud Trump’s wealth grab while in office, attributing it to Trump’s skills as a ‘smart businessman.’
Well, then, Rural America, there it is, there he is, Trump, your king, making money off crypto. Hope all of your are getting off your asses and following his lead, because he’s showing you how it’s done.
Daily Kos added the perfect final assessment of Trump, his wealth, and affordability. In the end, it’s all about Trump and what he can get for himself.
Funny. Trump declared himself the peace president and started a war and kidnapped another nation’s president. Declared himself a unifier and verbally attacks and insults other Americans while sending in heavily armed ICE agents to grab people off the street. Declares himself the crypto president and crypto collapses.
Today’s song is “Ring Rang Doo” by Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs. The song was a minor hit in the 1960s in the US but didn’t make the mark that “Woolly Bully” made. It entered my morning mental music stream when I entered the closet to decide what to wear.
Don’t ask me why it came then, but it makes sense in a Trumpish context. “Ring Rang Doo” is a made-up word that means nothing. Much of what Trump says is about the same.
I hope your July begins on a high note and just keeps going up as we work through the season.
We’re looking at a rainy spring day in our valley. Sunshine is on the low side as clouds gather and darken. It’s 49 F with anticipation that we’ll peak in the low sixties today.
Out early to do our monthly Food & Friends delivery, we’re back now and into our daily grooves. Our F&F route was small again, with several favorite regulars missing. We always what’s happened to them and hope for the best.
I had a rush of micro-dreams last night. All of them felt very uplifting. Seeing and remembering them was like watching a strobe light on a crowd of dancers.
Mom remains quiet today but she’s on our minds as my sisters and I exchanged texts about her, remembering her, wondering what’s next. We spent a bit of time remembering Mom and Frank together. They used to love going dancing and to estate sales, or the grands’ concerts and ball games.
They were a sweet couple, but Mom’s illnesses, accidents, aging, and medications changed her.
Trump has also been on my Monday morning mind. I’ve been wondering, what’s next? Tariffs, ICE, Iran War, ballroom, Epstein files, general BS — what’s next?
Trump wants to start signing the currency. The GOP is proposing to issue a 250th Anniversary coin that will feature Trump’s pudgy scowl. Look others, I plan to Sharpie his signature if that comes to pass. I also agree with the premise that the only currency Trump’s face should grace is a wooden nickel or fake funny money.
Stevie Nicks wrote today’s song, “Dreams”. It was a hit for Fleetwood Mac and a personal favorite. Slow moving like a thunderstorm, it’s reflective words and sound carries me into different moods and thoughts. It’s also a song about loss, too, mourning what was and what is now. That’s no doubt why Les Neurons put it into the morning mental music stream.
I took to a different video for it, finding this lovely acoustic version on “Playing for Change”. I hope you enjoy it.
Let’s hope peace and grace arrive and help us all to improved lives.
Mom is struggling in her assisted living situation. It’s been five to six weeks in her new place. She has professed to be happy at times. She also has related that she hates it.
She’s accused others of stealing things. She found those items in her room later.
Her habit of texting my sisters at night resumed. Two sisters ended up blocking her.
The texts were often complaints about what was going on or demands that things be taken to her.
As it was before, it seems clear that Mom is cognitively impaired. She’s been through a lot of health issues and is on many medications.
Now Mom must pay again for another month in advance shortly. She’s not sure what she’s paid or what she’s expected to pay and is asking us for help. There are some hints that she wants us to help her with the costs.
It is so painful to hear about these texts and read them.
My sisters are hugely angry with Mom and struggle to help her. They tell me that Mom becomes mean and hateful and will start yelling or just turn away from them. I can imagine how emotionally exhausting that is for them. We agreed, only one sibling can address Mom, following the advice given to us to handle the situation. Maintaining that silence is so painful.
I want to send Mom money to help her out. We’re warned not to do that because Mom will probably end up depending on Medicaid. If that transpires, Medicaid looks at her previous five years of income. Anything we’ve given her will be considered as part of that and reduce what help she’ll be given.
I do a lot of sighing when I think about Mom and her situation.
Just a short time ago, I overheard two elderly individuals talking at the coffee house, addressing the same problem that I’m dealing with. A man and woman, they both looked older than me by about ten years, putting them in their eighties. He later confirmed for her that he was 79.
The woman was talking about her sister and her sister’s problems. Her sister resides in Arizona and won’t move to Oregon, where we’re at. But each woman is alone and need help, so they’ve decided that the coffee-shop woman will be a snowbird and go live with her sister several times a year and see how it goes.
The man related that he was an only child. His parents created a trust after they retired. He could withdraw from it whenever he wanted. His father cautioned him, though, that someday they might need that money and urged him to be circumspect.
The man related that he was glad his father gave him that advice, and that he heeded it. He estimated that in the last five years of his parents’ life, he spent about $1,000,000 to provide them with housing and care.
Dreamed I was going to a camp. Just a small sort of outdated place, with low wood-framed buildings painted brown or dark red, with a flat, slanted roof. A woman I’d just met was going with me, along with her sister.
We arrived in a 1970s era dark Dodge Charger or Ford Torino. I was driving and it was night when we arrived. The sisters had no place to sleep. I told them they could share my bed or sleep in the car, or I could sleep in the car, but I didn’t really want to. They ended up sleeping with me, one on either side.
Later, we got up to go find food and ran into other people I casually knew. They had soup and bread. We asked where they got it and headed toward a little shack they indicated. It was a dark place with a low ceiling, where we discovered we needed to pay in marks. I didn’t have any marks so the sister paid a 1,000 marks for food for me.
We ate and then separated. I wandered, exploring, following winding dirt paths between the buildings and trees at this tiny resort. Night was falling and I didn’t have any marks, so I didn’t know what to do. I did have dollars but not a large amount.
It was dark. I went back to my car. Another car, very like it, was parked beside it. Both with nose in, the rear ends toward me. As I reached my car, I looked over to the other car and saw the sisters sitting in it. I wondered if they’d gotten into the wrong car by mistake.
Dream end.
This was one of three dreams remembered from last night, but the most coherent and lucid.
Can’t recall much of the other two dreams. They’re shifting, like almost there, not quite remembered or forgotten. The strongest of the two had me carrying baking tins. Something finished was in it but I don’t know what. Others were doing the same. Many of the others looked like me but were slightly different. When I offered my baking tin, I saw that their offering was fully risen and mine was flat. I went off, got another like magic, and it was full. I went to give it to someone else, but discovered it was flat again. All of this took place outside in bright sunshine on a calm day.
The main thing I remember from the third dream was that I was happy and laughing a lot. And younger, but an adult.
Don’t know what’s in my water. Dreams continue rolling through me. This one featured a deceased but appreciated and missed Uncle. Died of a brain tumor ’bout a decade ago or so. He was one of those people who always demonstrated belief in what I could do and pride in when I do things, a good person to have around when you’re young and feeling your way.
We were at a celebration. Seemed to be a family birthday party. My uncle was hosting. He was young, energetic, and charming, the perpetual image contained in my memories of him, sunglasses covering his eyes, teeth clamped on a cigar. Don’t know who the party was for. Seemed like cousins were there. Weird thing is, it seemed to be held in a Japan or Mexico.
It came time for the cake. That was prepared for a local bakery. My uncle asked if anyone could pay for it. Yes, I volunteered; I can. I scrambled to find the money, just $25. Impatiently, he left, and went to get the cake. Finding the money at last, I rushed after him, encountering him as he left the store. “I have the money,” I told him.
“Too late,” he replied. “I paid.”
He seemed sad, disappointed. I suggested that I could pay the shopkeeper and he could give my uncle his money back. The shopkeeper, watching and listening in this tiny establishment, agreed. No, my uncle decided. It’d be too complicated. What’s done is done.
