“I’m confused. Is he talking about himself?”
From The Politburo of Teabilly Mockery
Sunda’s Wandering Political Thoughts
Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts
This just in:
Trump calls emptying U.S. ports a ‘good thing’ despite supply-chain panic because ‘that means we lose less money’
“We’re seeing as a result that ports here in the U.S., the traffic has really slowed and now thousands of dockworkers and truck drivers are worried about their jobs,” a reporter said in the press briefing.
“That means we lose less money,” Trump said. “When you say it slowed down, that’s a good thing, not a bad thing.”
I agree with PINO Trump.
I have found that having my bank account, refrigerator, freezer, and pantry all almost empty is a good thing. Without money, I can’t buy replacement stuff for my pantry, refrigerator, and freezer. Things like food, and “eggs”, as PINO Trump likes to write it.
Having less food is so much healthier. Thanks to less food, I’m losing weight. With less food, I have less energy, so I’m sleeping more. That keeps me more sated with doing nothing, so I’m not out there, spending money, contributing to the local economy, accumulating stuff which I’d just need to get rid of. Thanks to having less money, I’m using my car less, buying less gas. With others like me also buying less gas and things, we keep prices down. Since we’re buying less, businesses are able to fire employees. That means those former employees are also buying less, staying home more often, and sleeping more. Win, win, win!
We’re also helping to save the environment. We don’t have the cash or means to go places. That keeps the air, land, and water, free from our cars’ pollutants. Since we don’t have money or energy, we also go on vacation less, further keeping the air clean of pollutants from aircraft. It all makes sense, in an Alice-in-Wonderland way that I’ve never realized before.
What a stable genius PINO Trump is. I so admire his brilliant logic.
This snark was brought to you by coffee. Coffee: it’s what’s for breakfast, and writing.
Munda’s Wandering Thoughts
I’m just a Venn diagram. I’m at a point where massive disappointment in my nation fills me. I didn’t expect the GOP to fight Trump. It saddens me that I’m right. They just rolled over and became the Grand Ol’ Trump Party.
Pisses me off that the Trump Regime thumbs its nose at the law, treating elements like due process as something beneath them. Unfortunately, I predicted this when Trump was campaigning in 2024. So did many others. They laughed at us. But Trump said he would be a dictator on day one. We knew that wasn’t a joke.
Politically, I’m angry, disgusted, disappointed, and a whole dark rainbow of other negative energies about what’s going on from bullshit tariffs to the damaged economy to the ridiculous and unlawful gutting of the Federal government to — well, fill in the blank.
But it’s a sunny and warm spring day. Promise is in the air. I’m getting ready for beer with friends on Wednesday. They’re intelligent, good friends. I’m looking forward to seeing them. Preparing for a secular Easter brunch with friends on Sunday. That’ll have bittersweet toppings drizzled over it. Some of the regulars are gone. Others are in hospice.
Writing is fun and full of promise. That puts me in a very positive frame. A novel draft is finished, and so many other novels are lined up, eager to be written. But will that finished draft hold up in the next round of editing and revision? Then there’s the publishing game. That closes the damper on my enthusiasm.
Mom texts me and reminds me that she wants to be cremated. Do what we will with the ashes. Play Glenn Miller at her service. Hold it in the garden. She’s lived almost nine decades but she endures hourly pain and discomfort. Her quality of life can be categorized as miserable.
Down to one cat, my cativities are truncated from what they once were. An air of depression clouds that aspect of life.
Financially, my wife and I are okay. Viewing my health, I can be better or worse. Got all my limbs. They function well. I endure little regular pain on a daily basis. I’m not as strong nor limber as I used to be, and my hair is trekking away from my forehead. Memory still works for most of the time on most of the days.
My wife’s health is not as good. She searches for words more often and doesn’t find them. She’s developed a new habit of forgetting to turn things on or off. She’s bitter and angry with the world, especially with Trump, and the Roberts Court. She’s furious and anxious about women’s rights. Shoulder and back pain are building up their frequent flier miles with her.
So, I am here. In the middle of it all, happy and sad. Worried and hopeful. Bitter and angry. Joyful and loving. Loved and frustrated. I read of far worse situations for people. Like those in Gaza. Ukraine. Immigrants hunting a better existence for themselves and those they love. War and disaster refugees trying to find a home. People working hard and struggling harder. Sleeping in cars and hanging on for meals and help. Women and people of color hiding, living in fear, beaten and killed for who they are. People with a gender that doesn’t fall cleanly into male or female dismissed as less than equal, unaccepted by narrow-minded bigots. People starving to death as billionaires pile up more money and more property, self-pleasuring themselves with mindless greed.
We seem so far away from Star Trek‘s ideals and so much closer to Mad Max, Solyent Green, and The Handmaid’s Tale.
Life is one hell of a spectrum.
Notice
It’s just another sign about how little Republicans care about Americans.
Senate Overturns Rule Limiting Bank Overdraft Fees to $5
The Senate voted Thursday to strike down a rule capping most bank overdraft fees at $5, a measure adopted late last year by the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau that had been expected to save Americans billions of dollars per year.
The rule would have limited the fees banks and credit unions could charge when customers spend more than they have in their accounts, typically $35 per overdraft. The bureau estimated it would save American households $5 billion a year. It was immediately challenged in court by banking trade groups.
Democrats are preparing to fight the resolution in the House, where they hope the slim Republican majority will work in their favor.
Call your representatives in Congress. Let them know that this is not okay. Banks make enough profits. They don’t need more.
A Chaotic Mom Dream
Not surprising, given my conflicting attitudes about Mom, a chaotic dream had her front and center. My family was also there; not just my real life extended family. My dream added a few extras.
We were at some huge get together. This was at Mom’s place. It was a place I’ve never seen in real life. Ramshackled, part park and house, the boundaries between inside and out were nebulous and ever-changing. So were the rooms. I kept getting a little lost but then recovering and figuring out where I was.
Meanwhile, my relatives were a chaotic bunch. A person who dislikes chaos as much as cats dislike loud noises, I took charge and imposed order, telling each what they should do. I couched it in a way that it sounded like advice. Agreeing to my suggestions, they packed food, piled into cars, and left.
Ah, the silence was comfortable. Then Mom hurried in. Loose piles of money had been on one table. I remembered seeing it, I agreed. It was all gone, Mom said, frantic. She thought someone broke in and stole it.
I challenged that. She didn’t see anyone break in. No evidence of a break in was there. It was possible that the family took the money. Wasn’t that why the money was there? Mom bickered with me about it a bit, changing the history and the reason the money was there. I grew weary of it as I realized that nothing I said or did would appease her. Suggesting she call the other family members and talk to them, I wandered off.
Then came the dream’s climax. I sat down and picked at my little toe’s toe nail. This would be toe number five. The small toe. I picked at the nail; it felt like the nail was loose. Like something was under it. Unable to help myself, I conducted some prying with a finger nail.
My little toe’s top lifted off. Like the top quarter inch.
It was a bloodless event. Beneath it was another small toe nail. My toe was intact, just stubbier. To cap matters off, I did the same thing with the other toe.
Then I tossed the two toe tips aside, amusing myself with how Mom would react when she saw them, chuckling to myself about what my wife would say about my new truncated toes. I was dubious she would notice.
Dream end.
Wenzda’s Wandering Political Thoughts
Such a firehose of news, I have two and half tons to think about.
First up, a child died of the measles in Texas, and the outbreak is growing. It’d be cynical to exclaim thoughts and prayers. That poor child. Yes, death is part of life, but when death, pain, and sickness can be mitigated but aren’t for religious or political reasons, I feel it. Pumps the cynicism in me up to the surface. News like this is painfully wearying.
Next comes some reflections on the U.S. and NATO. Legally, the U.S. can’t unilaterally withdraw without Congress’s approval. Of course, legally is a quaint notion in PINO Trusk’s worldview. PINO Trusk contiues thumping all over laws and the Constitution. Meanwhile, he can and is undermining the alliance’s intentions and cohesiveness with his bromance with Russia. If PINO Trusk did order troop withdrawals out of NATO bases, where would they be parked? We have military installations around the world, but it’d be a huge logistical challenge, and the ripples from such a decision…oh, the ripples.
The Idaho Capital Sun had a really engrossing article about a local meeting. North Idaho woman forcibly removed from Kootenai County Republican town hall When she exercised her free speech, men without badges who didn’t present identification forcibly removed her.
COEUR d’ALENE — A legislative town hall organized by the Kootenai County Republican Central Committee devolved into chaos Saturday when unidentified, plainclothes security personnel dragged a Post Falls woman from the Coeur d’Alene High School auditorium for heckling legislators.
Though the company that provided security for the event has been identified, town hall organizers and Kootenai County Sheriff Bob Norris have claimed no knowledge of the security personnel or who hired them.
The tale is a whole ‘he said, he said,’ circle thingy with many attempting to deflect and pretend that others were in charge, but there seemed to be a lot of secrecy around the planning and execution. To me, such violent — and secretive — responses by ‘unidentified security’ is an outgrowth of the PINO Trusk thug mentality: bullying others without explanation to get their way. Sure smacks of Gestapo tactics. Really, read the story.
In “Letters from America”, Heather Cox Richardson posted clear, sharp insights and details about the budget resolution action going on in Congress. She begins with a Pete Buttigieg post: “A defining policy battle is about to come to a head in this country. The Republican budget will force everyone—especially Congress and the White House—to make plain whether they are prepared to harm the rest of us in order to fund tax cuts for the wealthiest.”
Ms. Richardson then presents the details. The GOTP wants to cut the deficit. To do so means cutting popular, useful programs while trying to push forward tax cuts for the rich. The GOTP’s entire reasoning process is maligned with flimsy logic and pathetic reasoning. History shows what they’re trying to do will absolutely not work. No matter, they’re too fucking bullheaded about it because they’re bending the knee to PINO Trusk.
I have mixed feelings about it. At this point, if the GOTP gets their way, slashing programs while giving the wealthy tax breaks, they’ll end up with higher deficits and a crumbling economy. Maybe then the MAGAts and others will awaken and demand a halt to the Great Undoing. If they don’t, the Great Shitstorm of 2025 will continue until serious reciprocal waves arrive. See, I’m, like, “We warned you, warned you, and warned you. You insisted that you wanted to fuck around and find out. So here it comes.” I kind of want to let it come, but that strikes me as being personally petty. Yet, based on the evidence so far, I don’t think they’ll learn until consequences jar their lives. I know, it’s a sad situation when it’s come to this.
“Requiem For The West” out of The Dish by Andrew Sullivan is the third piece which hooked my attention today. Mr. Sullivan writes, “We only saw Donald Trump’s foreign policy darkly in his first term — constrained, as he was, by a handful of white-knuckled Republicans in the executive branch. Now we see it face to face. It’s a vision where international law disappears, great powers divide up the planet into spheres of influence, and the strong always control the weak. It’s Trump’s vision of domestic politics as well. And of life.
“Control, plunder, gloat. This is the Trump way.”
That is the Trump way, along with using the gullible and low-informed. Trump has a history of breaking his word, laws, and contracts. He’s not a good businessman but he’s a really terrific liar and con man. In PINO Trusk’s world, “Zelensky is a monster but Putin is our friend. As for concessions from Russia for its unprovoked violation of an internationally recognized border? None that I can see, apart from stopping the war. (If you want to read Vance’s underwhelming defense of what’s going on, check out his reply to Niall here.)“
There’s the nub, too. PINO Trusk is so fucking adept at fooling people. Just give him a little material and he twists and hammers it until it seems like an absolute truth. He did that with President Biden’s age and inflation during the 20204 campaign. And yeah, President Biden didn’t put up much resistance. He’s done the same with ‘cutting fraud and waste’ through Doge now. Of course as so many have pointed out before, it’s not really about the inflation, President Biden’s age, or many of the other things which PINO Trusk said during his campaign: it’s about being racist and sexist. It’s about power and money.
Many of us see that.
Too many don’t.
Watch The Pennies
I was seventeen when I joined the U.S. military. I didn’t begin serving until I was 18. Frustrated with life, I wanted to see the world and find answers.
Military pay didn’t go far in 1974. $344 a month was my starting salary. Desiring to make it go further, I sought guidance as I do for everything: research. Back in those days, that meant mostly hitting the library.
Finding books on budgeting, two things were stressed: one, pay yourself first. Put money into savings. Have at least a few months worth of living expenses to fall back on in case of emergencies. I married, and my wife and I made it a goal to have and keep at least six months of expenses on hand in savings.
The other thing was to always pay off your credit card. Not doing so meant that you were losing money on the interest you were paying, and that would only get worse because it would be compounded. Part of our process was that anything put on the credit card would need to be budgeted to be paid off when the bill came in. We’ve never varied from that and always have a dialogue about was, and is, going on the credit card.
Every month, we brainstormed to list all of our expenses and listed them in a notebook. Some were fixed costs; we knew what they were. They were entered first. Next, the things which needed to be but fluctuated in price and need, depending on multiple factors. This included gasoline and haircuts. Everything was listed, added, scrutinized, prioritized. We didn’t have cable TV because that was $12 which we couldn’t afford. We went to the library, checked out books, and read.
Our final pole for budget was to be frugal shoppers. Back then we saved pennies to buy an occassional dessert. We scoured ads for sales. During that time, coupons in newspapers came out on Wednesday and Sunday. We always bought the newspaper on those days, and then went dumpster diving on the coupon sections that others threw out. Most months we saved over a hundred dollars with coupons.
Later, when IRAs began, we grit our teeth and maxed contributions out. First, IRAs were savings which would earn money and be deferred for taxes, but it was also money which we could deduct from our income tax, enabling us to get the most back in taxes which we could. Likewise, when we started working for corporations that offered a 401 K, we maxed out our contributions.
And doing taxes, of course, which I always did, and still do, I hunt for deductions.
It was tough. Although we’re much better off financially, we still adhere to many of these tenets. I keepa spreadsheet of our savings. We monitor our credit cards and bunce Now, as tariffs, cutbacks, and shortages threaten supplies lines and possible high inflation looms, my wife reminds me, “We know how to live poor. We did it before. We can do it again.”
Frieda’s Wandering Thoughts
I sometimes subscribe to Hulu for streaming content. I’m actually currently a subscriber but I put my account on hold because they’re offering anything that anyone in my household wants to watch.
They sent me a notice that they’re ‘updating our Subscriber Agreement’. Three things were specifically called out. Here is the second point, copied and pasted for your consideration.
• We are clarifying that, as we continue to increase the breadth and depth of the content we make available to you, circumstances may require that certain titles and types of content include ads, even in our ‘no ads’ or ‘ad free’ subscription tiers.
Is that not straight out of 1984? We are offering you ‘no adds’ and ‘ad free’ subscriptions but they’ll have ads.
I can imagine something similar happening at restaurants: ‘We are clarifying that as we continue to offer vegan meals, circumstances may require that certain dishes include meat and animal products.’
‘Certain circumstances’. Guess it’s the god of money forcing them to do this. “We couldn’t help ourselves.” Executives wring their hands. “It was the money. The money made us do it.”
What bullshit. I might need to change my account from ‘hold’ to ‘cancel’.
The Car & Suit Dream
Dreamed I came into a windfall of cash. The amount was never specified but I bought a new Porsche 718 spyder and paid cash.
Next, I purchased a Dior pewter gray suit. Though off the rack, it fit me perfectly. Oh, and this was a young thirtyish me. Along with the shirt, I bought new shirt, tie, and shoes. Wearing these things, I drove the car around. In one odd sign, however, I seemed larger than the car.
I stopped and exited the car to chat with some people I loosely knew. They admired my suit, guessing, “New?” Yes, I proudly answered. I realized I had the price tags attached. I fretted about my wife finding out how much I paid for the suit. I believed it was thousands but I couldn’t read the price tags. Each time I tried, something imposed to prevent that from happening.
I decided that I wanted to remove the price tags. I needed a knife or small snips. Looked for both, roaming around, but found neither. Did receive many more compliments about how the suit looked on me.
Getting back into the car to leave, I found that while the cockpit was as expected, the rest of the car was expanded to be an open-air bus filled with people. Didn’t surprise me. We were leaving a museum. I saw a woman who I wanted to intercept walking toward another vehicle exit. I decided I would circle around and chat with her.
“I just have one stop to make,” I told the rest. “Then we’ll be on our way and I’ll drop you off at your destination.”
I was driving down the road while making that announcement. Lovely day of blue sky, sunshine, and clouds. The roads were spacious and well-maintained, concrete with curbs, abutting parks, plazas, and museums. I circled right and went under an overpass and came back around to where I was.
That surprised me. I’d expected there to be a turn off that would take me over to the other road. I tried again — three more times in all — and met the same result. With the fourth time, my passengers said, “Oh, no, not again.
Asking for their indulgence, I gave it one more effort, but this time shifting over by one road which I’d noticed. That worked, taking me to where I wanted to be.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 