Tag: money

WWTD?

What would Jesus do after someone shot him, apparently attempting to kill him?

The question is before us because many Evangelicals believe Trump is their savior. He shares their values, they tell us in polls, votes, and interviews. Which means, of course, that they’re not interested in stable marriages, right? Can’t be, since Trump has been married three times. What kind of values would they have, if they held that marriage was sacred and divorce is a no-no, and then admire a man who has three divorces? I wouldn’t think much of them and their values, no, I wouldn’t. I guess one of their values then is apparently divorce.

They share values with Trump, so I imagine they have a large number of affairs, too, because, you know, Trump. He’s had affairs, right? I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Trump will sponsor a ‘Divorce is sacred’ act if re-elected. Also among Evangelical supporters’ shared values with Trump is the willingness to declare bankruptcy to avoid creditors and escape financial responsibility for the misery caused to others for poor financial planning and execution. He or his companies have declared such bankruptcies a bunch of times, and he’s been sued repeatedly for not paying contractors. I guess that skipping out on their bills is another shared value. Gotta be.

Surely their values include lying and hate. Trump lies with routine regularity. Verify any of his speeches with fact-checkers and Vegas will probably give you odds that it has at least three lies in it. Therefore, truth is not a value for them, but lying, because that’s what Trump would do, is one of their shared values, and he is their savior. He shares their faith.

Nor is Trump forgiving, advocating death for others time and again. So, forgiving is not one of their shared values. Nor is turning the other cheek. Vengeance must be another of their shared values. Gotta be, right, because they share Trump’s values.

They must be proud of him today, then. Their modern-day Jesus immediately rebounded after being shot in the ear and went after the dollar. Yes, Trump’s apparatus quickly set up the sale of special commemorative shoes to remember the shooting. These “FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT” high tops, complete with Trump’s bloody face on it, can be theirs for just $299. That’s really a terrific bargain for a bloody face on a shoe when it’s your savior’s face. I bet Evangelicals snap them up and put them on display in their living rooms, along with their crosses.

I’m guessing from everything I’ve read about Trump that the Evangelicals’ values are rooted in money, like Trump. Just like their savior with whom they share values. Anything for a dollar. Just go after the buck.

Because that’s what Jesus would do.

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Tueday’s Theme Music

Mood: Bureausilized (when activities are rendered useless by bureaucracy and become fossilized)

Good morrow, gentle folk and fellow coffee guzzlers. Today is Tuesday, May 14, 2024.

For the record, we’re fully overcast in Penn Hills, PA. It’s comfortable out, 61 F, with rain and thunderstorms chugging our way. They’re scheduled to arrive noonish. Today’s high will stroke out at 72 F.

Trump on Trial (the hush money/business fraud business) holds my family enthralled. Details are reiterated and explored. They’re also enjoying Trump’s latest tax issues, whereby he seems to be on the hook for $100,000,000 in taxes.

But doubt has been expressed that anything significant will emerge from either of these matters. Trump is white, male, and wealth, even if he may not be as wealthy as he claims. He’s also an ex-POTUS and the woeful GOP’s current candidate. Looking at the crime and punishment Venn diagram, significant punishment and karma don’t seem likely. The lesson reinforced for most of us, I think, is that the U.S. has a tiered justice system that mocks ‘and justice for all’.

The Hunt for Mom’s Caregiver goes miserably. All agencies contacted have suggested other agencies to contact. It’s a quagmire of links and promises, but little of substance is ever found. Others have found caregivers, so it is possible. Just need to moving out of expectations that any government agency will be useful.

Likewise, there’s no movement on Mom’s hospital bed request. In his case the road goes through her PCP’s office. Calling it is like shouting into a sewer. There’s not even an echo in response.

Today’s theme music veers to remembrance of David Sanborn’s work. The saxophonist died this week, robbing us of another wonderful musical talent. While more talented musicians keep emerging, the ones who marked us with their style should remain recognized and appreciated.

One of the first songs The Neurons pulled up for David Sanborn was David Bowie’s “Young Americans” from 1975. Then, as I read appreciations about him, many more people mentioned this same song. Sanborn’s body of work was much better than that, though.

I like this video which I found to showcase Sanborn. Not the best sound quality, but there’s a lot of talent on display here beyond Bowie and Sanborn. So many of them have passed.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Meanwhile, create and adhere to a vision of a better world. We make it happen, yes, we can make it happen.

Coffee is being chugged. Here’s the video. Cheers

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

Employees at a local grocery store wear shirts with “Look for the food you love” on the back.

I got caught up thinking about what food I love. Pie jumped into mind. I didn’t look for pie that day. Nor did I look for fruits and veggies, which I also love, or nuts and seeds. Nor cheese. Sandwiches. Didn’t look for them, either. Or pizza, another food I love.

I just looked for yogurt that day. It was on sale. A good price.

That’d be on my tee’s back: “Look for food you love with a good price.“

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Overlapping Dreams

Dream night as busy as SFO airport on the week before Mother’s Day. All were in close third person POV, like I was outside of myself and could see me, but was focused ONLY on me.

First, there I was, being told, “Hey, you won a major prize.

Me: I did? What is it?

“A significant amount of money and famous hardware. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

I was very excited. Really! Can you tell me more? What did I win it for?

“You’ll find out. Just show up this morning and the details will be provided.”

This morning. That’s very short notice. I can’t make it. I’m taking my cat to the vet this morning.

“Well, the prize is waiting for you, but it won’t be there forever.”

The thing about this is it was just voices, as I’ve depicted. I saw a blue sky and a white building on a hill, but that was it. It was almost like I was just having a two-way conversation by myself.

I awoke and puzzled over that with Tucker curled up beside me. Then, back to sleep, and another dream.

I was on a curve on a road, where it crested a hill. A sniper was high on a steep hill green with trees and bushes. Shooting down on us, he was forcing us to take cover and stay still.

Walking, I came upon this happening. “What’s going on,” I demanded of my small group. I knew they were my group, but don’t recall anyone. They told me about the sniper.

I was pissed. “Shoot him. Where are our shooters?”

“They tried. They couldn’t do it.”

I scowled. “Give me a rifle.”

I peered up the hill until locating him and fired one shot. Handing the rifle back, I said, “There. Done. Was that so hard?”

I turned away as my group began talking to each other about what I’d done, very impressed about it.

Then I awoke again. I wanted to ensure I was up at 6:30. It was 4:10. Back to sleep and another dream.

I was standing by the side of a road on its shoulder. This road seemed like the same road as in the sniper dream. Also, it seemed like highway 92 in California, on the way to Half Moon Bay.

Someone said, “Hey, we need your help.”

Sounded like a male behind me. I turned, wondering, do they mean me? Before I could ask that, they pointed up a hill. (I never saw any of them but the pointing hand.) “Children are up there,” they said. “They need to be rescued. Fly up them and get them.”

I was taken back. “What makes you think I can do that? I can’t fly.”

“Yes, you can, I saw you. You just did it. You just flew in here.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Others had gathered. I was aware of their presence but didn’t see them. It didn’t prevent several from saying, “Yes, you just flew in. I saw it, too.”

Coming around to the idea that I could fly because so many insisted that I could, I said, “Okay, I’ll try. I seriously doubt that I can.”

But that’s what I did. I flew up to the children, toddlers, and young children, none seeming like they were over six or seven years old. The speed and effortless action surprised me. I was there in a blink without wings, cape, or any kind of aid.

Unlike earlier, I saw all of the children. They seemed like they were in good health and uninjured, but inexplicably alone on a mountainside. “Who are you?” one asked.

“I’m here to rescue you,” I answered. Picking them up — like nine or ten children — in my arms, I said, “We’re going to fly down. Hang on.”

Then, blink, I’m at the bottom, putting the children down. Conversations, congratulations, and astonishment flourished around me. And then, because I could, I disappeared because I’d flown away.

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Mom’s House – A Dream

First, this isn’t anything like Mom’s real life house.

I was sleeping in the dream when something awoke me. I stayed in bed listening. Shades were pulled but daylight was growing visible through the slates. I knew I was in Mom’s and I thought I was alone but I was hearing noises downstairs. As I listened, I realized it was one of my younger sisters, so I dressed and went downstairs.

Down there, I found an open door that led to a patio. A man in half-removed black leather clothing was prostrate on the patio. My sister was further out on the patio, busy doing things. We said hello, and then I asked about the man. She said it was my cousin, Rick. (Due to the marriages and divorces, Rick isn’t her cousin.) Rick, half sleep or drunk, said with a grin and eyes barely open, “Yes, it’s me, Rick. I came to see you.” He then went to sleep.

I moved on out onto the patio. I’d need seen this house of Mom’s before, and was amazed. It was a white cement modern design on the ocean’s shore. Sunshine brightly lit the day. The tide was coming in, entertaining me with smells and thunderous cracking sounds. I was pleased and astonished and talked to my sister about this.

But — the house was right on the shore, although there was an elevation down to the sea. The incoming tide was coming closer and closer to the house, slashing the rocks and earth with heavy rolling waves. I worried about the house flooding, and watched until the waves were right at the house’s foundations.

Then something moved on my vision’s edge, flagging my attention: a black and white kitten was cavorting about on a cement piece. It disappeared.

I hustled over to look for it. It was down under white cement bridge trusses, along with another kitten. The second one was playing in the sea water. Horrified, afraid they needed rescued, I leaned further over.

A man and boy were down with the kittens. With me watching, the boy retreated, calling the kittens, who ran after him.

I headed back for Mom’s house. Now I could see more of its exterior broaded slabs of glass and white cement at arty angles, a very modern and interesting design, with several patios, porches, and balconies. I also saw then that the water had completed retreated already. I asked myself, “How did that happen so fast?”

Going over, I spoke with my sister, pointing out the tide threat to the house, because climate change was raising water levels. I showed her where I can see how high the water used to go, and compared it to this latest. My sister was dismissive, answering, “I know, but this is Mom’s house. It’s not my problem.”

I chastised her for that thinking but left. Mom and her partner arrived. We talked about the house but then she mentioned her other house and wanted her partner to go check on it because there’d be a storm early in the week. I volunteered to go with him and we headed for the door. Mom stopped me and said, “Do you need money? I can give you some if you need it.” I graciously turned her down, thanking her as I did.

Her partner and I arrived at another place. Isolated and not nearly as grand as the place which I’d just left, surrounded by mud and puddles, it was also white and modern, although it all looked shabby and dirty. I asked him, “Whose house is this?” When he replied that it belong to him and my mother, I followed up, “You two bought it together?”

“Yes,” he answered.

He and I made our way into the house. There was no furniture. In the kitchen, I discovered warped, damaged cupboards. I pointed these out to him, and he agreed, these needed to be replaced. I found an open window. Showing him, I asked, “Is this always left open?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, that’s what’s damaging the inside. That needs to be closed.”

Dream end.

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The Lavish Hotel Dream

I found myself at an expensive luxury hotel in my dream last night. My wife was with me at this place. Polished gold covered many surfaces, and if it wasn’t gold, it was sparkling glass, shiny marble, or deep, dark wood. Located in the middle of a very busy metropolitan city, the tall skyscraper was hugely busy and full.

I don’t know why I was there, but my wife and I made a complaint about something going on. No idea what that complaint was, but shortly after making it, the hotel staff were suddenly hugely obsequious and apologetic to me. Then they said, “We didn’t realize it was you.” Laughing, I joked, “I didn’t realize it was me, either.”

Just like that, they were treating me like I was royalty. I’d show up and they would tell other customers to make way for me, a cringe thing for me, who prefers not having preferential status or being the center of attention. Almost as wild, the other customers seemed to recognize me and were also differential, which, oddly, made me suspicious. I drifted into questioning why this was happening, sneaking into territory that they were playing a big joke on me or setting me up for something.

Going to a ballroom section, I was accosted by some staff as I entered. I thought they were going to tell me to leave. “Here, try this food,” they said, offering me things on toothpicks. The first turned out to be some kind of special and exotic cherry. Eating it, I was blown out by its juicy sweetness. I told others, “That’s great, you need to taste this.”

The staff said, “Oh, but this is very expensive. It’s free for you but others need to pay for it.”

Pulling a huge wad of cash out of my pocket, I replied, “I’ll pay for it for them.”

“No, no,” the staff answered. “You can’t pay for anything. Put your cash away.”

I responded, “Why can’t I pay for anything?” Meanwhile, the stash of money in my hand shocked me. It was all US currency. I thought, where’d I get all this money? I figured it must be change and it’s probably ones and fives or something. But going through it, I discovered twenties, hundreds, fifties.

Another staffer was beside me. “If you liked the cherry, perhaps you’d like to try the dried apricots.”

“Oh, I love apricots,” I answered. “Yes, I definitely want to try them.” He gave me two and I ate them with gusto, simply staggered by their flavor. “So good,” I told the staff. “Thank you.”

Just then, a manager arrived. “I want to speak to you,” she said. I was like, oh, no, what’s wrong now? She said, “Your stay here is free, so I wanted to tell you that you’ll see a refund on your credit card statement.” She then handed me three shiny pennies. “These are also for you, with our compliments.”

As I took the pennies, I wondered, why are they giving me pennies when I have so much cash, and the dream ended.

3

An Unsettling Dream

After an outrageously fun dream that had me grinning when I awoke, a later dream stamped its imprint, unsettling me.

The second dream was about a friend. Oddly, I can’t recall ever clearly seeing him. I can’t give any description to him except to say he was a contemporary, male, white, and both in our early twenties.

He came to my house and told me that he’d stolen twenty thousand dollars. No details about that were shared. The dream and I focused on what I should do, how can I help him? He’d already told me that he’d told others.

He suggested that he needed to hide the money. I agreed, telling him that I would help. Next thing I know, we’re at his house, a suburban home, in a lower level, in a small den. There’s one oblong window at ground level; I keep looking out it. Dusk is falling.

Green shag carpet covers the floor. He lays down on the floor, face down, legs stiffly together and straight, arms out at ninety degrees, like he’s on a cross. He’s wearing a yellow top and red shorts. I tell him that I think he needs to get out of there. He doesn’t answer. I’m pacing, worrying, and tell him the same thing. He seems to have given up.

I start telling him, “Give me your money and I’ll hide it for you.” That’s when I realize that I stole the money with him, bewildering me. I don’t remember doing that, so how was it possible?

I’ve hidden my share, which was also twenty thousand. I repeat, “Give me your money and I’ll hide it for you. Where is it?” Sirens are getting louder. I don’t doubt they’re coming to his house. He’s given up, so they’ll catch us both. Even if I have escape, I’m sure that he’d tell them who stole the money with him. He’s already told others. The dream ends with the sirens growing louder, me pacing, glancing out a window, running a hand through my hair, trying to understand what to do, and him still in a cross position on the green shag carpet.

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