I heard something hit the house last night. ‘Bout midnight. Turned out to be Twosda, August 5, 2025, staggering into the siding. Cool night, and mostly clear, offering views of a waxing moon and a spill of stars. We’re relaxing in 76 F air with a cloud-stained coating of sun-filled blue sky. 86 F wil be the thermometer’s top mark for Ashlandia.
Democratic governors are pleasing me these days. First, a shut out to those Texan Dems who left the state to prevent the Trump-Abbott collusion to destroy democracy in Texas and the United States. Second, huzzah to the Dem governors who took them in, and the Dem govs standing up to the GOP bullshit. California Gov. Newsome and Democratic New York Gov. Kathy Hochul are vowing to redistrict to counter Abbott’s moves in Texas. Frankly, I think such forceful action is needed. Meanwhile, Robert Hubbell published encouraging news in More signs of life among Senate Democrats.
Hearing of the Trump Regime’s eager use of space stuff to try to distract from the Epstein list, The Neurons loaded a song about the moon in the morning mental music stream. “Walking on the Moon” is a 1979 raggae rock offering by The Police. Sting wrote the song, mentioning being drunk as inspiration and also an early love. The Neurons entertained me with visuals of Trump waddling around the moon. The Neurons thought that Trump would trip and start uncontrollabling bouncing across the moon’s surface.
I’ve had a wink of coffee. Think I’ll have forty more. Hope grace and peace has its way with you today. Cheers
57 F was our morning air temp, giving us a comfy chill for an Ashlandia summer morning. Clouds were squirreled into one sky corner, presenting the sun with an open path. A high of just 82 F, below our average, is expected to crown the day. No smoke; no fires, knock wood.
I’m just climbing back into the world today. Yesterday was chill. Wife and I visited the Oregon Cabaret to see Disaster! and have a brunch. Quite a silly musical, exquisitely campy. Taking off on the disaster movies which ruled like Marvel movies back in the 1970s, the setting was a casino on a docked ship. The dock was new, incomplete, and built on a fault line. The shady owner skirted regulations and cut corners. We had earthquakes, a tidal wave, fire, explosions, and a few love stories. One love story was behind a retired couple’s story while the other was about a couple with an aborted wedding. All this was structured around popular music from that era, such as “Saturday Night”, “Hot Stuff”, and “Sky High”. A couple of the performers, such Molly Stillens as the singing nun — it’s a 1970s disaster setting, remember? — really leaned into the campiness and made it shine. Good food and a fun show that fostered multiple belly laughs.
Back home in mid afternoon, reading to finish a book due back to the library was undertaken. Ministry of Time was well written, with deeply drawn characters and an interesting variation on standard ‘time-travel’ concepts. Kaliane Bradley is beautifully inventive polishing phrases. Then I wrote for an hour, followed by yard work. Little news was taken in.
Today’s song is “After the Gold Rush”. The Neurons remembered the song as I took coffee on the front porch and investigated nature’s plate with idle curiosity about what was planned, what was done, what was to come sort of montage. Neil Young wrote it and released it while I was in high school. Many covered it later. One famous cover came from a trio of famous singers: Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, and Linda Ronstadt, which was released in 1999. While Neil’s version as as heartfelt and raw as Neil sings everything, the trio’s harmonizing lifts the lyrics into another realm. Hope you enjoy it.
Time to let Munda stamp me with its intentions. Coffee has been had. Let me go forth. May peace and grace find you this day and everyday. Cheers
Another cool, blue-sky deal rolls into Ashlandia. It’s Sunda, August 3, 2025, and 68 F. Claims are being staked that it’ll be 86 F with thunderstorms later today but I’m living in the now. We’re enjoying this streak of average normal summer. Been a few summers since we’ve had an extended streak, knock wood. Meanwhile sympathies and thoughts to all the places enduring floods, fire, wildfire smoke, and other disasters.
The morning joke between my wife and me is, “What has he done today?” We worry that the mango Offal Office occupant will launch a nuclear strike because he had a bad day at golf or more information about him and his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein was revealed. We joke without humor, “Did he raise tariffs 1,000 percent on food and rooster about how much we’re winning?” We’ve not seen any of his ‘wins’. Prices are still up and climbing. When prices aren’t climbing, it’s often because companies are giving you less for the same price they used to charge.
We were looking at online photos of his White House ‘improvements’. A huge, tacky gold-plated ballroom, with none of the grace of the building that houses the President and their family. Sickening. And look at that paved over Rose Garden. It demonstrates such a bare, empty vision. Yes, that is PINO TACO.
Today’s music came from dialogue with my spouse. We were talking about health issues. I was helping her with putting something on. “Easy, easy,” she cautioned. “Sorry, I answered. “I’ll try to use more care.”
The Neurons snatched that up like a dog going for a dropped piece of bacon. “Handle with Care” by The Traveling Wilburys was soon bouncing through the morning mental music stream. The Wilburys were a pop rock group formed by well-pedigreed pop rock musicians: George Harrison, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and Bob Dylan. Each claimed to be a Wilbury brother. Their music was fun and relaxed, people with little to prove doing the thing that they loved to do.
“Handle with Care” was the group’s first effort, and it’s most commercially successful. Originally intended to be the B side of a song George Harrison was releasing, record company execs thought it too good for that purpose and suggested the group expand its efforts and make more music. And it all came about with serendipity. George needed another song. He met with Jeff for dinner, but Jeff was already dining with Roy, so the three of them dined together. George invited Jeff to help him with the song, and Roy asked if he could come along. A studio was needed; George remembered that Bob Dylan was local and had a garage studio. Sure, you can use it, Bob said. George needed his guitar, which was over at Tom Petty’s house. Tom asked if he could join because he had nothing else going on.
I mean, come on. What a neighborhood. Much better than mine, where we nod and complain about weather, politics, and prices. Maybe we should start writing songs about that stuff.
Time to rock on. Hope your day finds peace and grace, and perhaps something tasty to eat for your neglected taste buds. I’ve got coffee. Here we go. Cheers
More bunder thusters prowled Ashlandia’s late afternoon and early evening. Less sprinkles than you’d find on a doughnut fell, too. But Satyrda, August 2, 2025, has awakened in our area as sun-filled blue skies. A 67 F temperature now is expected to climb into the top 80s. A check of the fire watch and fire warning systems shows no new lightning-started fires in southern Oregon and northern California, knock wood, once again.
We’re flabbergasted in our household about economics surprised by the ‘weaker-than-expected’ jobs numbers and manufacturing decline. “Gasp,” economists said. “Unemployment has gone up again. Less people are employed. Who would have believed that would happen after Trump terminated all those Federal jobs? Just because tourism is down because less people are traveling to the United States due to ICE shouldn’t affect jobs, should it? And I don’t think the shuttering of automobile factories, even temporarily due to material shortages and tariffs, would affect job numbers. I wonder what’s going on?” Those economics should consider relocating their offices from under those rocks.
A large part of that is that farmers felt betrayed by Trump urging Coca Cola to make Coke with cane sugar only for sale in the U.S., what is often referred to as ‘Mexican Coke’ because they use cane sugar to make Coke in Mexico. The Iowa farmers grow corn; corn syrup was being used in Coke production. So there goes their market. As usual, Trump shows how naive and short-sighted he is, how disconnected from reality, or he would have known of the connection between corn syrup and American farmers. But he’s too damn painfully lacking of the brain cells needed to comprehend these things. Since he’s installed only ‘yes’ people who kowtow to him, he won’t hear anyone explain the relationship between corn, farmers, Coke, and sugar to him. Or, as likely, he’ll shrug and say with his ’empathy’, “They’ll get over it.”
Jill Dennison started a chain the other day. She played a Foreigner song on her blog. I countered with some other Foreigner song. Ark chimed in with another Foreigner song, “Urgent”. Ark mentioned the sax, and the album, Four or 4. That was a fine damn album and it was added to the rotation for a while at my house after it was released. Now The Neurons have run with that, of course, playing “Urgent” and other Foreigner songs from the album in the morning mental music stream. I’m afraid that means that I must share the song with you to stop The Neurons from playing it in my head. I’m sorry, but those are the rules. I didn’t create them; I just live by them.
May peace and grace find you today. Maybe some fun, too. Here we go. Cheers
Lawdy, it was the skunkpocalypse last night. I don’t know what was going on but skunk stink bowled through the house like a Budweiser King Pin tournament at 4 AM. After shutting the only windows open and activating the air filter, I consulted an oracle. “Is this a bad omen for August?” I asked. “I can’t work in these conditions,” the oracle answered, tears streaming down their cheeks. I took that as a yes. At the least, it seems like a ‘maybe’.
Yeah, that’s how Frida, August 1, 2025 rolled in on us. But could’ve been worse, judging from all that goes on in the world. Especially in the era of MAGALand. I mean, I could have been shot and killed from police exercising a no-knock warrant at the wrong address. ICE could’ve pounced on me when I opened the door for fresh air and stolen my ID or disappeared me. Earthquakes, wildfires, tsunamis, flash-flooding, and tornados are all real threats at this time. So a heavy skunk attack is mild.
Today, it’s 72 F. Gonna get to 86 F. Thunder boomers thrashed the area for several hours. We even had a little wetletting from the sky, just enough to call it a sprinkle. No reports of rampant lightning strikes, knock wood. Porcupine Fire to the southeast is new but just an acre. A helicopter is doing bucket work on it.
With First Frida, we have the downtown Art Walk to entertain us and the First Frida Bike Ride. On a friend’s recommendation, we’re going to see a play, Disaster! It’s a comedy.
News reading drove The Neurons to invite Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers into the morning mental music stream. “Breakdown” from 1977 is looping through. Why not breakdown? Reading about the many aspects of U.S. life slowly breaking down is tres depressing. The Trump Regime is a seriously backward lot. Like, over under the Fox newsguy’s guidance, the Defense Department personnel have been instructed not to work with any think tanks. While it doesn’t make sense from a historic and intelligent point of view, it’s tots inline with the TACO Regime: they’re against thinking.
Under Trump, all signs point to not thinking as much as possible. Fer instance, don’t think about our history of slavery and civil rights. Don’t think about sexism and racism. Don’t think about climate change and increasing extreme weather disasters. Don’t think about due process, the Constitution, checks and balances, and historic precedence. Don’t think about Trump’s campaign promises and how he’s not delivered. Don’t think ’bout education and morality. Most def do not think about Epstein and Trump, and their secrets.
But it’s only the title, “Breakdown”, which works. The song itself, about a souring relationship, doesn’t apply. Oh, wait; I guess that can apply to Trump and his voters. Seem of them might be souring, according to polls. Really, too early. Takes a while for it all to gel and hit home.
Well, I can’t just sit here typing and reading and writing all day while drinking coffee. Things Must Be Done. Like, the car Must Be Put Into The Shop, because it’s systems are saying, it is time again. More yardwork and housework Must Be Done. More vacation planning is in order. Can’t have a good vacation without intensive dialogues about what Will Be Done and What Is Needed.
Thirstda, July’s last day of 2025, greets us with clouds and sunshine. I’m off to a late blogging and writing start, delayed by a felt need to cut grass and weed before the sun and heat was too overpowering. Now it’s one PM, 84 F, with a ‘feels-like’ of 92, on the way to an 87F high. Light scattered rain is expected. I smelled petichor last night and went out looking for rain. While I heard what sounded like hungry stomachs rumbling among the dark clouds, rain successfully evaded me.
I’m already in the coffee shop. I noticed a sheet of paper on the counter. Handwritten, it was the inventory. That had me redoubling with chuckling. The writing, in black marker, was a combination of cursive and printing, which is my own style. Has been for years. It’s funny to me that this tech-driven computer age still features handwritten processes.
I like what a friend posted on FB yesterday:
Take your pick of weird Mother Earth events today in Oregon. Tsunami, red flag warning, lightning, thunderstorms, wind, fire, smoke. Hopefully it’s all pretty minor. Stay safe!
Jill Dennison featured a Foreigner tune on her blog. It’s the powerful rock ballad, “I Want To Know What Love Is”. The song moves many to tears and it’s not uncommon to witness folks singing along with it. I commented on the song selection, I mentioned that I enjoy Foreigner as a solid rock band. She asked me to suggest other Foreigner songs. I offered her “Dirty White Boy” and “Juke Box Hero”.
But was yesterday. Thinking themselves amusing, The Neurons slotted “That Was Yesterday” by Foreigner in my morning mental music stream. The 1985 song has a catchy chorus and is easy to mumble along to.
Working hard to undermine democracy and establish an authoritarian plutocracy, Texas is redrawing maps to exclude Democrats and their elected reps. Offering bankrupt ideas and languishing morals for most of this century, the bend to cheat results and steal power. My disgust is off the chart. We’ll see if Democrats and voters can turn back this effort. Fingers are crossed but between the heavy-handed Texas GOP and the swollen to the right SCOTUS, my hope is spider-web thin.
Peace and grace to you today. Hope both find you. On to other things. Cheers
Thunderstorms are on the way today, Wenzda, July 30, 2025. Worry has cranked up throughout the region. Thunderstorms equal lightning, wildfires, and smoke. Fingers crossed, knock on wood, etc., that we’re spared.
Meanwhile, it’s a blue sky lovely day. 74 now, heading toward 90 F. Texting with my sister in PA. She tells me it’s humid and close to 100 F there today. Everyone working outside are guarding against heatstroke. One of her husband’s co-workers was hospitalized for dizziness and high blood pressure.
Tsunami warning were given for Pacific coasts last night after a massive earthquake was detected off the coast of the Kamchatka Peninsula. My friends and I were familiar with that territory from playing Risk, but then there was a spy plane incident which cemented it in my memories. Fortunately, back to the tsunami warnings, little damage has been reported so far. Tsunamis called to mind the disastrous ones which hit Japan and destroyed a nuclear power plant in Marh of 2011, and the Christmas tsunami which nailed Thailand, Indonesia, and that region of Asia, killing hundreds of thousands of people. Nature’s power is stunning. Of course, in an aside, that’s why the United States and other nations worked together to create monitor and warning systems. That required international trust and cooperation, and the Trump Regime is actively undermining such work, unilaterally withdrawing the U.S. from alliances and agreements, and cutting funding, either directly, or through the termination of grants to universities and organizations.
Today’s music is a dream gift. “Who Invited You” is by The Donnas. I’m familiar with the group mostly because a friend listened to them. I lived in the Bay area in the 1990s and worked in Palo Alto, where The Donnas originated. My friend, a co-worker, burned CDs for me of several groups she liked, including the Squirrel Nut Zippers, Violent Femmes, and The Donnas. The dream part had me awakening from a dream just after I’d opened a door and someone asked me, “Who invited you in?” That dream moment, which I call a ‘dreament’, snapped back to me when I intercepted a spider coming in the front door after I opened to receive some cooling morning air. Asking it, “Who invited you in?”, the dream moment swiveled into focus and The Neurons hastened The Donnas into the morning mental music stream.
Hope all you jazz cats have a hip day. This coffee cat is downing his caffeine juice. Then into cutting grass and trimming bushes before the heat bellows in. Cheers
Welcome friends, come in, come in, to Twosda, July 29, 2025. I suspect many of you are like my niece and l’il sister, plotting back-to skool strategies for buying gear and deciphering starting days, agendas, and schedules. We have a while yet here in Ashlandia. The first signs will be the changing of the signs at the schools, making their public announcements for their start dates. Then comes newspaper articles and the police staking out the school zones to remind everyone that those are school zones.
Weird thinking of BTS activities when we’re still in summer’s hot throes. 68 F now, we’re humping up to 93 F tomorrow. The dry conditions have caused red flag warnings about fire dangers. As we heard about this, my wife remarked, “I don’t even know what our evacuation zone is.”
I replied, “We’re Ashland Zone 4.” Her look back pleased and delighted me, as she was clearly impressed that I knew. I added, “There’s a sign on every road intersecting with Siskiyou on the south end of town, telling us what zone the road is in.” Siskiyou Boulevard is the main drag through town, becoming highway 99 as it leaves the northern end.
Her eyes widened. “There is?”
I’ve been enamored with the WSLS Sky Cam focused on some bobcats. Three bobcats were rescued from dire circumstances with deceased or missing mothers in southwest Virginia and are being raised to be released back into the wild. They’re not related bobs. Here’s their story at this link.
The young cats sleep during the day and are active and playful at night, and the camera isn’t at its best at night. But I like to look in when I can and wish them a good life, fingers crossed and all that. This is their live video feed: https://www.wsls.com/watchlive/ The page has several there so you need to look around for the enclosure and click on it.
Seeing those little ones prompted The Neurons to spin up “End of the Tiger” by Survivor from 1982. Most people know the song as one of the Sylvestor Stallone Rocky theme songs. It won some grammys and was nominated for an Oscar, and is often used in sports and politics, usually without permission. The vocalist, Jimi Jamison, based away from a brain stroke in 2014, 63 years old.
I have political thoughts but I’m not going in to them now. Lot of gun violence out there in the United States this week. More critically, we’re waiting for news about the economy. Even more urgently and critically, we’re searching for leadership and answers about the horror-show starvation in Gaza. The U.S. used to be humanitarian enough to try to assuage such situations. Under Trump and his right-wing United States centric thinking and desire to ‘cut fraud, waste, and abuse’ *cough cough cough*, Trump and the Grand Old Greedy Party are disinclined to help any but the wealthy, white, and right wing.
I’m gonna try to have the best Twosda that I can. Hope you do the same. Coffee has been drunk. Time to press to test one more time. Cheers
Mundaz slipped in during the sleep session. Now we’re basking under July 28, 2025, and a full sun spotlight. 70 F now, we’ll push into the low 90s today. No wildfire smoke tasks my sinuses today, for which I am pleased. Fires still burn, mind you, and I have my fingers crossed for those protecting us and those directly afflicted.
Bit of a hurry today. We’re out delivering food for Food & Friends. We always do a Monday. The route usually isn’t long, typically about thirteen houses and fourteen individuals. Most live in pleasant middle class homes but one is in a motel, two are in apartments, two are usually in senior living, and there’s sometimes someone in a mobile home. The list and route varies a little every time.
The Neurons coughed up “Tumbling Dice” by The Rolling Stones into the morning mental music stream. I don’t think it’s dream related. Doesn’t seem cat related. Could be driven by reading the news. Trump is always rolling the dice on shit, and mostly getting away with however they come up. As another said, I don’t trust anything his regime puts out as news. He’s trashed the truth and manipulated the systems and conned us all too many times to be given any trust, and that includes any organization which he heads. Sadly, that is now the Federal government and all of its executive agencies. Sadly, due to complacent Republicans, it also includes most of the legislative branch, and thanks to those R-holes in Congress, the SCOTUS. No, I’m not bitter or angry about it. Why do you ask?
Have a great Munda, if you can. I’m shooting for the same. Rock ‘n roll, baby. Cheers
Sunda has arrived in Ashlandia and is offering it’s bonafides as a typical summer day for us. It is July 27,2025. July skidded by on greased slicks, with little sound but a lot of speed. 82 F now, at noon, sunny, an 87 F high is expected by most forecasters for us. Air quality is good with a small smell of wet smoke detected by my nose. That smoke may have been from the Greenway Fire in Medford, 90% contained and 256 acres.
I take exception with the use of ‘imaginary numbers’ in the one article. Imaginary numbers have a place in math; what Trump is using is fictional numbers to spread his lies, as fiction is something invented or feigned. I know I’m pissing up a tree. It’s semantics and pretty meaningless in a world which plays with irregardless, figuratively vs. literally, etc.
I find the Trump meme about a fat Vance hilarious. Hello, kettle, sayeth the pot. You’re black.
And, there we go again, talking about Trump’s cognitive decline and his age, but few others take up the beat, yet they mercilessly hammered President Biden about these things. Yes, we know where the media takes their lead.
Today’s theme music comes from being outside and considering the stars and the black field where they play. Looking at those nocturnal diamonds, I wondered if there was anyone out there coming to save us or destroyus. Meanwhile, The Neutons quickly filled the mental music stream with songs about space and time before bringing up the diamong aspect, and “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” by Pink Floyd from 1975. I enjoy the lyrics and the sonic interplay happening during the various suites.
Hope you have the best Sunda that aliens, gods, fate, and your good selves can deliver. Time to put another one in the books. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 