It’s Friday, Jun 28, 2024. Summery again today, 65 F with blue skies and clouds mixing it up, and 86 F expected as a high.
Last night’s presidential debate sucked. Watching President Biden was like watching your All-Pro quarterback go into a big game and bomb with fumbles, interceptions, and missed throws. Left me asking, what’s going on? There was also a lot of swearing on my end. I’m avoiding news for the moment. I took a big swig of coffee and looked at the news first thing but between stories of death and Pres. Biden’t debate performance, what I saw was putting me off my year.
Shouldn’t be a surprise, I suppose, that I dreamed of the end of the world. Well, don’t know if it was the planet’s ending or just human civilization or western civilization. Three dreams, actually. I see three, but the third one was a sequel to the first one after awakening and thinking of the first one.
I ended up musing about escaping after reading and dreaming as I muttered around the kitchen attending breakfast needs for me and the floofs. The Neurons picked up on it and offered Gwen Stefani’s song, “The Sweet Escape” from 2006 to the morning mental music stream (Trademark crashing). The song has the phrase in it, “If I could escape and create my perfect world,” which dovetailed with my thinking’s gist this AM.
Stay positive *cough cough* — yes, I have a lot of gall to put that up there after my negativity fest — and be strong — uh huh, I hear ya’ — and suck it in and Vote Blue in 2024. I gotta get more coffee. Here’s the music. Come on, let’s get going. Cheers
The Hill has a nice little opinion piece about Donald J. Trump and the Louisiana ten commandments law. That law says that every classroom in the state will display the ten commandments. Many think that Louisiana law violates the separation of church and state establishment clause of our nation’s founding documents.
But The Hill has a great idea: ask Donald Trump if he supports this during the debate, and then, as a first follow up, ask him to name the ten commandments.
Oh, boy what a word salad that would create! We’d hear great a lot. Probably hear, too, that Moses was a great friend of Trump’s, wonderful guy, used to cruise the desert together. We might be regaled by a Trump tale of how Moses wanted Trump to fly him to the flaming bush but Trump talked him out of it.
“Mo,” Trump says, further explaining, “I always called him Mo. All his close friends did, and family, some family, but I believe I’m the one who started calling him Mo. He wasn’t a Moses he was a Mo. Not like the Three Stooges but still. Three Stooges. Funniest comedians ever, so funny, very funny.
“So I told Mo, Mo, think of the optics. I’m very good with optics. I’m great with optics. Some say that I’m the greatest with optics in the world ever. Optics, you know, optics can change people’s impressions of you. It’s true. That’s why, you need to have a brand. Once you have a brand, you protect it. The Trump brand, I established the Trump brand. Very protective of it, very protective, very. Greatest brand in the world, greatest. People voted for me when I ran because they knew the Trump brand. They knew it. They knew the Trump brand and all the Trump brand stands for. That’s why people trust me. It’s the Trump brand. The Trump brand is one of the most valuable in the world. Ever. I told Lincoln, I didn’t tell him, no, Lincoln was, but if Lincoln had been there, I would have told him, Ab, you need to create a brand. If Ab had created a brand, he’d, they would have never shot him. Democrats shot him. Democrats. Cuz they feared him. Just like they fear me. Because I tell the truth. I tell the truth. Everyone knows I always tell the truth. That’s why I wanted to lock up Hillary. But I never said that. Never said it. Never. I could have locked her up, had every right to, after I won. But I didn’t. That’s why they created the virus, the covfefe virus. The Dems did it. Worked with the Chinese. Secret government. They’re out to take over the world. That’s why they must be stopped. They’re killers. They’ll do anything to stop me. Anything. I receive more threats. If you knew, I’ve been threatened more times than Lincoln. And they killed him. So, you know, that’s a lot of threats. But I’m too tough. Too tough. The generals who worked for me in the White House, they’d tell me every day, sir, you’re so tough. Sir, you’re the toughest son of a bitch we’ve ever seen. Always call me, sir, always call me, sir. Because they respect me for my toughness. I would’ve been a great soldier. Great leader. Natural leader, natural leader. I was a leader when I was a child. People, whenever something went wrong, people would like at me and they would ask, what should we do? You’re a great leader, what should we do? See, they can see that in me. I have an aura of greatness. Also an aura of invisibility. That’s why I know so much. Put on my invisibility aura and people don’t know I’m there. So I eavesdrop on them because they don’t know I’m there because I’m invisible. That’s how I knew the FBI planted documents. I was there but I had my invisibility aura on and they couldn’t see me. They couldn’t see me but I saw. And I heard. So I know what they did.
“Did you know I have an invisibility aura? Let me put it on for you. I’ll put it on right now. See? You can’t see me know, can you? That’s because I’m invisible. But you can see Biden. You can see Joe Biden. He’s standing there, on the other side of the stage. You can see him because he can’t become invisible like I can. That’s why you should vote for me.”
Trump, no friend of science and medicine, is appealing to anti-vaxxers by promising to defund schools with vaccination requirements. MPS adds a nice little PBS piece about the actual numbers of sickness and death we saw before vaccines were implemented, numbers we could begin seeing again if the antivaxxers’ wet dream becomes a reality under Trump. These wholesale rollbacks Trump promises across the spectrum — medicine, environment, abortion rights, education, trade, civil rights — are a fucking disaster. He must be stopped.
The cats and I agree, it’s a strong sun today, biting my skin with its heat, blinding my eyes (yes, what else would it be blinding — my ears?) with its light. Not supposed to be hot today, just 87 F, and it’s just 67 F now. This is Monday, Jun 24, 2024.
The cats are pratically living in the backyard, slumbering beneath bushes or stretched out, floof-napping in green patches of lawn. They come in to visit me, get fed, and use the litter box, and then dash back out. Reminds me of being a young child in the summers, doing the same with Mom. Except I didn’t use a litter box. Not in those days.
I jest, of course! Spoke with Dad yesterday. He’s down. They — the omniscient they here is the medical staff — are pushing for the dialysis port, and he doesn’t want to go through with that. He seems fazed by the surgery and claims he doesn’t want to be a burden on people, as others would need to drive him to his appointments several times a week. I’m sure he will go through with the procedure but he needs to work himself up to it. I called him this morning to chat with him but reached his voice mail. I need to call Mom to catch her up on that news. Never did call her yesterday.
Terrible flooding in the midwest. Iowa was severely hit. Evacuations were ordered and bridges collapsed. I remember flying over the plains states decades ago. The floating and the heat dome are connected events. Hope the climate doesn’t get any worse or the nation and its citizens might start getting worried. Yeah, that’s snark, baby.
My spouse picked up a nice Charles Wysocki jigsaw puzzle at Ashlandia’s library of things yesterday. I thought we should have some on hand for more Internet outages. We began the puzzle last night, even though the net didn’t go out. Lovely little beach scene featuring an old house where a high school kite flying club meets. Kites lean against an old fence in the sand and a heart shaped balloon, tethered to the gate, floats above the scene, red against a cloudy blue and white backdrop. A few sailboats skim choppy waters in the background. I can almost smell that ocean.
Other than these matters and the standard form of our days of eating, cleaning, writing, reading, it’s quiet. I accept quiet. Still recuperating with my ankle issue.
Today’s music comes by way of Willy Nelson. I was reading about his show cancellations and the article reminded me of a gay cowboy song Willy sings. The Neurons immediately began a little rendition of the song, “Cowboys Are Frequently Fond of Each Other”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark grazing). Although Willy’s version came out back when Brokeback Mountain was gaining Oscar attention, I picked up a later version done by Willy and Orville Peck. Hope you enjoy it.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Also brace yourself for a busy news week. With more SCOTUS news forthcoming, the end of June sending up a cloud of dust as it sprints at us, and the debates and the weather, I’m sure there will be a lot to talk about, read about, and GRRRRR about.
The world has dropped a Sunday bomb on Ashlandia, emphasis on sun. Little wind stir the heat. We’ll travel from our current relative pleasant found in 69 degrees to the upper eighties. Cooler than yesterday, not as hot as that endured by those under the skillet lid in the eastern U.S. Today is June 23, 2024. Next Sunday will be June’s final day. This means that almost half of 2024 has slipped by the surly calendar.
In bad news, a friend sent me stats on COVID-19, showing that it’s risin’ agin’. He saved me some time. I’d planned to look into it because eight friends reported they had it in June. Their experience was a few days with mild cold symptoms followed by two to three weeks of poor energy of any kind. One reported, she sit down with a book and go right to sleep.
I spent the morning texting with sisters. One is teaching her sixteen-year-old to drive as her newly adult high school grad takes on adulting as he preps for college this fall. She’s going down to Georgia to vacation with our oldest sister tomorrow. Meanwhile, texting me, the older sister tells me she’s had a couple strokes without elaborating on what kind. She’s always had back problems and now there’s stenosis and they want to fuse five of her vertebrae together. She’s also diabetic and has chronic kidney failure, a byproduct of her meds, she tells me.
Then there’s my middle younger sister. She and her family drove down to the Carolina coast yesterday. They’ve rented a beach house with a pool. They’re all hard workers and mo’ def’ deserve and need a vacay. Hope they’re able to relax and chill.
Meanwhile, my mind is floating around calling Dad to get an update on him and calling Mom to get an update on her and pass the update along about Dad. I’m not quite up to that yet. More coffee and some writing, first.
We had a net outage the other night. Actually, two nights in a row. This frequently happens when the heat jumps into the upper nineties. I mean degrees, not years, decade, or period.
With the net out, we read but then I surfed the television offerings. Since I cut the cable back in 2010, we survive on over-the-air digital broadcasts. We receive the big four networks, along with PBS, and the networks’ sub channels. Like NBC is channel 5.1, then there are three other networks broadcasting old shows or documentaries on channels 5.2, 5.3, and 5.4. X-Files,Two and a Half Men, Seinfeld, along with Green Acres and Hogan’s Heros, and several police/hospital/fire department-based dramas from past decades.
Watching Hogan’s Heros and its silliness, my wife and tried remembering what happened to Bob Crane. Was it suicide or murder? Bludgeoned to death, we rather later recalled, and then conneted it. (Yes, conneted is my word for ‘confirmed on the net’.)
My wife follows a tangent, recalling that Naomi Judd ended her own life. It’d shocked her and me; Naomi Judd, a lovely and talented person, seemed to have it all together, resulting in a life of artistic and commercial success. Naomi Judd, though, coped with many mental and physical health issues and decided, enough. Never know what’s happening in another’s skin and what’s passing through minds.
The final piece that evening was a sort of celebration of the Judds’ music, with my wife enthusing about their songs, like “Mama He’s Crazy” and “Girls Night Out”. But the one she particularly relished was “Turn It Loose” from 1988. She played it a few times once the net returned, heavily accenting her favorite lines by loudly singing along to them.
I love the slide of a steel guitar I love the moan of an old blues harp I love the shake of a tambourine I love the bass when it’s low and mean So put on your shoutin’ shoes And turn it loose
It may surprise you that The Neurons in my head then loaded it up and sprang it on me this morning in my morning mental music stream (Trademark loose) as I was wandering around the kitchen, just minding my own business. So that’s today’s theme music.
Stay positive, be strong, and make what you can of the day. Needn’t be perfect. Just tryin’ can help. I’ve downed some coffee — the last gulp was cold as stone. Time to go write and roll.
The debate between Trump and President Biden is coming up, and Trump has some concerns.
‘Mr. Trump also told his followers to be suspicious of the whole debate enterprise, although his campaign negotiated the terms of his participation. They should keep in mind, he said, that he’ll be up against multiple adversaries at once — not just Mr. Biden but both of CNN’s moderators, Jake Tapper and Dana Bash, who, Mr. Trump added, were constitutionally incapable of treating him fairly. “I’ll be debating three people instead of one half of a person,” he said.’
Great math, D.J. If you’re debating ‘a half’ and you add two — or never mind, you cheese whiz.
Today is Saturday, June 22, 2024. Summer had asserted itself with a firm hand. A solidly blue sky gazes down on Ashlandia and bright sunshine blisters our skin and browns the land. Currently 73 F, Ashlandia’s area will experience low to mid 90s for the highs today. The wind has shifted and the smoke has drifted out of our valley to go plague others in another valley, so it’s breathable outside. Take precautions against the heat and outside activities can be pursued. It supposed to get cooler for a few days, with temperatures dipping into the eighties.
It feels like it’s been a long week. Realizing it’s Saturday surprises me. The big Biden-Trump debate looms on the calendar. Personally, I have a physical this week. Slowing down, moderately overweight, I feel like I’m aging by the day — which, yeah, we all are — so I’m not looking forward to the physical.
Mom and I spoke yesterday. She related one of her favorite precautionary tales. Her mother had a thing about smells. She was living alone, in her nineties, as her children discussed putting her into a nursing home or assisted living facility. Those discussions had stalled.
Meanwhile, on a cold December Nebraska night, her mother put on a light jacket and took a banana peel out to put in the outside trash. She slipped and fell, staying on the ground for forty-five minutes before noticed and helped. That was the end of her living alone. She lived for several more years but wasn’t the same.
On her part, Mom’s big fall over a decade ago triggered her long health decline. For my part, when I was immobilized with an obstructed bladder a few years ago, I saw changes quickly emerge. I was suddenly stiffer and less fluid in my movement. My balance felt slightly off. My metabolic rate had changed as I aged, of course, but suddenly I put on weight. Much of my muscle seemed to slack off overnight. Then, boom, my skin all seemed to be sagging.
It’s likely that all those things were happening but I didn’t notice until my routines were changed. Seeing those changes made me more cognizant of my retreating hair line, and the color fleeing my hair and beard. I feel older, slower, and weary. Reading news of the world and its people, and political news, doesn’t seem to help at all. I turn to coffee for energy boosts but I know I shouldn’t be drinking it any longer. Like Grandma and her banana peel, I can’t stop myself.
I read Jill Dennison’s blog as frequently as I can. She and I seem like kindred political spirits, part of the same tribe as many of you who regularly visit my blog and comment. I read one of Jill’s posts and commented yesterday. In her comments back to me, she mentioned that she’s looking for a rainbow.
That was like a set up for The Neurons. As soon as that was read and digested, they began playing Chris Rea’s song, “Looking for A Rainbow” from 1989, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark smoldering). The song starts out slow as it carries forward the album’s theme, The Road to Hell, but becomes jauntier and of course features Rea’s slide guitar work.
Well we come down to the valley Yea we’re looking for the honey I see a rainbow I say that’s the land of milk and honey
Me and my cousin Me and my brother My little sister too Come looking for a rainbow Yea we’re looking for a rainbow
Well we come down to the valley Got our babies in our arms Yea we’re Maggie’s little children And we’re looking for Maggie’s farm
Me and my cousin Me and my brother My little sister too Come looking for a rainbow Yea we’re looking for a rainbow
Yeah, Jill, baby, I think many of us are looking for a rainbow and the land of milk and honey. Some seem to believe the only way there is by holding others back, beating them down, or banishing them. Yes, I’m looking at you, Republicans.
Stay positive – yes, it’s hard – be strong – yes, also hard – and lean forward and Vote Blue in 2024. Maybe we can create a place that attracts rainbows. Here’s the music. Cheers
Sprummer still thrives in Ashlandia in southern Oregon. Clouds have departed again, leaving our June 12, 2024, coated with blue. Temperatures sitting a 65 F, they’re getting ready to stand and take us into the low to mid 80s. Windows are open and a winterish zephyr is snaking through our Wednesday, depositing chill pockets. It’s fresh, invigorating, and pleasant.
I’m hanging about the house with a bum ankle. RICE is the recipe – rest, ice, compress, and elevate — so I’m nixing my coffee shop routine. Writing at home as much as possible around interruptions. No beer with friends tonight, either.
I enjoy music and read several posts each day where they incorporate music. ‘Classic rock’ tops my list but I enjoy other sounds beyond that. I’m always surprised by how often people will say that a song isn’t to their liking.
Then I get reflective about what I mean about that. Many songs exist that I enjoyed at one point which know doesn’t work for me. Part of that I suppose is because my tastes have changed, or it could be that at some point I was overexposed to the song and became sick of it. “My Sharona” is one of these songs which now make me change the station. Several other syrupy songs are on my perpetual do-not-play-change-channel-list, like “Sugar Sugar.” Woof. But the whole process led me down a road where I wondered, am I just not discriminating about music?
Today’s song was called up by The Neurons because I was waiting for several phone calls. I’d earlier decided to slow down and take it easy, encouraging The Neurons to plug up the morning mental music stream (Trademark lazing) with everything from Frank Sinatra (“Nice & Easy Does It”) to The Eagles (“Taking It Easy”), Foreigner (“Walking Slow”), and “Slow Ride” (Foghat). But then, checking the time and wondering about the calls had The Neurons bring Blondie and “Call Me” from 1982 storming in. So that’s le music du jour.
Looking for a video to share, I found Deborah Harry performing with an orchestra at something called “Night of the Proms” (Rotterdam, Netherlands, 1997). It was fun and energetic performance. Hope you find it as fascinating as moi.
Meanwhile, looking up “Night of the Proms”, I discovered holy smoke, this is a pretty big, serious dealio in Europe. It even happens here in the U.S. Color me embarassed by my ignorance. After that, I watched a half dozen more “Night of the Proms” videos.
Stay positive and test negative (COVID is rising again) and Vote Bleu in 2024. Coffee has been swallowed, calls have been received. Time to make like a banana and slip away. Here’s the music. Cheers
Sprummer continues its Ashlandia rule, with signs of summer leaking in. Already 72 F and intensely sunny, clouds have shifted in, and our high will crest at 87 F. Meanwhile, cooler temps are petering in, according to forecasts, with highs dropping into the upper seventies.
I injured my right ankle again last night. Just stepped up onto the door’s threshold and that thing went snap crack and I was down and in pain. A night of RICE helped and I can hobble today but I need to follow up with ortho and pursue the answer to the question, what the heck?
The cats’ responses to my injury and condition was amusing and interesting. When I sang my song of pain and flopped down, Papi reacted, “Run away!” Tucker came over and rubbed his head against mine and purred.
Later, when my wife had set me up with my RICE package, Papi wanted out. Now, he normally pays little attention to my wife. This time, he came in, walked past me, and appealed to her to let him out.
Meanwhile, Tucker was yelling for food in the night’s depths. This was despite his bowl full of kibble. I shouted back that I was in pain and couldn’t help him so please have some empathy and shut the fuck up. Well, he was immediately quiet, and then came to me on the bed, settled himself against me and purred.
I owe Marjorie Taylor Greene for today’s music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark drifing). In an interview with convicted liar Paul Bannon (cough, cough) about Greene’s stand on defunding NATO, MTG accused Rachel Maddow of being the fringe. She of the wildfire-causing space lasers said, “It’s not fringe at all. It’s also not fringe because most Americans also agree that the United States should not be funding a war in Ukraine.”
“So when we’re going to talk about the question, we’re going to ask the question, who is fringe?” she added. “It’s actually Rachel Maddow is the fringe person in this story. It’s not me. It’s Rachel Maddow.”
Guess that makes me fringe, as I support NATO. See, I remember why NATO was created in WWII’s aftermath. And I support Ukraine in the face of Russia’s wars and attempts to forcibly rebuild the USSR.
Anyway, as I laughed at MTG, The Neurons pulled up Bob Dylan’s song, “It Ain’t Me Babe”. There are several versons but I went with Dylan’s original. I just like its simplicity.
Stay positive, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. See you on the other side of midnight. Cheers
Today’s lifestyle is delivered to you by Monday. “Monday: always the best way to start a week.”sp
It’s 68 F and June 10, 2024. Continuing the sprummerish lead up to summer, we expect a high of 87 F. The sky presents no signs that 87 F won’t happen. Clouds are boycotting the area morning. The bluest skies are clear above the southern forested pinnacles.
I was reading the Frank Luntz piece about undecided voters and how Trump’s 34 guilty verdicts affected their voting decision. I was struck by the fact that several blamed it on President Biden. Makes no kind of fucking sense in a sane world. But to further the insanity, they suggested, what if Trump appeals his decision and wins that appeal?
Yes, quite a ‘what if’ idea, isn’t it? But it needled me to think, well, Jesus, if President Biden is so powerful that he can influence a state’s legal system and find twelve citizens that he somehow forces to call a guilty verdict, why in the world would this powerful individual not also have the appeals system sewn up? Because anyone with a tenth of an active working brain knew that Trump would appeal if found guilty. So that avenue would need to be covered, too.
Of course, several of these geniuses also speculated that it’s not much of a crime and that ‘they had been out for Trump’ since 2016.
Idiots.
Glad to get that rant out of my blood.
Also, to those who thought that they were ‘out to get Trump’, have you not followed Trump’s legal issues for the past forty years or more? Really, can you wake up and think a little?
Of course, one individual also kept saying, “It’s about the economy for me,” and was worried about inflation. He should really read some history about how we arrived at our current price levels.
Relating to nothing, BTW, did you see the news that Target, Aldi, Walgreens, and other retaillers were announcing price cuts because heir high prices were driving away customers? Really makes me fucking wonder how and why they’re suddenly able to announce that, hmmm?
Today’s music comes by way of a dream. I was awake at 5:27 this morning. Don’t know what awoke me. After hearing what sounded like four small-caliber gunshots, I checked on my floofs. Tucker was in but Papi was out on the back patio. He seemed to be watching something invisible to me but rushed in as soon as the door was ajar. As far as the shots go, morning silence resumed as if it’d never happened.
So back to bed I went, and to a dream. As I remembered it, I recalled that there was a comment made by my sister-in-law. We were at her wedding. She was marrying a guy I’d never met. Weirdly she was really tall, towering over me by about thirty inches. Anxious to get out of there, she said, “I want this done. I’m worried about the weather. Remind me to tell Becky (her daughter), I need to get through everything before the weekend.”
Okay. I brooded on that a bit, but The Neurons launched 10,000 Maniacs with “Like the Weather” from 1988 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark under the weather). I found this lovely live version. Such a mellow and reflective song.
Got my coffee soothing The Neurons. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024 for a saner, cleaner world. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 