Tag: newspapers

The Trump Double Standards File

It’s another week of surreal comparisons and Trump thinking.

And it’s only Monday!

Trump believes there’s one rule for him while another one for everyone else. That’s the bedrock foundation of Trump Double Standards.

Trump frequently mocks other people, shouts at them, insults them, and calls them names. Yet he becomes so HUUUGELY UPSET whenever someone writes the truth about him.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

That was Trump this week, September, 2026.

Trump went on about fake news…”something that has grown like Cancer in our beloved United States of America.”

Wow, it’s almost like he’s talking about himself. Trump is the cancer not just on our nation, but on intelligence, decency, and humanity.

What Trump doesn’t understand — REFUSES to comprehend — is that actions speak louder than words. By threatening reporters, warning that he’s going to pull FCC licenses, banning news organizations from the White House, demanding that comedians or reporters be fired because he doesn’t like what is being said about them, and suing news organizations again and again, Trump proves he totally for fake news and against free speech.

That is Trump’s record forever and ever.

That, plus lying, breaking promises, grifting, and destroying national monuments and trying to aggrandize himself, will be the Trump Legacy.

I also believe that Trump lies quite deliberately and goes on these rants to distract people from his many failures and prop himself up as a ‘strong man’. He weaves a destruction of chaos, pathos, and confusion. It’s all part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!

That’s why he tore down the White House East Wing, screwed up the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, attacked Iran, has fishing boats destroyed and their occupants killed, is threatening to demolish the Kennedy Center, keeps demanding that he be given the Nobel Peace Prize, demanding he be added to Mount Rushmore, and pretends he isn’t in the Epstein files. Trump wants us to forget about rising gas and diesel prices (now at $7 per gallon in places), the rising cost of food, climate change, and increasing personal bankruptcies. Trump wants us not to think about the plight of the farmers, the ongoing rural hospital crisis, AI and data centers construction, or the measles outbreaks (3,471 cases in the US, the worse since 1991).

Trump wants to distract us from all the other things Trump is doing.

After I wrote about Trump’s plan to militarize the arch he’s building to memorialize him, Nan pointed out one of the follies of arming it and then bragging that he wants to militarize it.

“What I find rather fascinating is Trump’s pompous bragging about how this new arch will be “war-ready.” Obviously he doesn’t have a clue that this very bragging is what will motivate enemies to target the structure should they at any time decide to strike the U.S.”

That’s all very true. Trump’s plan also highlights his shallow thinking. He’s fixated on drones now because of the Ukraine-Russia war (the one he said he’d end on day 1) and the Iran war Trump started seven months ago (the one he said was already over or close to winning over twenty times). Drones are playing prominently in those wars.

In establishing a target like the arch, though, Trump is overlooking a multitude of other weapons capable of taking out that arch. Trump should know about them because we just sold some to Israel, and we’ve been using them in Iran.

But that’s Trump, three steps behind, and mad as hell about it.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Fallsundayandcoffee

Sunday, October 20, 2024 has slotted in. It’s 61 F outside and we expect a mid seventies high amid a surfeit of autumn furnishings and clouds.

We’re off to see a Halloween concert this afternoon. Rogue Valley Symphonic Band. Several friends play in the band so we go and support them. They’re usually inventive fun, although they have a new musical director, so we’re not sure what we’ll get. We’re mildly agitated that it’s so many days before Halloween. Few are in a Halloween spirit yet.

We’re also vexed that this was scheduled at the same time as Ashland’s celebration for being 150 years old. Here’s the thing about that latter; we didn’t hear any or see any advertisement for that until last week. Holy cow, an event like this, and they kept it under wraps. We asked our friends and all said, “Nope. Didn’t hear about it.” Many weren’t aware of it until we asked. My wife blames the advertising gap on the lack of a local physical newspaper. She’s been mourning the demise of the Ashland Daily Tidings since it went under. After it failed, so did the Medford Mail Tribune, causing an even larger local news gap. It’s a sigh inducing product of the modern world and electronic information age.

I’m basically over my COVab (COVID-19 vaccination shot, or jab). Jab point is still singing, “Ow. Ow. Owww.” And that arm/shoulder remains stiff as dried leather. But my energy has jumped back up and my thinking has cleared, and my appetite, which was mildly cut yesterday, has had a resurgence. In fact, I think that giving myself permission to sleep because I wasn’t feel well was beneficial overall.

My wife suggested we go east to Pittsburgh, PA, December to visit with family for the holidays. That brought a grimace to my soul. I’ve traveled during that time of year, and the ugh moments just pile up. Congestion, crowds, coughing and sneezing, weather delays. Oy. But Mom keeps aging, keeps adding on health issues, and has a new crises every several months, and time keeps on ticking. Probably a good idea. I just worry about the execution.

Today’s music came after I’d left the boudoir and was in the kitchen. “Well, here we are,” I told myself. “Another day.”

Click. The Neurons delivered the Brothers Gibb singing, “Here we are. In a room full of strangers.” As I recognized the lyrics, “Nights of Broadway” filled the morning mental music stream (Trademark bright). Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees wrote the 1975 disco song and reported that it came to him in a dream. Pretty cool, innit?

Coffee has been invited into my body, where it received a warm reception. Stay positive and remain strong. We’re almost to the election day finish line. Then it’ll all be over except for the screaming and shouting, lawsuits, accusations, commnentary and analysis. Vote blue. Here’s the music.

Cheers

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

Back in the day…

Such a broad, specific expression. Back in the day for me is specific to a time period for me and others of my age, but when you’re a different age, well, back in the day is a different time.

Quick sidebar: while the youngest generations take up the expression, or will back in the day fade away?

Well, back in the day, it was easy to keep up on the news. Read a newspaper, turn on one of the big three network’s nightly news offering, and watch the local news.

Complications arose with the information age explosion and the digital age tsunami. Suddenly, I’m clicking on a story and there’s ten thousand variations on it. What was said, who said it, and what does it mean? You click and read and click, chasing the crumbs to learn what’s right.

Tough work these days, keeping up on truth and facts, and dodging lies and misinformation.

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Speaker of the House

Our Failed Political Press ™ (Part Infinity)

Yes, a large part of our press is all about monetizing the news. Monetizing it means excitement is needed. What’s more exciting than a horse race!

This is just one example of how the press fails the nation (and world) by playing meaningless whataboutisms, and doing sloppy, superficial comparisions between the parties, candidates, and so on, in a tortured effort ‘to be balanced’.

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Two Short Dreams

‘Nudder busy dream night. Two stayed strongest with me. One which I found funny involved my wife.

Before that happened, though, I needed to get my phlegm tested to see if I had the flu. The local lab couldn’t test me for circular, bureaucratic reasons. I knew of a lab, though. Just needed to take my phlegm to another lab. So, I spit into a small piece of plastic, folded that in half, and put it into a plastic bag. Then off I went!

The lab wasn’t amused. They were downright pissed. “We can’t test this! What’s wrong with you?”

Chagrinned, I returned to report my failure to get my flu results because my sample had dried up and become contaminated. The man in charge was angry. He’d just received the report from the lab and was chastising everyone there, demanding to know who was responsible. I immediately went to him and told him, “It was me and only me. I’m the one who did it, all on my own. Put all the blame on me.”

He started righteously chewing me out but as he did, I could tell that he was trying not to laugh. That made me start laughing. He finally gave up and we both started laughing. He told me that what I’d done was silly and not to do it again, and then we went on our ways.

My way took me and my wife into a car on the road. We were young, in our early twenties. Ahead of us, a pickup truck was stopped in our lane. Weirdly, thinking back on it, we were driving on the left side of the road. The steering wheel was in the right place, though. Anyway, a pale metallic green, second-gen Prius — you probably know the type, it’s the ubiquitous spaceship-looking version that I seem to encounter all over the place — crossed the double-yellow line, pulled out into the other lane and passed the pickup — on a hill, going into a curve. Not safe, was what my wife and I said. Much finger gesturing and shouting ensued by both parties involved ahead of us. The pickup immediately started after the Prius with my wife and I right behind them.

We all pulled into a busy, dusty parking lot. My wife and I hurried into a little cafeteria-like place. She rushed to the counter. Two younger blonde twin women were approaching the counter, gabbing as they went. My wife deftly managed to reach the counter first. Holding up a quarter, which the male cashier accepted, she said, “Lemonade, please.”

The cashier answered, “I need to serve these two women first. They were here before you.”

“Then I went my quarter back,” my wife snapped.

“One gently used quarter returned to its previous owner,” the cashier said with a smile. My wife stomped off.

She was angry. Going to a table, she spread out newspaper sections to read. But, too angry to read, she then marched off, leaving the paper there. The cashier came up as she was departing the table. Pointing at the sections, he began, “Could you please,” but she rushed off without looking at him. He then appeared very dejected and walked away.

Seeing this, I quietly went up, folded up the newspaper sections, and put the paper back into the basket.

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