Sunda, October 12, 2025. Though we’re still weeks away from Halloween, winter feels like it has its claws into us. Trees still adorn trees but the air is 45 F and just feels friggin’ icy, with heavy clouds maliciously clotting the sunshine. 56 is the foreseen high but I’m dubious about clocking in anywhere close to that. Showers are expected.
The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. I was reading about its impact on farmers in Iowa and Wisconsin. They’re preparing for next year’s activities. As a farmer related, one season ends and you immediately begin planning the next. With the shutdown, the agencies which usually assist them in that process are empty or unresponsive. So next year’s crops are being impacted. That’s Trump/Project 2025 foresight for you.
We’re listening and watching videos which protestors are putting together from Chicago and Portland. Videos show people peacefully protesting when ICE fires on them. ICE agents are often laughing. One protestor said that he overheard agents telling each other, “I don’t know why we’re here.” Yep. Another videographer said that ICE seemed disorganized and lacked leadership and guidance. Not a surprise, given the sloppy manner in which the Trump Regime functions.
Despite a bevy of dreams and some conversations with Papi about the weather, today’s song comes from a convo with the wife. Out shopping, light rain spit down on us. I said something about having an umbrella. She sang some of Rihanna’s “Umbrella” back to me. When the car was started, the song began playing on the radio, which had us laughing at the coincidence. The Neurons got hooked. As I checked the weather outside the window, they returned the song to the morning mental music stream.
My wife mentioned Tom Holland’s performance in a lip-sync battle in which he performed “Umbrella”, so I’ll include that for fun.
Coffee is visiting my body again, lifting me to get out and get stuff done. Like yard work. Cold, wet yardwork. Oh boy! Hope peace and grace are unearthed soon and spread into your life and mine. Here we go. Cheers
Rain just kicked in here. Dark and gloomy. Feels lifted from a gothic novel. All the blinds are up but sunshine has vacated its post. The rain though, is a comforting background song. Fall is here, the scene outside proclaims. Get used to it.
We will. Then we’ll tire of it, and the great conveyor belt will carry winter to us. We’ll get used to that and tired of that and hit the holidays and a new year and then start looking for spring. It’s almost a tradition.
Papi is tres upset by this weather change. His downcast expression has WTF written large. I tell him, “Stay in, you’ll be happy.” After desultory outdoor expeditions, he agrees and find a space to sleep.
48 F now, we won’t see 60 today. This is Frida, October 20, 2025, in Ashland, Oregon. Ashlandia.
Trump didn’t win the Noble Peace Prize. I am so happy that the deranged bully didn’t win that honor. The prize went to María Corina Machado, from Venezuela, who worked to restore democracy to that nation. Can we get her up here? Trump’s head would explode. And congratulations to María Corina Machado for a well-deserved honor.
Back in ‘Murica, Speaker Mike Johnson (R-Hell) spoke, refreshing the impression that he’s an idiot.
“We’re so angry about it,” he told Fox News. “I mean, I’m a very patient guy, but I have had it with these people,” the Speaker said, emphatically, of Democrats. “They’re playing games with real people’s lives.”
Yeah, that jackass is angry that the Democrats are not caving and that more voters are realizing that the Epstein Shutdown of 2025 is a Trump GOP gift, a product of the Regime’s Misery Machine. Trump and the GOP control Congress and the Oval Office. The self-proclaimed ‘great negotiator’ can’t make a deal. As Donald J. loudly claimed back before he shut the government down three times, a government shutdown shows a weak president. He’s sitting on three. How weak does that prove him to be?
Personal news from home isn’t good. Mom’s BF, Frank, is in pretty bad shape. Hard to get details through the grapevine. Broken ribs, the hip that was replaced, heart issues, and dementia. What he’s enduring has him acting contrary to who he usually is, and he’s being violent, mean, loud, and angry. They have him restrained to a bed, someone watching him 24/7, and mitts on his hands so he can’t pull out tubes and try to escape. Little sister is pulling duty helping Mom. This is a sister who has two children. One of them lives with her. Her daughter’s BF also resides with them. She’s a grandmother who takes those duties seriously and spends time and money on her grands. She works, exercises, cooks for her family and Mom, and also keeps the books for her husband’s plumbing biz. She’s a dynamo and I’m pleased she’s there to help Mom. Other two sisters apparently have some medical problems of their own. They’re not discussing their issues but they’re not visiting Mom much.
Today’s music arises from a conversation with my orange floof, Papi. The weather has him restless. So I sang, “Lay down Papi,” to him to the tune of “Lay Down Sally” by Eric Clapton. “Lay down Papi. You don’t need go outside. I’m been trying all morning long just to pet you,” is what I sang to the boy. Natch, The Neurons were all over that, pumping “Lay Down Sally” into the morning mental music stream. And yep, that’s “Duck” Dunn on bass in this video.
Coffee is cruising through the alimentary system, delivering its needed cargo. Hope peace and grace pops out soon and visits for a prolonged period. Meanwhile, stay strong. I’ll try doing the same. And away we go. Cheers
It’s fallish out there in the autumn style. Clouds hug the sky for miles and miles. Bringing darkness and an offer of rain. There’s a chance tomorrow we might do it again.
52 F now, 62 F is the suggested high at almost every oracle. 80% chance of rain. Doesn’t stop Papi from going in and out and out and in. He’s looking for that sunshine’s warm embrace and refuses to believe it’s not there. Now he’s curled up in a chair.
This is Thirstda, October 9, 2025. Winter is coming. So are the holidays.
Read that Trump is to undergo a medical exam. This CBS headline tells it all.
Wouldn’t surprise me to read after the exam, “Why he’s the healthy person the world has ever seen. Such muscles! He’s so lean and fit and active and athletic, he could run a marathon, not just run it, but win.” Such is the Trump Regime that lies and bullshit are their expected output.
My wife and I were in conversation this morning. I finished my end by proclaiming with a laugh, “That’s just my style.”
The Neurons pounced like a kitten on a leaf. “She’s Just My Style” began filling the morning mental music stream. Familiar with it? It’s a 1965 hit in the U.S. by Gary Lewis & the Playboys. I would’ve been nine at its release. But AM radio was in its heyday and so was pop. I won’t hazard a guess how many times I heard that song back in the day. Haven’t heard it in yonks since.
Coffee has made its way through my mouth and esophagus and is engaging with Les Neurons. Hope peace and grace make its way to you and the rest of the world today. Now, hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to write I go. Cheers
It’s a rockandroll Wenzda in October. October 8, 2025. Another exemplary weather day for fall to show off its colors in Ashlandia. Will be about 80 F again today, though it’s 57 now, with a puppy’s nip to the air. Papi goes out and finds sunshine for his post-breakfast grooming. His orange glows in the sunshine.
The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. Many also call it the Smirkers Shutdown, because Jeffrey Epstein and Donald Trump were often smirking when they were together, as in the photo below. Reminder, it’s a weak president that lets the government shut down. So said the current POTUS in past years. This is Trump’s third shutdown, revealing him as the weakest of the weakest. Also the most cowardly. Worst negotiator in history, too. Only thing that works for him is bullying and lying. But being so weak and cowardly, he’d rather have the government shut down rather than having it revealed what’s in the Epstein Files.
Donald Trump, first on the left, and Jeffrey Epstein, second from the right, the smirkers behind the shutdown.
I’ve been re-watching an old favorite television show called Foyle’s War. The series stars Michael Kitchen as Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle. A widower with a son who joins the RAF, DCS Foyle lives and works in Hastings, investigating crimes.
Last night’s episode was about a murder in 1941 that comes after German aircraft bomb England. One bomber is shot down. Several crew members parachute to safety. We’re introduced to women working in the land army for an older farmer who is mean and spiteful. He’s killed. Foyle investigates. The Germans are captured. Foyle has a run-in with the major who collects the Germans for interrogation, etc.
After Foyle reveals all going on at the show’s end, the major apologizes to Foyle. Going on, the major explained that he lived in Heidelberg for a year. Knew many Germans. Found them gracious, civilized, etc. Foyle responds with an anecdote. A British police football team went to Germany in 1936 to play a German team. The Germans met the British, took them out for a good meal, dancing, celebrating, drinking. The next day, the British team, hungover, on little sleep, met a German team that they’d never seen before. The German team had not gone out drinking but had been in bed by ten PM. Foyle concluded, “The Germans are playing a different game, and it’s not cricket.”
As I think about a lot of things happening in the United States, that’s come to mind many times. The Republicans are playing a different game. Their goals and rules have changed. People like me are stilling playing the same game as before. That’s why the GOP keep piling up wins. Part of their changes include ignoring the will of We the People, and ignore laws, norms, history, and precedence. Those changes are anti-American to me. Yet, this is the GOP game under Trump, a culmination of a process begun decades ago, when Fox began actively functioning as a political news outlet.
Today’s song is “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure. It’s a dream’s outgrowth. I don’t see its connection with the dream’s contents. Seeing it differently, I guess, The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream.
Coffee is being served to The Neurons. Hope peace and grace awaken and rise like a phoenix. Fingers crossed, right? Meanwhile, let’s all do the best we go. Here I go. Cheers
Summer sensations still regale Ashlandia. 65 F when my eyes met the day, sunshine and blue skies were saying hello. Wind is thrashing like a disjointed washing machine but the temperature is credited with a chance to hit 80 F today. 82 F was seen at my place yesterday, and Papi took full advantage of it to soak in warm sun. For the tape, this is Munda, October 6, 2025.
Went this morning to have blood drawn after overnight fasting. Routine check, ordered months ago. Long line for people at the lab but they were quick, efficient, and friendly. I was soon seen but the tech couldn’t get out of blood of me! She called for backup, as she put it, and blood was found.
News from my POV seems oddly slow and stilted for a Munda. I think it’s because Trump is pulling another TACO act and hiding out from criticism and rulings against him. Part of this might also be because he’s physically and mentally failing in multiple ways, and it’s becoming more greatly exposed each time a camera or microphone finds him. Amazing how the military isn’t being paid; he reassures them, don’t worry about it. Great empathy, once again! I hear he did have another meltdown about being unappreciated and misunderstood, going on a poor little rich TACO once again. Poor little man baby.
The Epstein Shutdown continues without change. GOP left D.C. with a shrug and refuse to negotiate with the Democrats. The GOP sputtering, mewing blame game is weakening. The majority of voters polled said, “This is on Trump and the GOP.” Firm Trumpheads still insist it’s on the Democrats but they’re stay as fact resistant as Trump and speak from an alternate reality that echos with NAZI and imperial white supremacy tones.
Cowardly Trump and the spineless GOP really don’t want to the Epstein files released. They’d rather break the nation and destroy the economy before they let us see what those files have on Donald J. Trump.
Today’s song was put into the morning mental stream out of reflections about plans to visit Mom and family. As part of that, I thought, see some family, good for the soul. Resonating with Der Neurons, they dialed up Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band. Into the MMMS flowed “Hollywood Nights”. Remember, Bob sings, “See some old friends, good for the soul.” And there’s Les Neurons’ connection.
Then, new from Mom’s was texted in. Mom reported hearing a loud crash and several thumps. She knew her BF, Frank, had gone upstairs and concluded that he’d fallen. Mom called for an ambulance and texted my sister. Sis arrived in time to see the ambulance taking Frank away. We’re guessing from evidence that Frank had used the toilet and was undressing from his pajamas when he lost balance and fell down the stairs. Mom has a gallery of family photos along the lower part of the wall. Half were knocked off. Newest text report just arrived from sis.
It’s not good news about Frank. He broke several ribs on both sides. He fractured his hip. The one that was replaced. They’re going to call his operative doctor to ask him what he wants to do about that. I can’t think of his name. they aren’t gonna do anything about the ribs, cause there is nothing to do but let them heal. Also, his heart was out of rhythm when he got there and told him he had chest pains last night and took some nitroglycerin, but never told mom.
Frank is 95.
He’s in my thoughts and worries now, along with Mom. Peace and grace to all of us. Now, off for coffee. Have a dental appointment in three hours. Hope you have a great day. Cheers
Summery wisps are present for Sunda, October 5, 2025, in Ashlandia. Now 57 F, sunshine and blue skies say summer but the trees’ scarlets, oranges, golds, and yellows remind us, no, we’re turned the seasonal corner. Still, 75 F is our projected high. Good day for getting outside for yard chores. Papi approved, to judge from his floofverbals — tail up, eyes slitting in appreciation as a sun pool is turned into a floofspot. He commences a lazy spruce up of his whiskers.
Several interesting articles were read this AM. One is an Adam Gabbatt analysis in The Guardian addressing Trump’s increasing strange behavior.
The column highlighted Trump’s AI use to portray Rep. Hakeem Jeffries as Hispanic, a strange and silly ploy which drew Hispanic anger against Trump. That was stacked atop the right-wing conspiracy about med beds shared in a Trump tweet (later deleted), his unfounded ideas about pregnant women using Tylenol, and Trump’s pingpong attention span. Trump went from the Michigan synagogue shooting, where he promised to keep people updated and then never posted about it again, to bragging about the tacky gold decoration he’s added to the Oval Office to his dissatisfaction with an NFL kickoff rule. Then he talked about how presidents walk.
“America is respected again as a country. We were not respected with Biden. They looked at him falling down stairs every day. Every day, the guy’s falling down stairs.”
Trump continued: “I said: ‘It’s not our president. We can’t have it.’ I’m very careful, you know, when I walk downstairs for – like I’m on stairs, like these stairs, I’m very – I walk very slowly. Nobody has to set a record, just try not to fall because it doesn’t work out well. A few of our presidents have fallen and it became a part of their legacy.
“We don’t want that. Need to walk nice and easy. You not have – you don’t have to set any record. Be cool, be cool when you walk down, but don’t, don’t bop down the stairs. That’s the one thing with Obama, I had zero respect for him as a president, but he would bop down those stairs, I’ve never seen – da da da da da da, bop, bop, bop, he’d go down the stairs, wouldn’t hold on. I said, it’s great, I don’t want to do it. I guess I could do it, but eventually bad things are going to happen and it only takes once, but he did a lousy job as president.”
Those of us who regularly Trump watch were wearily unsurprised. No, we’re more amazed that the GOP cynically not just accepts Trump’s surreal behavior but actually celebrate and support it. Meanwhile, Trump grows more violent, more eager to use the military every day. Attacks against Venezuela have escalated without any checks being offered by Congress about WTF is going on. And Trump regularly drools over chances of sending in military, even threatening to use the 82nd Airborne, into American cities run by Democrats.
The other article catching my attention was more direct about Trump and his growing wars.
That’s the heart of the matter, isn’t it: Trump is conducting a war on reality, and bringing his alternate reality and self-created facts and history into our reality. That’s the old square peg in a round hole problem. Trump reality is wholly at odds with truth, facts, medicine, and history, and often wars with logic. This piece is by Andrew O’Hehir in Salon. O’Hehir writes,
This war on the world has both fictional goals and real ones, and the fact that those are incompatible is, once again, not a fundamental problem for Trump’s courtiers or adherents. There’s no hypothetical version of global equilibrium in which the United States is simultaneously the dominant superpower and also an isolationist fortress-state with zero immigration. I would guess that Trump loves the sound of that but doesn’t follow the logic too far, while the people who intend to outlast him just “yes queen” along and roll their eyes. Their goal is more doable: leveraging American power to ensure the continued dominance of the billionaire elite for at least as long as our planet remains habitable. (They’re aware that it probably shouldn’t be advertised that way.)
This is how many of us have viewed Trump and MAGALand since early days. I recommend reading the entire article.
The summer/autumn blend has The Neurons feeding me a song about summer. Called “Summer”, by Calvin Harris. This video of young people at a show having fun was amusing to me to watch. Hope it doesn’t something for you, too.
Coffee has again answered the call. Peace and grace are still hanging back, despite my naked dance under the moonlight last night. Hope peace and grace get here soon. Till then, cheers.
Dreary sunshine and bleached skies say hello when Papi and I step out to inspect the morning. It’s 49 F in Ashlandia today, Satyrda, October 4, 2025. A high of 60 is anticipated. The furnace was turned on to dispel some of the morning chill, as it was just 67 F in the house. Despite these clouds, rain is not a worry for us. Personal note, today is the 51st anniversary of when I swore my oath to defend the Constitution in the U.S. military.
All my appointments went very well Thursday. Texted Mom to tell her we’re coming to Pittsburgh for her 90th birthday. She says she’s looking forward to seeing us but is busy painting the kitchen cupboards right now. Dad remains in rehab in Texas. Spoke to him, and he was in terrific spirits and sounded strong, healthy, and alert.
Trump’s Venezuelan body count is 21 after U.S. missiles destroyed another boat. That’s number four. What’s the body count over/under for a Nobel Peace Prize?
The Weariness Meter is in the upper ranges today. I feel I’m flagging over the news. Think I’ll take a time out from keeping up to date. That general malaise striking me had me thinking about past and present. 1974, when I graduated from high school and joined the military, still appears as a decent year when I look back through time’s long lens. This year, 2025, feels like a terrible year on multiple levels. Reflections have me treading on a path of thought about how much we’ve regressed in my lifetime. Most of that came in the last 20 years. Hell, most of it came with Trump’s takeover of the White House in 2025. Much of it is due to Russ Vought and Project 2025 and their effective use of Trump as a dupe.
The Neurons decide to cheer me up with “Here’s Where the Story Ends” by Sundays in my morning mental music stream. Sample lyrics for you from Songfacts.com.
Crazy I know, places I go Make me feel so tired I can see how people look down I’m on the outside
Oh, Here’s where the story ends Ooh, Here’s where the story ends
It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year Which makes my eyes feel sore And who ever would’ve thought the books that you brought Were all I loved you for Oh the devil in me said go down to the shed I know where I belong But the only thing I ever really wanted to say Was wrong, was wrong, was wrong
It’s that little souvenir of a colorful year Which makes me smile inside So I cynically, cynically say the world is that way Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise
Here’s where the post ends. Hope grace and peace pop up for us someday soon. Got my coffee. Time to motor. Cheers
Hurt myself today. Yep, totally self-inflicted, and I was totes sober and drug free. Goes like this.
I was walking fast into the bathroom to get into the business of shaving, teeth brushing, and showering. A million things were heading through my mind. I’d just come from the living room, where Papi, by sole floof, was sweetly sleeping on a chair. But as I walked into the primary bath, I heard a loud, sharp meow behind me.
I knew it wasn’t Papi. Not his meow.
Whirling around, I simultaneously turned my head to go the other way and plowed straight into the door jamb. I fortunately hit with my forehead. Being hard-headed can sometimes help, and this is one of those times. Had my head been up, I could have easily broken my nose or given myself a split lip or black eye.
Staggering back after bouncing off the frame, I held my head and said, “Jesus, Michael. What is wrong with you?” Remembering the meow, I looked up.
A small gray and white feline visitor was staring at me through my patio door. I’d never seen the critter before. As I said, “Hello, who are you,” it whipped around and dashed away.
I peered outside for any more sign of it. Seeing none, I checked my damages in the mirror. One thing really still bothered me.
Cool air and rainy vistas wraps Ashlandia’s autumn persona. 68 F is our expected high, 12 above our current setting.
Wenzda. October 1, 2025. September is gone, finishing off nine months of 2025. The final three months promise quite a ride.
Trump is trying to move the needle to full dictatorship. With the GOP mostly going along with him, the Roberts Court dished him one small setback in its Lisa Cook Fed board ruling. I think his military show threw him a deeper setback. Trump’s chosen Foxer to rule the nation’s military arm, Hedwig the angry inch, had summoned the U.S. military’s top leadership to D.C. Trump, apparently hearing about it, decided to insert himself into it. Between those two, the stoic military seemed less than impressed with the clown show encountered. This Fox broadcaster and a desperately vain, overweight billionaire were going to show them, professionals of twenty+ years, how to be strong and how to military. I’m sure a strong vein of who do they think they are went through gathered military. Nothing else, military leaders tend to be proud, intelligent, and lean toward arrogance. They’ve worked hard. Sacrificed. Committed to principles. They taught and practiced loyalty, and they’re versed in history. They are not fools nor easily cowed. And Trump and Hegseth treated them like fools, trying to cow them, dismissing all that they are. I think Trump’s Regime made a huge mistake staging this situation. The military knew what it looked like and what Trump was trying to do. And they probably did not like it. No, they will not speak out. But they were in front row seats for the unfiltered TACO show. They probably walked away thinking, he’s our commander-in-chief but our duties lie with the Constitution.
Unfortunately, Trump can fire a lot of them. Just decide, be gone. Might not be legal but that’s the Trump nation. Legality’s hold is weak and diminishing. So Trump fires them. Puts in replacements. I don’t know how that would all sit with troops. We saw with Germany, Vietnam, and other conflicts that the military often falls back on, “I’m just following orders.” So, we need to hope that they’re strong enough, intelligent enough, to resist those orders when they’re unlawful, and do the right thing.
Wow, what a place for our nation to reach.
They might also remember, hey, Trump’s best friend, Jeffrey Epstein, was convicted of some pretty unsavory crimes. They might wonder, what exactly is in that Epstein file? They may recall photos like this:
And they might think, POTUS or not, I really don’t like this guy.
Today’s song came from looking for Papi, my orange boi. I was like, “Where is that cat?” Then kind of thought, I wonder if he’s out front. And just like that, The Neurons had me singing “I wonder, wah wah wonder,” from “Runaway”. Then Bonnie Raitt’s cover took over the morning mental music stream and here we are.
Meanwhile, Papi wandered in from another room, yawning and stretching, back arched, stretching his front legs, then dragging his back legs in another stretch. After a few tottering steps, he sat and furiously washed several areas, then looked up at me in mid-wash. “Hungry yet?” I asked. He trotted forward.
Looking for peace and grace to find you? Me, too. I made some coffee, trying to lure them in. Fingers crossed that it works. Here we go, one more time into the breach. I mean, day. Cheers
Papi’s sour expression talked down the weather change. Colder at night, he’s happier in a comfortable shadow on a hot day. I feel him. Yesterday’s temperature rocketed up to 98 F at our place, then drooped to 54 F overnight. With have blue skies and sunshine but shifting angles have us yielding to cold mountain air at night. 72 F now, it’s wonderful outside. Delightful place to visit with a ginger floof and a cuppa coffee to soak up sunshine. But it’ll peg the mid 90s before the Earth’s curve cuts off our sun supply. Then the mid fifties will take over, temp wise. Politically, we’ll keep dropping until we’re in the early 1800s.
This is Wenzda, September 24, 2025. If you thought the Dementor in Chief’s power would be waning by now, you’d be half right. It’s waning, but he doesn’t know it. As always, he’ll be the last to know.
The Neurons were working as dreams were ending. While I dismantled the dreams and picked through the pieces for whys and whats, The Neurons cranked up “1999” by Prince in the morning mental music stream. I laughed at that. Clever Neurons. Back in the 1980s when Prince wrote this beat, he was proposing a party for 1999 because that was to be end of an era. All this was based on a Nostradamus prophecy. After 1999 came dystopia.
Then the 2000s began. The hanging chad Florida voting fiasco. Gore v. Bush. 9/11. Global War on Terror. Attacks on Afghanistan. Iraq. Then, Trump, and Trump again. Tearing into basic fundamentals of our nation. National Guard units are being deployed to opposition cities based on Trumped Reality. Aided by the Supreme Court, it’s now okay to discriminate on the basis of skin color to arrest and deport people — without due process because the man ordering it is now above the law — but it’s bad to adjust for shortcomings to advance people in employment, culture, and education based on their skin color. “Free speech for me but not for thee” is a growing Trump thing as he shuts down even complaints against him, let alone protests.
So, thinking on it, a quarter century after 1999, we should party like it’s 1999. Because we were culturally, socially, and politically more advanced back then, and going in the right direction. Now, as polls will tell you, we’re veering into an ugly, ugly place. It’s the wrong direction. And Trump the Disuniter isn’t going to do anything but make it worse and accelerate the decline.
I bet Trump’s BFF, Jeffrey Epstein, his running partner of that earlier era, would also agree, things are going to crap.
Have coffee, will function. Hope peace and grace climb out of their graves and finds us all. May it begin today. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 