Wenzdaz Theme Music

Ashlandia won the early hours with cool air and warm sunshine. My snout detects just a little congestion-inducing smoke. Wenda, July 23, 2025, will be 91 F at the top end, and thirty degrees less on the low side.

I find it hilarious how angry Trump gets when someone talks of him and Jeffrey Epstein. His rage increases and he snaps, “Fake news!” whenever someone talks about Epstein being at Trump’s second marriage. Add in talk of photographs of Trump and Epstein and the mango sloth goes indandescent. He doesn’t want his secret history with Epstein discussed. Nor does he want reminded about how he and Epstein were besties forever, BFFs.

Trump rages over newly surfaced photos of Epstein at president’s second wedding

That Trump can’t sanely discuss it and reflect upon his past with Epstein could be a manifestation of shame and guilt, or a painful reminder to himself and MAGAland that Trump isn’t the great person he’s trying to pretend he is. Just saying. Some folks think it’s all more evidence that Trump is in danger of becoming ‘undone’.

‘In danger of coming undone’: Analyst says Epstein crisis exposed 2 key problems for Trump

My problem with that is it makes the basic, flawed assumption that Trump hasn’t already come undone. Just look at how he’s talking and acting. Sure, it’s worsening but he’s been pretty undone for a while. Maybe we’re looking at the final undoing. Time will tell.

Thinking about Donald Trump and the secret history he has with Jeffrey Epstein and the photographs of the two BFFs hanging out and having a good time invited The Neurons to recall this 1973 Ringo Starr song, “Photograph”. A simple song, I think The Neurons made a fitting choice for Wenzdaz Theme Music.

Have the best Wenzda you can. I’m gonna try for the same. Coffee is juicing the system for me. Here we go. Cheers

Sunday’s Theme Music

It’s Sunday, June 18, 2023. Let’s put this day on our back and run wild. You know, like Trump said that gangs of young people do by the hundreds. Except he said they were running into department stores and stealing refrigerators by strapping them on their backs and running out of the stores. Cities all across the nation. Sure you’ve seen some videos of it on the net or television. I haven’t. Doesn’t seem to be happening in my world.

It’s a chilly 58 F almost summer morning. Gonna be 69 before we’re done with the sun in Ashlandia, where the cats are smart and the drivers are below average. Clouds dominate the blue above like Game of Thrones dominated HBO. Sun is out there, poking and peeking around said clouds but a front tempers the sun’s effects.

Our house floofs are not pleased with this turn. Their exact comments, said in unison, was, “What the hell? Where is the warmth?” They search for it outside and then turn their sights inside, settling down on old familiars like the sofa and bed. They’re miffed but they’re not letting that impede a good nap.

The bears are awake, out, and active, so beware. Mostly going for trash cans, trashing bird feeders — they are especially fond of hummingbird feeders — or trying to open doors to see what’s on the other side.

We’re bemoaning the state of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. They made some unusual moves the last several years. The artistic director resigned this year and OSF is begging us to donate money so that the show can go on. Meanwhile, they uprooted the Tudor Guild a few years ago — said that the landlord raised the rent — and bought and built several properties, and moved their offices to a swanky new locations. The pandemic, wildfires, and smoke affected them — the primary theater is open-air — but they also killed several youth-oriented programs which focused on introducing school children to plays. If it sounds like chaos, that’s how it feels living alongside it.

Today’s song is “Photograph” by Nickelback from 2005. It was inspired by looking at some photos, of course. I’d stumbled across them as I looked for something else. I was surprised that The Neurons brought out this instead of something like “Kodachrome” by Simon or “Photograph” by Ringo. But The Neurons have a mind of their own. The song works as today’s theme music, as it’s all about looking back, reacting and remembering. Photographs of Dad were in there, which was nice serendipity for Father’s Day in America.

Stay pos, and don’t let the weight grind you down. My morning cuppa coffee is over. Time to move it, move it, move it. Here’s the music. Cheers

Thursday’s Theme Music

We’ve slipped the surly bonds of one day and into the grasp of another. I shall call this one, Thursday the thirteenth of January, 2022. Having said it, the reality spreads like a virus, infecting everyone.

Sunrise, if you believe your mind and eyes, entered our sliver of being in Ashland at 7:38 AM. The sun will slip away and give us over to night at 5:02 PM. Mild winter weather still coddles us, 54 F now, at almost noon, with room for a few more degrees of warmth today. Syrupy white clouds mingle with gray, waiting to be stirred and spead over long blue legs.

“Photograph” by Def Leppard (1983) cropped into the morning mental music stream. My wife’s mother passed away Feb 18, 2018. A picture of the woman is in my office on top of a book club. Taken toward the end of her eighty-five years, intelligence and humor still rumbled in her blue eyes then, not so much in the last year of her life. Seeing the photograph brought out the song. So, why? Don’t know what the neurons are up to. I’m just the vessel.

Stay positive. Test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosts when you can. Have coffee if you sway that way. I do, and I will. Cheers

Thursday’s Theme Music

A double-whammy brought this song into the stream this morning. First were dreams about photographs. Then, as I’m sitting at my desk thinking about the dreams, I see a photograph of my wife on the desk. Taken of her in Christmas, 1981, it was our first Christmas in Okinawa, Japan. A note on the back in her writing says, “I was sick as a dog.” She looks wonderful, though, in a bright purple short-sleeved top. Her hair is bobbed short, as she wore it for a number of years.

Between the dreams and memories, Ringo Starr’s old hit song, “Photograph” (1973) arose. About the only thing in common between the song’s lyrics and sentiment, the dream, and the photograph on the desk is that word, photograph. Everything else is quite different.

Just A Dream Snippet

Just a dream snippet remains from last night’s viewing. It felt like the dreams were on, but like the television running in the background while I was doing something else. Not much seemed noticed.

The one time that I remembering seeing the Dream Vee, I had butter on my arm. It was a twenty-year-old version of me. I laughed about that and was talking with someone else, showing them where I had butter on my forearm.

I know my dream age, because my image was lifted off a photograph that I saw not too long ago. My hair was dark and thick, but cut military short, and my mustache was dark and heavy. My wife and I had gone to a shopping mall. At her encouragement, I bought a pale yellow, short-sleeved shirt, the top that you pull over, with a three-button Henley packet. It became a favorite shirt for a few years.

While I was laughing about the butter and attempting in dream-muddled-confusion to understand how I’d come to have this thick, long streak of butter on my right forearm,  I realized how yellow it was. At that point, I heard, spread yellow light over your body.

That’s all that’s remembered.

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