Twozdaz Theme Music

We begin September’s back-end slide today. It’s Twozda, September 16, 2025. Summer is ratcheting up efforts to stem autumn’s influence by hurling blue skies and sunshine at Ashlandia. 72 F now, 92 plus is expected.

Today’s headlines are familiar fodder. Trump continues to protest about how innocent right wingers are while railing against everyone else. He dismisses all others as left-wing radicals, etc. Meanwhile, he makes it all worse with perpetual lies. The one blowing us out of the water this week is his claim that drugs killed over 300,000,000, almost the entire U.S. population. Quite the whopper! He deployed that lie to defend his decision to murder more people at sea under the guise of defending the U.S., all without offering evidence or using any due process. He’s in an ‘half with their head’ mode, which doesn’t do much for We the People in places like Memphis, where he’s sending more national guard troops. “Hurrah,” MAGALand and the GOP cry, gleefully clapping. “Trump is destroying democracy, usurping the law, wrecking the education system, turning us into a theocracy expressing against our founders’ warnings, and destroying our economy and personal freedoms! Good for us!”

Trump is also suing the NYTimes for defamation for $15 billion dollars, an amount announced with an evil smirk. Trump loves suing others, especially the press when they spill the coffee about his past and the many unsavory things he’s done. Trump thinks himself a golden boy, and then worries about what the Epstein file says about him and tries to write it off as a hoax.

Donald Trump with his then girlfriend, along with Epstein and Maxwell.

Trump is also interested in doing away with quarterly earnings reports. “Did you ever hear the statement that, ‘China has a 50 to 100 year view on management of a company, whereas we run our companies on a quarterly basis??? Not good!!!’” Trump said.

We don’t ‘run’ companies on a quarterly basis in the U.S.; results are reported in a quarterly and annual format. I especially like the 50 to 100 year view comment. Let’s see, 100 years ago, 1925. They were probably planning for computers to emerge and the digital age, weren’t they? Planning for cars to take over the landscapes, planning to find and start mining the rare elements now used.

Or, if they were really smart, they were studying the data and trends to counter climate change, right? Looking down the barrel toward needed changes, they were focusing on more sustainable energy and ways to reduce pollution, because pollution has been found to make people sick and drive up costs while reducing productivity.

We know the truth behind Trump’s proposal. Facts and figures aren’t his friends. He likes making things up, like his weight, or how many people died from drugs, or how he’s reduced inflation by ten gazillion percent. He’d preferred that metrics which could reveal economic struggles get buried and never mentioned. Look how he fired the messenger when the BLS numbers showed a worsening labor market. Witness how he’s gutted the government to do less reporting and did away with Inspector General units and watchdogs. Note how he has scammed again and again on taxes and loan applications. No, truth is not his friend, and nor are hard numbers and facts.

We’re also heading toward a government shutdown. I’m in favor of Democrats not supporting any resolution to keep the government functioning without some heavy safeguards about appropriations and spending. It’s a reluctant position, but. Trump has shown that once the budget is set, he’ll do what he wants, usually to the detriment of We the People. This divisive man has also said he doesn’t care what Democrats want, Democrats who represent over half the nation’s population. But that is soooo Trumpy. He has repeatedly defecated on all things Constitutional and the laws and government norms and traditions. He’s ignoring courts and kicking aside the checks and balance system that worked for several hundred years. He can’t be trusted. So why would you work with someone who can’t be trusted, someone who only cares about himself? They’d be a fool to do so. And yes, shutting down the government will cause huge shockwaves. Maybe such shockwaves are needed to wake people up.

I awoke with Marcy’s Playground performing “Sex and Candy” in my morning mental music stream. The song related to a lengthy dream and fits right in. The song has a lazy dream quality for me about falling into a mental labyrinth of aimless, drifting speculation, and then suddenly coming out of that to the setting around you. “And there she was.”

Coffee has delivered its caffeine to my receptors. Hope peace and grace find you and carries your through the rest of the year. Cheers

September 16, 2025 4

Are You Ready?

Daily writing prompt

Create an emergency preparedness plan.

View all responses

I’ve already created emergency preparedness plans for our house. I almost felt compelled to.

First, I spent my life from 18 years old to over 38 years old in the U.S. Air Force. Almost all of those years were in command and control. My initial duties were to learn how to execute checklist and manage communications relating to disasters affecting my base and unit, and executing war plans as defined by our mission. Then I trained others in those procedures. As I advanced in rank, I gained the responsibilities to write and review the plans, operational procedures, and checklist for disaster preparedness and recovery, and taking care of business.

All that sprawled over into the rest of my life. No matter where I was stationed, overseas or in the U.S., there was always a chance for a war, riot, or natural disaster such as a tornado, hurricane or typhoon (cyclone), earthquake, flooding, wildfire, etc. So I wrote us plans and checklists for coping with that, printed them out, and reviewed them with my wife. When we lived in areas prone to those problems, the local authorities strongly encouraged you to have those things and be prepared, so we did. They reside in a desk drawer but copies are in both cars.

So that’s how I am. Prepared. A checklist dictates what we need to take. We have a go-bag sitting in the closet and a kennel ready for the cat. Three days of clothing is inside the bag. Blankets and old pillows are in another go bag. A little case sits by our meds, ready to be swept up and carried off. A large cardboard box sits in the garage, ready to be filled with food. We keep unopened jars of large peanut butter available for that, along with other foods, such as energy bars, instant coffee, tea, utensils (including a can opener), cat food and treats. Our important papers are in a fire-resistant strong box so we can pick that up and go. We have a case of one liter bottles of water on hand. We also have a dozen plastic gallon jugs ready to be filled and carted off. We’ve had to get ready to evacuate places a couple times, so we’ve practiced grabbing all those things. Besides the basics of AM/FM radio, cell phones and flashlights, we keep a solar powered energy brick charged and ready to go. Extra radio and flashlight batteries are kept in plastic bags beside the go bag in the coat closet between the foyer and the garage.

Are we ready? I hope so, but I know from going through these things, plans go awry. I prefer to keep my fingers crossed and hope that we never need to do these things. But just in case, I’m going to do my best to stay prepared.

Fingers crossed, you know?

August 14, 2025 3

Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

Planning for Easter Brunch is underway. I am fortunately a passive participant. My wife keeps me apprised of developments. She was searching for some Easter-themed drinks. I found some for her. She rejected them. I did find Chocolate Bunny Coffee. She laughed at that.

“Prude wants to have a Prosecco bar,” my wife says. Prude and her hubby, Carl, are hosting the Easter brunch for the third consecutive year.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I’ll chat with her. The brunch is getting big. Twenty-seven people are going to be there.”

“Twenty-seven.”

My wife nods in confirmation.

I do the math. “That’s almost twice as usual.”

“I know.”

My wife gives details of new invitees. Many are people I don’t know. I’ve heard about some of them via my wife’s recounting of ‘Tales from the Y.’ The main characters are all members of the Y, like my wife, and they bring a guest, like me. Most participate in Mary’s exercise class. Mary is celebrating her 50th anniversary of her class next year. The Y wants my wife to organize something for them. Mary’s exercise group has given birth to multiple friendships and activities, including a book club, New Year’s Eve gatherings, and nights out to go dancing.

“Deborah is in charge of the coffee,” my wife says. She’s talking about the brunch. “I mentioned the Chocolate Bunny Coffee. She laughed but said she is not buying that.”

I’m not surprised. Deborah takes her coffee as seriously as I do.

“Mary told me that she has champagne left from a party at her house last year that she’ll donate,” my wife says. “I told her it’s supposed to be Prosecco. Mary said that Prude told her that you and I are going to be there at 10:30 to help set up.”

“We are?” I helped with that last year. Everybody prepares and brings food. A buffet is set up in the kitchen and dining room. The drinks and coffee and dining tables are outside.

“I don’t know,” my wife says. “I’ll talk to Prude.”

I have to decide what to make. Last year I made a potato casserole. It seemed pretty popular. I don’t know what I’ll make this year. I was thinking about a French toast casserole.

Maybe I’ll just buy a fruit tray.

April 13, 2025 2

The Studebaker Dream

Dream fade in. I’m a young adult. I’m with a real-life friend who passed away a few years ago. He’s charging me to take care of his care for him. “Drive it over to the condo and put it in the parking garage,” he tells me.

The car is a silver 1956 Studebaker Golden Hawk in pristine condition. I agree to do as he asks. He and I are on vacation together, along with our extended families. I drive the Studebaker over and park it in the garage. I can see it from the rented, shared condo. The condo is enormous. The living room/dining room/kitchen combo’s entire western side is open to the sun and surf. Yes, surf, because it’s located right above a long, flat beach. Wonderful sunshine and blue sky are visible outside.

The condo is busy with people coming and going, talking, making plans. All of the people are familiar t me. Many are real life friends and relatives.

I’m part of the conversations and activities about our plans. But I’m also distracted, concerned about the Studebaker. Word comes to me that it needs to be moved to let some big truck by. I don’t want to go over there to move it. But somehow I have a black, wireless remote control. Using it, I start the car, back it up, let the truck by, and then park the car again. I end up doing this same maneuver three more times. In parallel, I discover that the remote works on other cars as well. I keep moving cars for people using the remote.

Then we’re all dashing around, doing things, collecting groceries, making meals, eating. As that happens, I discover that all of the Studebaker’s windows are shattered. The car is also riddle with dents and scratches. Non-plussed, I wonder aloud, what the hell happened? I’m concerned about what my friend will say about his car’s condition.

While I’m still fretting, we all go outside to enjoy the sunny beach and ocean. It’s wonderful out there. Then, shallow, long waves enter. News reaches us that there’s a storm far offshore driving these waves. Sunshine glitters along the waves. We talk about what a powerful storm that must be.

I return to the condo for something. When I’m in there, I hear shouting from outside. Turning, I see a long, flat, white wave race up the beach. It’s not deep or thunderous but it was wholly unexpected by everyone. Watching, I see that no one is hurt. Fast moving, the water only reaches most people’s knees.

Although the condo is above the beach, the wave rushes into the condo. It carries me, upright, the condo’s length. I laugh, enjoying the experience. Looking across at the parking garage, I realize that it’s gone, along with all of the cars which were parked in it. I’m amazed but relieved; I can’t be blamed for my friend’s car damage now.

The water swirls around inside the condo. I wish for a towel. Then I realize, damn, I left it on the condo floor. It’s underwater now.

I think, I should have picked up a towel when I saw the wave coming.

Dream end.

A note: the man who passed away shared my first name, Michael. The car in the dream was made the year that I was born, 1956. Coincidence? Who knows?