While it’s Thursday, February 22, 2024, the weather has twisted toward spring here in Ashlandia in southern Oregon. Winds be blowing with a wintry taste but sunshine blinds the eyes and blue sky mixes it up with piecemeal white and gray clouds. None of the clouds are large but they can be something if they unite and stay together.
It’s 54 F now after mid 30s as our overnight lows, and will tweak a few more degrees north of the current temp. The cats are not happy with the situation. “It’s the wind,” they complain. “Too much damn wind for our whiskers.”
The house painting is done and the bill is paid. $7650. Looks fab, though, and we’re happy with it, so I guess it’s worth it.
The Neurons have infiltrated the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with some Rush flavored prog rock, aka progressive rock or prock. Today’s song is “New World Man” from 1982. I can’t find the roots of its presence in the MMMS, only that sometime while I was in the kitchen after feeding the floof boys, that song was in my head as I prepped my brekkie. It’s a song I know from a military co-worker on Okinawa. Rush music was a big staple of his listening hoard. He considered them severely underrated and unappreciated.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. That’s all we ask of you; is that so much? I hope not. Coffee has been served and sampled. Here we go, into the winds of a new day. And here’s the music. Cheers
Hey guys, here we are, on Wednesday, 02212024. Or 21022024. Or 20240221. All are right, depending on your region, or maybe your profession.
Sprinter has popped back into Ashlandia. Dollops of gray clouds drop rain that glisten with sunshine. Everything is blooming. Snow? What is this thing called snow? Describe it for me, please. Amendment: that was snark. There’s some snow on the mountains shadowing our valley.
It’s 46 F now, and we’re projected to progress to 57 F before the sun pulls the shades on the day and the weather unplugs the warmth. 36 F will be our low tonight. Not bad.
I’m into GOP politics today. Trump’s changing stories about the classified documents he wouldn’t give up keeps me laughing. There were no classified documents because he declassified them, he said at first. Oh, wait, the FBI planted it there.No, no, I didn’t have to turn it over he’s saying now, and we were talking about turning them over when the FBI raided Mar-a-largo. Which, if we follow his thinking, means there were classified documents which he hadn’t turned over, so he lied from the start. And it was protected better than Biden’s classified documents, which is irrelevant, and shows again, that there were classified materials which he didn’t turn over. Doesn’t matter how protected he claims the classified documents were. The point is, he wasn’t supposed to have them, was supposed to return them, tried to hide them, and continually lied about them.
His continuing spin is worthy of a soap opera. “As the Trump Turns” or “General Bullshit”, we can call his shitshow. Who in their right mind will believe these shifting sands of explanations?
Well, I wrote, ‘in their right mind’. That eliminates many GOP members, politicians, and supporters. Take for instance, the state of play with electing and retaining a speaker. The maniac arm of the MAGA GOP make it a point of contention to turn down any bill or measure that might be actual governing, and then forced Speaker McCarthy out after he so desperately pursued the office. Now Mike Johnson has taken over and faces the same demonic situation. Then these fine representatives blamed everyone else for the mayhem they keep causing.
For example, look at the immigration issue. The GOP and their supporters are supposedly up in arms about that problem. GOP state governors are declaring that President Biden and the Democrats aren’t doing enough, even as GOP governors illegally block the Federal government from taking action. Meanwhile, back on Capitol Hill, a bi-partisan bill was created only to have the Speaker and the maniacs withdraw support on orders from Dear Leader, Donald Trump. All but Trump supporters see through this play. Trump and the spineless GOP don’t want an effective answer for the immigration issue and the southern border at this time. Yet one of the maniacs, Marjorie Taylor Green, predictably steps up to complain nothing is being done even after she voted to do nothing.
Their hypocrisy is breathtaking but not surprising. The Trump GOP thrives on selling fear on the issue to their supporters. If a bill is passed, that makes President Biden and the Democrats look effective. The GOP can’t do that! That’s about the single issue they can depend on at this point to keep supporters in line because they’ve fucked themselves with complete abortion bans and the persecution of women for daring to try to make decisions about their own bodies. Now they’re fucking themselves over supporting NATO and the Ukraine. They’re abandoning everything the United States became after WWII.
If you didn’t understand it before, understand it now. The Trump GOP is not progressive. Throwbacks to the Nazi Germany era, the Trump GOP is willing to support a dictator on the basis of no other position but to stay in power. They fear everyone but whites. They even attack powerful women — say a young singer like Taylor Swift, to name one of many women they’ve attacked under Trump — and are eager to shut everyone down except white men, especially wealthy white men. They love themselves wealthy white men and bend over to fuck themselves if they can help wealthy white men. That wealthy white men will save the world is the foundation of their trickledown theory of government.
We shouldn’t be surprised. White ‘Christians’ are one of the GOP’s largest sects. They’ve been afraid of Jews since before WWII and have been eager to undermine democracy in order to stop the Jews. All this is fed by baseless conspiracies. The GOP, as it’s evolved, has depended more and more upon unfounded conspiracy theories to garner support. Are we witnessing its zenith as they support the baseless lies — proven in US courts — that Donald Trump had the election stolen from him, and that they government is actually being run by a shadow government? What happens in the elections of 2024 will reveal much about the GOP and the foundations of democratic republic known as the United States.
With all this happening, The Neurons started singing, “Don’t mess with a MAGA man,” this morning. Up popped the Eurythmics with “Missionary Man” (1986) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). It’s an ironic use by The Neurons as they chuckle at the GOP white christians and evangelicals declare that the serial sinner, liar, and adulterer known as Donald J. Trump, a very wealthy man who hoards his wealth and hates any and all who dare criticize him, threatening violence at every turn, is God’s chosen to lead the United States. I need to ask, lead the United States into what? At any rate, to return to the song, GOP politicians at every level eagerly support the MAGA man and dare the rest of us to mess with him.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and please vote. Here’s the music. Coffee guzzling has commenced. On to other writing. Cheers
Hello, fellow sojourners of season and space. It’s Tuesday again, but this time it’s Feb. 20, 2024.
Sunshine is crashing through the eastern and southern windows and it’s already 54 F outside, though a bit ‘o wind is still stirring up the trees and ruining the cats’ outings. Layers of grey clouds smother my western view, darkening the pines’ green lines with long, heavy shadows. Rain is expected, but so is a high of 67 F. Can you dig it?
Ah, rain falls through sunshine. Where is the rainbow?
Tucker, my black and white house floof, continues improving. A side effect has emerged. He’d become less interested in Papi while he was feeling ill. Papi thus became bolder. Now Tucker is feeling better and beginning to notice Papi more. Papi has noticed he’s being noticed and is letting Tucker know he knows he’s being noticed, and warnings have been issued.
Finishing up Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism by Rachel Maddow. It illuminates corners of United States history I didn’t know, such as the conspiracy circulated by the Silver Legion or the Silver Shirts. Led by William Dudley Pelley, they believed all Jews are communists, and all communists are Jews. Rising during America’s Great Depression, the movement seemed to flourish in small, rural towns and was favored by white Christians. (Any of this sound familiar?) They believed Jews were starting all the wars in the world and wanted to turn the United States into a communist nation. To save the United States, they wanted to instead turn it into a fascist nation and were looking for America’s Hitler.
I’m summarizing, of course. Ms Maddow offers more details in rousing style. This is just one of many surprising stories about fascism in America. Depressing and infuriating, it’s more history that we Americans should know. I hugely recommend the book. I, for one, was unaware of the deep roots about conspiracies that have circulated through right wing circles for decades. I always believed that my fellow Americans supported the principles espoused in our Declaration of Independence, Constitution, Bill of Rights, and subsequent amendments. My ignorance embarrasses me but also blows my mind. Just shows again, I know so little about so much.
On the fiction side, I’m finishing Crime Manifesto by Colson Whitehead and beginning Widows by Lynda LaPlante.
Today’s music comes by way of JJ Cale, Brian Eno, and a television show called “The Bear”. The show often uses interesting and diverse music. I’ve been a fan of JJ Cale and Brian Eno since the early seventies. When they collaborated and released an album in 1990, I went right out and bought it. The album, Wrong Way Up, didn’t fail me. The first song on it was “Lay My Love” and showed up on “The Bear”. Since hearing it, “Lay My Love” has flickered in and out of my personal mental playlist. Today, The Neurons pushed it through into the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks).
I believe, though they won’t confirm it, that the lines hooking The Neurons were, “I am the crow of desperation” and “I am the termite of temptation”. Instead of those, though, my head rang with “I am the bastard of misinformation”. The Neurons continued my imagined stanza, “I live with what I don’t know. I try to find and remain behind, the knowledge that goes before.” Yeah, I know, I’m not a songwriter.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote, please. Coffee drinking has progressed. Onward. Here’s the music. Cheers
Rain and wuthering rule Monday, Feb. 19, 2024 in Ashlandia, where the roads are average and the people can be nice. 52 F now, circumstances have aligned to deliver 56 F. Rain falls in short showers, and sunshine sometimes clear through the layered cloud cake to brighten the scene. Mainly, though, it’s wind and rain.
You probably know the weather situation annoys the home floofs. How can you expect us to go out in this weather and be wild animals, they complain. Do something about it.
“Would if I could,” I tell them, “but the door game must cease. Here, have a treat.”
“Thanks,” they grumble, devouring treats. “More. Come on, don’t hold back, it’s rainy and windy. More treats! We deserve them.”
With his improved health, Tucker shows more interest in Papi, displeasing to Papi. Papi starts past; Tucker heads for him. Papi breaks into a short gambol. Tucker attempts to give chase. His mind is game but his elderly joints and muscles call, “Hey, take a chill pill.”
Today’s theme song comes from things happening to others. The phrase, “What would you do in my place?” comes up. Out of that comes The Neurons with Coldplay performer “In My Place” in the morning mental music stream. This 2002 melding of vocals and instruments is heavy with regretful wonder, just like the people I communicated with. Not a bad song, but it wore out its welcome with me for a while. Commuting along highway 101 and Interstate 280, and various expressways, the song found frequent radio time for a while after its release and became one that often prompted me to change the channel. It just happens sometimes.
Be strong, stay positive, keep leaning forward, and for the love of democracy, please vote. Coffee — second cup — pulled up. Time to sip and write. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: coffeeager, a mood inspired by eagerness fed by a couple hits of coffee
Hello to my fellow Milky Wayers. Another meh day in Ashlandia on Earth in the Sol system. Fog and clouds shield us from sunshine. Rain scurrying toward us. Temperature is 46 F with a high of 52 F drifting in. Could be much, much worse. Nothing’s on fire, no volcanos erupting, no huge, destructive storms bearing down on us. I’ll go with meh.
This is Sunday, February 18, 2024.
Peaceful reflective day for me. I’ll be back to writing in a while but letting the mind wind down a little from last night’s dream first. Jarlsberg cheese was involved. That’s all I’ll say on that.
Tucker continues doing well and improving. Papi continues to insist that he belongs to the night. We’ve lost track of the local cougar; no sightings but domestic animals continue to disappear. Whether that’s the cougar’s work is unknown at this point.
I’m back with Chris Rea again. I played “Highway to Hell” by Rea the other day. Then I watched an old episode of WILTY (Would I Lie to You) last night, where Bob Mortimer mentions Chris Rea and “Let’s Dance” in his story about Chris Rea breaking an egg into a bath for Bob. I always enjoy Bob on this show because he clearly enjoys himself. “Let’s Dance” is on the same album as “Highway to Hell”. (The song is on several albums.) Anyway, once The Neurons heard Bob say, “Let’s Dance”, the song started up in my head and remains in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) today. I’ve included the video of the WILTY episode for your entertaiment pleasure.
Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote, please. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s a meh sky for Friday, Feb. 16, 2024, just like yesterday’s meh sky. Yesterday turned to rain by the early afternoon. It’s warmer today, though, 48 F, up from 38 F, with chances of breaking into the fifties later.
Took my elderly floof, Tucker, to the vet yesterday. He has severe inflamation on his mouth’s left side, especially the lower mandible. Besides his dental issues, bloodwork shows he has a hyperactive thyroid. Everything else looked good, but he’d lost seven pounds since he was last checked, years ago, and now weights ten pounds. Painkillers were prescribed, along with meds to address the thyroid, and an anabotic steroid shot given. Plans are to treat the thyroid treatment, do more blood work in six weeks, and then address his teeth. He ate well last night, was given his meds, and slept. Today, though, after receiving his meds and eating, he vomited and then basically went comatose. I worried that I’d need to take him to an emergency vet but my wife found more details about the drugs and side-effects. We concluded that Tucker was going through one possibility on the spectrum of reactions. We made him warm and comfortable and slipped in a few drops of water. The websites said this state would wear out after eight hours. We witnessed his responsiveness improve withint four hours. He then started shifted himself around, making himself more comfortale. It felt like whatever crises may have existed had passed. I am reducing his dosage, though.
The painters finished the house exterior painting. They did a sensational job. We’re highly pleased.
My wife was out of the house at her exercise class/coffee clatch when the painters were here and I was dealing with Tucker. Those four hours felt more like six and a quarter. Meanwhile, Papi had been in and out, and had at least three sequels of going in and out in the books, when he decided, with the wind blowing, inside was better. But now, each time the painters knocked or rang the bell alarmed Papi. He’d look to me for guidance, didn’t like what he read, lower his belly to the floor and pelt off to the back bedroom to save himself. Quite a morning. Coffee saved me.
After reading Jill Dennison’s post about “Day Tripper” by the Beatle’s last night, The Neurons cranked up “Revolution” (1968) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). There was controversy about the song’s lyrics: do you want revolution? Why are you singing it’s going to be alright? How come you’re saying, count me out? I always took it to mean this was a song about peaceful change, and felt that I understood what Lennon was saying: we will have change, and it will be alright, and we don’t need to destroy the world to make that happen. Full stop.
Stay pos, be strong, lean forward, and vote it’s time. Coffee has been guzzled and more is being ordered. Take the day and make it yours. Here’s the music. Cheers
Thursday, Feb. 15, 2024, greets us with a bleakly ‘meh’ sky in Ashlandia. Rain has retreated to a background position, haunting the mountains, where it sometimes drops as snow; Grizzly Peak is now capped in white. It’s 46 F, though, and snow is not in our future. Might rain, later, though. Not going to get substantially warmer. Sunshine does look in on us once in a while but not long enough to post a significant presence.
The homefloofs continue serving their roles in a restricted position, with no outside activities permitted from dusk to dawn. It’s the cougar thing. Meanwhile, Tucker has been scheduled for a dental assessment after drooling this week. Problem teeth and gum infections associated with gingivostomatitis plagued him before his arrival at our place. We’ve had teeth removed and treated the problem by keeping him on a grain-free diet. But it seems to be blowing up on him again, poor guy.
I continue reading Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism by Rachel Maddow in parallel to my fiction reading. I don’t recommend Maddow’s book; its revelations of deep racism in the US, with laws and attitudes toward segregation and how Blacks and others were treated inspiring Nazi Germany in their approach to the same in the 1930s, is fucking sickening. I was so damn naive. Maddow points out what the laws said, and then how they were applied and interpreted so that mistreatment and segregation continued. Several presidents even encouraged segregation and set laws into place that limited Black’s freedom and equality. Were I Black, I’d be one pissed off individual.
The Neurons have fed Joni Mitchell’s song, “Help Me” from 1974, into the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). Depending on my mood — sometimes it was too soft and schmaltzy for my mood — I’ve generally enjoyed this soft, jazzy tune and its reflections on falling in love with a man who doesn’t seem like a great choice for her. Yeah, I dig it; we often must make a choice that isn’t the greatest. That recognition in another matter being addressed in my head this morning, coupled with Joni Mitchell’s performance on the Grammy’s last week, is what probably inspired The Neurons to play the song.
Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote as if the future might depend on it. Here’s Joni with her song. There goes me with my coffee. Cheers.
Mood: jubtimism. (Yes, that’s a weird combo of jubilant and optimistic, weird in face of the dark news that keeps spitting in my face.)
Hey to all who are doing time with me on the third rock. Today is Tuesday, Feb. 13, 2024. Completely gray on gray today, again, with sunshine shifting and sliding through cloud breaks when it can. Daffs have broken out to spread their color across the sprinter landscape. 50 F now, no snow on the ground in the valley or nearby peaks. If you need to see some snow, hop onto I5 and drive a few miles south to Mt. Ashland. If you don’t turn off for Mt Ashland but keep going toward California, Mt. Shasta, just fifty miles away, will present a postcard image for you as the Interstate rises and falls.
I watched the Super Bowl last Sunday and saw some NFL commercials about bullying. That woke up some Neurons, who came up with a 1989 Chris Rea song, “The Road to Hell”, and have it playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). See, these big NFL players quoted children and adults who were bullied. The survivors talked about facing daily fear. Terror. Likewise, we have this election campaign where fear and terror are being employed in lieu of policies or intelligent discourse. If Trump wins, he promised to be a dictator. Some of his followers tried overthrowing the election results back on Jan 6, 2021. They now promise greater violence if Trump loses, as do members of Congress who carry his water. Contrary to all presented facts and evidence, they insist that Trump win the 2020 election, but was cheated out of staying in office.
And now, facing all manner of trials and criminal charges, which seem to be stacking up, Trump wants to be declared immune from anything criminal he did while President. As the first judicial panel ruling on his claim noted, that would remove the POTUS from the checks and balances built into the Constitution. If that happened, what, beyond his character, would stop President Biden from saying, “Gosh, if Trump is immune, so am I.”
So there are fears out there for our democracy and republic. Hence, The Neurons pulled up the lines from Chris Rea’s 1989 song, “The perverted fear of violence chokes the smile off every face. Common sense is ringing out bells. This ain’t no technological breakdown. Oh, no. This is the road to hell.”
Sorry if I’m as dark as my coffee this morning. Been reading Rachel Maddow’s book, Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism, yesterday and today. Illuminating, of course, but sometimes history can be depressing. She traces the efforts of paramilitary groups trying to end democracy in the US back in the 1930s to give fascism a chance. They worked under names like The Christian Front, the Silver Legion, and the American White Guard. These were lunatics with powerful friends, which aptly summarizes much of the MAGA movement and QAnon. In summary, both in the past and now, I didn’t realize that so many Americans harbored an authoritarian mindset. Being a Star Trek fan, I though boldly heading toward a new era of equality, freedom, and justice. I didn’t realize that a block of people exist who abhor those things.
On the flip side of my dark street, Jamie Lee Curtis’s performance as the matriarch in The Bear was powerful stuff. Yes, we’re just catching up with the second season. I’d heard about the hit series, and decided to check it out. Glad on did.
Also on the bright side, the house painting is moving closer to fini. That’s pretty darn exciting. Looking back, the project’s genesis was in the early months of 2020. We were just collecting names for bids when COVID landed and the shutdown commenced. In 2021, we moved toward getting quotes but supplies were limited because of supply chain issues in response to the COVID shutdown. Not much was done in 2022 about the painting because…(cough, cough) COVID. Finally, in 2023, quotes were gathered and agreements made, but the painting backlog pushed us back to this year.
I’ve had coffee, thanks. Be strong, remain positive, lean forward, and voOte. Register first, of course. Pitter patter, get ‘er at her. Here is Chris Rea with his slide guitar. Cheer
Season’s greetings, everyone, no matter what season envelopes your existence this date. This day and date are Monday, Feb. 12, 2024. Spring has reasserted its stance here in Ashlandia, where the theater is above average. 51 F under a cloudy sky where the sun keeps breaking through, our high is supposed to be just one more degree over the current temp.
It’s another late start for posting for me. I assisted my wife’s Food & Friends deliveries. I’m her driver. That started at 10 AM. We were finished circulating around Ashlandia’s southern streets and home by II:30, having taken a hot meal to fourteen homes, part of a small army out there doing this almost every day.
In good news — for us in Ashlandia — our snowpack significantly scored with the last storms. It now stands at over 70% of normal, thanks to the atmospheric rivers that dumped on California and much of the PNW. Sad for CA and their losses. Brutal to read of the flooding, mudslides, destruction, and death, or see videos of it. Meanwhile, the northeastern US has another snowstorm descending on them. Fingers crossed that it doesn’t do too much to the area and that no one dies.
In stories about other worries and losses, did you see Donald Trump Jr’s post? I had to remind myself that this came from a supposedly educated and intelligent adult human. The crass humor demonstrates an adolescent’s maturity and a first-grader’s intelligence. That this comes from the son of the mighty GOP’s leader, that it involves a family member and not a candidate, that it involves a former first lady, that it’s racist and misogynistic, and that GOP leadership said nothing about it, speaks volumes about that side of the political spectrum. The Principles of the GOP: RIP.
By the way, the KC Chiefs beat the SF 49ers in the Super Bowl yesterday. Kelce Travis and Taylor Swift said nothing about voting for President Joe Biden, despite right wing predictions of that happening. Surprise.
Maybe I’ve mentioned this before, and maybe not, but my spouse enjoys reading Reddit threads about the modern dating scene in America. She enjoys, too, reading the stories tell while asking for advice about what to do in their marriages or relationships. In a recent one, a 27-year-old man was pursuing his dream of becoming a professional video game player. I knew such a position exists, but I didn’t know the rest, like they have teams, and coaches. It’s evolved much more since I’ve last paid attention to it. The girlfriend writing in was talking about how he was not supporting them while he accused her of the same.
She doesn’t believe he’s good enough to be a pro, and the evidence does stand against him. People commented, pointing out that he is too old at this point because the oldest pro gamer now is 25. However, I dislike telling people to give up their dreams. Hell, I’m pursuing my own of becoming a novelist, despite my age (I’m almost 28). Trying to look at it from both sides, I feel for him and his partner. Showing signs of my own fiction writing addiction, I immediately saw how it could be part of a novel.
I don’t know why, but today had The Neurons post “Missing You” by John Waite into the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). I enjoy the 1984 soft rock tune, having frequently heard it on the radio while buzzing around Okinawa during my final year of living there. Why that song today? Don’t know. I’d been doing cleaning after feeding cats previous to showering and dressing when I realized it had taken over the MMMS. No clues were found for why. Anyway, that’s today’s theme music.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote when you can. Now fortified with coffee, I’ll do the same. Here’s the music. Cheers
Ahoy everyone, it’s Sunday, February 11, 2024. Here are today’s top headlines.
Ah, never mind that for now. We’ll do that later. In weather, sprinter had dashed back into the Ashlandia, with strong spring highlights overtaken weak winter elements. 52 F, with classic strong sunshine lording over bright blue, it’s a good day to do many things. Today’s high will be 58 F.
House painting continues with no issues at all. My wife and I did a walk around to see the progress yesterday, and we’re pleased. The housefloofs have adjusted the situation. Tucker went for an outside visit this morning, conducting a recce of the painters’ supplies. Not at all concerned by appearances, he then returned to the door and was granted re-entry. Papi, having seen it all now, is little bothered, dashing in and out several times with barely more than a head bob toward the painting gear, confirming, yes, that stuff is all still there. Hustling in before they returned, both cats are now retired in the house in sunny places filtered by the flimsy plastic over the windows.
As it’s super Sunday in the U.S., the day when the two NFL conference champions play a final game to decide who is number 1 and end the season, I thought I’d blink back at 1993. T’was the year the marching bands and drill teams were gently shuffled aside, and the Super Bowl pop era. Game number XXVII was being held at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. The Buffalo Bills, representing the AFC, faced the NFC Champions Dallas Cowboys. The Bills were there for the third straight year. They came again the next year to make it four in a row, setting a record as the first time to appear in four straight Super Bowls. Sadly, they remain winless in that realm.
For that first pop Super Bowl, they hired a pop icon, Michael Jackson. One of his songs performed that day was “Billie Jean”. Released ten years before, featuring a deep bass line and telling a story, it was and is a song the people enjoy dancing to. It’s not ranked the best Super Bowl halftime show, but it’s the first commercialized pop version. The league and network had never done anything like that. They’ve since learned from mistakes and improved the show until we’re at this point. Frankly, the shows have become fat to me and can use some simplification, but that’s me.
If you’re watching the game — or the commercials, or halftime show, as so many people do, I hope you’re entertained. I’ll watch the game and cheer the KC Chiefs in honor of my neighbor, Walt. After being a lifelong KC fan, waiting for another SB victory, he died the year before Andy Reid and Patrick Mahommes delivered the first SB win since Hank Stram and Len Dawson took them to the big show in 1969 and defeated the Minnesota Vikings and Al Kapp.
Stay strong, remain positive, lean forward, and register and vote, if you’re in a democracy and afforded the opportunity. Here’s the music; coffee has been guzzled. But first, a 1993 SB commercial break from Lee Jeans, featuring a young Alan Cumming.
Michael Seidel, writer 