Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Jill Dennison has again brought us a luscious pre-Thanksgiving offering to humor and politics. I didn’t want to share them but The Neurons felt they were so compelling…anyway, here are my favorites. Hope you go by her site to see the rest.
And the link to the rest…
And a bonus offering for your time…
Trump’s lying has been documented and analyzed yet again.
President Donald Trump tells a lot of lies. Trump also regularly accuses others of lying.
And sometimes he does both at once – telling a lie about something while accusing someone else of lying about it. In other words, the president has been dishonest even about others’ honesty.
It’s a subset of his years-old “I know you are but what am I?” tactic of trying to turn common criticisms of him against his opponents. And he’s used it a bunch this fall.
I thought Trump’s deception was bad then. It got much worse. In 2017, Trump averaged 2.9 false claims per day. By 2018, it was 8.3 false claims per day. What started as a side project I could handle in a few hours a week started requiring regular all-nighters. By the time I joined CNN in mid-2019, it required a second reporter, Tara Subramaniam.
Trump’s 2017 dishonesty tended to be impromptu ad-libbing. His 2018 dishonesty was much more scripted; he used serial lying as a deliberate strategy in the midterm elections. Then he used serial lying as a deliberate strategy in his 2019 Ukraine scandal. Then he used serial lying as a deliberate strategy in his response to the 2020 coronavirus pandemic – holding daily “briefings” so wildly dishonest that CNN needed me to go on TV right afterward to debunk the nonsense viewers had just heard.
~snip~
Trump now jokes about his lying. What is weird is that some people still believe him. Or, more weirdly, that they are upset when it turns out that what he lied about something and it hurts them (see cattle ranchers, timber companies, soybean farmers, and families of immigrants, for example), yet they still support him because they think the Liar-in-Chief is better than anyone else out there, that this liar will somehow lead us out of the chaos that he’s created.
Some of Trump’s recent lying weirdness is all about the tariffs. Trump has been saying for a long time that American consumers won’t pay the tariffs that he imposed on imported goods for everything and anything.
Now, though, Trump is reducing tariffs to lower prices. The question before us is, if we don’t pay the tariffs, how will this lower prices? Why will changing the tariffs matter, sports fans?
We know the answer: it’s because Trump is lying.
Remember, Trump is reducing tariffs to lower prices at a time when, in his constant lying, Trump claims that prices are down and that stories about prices being high are lies the Democrats are telling. How the hell does that make any sense at all?
“Every price is down,” he said Thursday. “Everything is way down,” he said at another Thursday event. “Prices are down under the Trump administration, and they’re down substantially,” he said Friday, adding, “Everybody knows that it’s far less expensive under Trump than it was under Sleepy Joe Biden. And the prices are way down.”
None of that is true.
~snip~
The evidence that Trump constantly, religiously, and consistently lies is fully and pervasively documented. Now Dozy Donny wants us to believe that the Epstein files are a Democratic hoax.
As President Donald J. Trump said, “House Republicans should vote to release the Epstein files, because we have nothing to hide, and it’s time to move on from this Democrat Hoax perpetrated by Radical Left Lunatics in order to deflect from the Great Success of the Republican Party.”
~snip~
Trump also wants us to think that with all the time that his AG has had the Epstein files, with all the time and access that the DOJ under him has held onto the files, that he will not make some attempt to redact or remove references to him, or to hide them. Why should I believe that? With his history, any document issued under Trump’s name is automatically suspect by anyone familiar with history, facts, or the truth.
Yet, with the evidence of all of Trump’s lying filling the net, Dizzy Donny expects us to accept on his word that the boats which he ordered the U.S. military to destroy are all narco terrorists and drug dealers.
GÜIRIA, Venezuela (AP) — One was a fisherman struggling to eke out a living on $100 a month. Another was a career criminal. A third was a former military cadet. And a fourth was a down-on-his-luck bus driver.
The men had little in common beyond their Venezuelan seaside hometowns and the fact all four were among the more than 60 people killed since early September when the U.S. military began attacking boats that the Trump administration alleges were smuggling drugs. President Donald Trump and top U.S. officials have alleged the craft were being operated by narco-terrorists and cartel members bound with deadly drugs for American communities.
~snip~
Man oh man, when oh when oh when will the MAGAts catch on to this lying?
That’s the wrong question, isn’t it? The right question is when will they care enough to stop supporting Dozy Dizzy Donny and his regime of distraction? When will they accept that they’ve been conned? When will they realize and admit that Trump is destroying the United States, ripping off the treasury, and enriching himself?
Way it’s going, we might have colonies on Mars before any of that takes place.
And they Voted Blue.
Trump’s agenda has lost popularity. Democrats swept the mid-terms. Hope this is the start of something more.
Maybe it was the destruction of the White House East Wing and the construction of that ballroom while the government is idled by the longest government shutdown in U.S. history, the ongoing Epstein Shutdown of 2025.
Perhaps Farmers have become convinced, or people employed in factories where productivity is declining, or people in danger of losing their homes because they can’t afford them any longer. Perhaps it’s the measles outbreaks and the loss of SNAP benefits, or Kennedy’s vacuous guidance on medicine that’s contrary to established facts.
Perhaps it’s because he capitulated to China on tariffs, showing that he is TACO. Maybe it’s the Epstein Files or ICE’s cruel, illegal raids, or Trump sending National Guard units in to U.S. cities to intimidate U.S. Citizens, or the fact that prices are going up, not down, in general, or that Trump is using the U.S. military to attack and kill unarmed civilian combatants at sea. Or maybe it’s because of Project 2025, Trump’s continual overreach, or open and widespread greed, or the fact that he’s enshittifying the United States at an incredible pace and scale. I don’t know. But people Voted Blue.
Jill Dennison gives us the deets.
They call it sticker shock. My wife and I labeled it a friggin’ kick in the head.
We decided to make brownies for our annual Fourth of July gathering. To give it an Independence Day flavor, red, white, and blue chocolate M&Ms would be added to the top. I hustled to the store to buy said M&Ms.
First stop, Bi-Mart, didn’t have them. Second stop, Albertson’s, did. One size: 38 ounces.
38 ounces. Seriously? Who needs that many M&Ms? But if I need to…I guess…
$15.99. On sale. Marked down from $17.99.
Get out of here. What are these, organic M&Ms hand-wrapped by virgins in gold foil?
Neither price was acceptable to me. As a boomer, I remember M&Ms as something I bought a little bag of for a quarter. Last time that I bought a pound of M&Ms, they were like $5. Even a pound bag seemed more than enough, and this wasn’t that many years ago. What are people doing, spooning M&Ms into their mouths?
The world has gone friggin’ nuts. I really am channeling the old codger in me, aren’t I?
We’re a nation of games. How many of us play a computer game or two each day? I am guilty. The NY Times offers me Connections, Wordle, and Spelling Bee. I play them to keep my mind sharp *ahem*. I also play Sudoku at the Seattle Times, again to exercise my brain.
Online gaming is big business. People buy special chairs, headsets, computers and support systems to play hours online. Playing games on phones are an effective way to pass time while waiting for flights, buses, or meetings to begin.
Children begin playing games at a young age. Occupies their minds, helps their brains develop, and gives parents and caregivers a break. Games such as sports like football, basketball, and baseball are idolized as a way to gain fame and fortune. Television game shows offer you a chance for cash prices, as do lottery games. Besides a chance for people to add to their bank accounts, states use lotteries to raise money for education and projects. Indian casinos have increased in numbers, bringing money in for cash-starved tribes, and tax revenues and employment for communities.
The biggest games center in Washington, DC. Trump and the GOTP, along with complicit media, love playing games with The People. For instance, the cost of eggs.
Trump lies and claims that egg prices have dropped over ninety percent. In one speech, he claimed they’d declined over 98%! Ludicrous. Meanwhile, the Dollar Store has raised its prices to $1.25 and plan to raise them more. That comes and goes under the radar as Trump games people into looking elsewhere.
If you’re a coffee drinker, you know that coffee prices have increased. Initially, it’s not Trump’s fault. Weather affected coffee crops in important coffee growing places. This is just like the egg situation; it wasn’t President Biden’s fault that egg prices increased. Bird flu was causing it. Yet, we don’t hear nearly the screams about coffee inflation that we heard about eggflation. Because Trump and his campaign hammered eggflation. The game participants called the mass media picked up the ball and ran with it, trying to score points. But now, thanks to the Trump tariffs, coffee prices are percolating higher and higher. Little is heard, though. Trump has moved their attention to another game.
Meanwhile, funny enough, check out the egg prices on eggprices.org. Their chart shows egg prices have dropped.
But check below on the same page, at the highest price per dozen in the nation, and the lowest price per dozen in the U.S.:
Isn’t that odd? Virginia is cited as having the lowest price of eggs per dozen: $7.39. Yet the chart by the Bureau of Labor Statistics shows the average price of eggs per dozen is $3.43 a dozen.
Sure seems odd. Almost like someone is gaming the BLS chart.
Trump and Walmart are probably going to game us over prices. Walmart said they’ll increase prices to cope with the tariffs. Trump warned them, you’d better not, you’d better eat them. Walmart said, okay, will do, chief. What they’ll probably do at Walmart is subtly raise prices on specific sets of items and blame other factors. Trump will let them get away with it because they’re not blaming his tariffs. But customers will be paying more; inflation will increase.
In other gaming news, we have President Biden’s prostate cancer. Of course Trump and his surrogates, such as his son and the DOJ, jumped all over it with stories of coverups. They’re gaming the nation by feeding the media distractions, moving our attention away from Supreme Court rulings, Trump failures, and Trump scandals.
Among the failures are Trump’s pretended success with a Ukraine-Russia ceasefire. Check out multiple news sources on this continuing situation.
Trump Says Russia, Ukraine Will Start Ceasefire Talks
Trump says Russia, Ukraine peace talks to begin ‘immediately’ after Putin chat
Trump Backs Off His Demand That Russia Declare a Cease-Fire in Ukraine
What superb gamemanship! Trump is playing everybody…in the United States.
Likewise, with Trump’s potential scandal involving the Qatari jet offer, suddenly claims emerge that the Biden administration initiated that process. Ignoring all previous history on the subject, the press dutifully pivots toward that, bringing the Biden administration back into play.
The latest word game Trump is playing is his “Big Beautiful Bill” in Congress. This thing is loaded with strategically placed bombs to undermine the nation. It focuses on making the wealthy wealthier and sinking the poor deeper into poverty. As it’s based on Project 2025 and Heritage Foundation thinking and guidance, you know that this is about easing the burden on the wealthiest, thus encouraging them to create more business for the nation. These are the same people who offshored and contracted out manufacturing jobs. These are people who hoard wealth while others starve, beg, and are rendered homeless.
This is, of course, trickle-down economics. The theory has been disproven but the wealthy and conservatives love it. So we will not hear anyone calling it that this year. But that’s what Trump is leading the GOTP to do in his “Big Beautiful Bill”.
It’s not a surprise that Trump’s approval ratings have improved in polls. Too many people are too easily taken in by the games, or they’re busy playing elsewhere.
Now, I’m off. There are six pangrams today. Let the games continue.
“Easter is a week away,” my wife said. “You need to get a haircut.”
I just got one last month. Her observation annoys me. I spent twenty years in the military. Keeping your hair cut and neat was, like, an actual regulation. After being freed from military constraints, I’m not interested in being so neat and tidy when it comes to hair. I will lose this discussion, though, and cave. Being neat is extremely high on my wife’s list. She is also adept at being severe and disapproving.
“Want to hear my sister’s text?” I ask.
“Go ahead.”
I read my sister’s updates from Pittsburgh. She’s buying her daughter a new phone. Several features on her present phone are failing. Replace it before Trump’s tariffs add hundreds, she reckons. She used the same logic to replace her eight-year-old ride. She also cashed in her small 401K and put it into certificates in December because she believed Trump was going to trash the economy. She tells me about my other sister’s financial worries.
Four sisters share Mom. Two of them are extremely responsible. The other two are not exactly flighty but they seem to have many crises and make choices that cause more problems. I probably would make more choices that aren’t wise ones, but I’m married to a diligent person.
My sister also comments about how expensive everything is, and how hard it is for young people like her twenty-something daughter these days.
My conversation with my wife swirls into a new zone. “Mom should be using red-light therapy to help with her healing, injuries, and inflammation.” My wife and I both champion red-light therapy. It has helped us in numerous ways. Besides that, NASA, soccer leagues, and the NFL are all red-light therapy true believers.
My wife tells me that Jan approached her for help with another person. The other person suffers Renaud’s disease in her feet. She’s been warned that she might lose her feet if she doesn’t get treatment. The woman doesn’t like going to the doctor. Almost has a pathological fear about it.
Renaud’s has plagued my wife for years. She once showed me her finger. White as a candle, bent and misshaped, horrifying to look at. She aggressively applied red-light therapy and resolved the problem.
“I told Jan to tell her friend about red-light therapy,” my wife says. “She can at least buy a belt and try it.” Pros and cons are discussed for a few more minutes. My wife complains about friends who were told about it but haven’t tried it. She doesn’t understand their reluctance.
I text my sister to ask her if Mom has tried red-light therapy. Then I get online to make a haircut appointment.
There are some things which must be accepted and done.
Greetings again, world. It’s time again for Frida. Today is April 11, 2025. Those of you in ‘Merica might note the date and say, “Oh, yeah. Taxes.” I finished mine back in early Feb but held off submitting because I owe, I owe. Submitting them is on tonight’s agenda.
It’s 54 F at this point. Feels like it to me. Sunshine is a light version of itself today. Mmm, yeah, cloudy. Might rain. Might not. Might get up to 60 F. Then again, might not. This is Ashlandia spring weather.
Been reading and digesting the news. I know what I make of things. I see that on the political spectrum’s right side, they’re either cherry-picking info or hiding it. Cherry-picking as in, “Look how strong the market was Wednesday.” Hiding, as in, crickets about inflation and the price of eggs. Eggs bounced up into record realms. Rising prices were offset by Trusk Regime imports from Turkey and South Korea.
“Turkey and South Korea,” my wife said. “Wonder if the tariffs will change that.”
Looking out the window, I noted the weather change. The Neurons perversely seized the weather change and fired up “Call Me the Breeze”. They had the 1974 Lynyrd Skynyrd cover of the JJ Cale classic going in the morning mental music stream in short order.
“Ain’t no change in the weather
Ain’t no change in me
Ain’t no change in the weather
Ain’t no change in me
I ain’t hidin’ from nobody
Ain’t nobody hidin’ from me
h/t Genius.com
I enjoy the LS version but we’re not all the same, so here’s Eric Clapton and JJ Cale doing another offering.
And then we have an offerin’ by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.
I find them fine but in different ways. Hope one suited your Frida taste buds.
Coffee and I have metaphorically joined hands once again. Hope your Frida is going strong and just gets better and better, and I’m not being snarky when I say that.
Cheers
A woeisme fugue is shrouding my mind.
“I give up.” My wife shook her head as she spoke. A heavy sigh followed. She explained that she spoke to her sister and niece yesterday. The two live in Florida. Both are intelligent and vivacious individuals. College educated. Democrats. Trump despisers. Sis is my age. She owns her own business. Daughter works in sales and marketing. Neither were aware that Trump had just passed his tariffs. Nor were they aware that the stock market had been dropping. They weren’t aware of most of the news that had my wife’s head spinning. In fact, her forty-year-old niece had decided that Thursday was the perfect day to invest in the stock market for the first time.
“My sister is a low-information person,” my wife said. “She’s always been like that. She used to be on top of her business dealings but now she’s moved away from those. She just wants to relax and not worry about things.”
I understand how my wife feels. We were shopping in Medford yesterday. Nobody seemed to be doing any prepping buying. In fact, the shoppers seemed like happy, oblivious people.
My wife had noticed this with her coffee group friends. Most seemed serenely oblivious to what Trump was doing. Several were planning their summer vacations.
“Is it just us and our tribe?” I wondered.
Maybe. My beer group members are acutely aware of what’s going on. It significantly depresses the female members. The male members are grim. But all have worried and wondered, what should we do to prepare?
“I don’t think most people know what’s going on,” my wife said. “And I don’t think they care.”
I agreed. “I don’t think they’ll notice until it hits them in the face. Then they’ll think, hey, what happened? Why is the national park closed? Did you see the state of that bathroom? It’s filthy! They’ll wonder why the water and sky is dirtier. They’ll try to buy a new car and will have sticker shock. They’ll try to eat out and discover businesses have closed, and those that are open will cost a lot more than they expected.”
My wife said, “You said one thing wrong.”
“What?”
“‘Then they’ll think.'”
And the band played on.
Mood: Fogbound
Rolling out of bed and ambulating down the hall, I checked the windows where my eyes met a wall of fog. Inspiration seizing me, I reversed course and dropped my head back into its indentation on my pillow. A floof’s unending breakfast song forced a reassessment of my moment after an indeterminant amount of additional Zzzs. I rolled back out of my warm coccoon of sheets and blankets and gave it the old Ashlandia try once more.
This is Saturday. January 11. 2025.
Yarp, fog socks us in. 37 F, air stagnation advisory, high of 42 expected, sunshine is being offered if we can slip fog’s tenacious grasp. Then it might be a pretty day.
Or not. As the barista related to me yesterday morning, “I was on the phone with my room mate and she said, ‘Oh, it’s a pretty day. Think I’ll go outside and do something.’ Then, five minutes later, it was foggy and pouring rain.” Yep, and it didn’t stop until daylight no longer let us in on what was going on outside.
The state of fog has fog-themed music energizing The Neurons. But some of ’em were hooked on an earlier thought about breakfast. Shuffling around, The Neurons pulled up Breakfast in America. Released in 1979, the album gained a life in my music rotation. See, this was back in an era when I bought music albums. Through tech’s evolution, the media shifted. Vinyl, tape, CD, whatev, we hooked the album up with the appropriate device and played the album. By then, I was 23 and made enough money that I could drop $8 on a new album now and again. Put it in perspective, gasoline was less than a dollar a gallon and a cup of coffee was usually less than two. Also, phone service was waaaayyyy cheaper and we didn’t have the net. We in the U.S. had cable and paid less than ten a month for basic.
So you’d take your new album home and play and listen to it while cleaning the house, washing and waxing the car, making and eating meals, and other activities. Happened with sufficient frequency that the songs came to be known in order. Every note and nuance was etched into The Neurons’ aural wetware. Today, they began playing the album for me in my morning mental music stream (Trademark droppy).
First song up is a guitar & keyboard-driven offering to Hollywood, “Gone Hollywood”. Supertramp wasn’t happy about the place at first. Complaints about life and Hollywood interspersed with moody sax playing. Real picker-up with lyrics like, “Ain’t nothing new in my life today. Ain’t nothing true, it’s all gone away.”
But the self-pity fades after the guitar solo and musical bridge. A more upbeat mood takes over. “I’m the talk of the boulevard. So keep your chin up boy, forget the pain, I know you’ll make it if you try again. There’s no use quitting when the world is waiting for you.”
Then there’s the rest of the album. Several hits on there. “The Logical Song.” “Goodbye Stranger.” “Take the Long Way Home.” Yeah, you might know those, if you’re of a certain age and musical preference, or if you drove around with the automobile’s music turned to pop stations in the 1980s.
The fog hasn’t let up but coffee and I made a pact, and it’s going to carry me through the trough of the day. Be good, be real. Here’s the music, and off we go, into the wild gray yonder.
Cheers
Mood: Grrrrumpy
It’s raining again. Alexa notified me at 8 PM (or 2000 hours if you prefer) that it was going to start raining near me, starting around 12 AM and going intermittently until 8 PM. About 1.3 inches of rain was expected.
I was listening to the rain hitting the roof, pinging off the vents, splattering the windows, and asked, “Is it raining now?”
“Rain is expected to start at 9:30 PM.”
“Alexa, feedback. It’s 8 PM and it’s raining now.”
Rainy, gray, it’s warmish again, 50 F with a high of 52 F suggested and a low of 46 F. The gray light slanting in through the windows does nada to brighten my mood. Fog swirls around mountain pines and peaks. Dark and pretty in a tragic “Wuthering Heights” sort of fashion.
A perusal of news headlines has me opimistic for 2025. (Yes, that was snark.) Things like the costs of owning and driving a car are jumping. This was a California story. The average price paid for a new car was over $47K. Now it’s jumped to over $52K. And insurance is climbing as well. Again, it’s California, but what happens in California usually ripples out. And, this is before any PINO Trump tariffs are issued.
Then a jolly story covered how the Alum Rock school district is closing or consolidating schools. Oh, boy, let me quit reading that.
Another story told me eggs, already pricy, are going up because of the bird flu. And a related news article informed me that animals were dying from being infected with the bird flu from eating tainted meat.
Next came a recounting that those anti-vaxxing efforts in Louisana are having an effect. Louisana is seeing cases of the flu climb. Surprised? No. They’re one of two states in a ‘Very High ILI’ category. The other state is…Oregon.
What? My state. WTF? Chasing that down, I learn, gosh, vaccinations for COVID-19, RSV, and the flu are trailing data from last year, which was already trailing data from the year before. So the flu, etc., are up.
Grrrrrreat. Yes, that is sarcasm.
I got out of the news before I turned to the national and international scenes. Mood was cratered enough, thanks.
The Neurons already had music picked out and going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sagging). “Forty Days and Forty Nights” is a 1956 blues number by Muddy Waters. The Neurons had it in my head solely on the line, “Sun shinin’ all day long, but the rain keep falling down.” Yes, it hasn’t been forty solid days if I judge on empirical evidence; it just feels like it to the wife, me, and others who engage in conversations about the weather. The ground is saturated. Rivers and creeks are up. Flooding is possible. On the possy side, our drought seems over for our part of Oregon. Other parts of the state remain abnormally dry.
Could be worse, I remind myself. We are not snowbound, etc.
The Forty Days version I selected was a Steppenwolf cover. Mom bought me the album, Steppnwolf 7, for Christmas in 1970, when the song and I were both fourteen. It has sentimenal attachments to me, see.
Okay, coffee and I have worked out an arrangement for this morning whereby I’ll brew it and pour it into my mouth and swallow. Seems like I’m doing all the work here, but I benefit from it. I don’t think coffee gets anything except perhaps some emotional satisfaction from helping me through the day. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 