Weather is dipping our beaks into the winter pot. Rain has shown itself, following a path fashioned by a lumpy charcoal and gray sky carpet. Sunshine has shown no plans to be much involved today, telling us in its slow way, you’re on your own for warmth.
This is March 12, 2025, in Ashlandia. 45 F and light rain, it’s down from an earlier temp of 48 F. 51 F is supposedly the day’s high.
With all the negative news stories raining through our days, another blogger brought out one of the world’s classic protest songs. “Ohio” was written by Neil Young and recorded by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young in response to American National Guard shooting protesting students at Kent State University in May of 1970. What a dark time. Before then, most adult Americans distrusted and blamed the protestors. This event marked the beginning of a change. Shame that such a watershed moment had to be bloody but that’s often the outcome when change is sought, and that’s not just in the United States.
With “Ohio” in my ears, The Neurons began thinking of other famous protest songs. They were soon queuing in my head. One eventually took over the morning mental music stream. “Get Up, Stand Up” was written by Peter Tosh. Bob Marley and the Wailers came out with it in 1973. The lines hooking The Neurons this morning were part of a stanza saying, “You can fool some people sometimes, but you can’t fool all the people all the time. So now we see the light, what you gonna do? We going to stand up for our rights.”
That’s the protest needed now. As the Trusk Regime rages like a fire through people’s rights and needs, burning the protections set up by checks and balances, people need to stand up.
Coffee has stood up for me again. Hope you have a solid day in all needed regards. Time to press on once again. Cheers
Today is Thursday, December 19, 2024. A temptation to change Thursday to Throughsday almost conquered my fingers. ‘Throughsday’ because the week is almost finished. I didn’t change it, as I’m disinclined toward misinformation and confusing people.
In other morning news, a crowd of zombies went through our town. Ha, ha, just kidding. It wasn’t a crowd. Just a couple.
Our weather today looks as if someone delivered elements of fog, clouds, sunshine, and rain. All were tossed together in a big blue bowl. Now they’re up there, waiting to be mixed and blended.
Just after observing and writing all of that, Papi the ginger blade floof, returned with a scouting report. He didn’t need to say anything. Fog had shut down the sunshine, clouds, and blue skies. 46 F out there, it ‘feels like 38’, with a high of 57 dangling over us.
I met with my beer buddies last night. Two new members joined us. She is a retired teacher and physician’s assistant. He is a retired electrical engineer. They have a daughter who works for NASA, and he was a big science fiction fan when he was a kid. Others told him that I sometimes write science fiction. He shifted over to sit by me later in the night and discuss the genre. Lot of fun remembering the novels we had in common which influenced us.
Today’s theme music arrives on the shoulders of a conversation I had with several women last night. They expressed deep disappointment and frustration that more women didn’t turn out to vote in the 2024 election. I didn’t have any insights into that and they couldn’t cite any stats. Young me from several different groups were the dissappointing difference to me. I read interviews with and stories about young black men, for example, who thought Trump would be better for the economy. That still makes me shake my head.
Anyway, after returning home with that conversation in mind, “American Woman” by the Guess Who from 1970 rose into the morning mental music stream (Trademark peeling) today. I always thought the song was about the United States, represented by a woman, seducing countries to be like the United States. The singer was resisting because the United States was a war machine filled with ghettos. The ‘colored lights’ referred to in the song was Hollywood glamor. Remember, the Vietnam War was underway and protests were taking place in the U.S. In light of that backdrop, my interpretation made sense to me. But different interviews with the Guess Who band members painted a different story. The songwriter and vocalist, Burton Cummings, said it was just a comparison of women from the U.S. and Canada.
“What was on my mind was that girls in the States seemed to get older quicker than our girls and that made them, well, dangerous. When I said ‘American woman, stay away from me,’ I really meant ‘Canadian woman, I prefer you.’ It was all a happy accident.”
I became fourteen around the time of the song’s release. It’s uptempo beat, rich bass, unique riffs, lead guitar, lyrics, and vocals all worked for me. Cummings sang it with an angry, contemptuous sneer in my opinion. That spoke to my own burgeoning contempt for how our world and society works. Ah, to be young and idealistic.
Coffee and I have negotiated arrangements and I’m taking advantage of that to warm my throat. Time to light the candle on another day. Here’s the music. Cheers
Get up and look out windows, judging the air’s color. Doesn’t look too bad. Some tinges of smok. A window is cracked opened. The sniff test is employed. Doesn’t smell too bad. The air feels cold.
I go on out into the living area and office, interrogate Alexa and checking my weather station, and then go online and check weather and air quality. It’s 64, and the AQI is in the sixties, not too bad. Doors and windows are opened and complaining floofs are released.
It’s Tuesday, July 23, 2024. Today’s high will be 96 F, so we’re not too bad. It’s the triple digit stuff that really gets to you.
My wife departs to meet some friends at the Growers Market. Yeah, they don’t use an apostrophe. Sirens erupt. Systems are checked to see, where are they going? What’s going on? I printed out the evacuation checklist yesterday. You know, just in guess. It’s sitting here beside me. We always have basic bags ready but maybe we should prepare the whole shebang. Just in case. It’s hot and dry here. Lightning can strike and ignite something without warning. Something to consider.
Out in the news world, it’s no surprise that the Secret Service Director resigned. They were being hounded and the GOP was openly, sharply hostile. That’s their style.
A headline says, “World registers hottest day ever recorded on July 21”. Wasn’t that hot here in Ashlandia. We seem to be contrarians. The article goes on, “Last year saw four days in a row break the record, from July 3 through July 6, as climate change, driven by the burning of fossil fuels, drove extreme heat across the Northern Hemisphere.
Every month since June 2023 – 13 months in a row – has now ranked as the planet’s hottest since records began, compared with the corresponding month in previous years, Copernicus said.
Some scientists have suggested 2024 could outrank 2023 as the hottest year since records began, as climate change and the El Nino natural weather phenomenon — which ended in April — have pushed temperatures ever higher this year.
I imagine Republicans pooh-poohing the news and laughing. In this visual, it’s my staunch BIL MAGAt representing them. “It’s the weather,” he says loudly, shrugging, gesturing with his hands. “It’s always changing. It gets hot, it gets cold, big deal. You liberals.”
Yeah, we liberals are worrying about nothing except the increase in record temperatures — high and lows — and the acceleration of extreme weather. We’re worried about increased flooding and wildfires turning the air dark with smoke. We’re worried about increasing extended droughts and melting glaciers.
Tsk. So silly of us.
The music occupying my morning mental music stream (Trademark iffy) owes its presence to my wife. She was online, surfing. “Oh, I like that,” she says.
I do my spousal duty. “What is it?”
“This tee shirt. It says, I am woman, watch me vote.”
“Yes, that’s good.”
The Neurons pounced. I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore, begins. “I Am Woman”. Helen Reddy. 1971. As I often do with celebrities I haven’t heard or seen in a while, I verify her life status. Died in 2020, 78 years old. No cause of death given.
This is life in the digital age.
The song took on its own life as a anthem of female empowerment back in that last century, when the U.S. was becoming a more progressive nation. I was present at a rally in Caifornia when the female protestors spontaneously sang it A capella. Powerful moment down on Market Street in SF.
The house is cool. Thermostat says it’s 76 F inside. Feels good. I go around closing windows, sealing in the cool air for the day.
Be strong, stay positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has endorsed my systems. I’m ready to rock. Here’s the music. Cheers
Musically, I’m living in the past. Not surprising, is it? The music from the past is more connected to me. I used it to celebrate, grieve, love, and learn.
I was also inundated by it in the past. I commuted everyday and took long road trips by car. Although listening to talk radio, sports, and books on tape competed for my attention, many hours were devoted to pop music, including rock.
I don’t commute much any more. COVID-19 has truncated my traveling opportunities. So, I’m less exposed to new music via radio. I could turn it on in the house, but I generally maintain silence through the day. I’m writing and reading, and not interested in distractions. Which is what all those things were on long drives and morning commutes: distractions from the tedium.
Anyway, this morning found me channeling the 1976 Doobie Brothers song, “Taking It to the Streets”. This is a response to the presidential debates last night. “Oh, you. Telling me the things you’re going to do for me. I’m not blind and don’t like what I think I see.”
I always like videos of live shows, when I can, so I’m sharing a 1982 video of their farewell tour. The band’s energy can often be vicariously experienced, and it makes me smile to see them all young and vibrant once again, you know?
As the coronavirus, economy, and politics dominate the days in negative ways, I thought of Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush performing Peter Gabriel’s quiet and hopeful “Don’t Give Up” (1986).
The song is about struggle, trying, getting beaten, and trying again.
Though I saw it all around
Never thought that I could be affected
Thought that we’d be last to go
It is so strange the way things turn
Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground
Don’t give up, you still have us
Don’t give up, we don’t need much of anything
Don’t give up, ’cause somewhere there’s a place where we belong
Rest your head, you worry too much
It’s going to be alright
When times get rough, you can fall back on us
Don’t give up, please don’t give up Got to walk out of here, I can’t take any more
Gonna stand on that bridge, keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come and whatever may go
That river’s flowing, that river’s flowing
Today’s theme music, “Every Breath You Take” by the Police (1983), was an obvious and unoriginal choice. Coaxed out of the cerebral cortex by images on the TV and net of law enforcement officers watching and attacking protesters, it works on multiple levels about watchers, watching, and being watched. Besides those confrontations, we’re watching COVID-related numbers, election events, and government actions as we gyrate about the best course to kickstart the money machines and normalize life as the case numbers rise.
The Police’s stalking song feels about right on this day in 2020.
We had a Black Lives Matter/Defund the Police protest and march in Ashland this weekend. My wife and I didn’t attend; her underlying health issues increase her vulnerability.
But we drove down to check it out. Hundreds attended. It was peaceful. Most — probably ninety-plus percent — were masked but social distancing wasn’t observed, so mixed bag. Holding our breath on that as the case count continues rising in Oregon.
Young and old, Black, White, Asian, and Latino marched. Later, as we talked about it during “Sixty Minutes”, my wife asked, “Why do we need to keep doing this? When will it permanently change?”
Good question, one that stayed with me this morning. The question prompted a recall of a 2007 Foo Fighters song and video, “The Pretender”. Dave Grohl said in interviews that 2007’s political unrest influenced him when he wrote it. Watching the video, well, you see the same themes as in 2020: protests, taking a knee, confronting police, violence escalating.
Big difference exist between now and 2007. Videos emerge almost weekly of police killing people, almost always Blacks, for little provocation. Too many times, it was brushed aside, hidden again and again. But as it’s happened, it’s just become, too much. The expression, “Black Lives Matter”, arose to express the gulf we see as Blacks were killed or had the police called by Whites for being black. The expression, “Being Karen”, became the code for privileged White people who called the police for such a list of shocking reasoning about why Black people weren’t supposed to be there, or why they were a threat.
“The Pretender” speaks to these things. All those things done by the police hat were hidden or protected are being exposed, again, again, and again. That’s the momentum that keeps this wheel spinning, and will until, finally, Black Lives Matter.
I remembered the Killers’ song, “Human” (2008) this morning. The song has never been a favorite, and its success surprised me. Different tastes, right?
Many were enamored by the line, “Are we human, or are we dancers?” The line evolved from a Hunter Thompson throwaway line about the United States raising a generation of dancers, afraid to step out of line.
The whole thing came back to me as I noted, with some pleasure and approval, that young people were heavily involved in the Black Lives Matters protests. One of the most disheartening parts of protesting in my fifties and sixties was the absence of young people. Didn’t they care? Or were my values so out of step with their values?
Older generations often malign younger generations. My generation, the boomers, were no different. It takes time to filter the world and yourself. Bursts of rebellion against expectations and norms are required and expected, but the way each generation finds to act out and express itself remains different. Social media is the thing now, not taking it to the streets, so the protests are a throwback, old school.
Yeah, rambling. Not sufficient coffee yet to form coherent sentences. Here’s the music. See if you can spot the line (hah!).
This is one of those days when I awoke and for some unknown reason have some song snatch in the stream. Does this happen to others? Am I the only one with a playlist in my head that goes click when I get up and start thinking?
Sure, I’m not. These aren’t the same as earworms, mind you. Sometimes they are earworms, which is a song that’s stuck in your head. There’s a different feel to earworms than just a the mental jukebox flipping something on. These songs aren’t necessarily stuck, just present. I’ll heavily bet that they are related to some auditory cortex wiring, though.
Aside: remembered this WebMD post from a few years ago and dragged it into the light: “Songs Stick in Everyone’s Head”. It mentions reasons related to neurosis and obsessions, and the cognitive itch. As a writer, I become obsessed; that’s a large part of being a writer for me, getting obsessed with ideas, concepts, stories, and characters, and trying to wring them out of my head and into the world in a way that the rest of the world might understand.
Today’s song, “What’s My Age Again?” is from 1999 and a group named Blink-182. I really liked the album name: Enema of the State. Good play on words? With many people and orgs battling ‘the state’ for a variety of reasons, maybe that’s the cognitive itch that supplied my stream with this song.
Or maybe the cognitive itch is the song’s year, 1999. Seems like things really began spinning weird with Bush v Gore and the Florida hanging chads (which could be the name of some kind of group) in the next year. 1999 was a good year for me in my world. Maybe my mind lauds it as the last good year.
Well, here it is. The song, I mean, not my world. It’s a video. I’d not seen it before today, but it’s amusing to watch three naked men (except shoes and socks) running around.
Michael Seidel, writer 