Sunshine was beaming in, trying to move the needle on this Thirstdaz. Clouds dropped in, muting the sunshine, dousing us with an instant chill. 39 F around my house, the thermometer hopes to see the low fifties today. It’s December 4, 2025. After a mildly wet few months, we’ve suddenly gone cold and dry. Feels like winter out there on many morns.
A friend’s spouse passed away. Most of is learned of it last night. He’d been on hospice for eighteen months, and she carried so much of the caring and the worrying during that long goodbye. Now that he’s gone, she seems ready to step back into her own life again. I only met him a few times, briefly, but always liked his presence. The old photos of him — long dark hair, guitar in hand somewhere in Texas — suggest a version of him I wish I’d known. Wherever he’s headed now, I hope the road is kind. Moments like this tend to shift a group’s energy; the news seemed to quiet all of us, each in our own way. That’s the thing about a death: it sends you off in unexpected directions. Even had me thinking about a novel titled News of a Death.
In honor of Steve Cropper, I’m going with a song that features him. He was one of those musicians and songwriters who helped build my appreciation of popular music and where it can take us by his many contributions. Here’s the Blues Brothers on SNL playing “Soul Man”. And there is grinning Steve Cropper, having fun, playing the guitar, part of the scene.
Occurred to me after posting something about Trump and the records he’s setting, I overlooked his new record of giving pardons. No firm proof has been established but there are allegations and accusations that Delusive Donny is selling pardons. He certainly favors the wealthy, no matter the crime that won them conviction. Nothing like the chief enforcer of the nation’s law and order to undermine and break the system again and again and again and again and again…
My wife also shared a piece with me where some on the right are applauding Trump’s naps. They claim they think it’s smart of him. Yes, we laughed our rear ends off at their deep efforts to spin Trump’s shortcomings, the very same shortcomings for which they previously denigrated President Joe Biden.
Coffee has been poured into the system. Ready to make like a flea and jump. Hope peace and grace makes their way into your day. Cheers
Summery wisps are present for Sunda, October 5, 2025, in Ashlandia. Now 57 F, sunshine and blue skies say summer but the trees’ scarlets, oranges, golds, and yellows remind us, no, we’re turned the seasonal corner. Still, 75 F is our projected high. Good day for getting outside for yard chores. Papi approved, to judge from his floofverbals — tail up, eyes slitting in appreciation as a sun pool is turned into a floofspot. He commences a lazy spruce up of his whiskers.
Several interesting articles were read this AM. One is an Adam Gabbatt analysis in The Guardian addressing Trump’s increasing strange behavior.
The column highlighted Trump’s AI use to portray Rep. Hakeem Jeffries as Hispanic, a strange and silly ploy which drew Hispanic anger against Trump. That was stacked atop the right-wing conspiracy about med beds shared in a Trump tweet (later deleted), his unfounded ideas about pregnant women using Tylenol, and Trump’s pingpong attention span. Trump went from the Michigan synagogue shooting, where he promised to keep people updated and then never posted about it again, to bragging about the tacky gold decoration he’s added to the Oval Office to his dissatisfaction with an NFL kickoff rule. Then he talked about how presidents walk.
“America is respected again as a country. We were not respected with Biden. They looked at him falling down stairs every day. Every day, the guy’s falling down stairs.”
Trump continued: “I said: ‘It’s not our president. We can’t have it.’ I’m very careful, you know, when I walk downstairs for – like I’m on stairs, like these stairs, I’m very – I walk very slowly. Nobody has to set a record, just try not to fall because it doesn’t work out well. A few of our presidents have fallen and it became a part of their legacy.
“We don’t want that. Need to walk nice and easy. You not have – you don’t have to set any record. Be cool, be cool when you walk down, but don’t, don’t bop down the stairs. That’s the one thing with Obama, I had zero respect for him as a president, but he would bop down those stairs, I’ve never seen – da da da da da da, bop, bop, bop, he’d go down the stairs, wouldn’t hold on. I said, it’s great, I don’t want to do it. I guess I could do it, but eventually bad things are going to happen and it only takes once, but he did a lousy job as president.”
Those of us who regularly Trump watch were wearily unsurprised. No, we’re more amazed that the GOP cynically not just accepts Trump’s surreal behavior but actually celebrate and support it. Meanwhile, Trump grows more violent, more eager to use the military every day. Attacks against Venezuela have escalated without any checks being offered by Congress about WTF is going on. And Trump regularly drools over chances of sending in military, even threatening to use the 82nd Airborne, into American cities run by Democrats.
The other article catching my attention was more direct about Trump and his growing wars.
That’s the heart of the matter, isn’t it: Trump is conducting a war on reality, and bringing his alternate reality and self-created facts and history into our reality. That’s the old square peg in a round hole problem. Trump reality is wholly at odds with truth, facts, medicine, and history, and often wars with logic. This piece is by Andrew O’Hehir in Salon. O’Hehir writes,
This war on the world has both fictional goals and real ones, and the fact that those are incompatible is, once again, not a fundamental problem for Trump’s courtiers or adherents. There’s no hypothetical version of global equilibrium in which the United States is simultaneously the dominant superpower and also an isolationist fortress-state with zero immigration. I would guess that Trump loves the sound of that but doesn’t follow the logic too far, while the people who intend to outlast him just “yes queen” along and roll their eyes. Their goal is more doable: leveraging American power to ensure the continued dominance of the billionaire elite for at least as long as our planet remains habitable. (They’re aware that it probably shouldn’t be advertised that way.)
This is how many of us have viewed Trump and MAGALand since early days. I recommend reading the entire article.
The summer/autumn blend has The Neurons feeding me a song about summer. Called “Summer”, by Calvin Harris. This video of young people at a show having fun was amusing to me to watch. Hope it doesn’t something for you, too.
Coffee has again answered the call. Peace and grace are still hanging back, despite my naked dance under the moonlight last night. Hope peace and grace get here soon. Till then, cheers.
Munda arrives with little sun, a hint of rain, and a glaze of smoke. The air quality has improved to the mid sixties, a moderate rating. With sparse sunshine and thickening clouds, the temp now of 63 F is not far off an expected high of 68 F. This is September 29, 2025.
Reading about Trump and his unholy assault on morality, justice, equality, and freedom inspired The Neurons. What’s unreal about Trump is that his supporters claim they’re all about Christianity. They’re selective about that, prizing money over helping the poor and sick, and are eager to club strangers over the head or shoot them on sight, if they’re not the right color. We’ve had multiple mass shootings again, a situation that’s worsening. Trump blames violence on ‘the left’. That’s how it is in his alternate reality. In the real world, the right are the killers with guns, carrying out Trump’s violent, hateful agenda. He’s tacitly encouraging that violence by pretending it’s the left. That situation will worsen and eventually eat the Republicans and their base alive. Once that happens, maybe some sane governing can take place. Meanwhile, thinking of Trump and his Project 2025 right-wing approach has “Unholy” by Sam Smith playing in the morning mental music stream.
While I’m mocking the GOP, TACO first sniffed that he wasn’t dealing with Democrats and their ‘outrageous demands’. Then he lied his ass off to give himself cover, blaming Democrats for the impending government shutdown. Polls and feedback quickly bit him because suddenly he’s inviting a few to chat with them about the budget.
Also high on the mocking list is that pious religious bullshit artist, Speaker Mike Johnson – R (Hell). Fearful of having those Epstein files released because of what they’ll show about his master, Rep. Johnson is refusing to sit the newest Democrat representative to the House. Must be quite a bit of unsavory info, perhaps even information on crimes, involving DJ Trump in that file. Wouldn’t be a surprise, as smirking Jeffrey Epstein and smirking Donnie Trump were known as smirking BFFs.
Hope that grace and peace find their way to us before too much longer. Meanwhile, awaken and abide by your resilience. Coffee helps me. Think I’ll have another. Here we go again. Cheers
Papi’s sour expression talked down the weather change. Colder at night, he’s happier in a comfortable shadow on a hot day. I feel him. Yesterday’s temperature rocketed up to 98 F at our place, then drooped to 54 F overnight. With have blue skies and sunshine but shifting angles have us yielding to cold mountain air at night. 72 F now, it’s wonderful outside. Delightful place to visit with a ginger floof and a cuppa coffee to soak up sunshine. But it’ll peg the mid 90s before the Earth’s curve cuts off our sun supply. Then the mid fifties will take over, temp wise. Politically, we’ll keep dropping until we’re in the early 1800s.
This is Wenzda, September 24, 2025. If you thought the Dementor in Chief’s power would be waning by now, you’d be half right. It’s waning, but he doesn’t know it. As always, he’ll be the last to know.
The Neurons were working as dreams were ending. While I dismantled the dreams and picked through the pieces for whys and whats, The Neurons cranked up “1999” by Prince in the morning mental music stream. I laughed at that. Clever Neurons. Back in the 1980s when Prince wrote this beat, he was proposing a party for 1999 because that was to be end of an era. All this was based on a Nostradamus prophecy. After 1999 came dystopia.
Then the 2000s began. The hanging chad Florida voting fiasco. Gore v. Bush. 9/11. Global War on Terror. Attacks on Afghanistan. Iraq. Then, Trump, and Trump again. Tearing into basic fundamentals of our nation. National Guard units are being deployed to opposition cities based on Trumped Reality. Aided by the Supreme Court, it’s now okay to discriminate on the basis of skin color to arrest and deport people — without due process because the man ordering it is now above the law — but it’s bad to adjust for shortcomings to advance people in employment, culture, and education based on their skin color. “Free speech for me but not for thee” is a growing Trump thing as he shuts down even complaints against him, let alone protests.
So, thinking on it, a quarter century after 1999, we should party like it’s 1999. Because we were culturally, socially, and politically more advanced back then, and going in the right direction. Now, as polls will tell you, we’re veering into an ugly, ugly place. It’s the wrong direction. And Trump the Disuniter isn’t going to do anything but make it worse and accelerate the decline.
I bet Trump’s BFF, Jeffrey Epstein, his running partner of that earlier era, would also agree, things are going to crap.
Have coffee, will function. Hope peace and grace climb out of their graves and finds us all. May it begin today. Cheers
My phone was ringing and dinging with a plethora of text messages. I clicked on the app to see WTF was going on. My phone tried calling people. Sighing, I rolled out of bed. 6:48.
Sunshine was again championing the blue summer sky. 58 F now, it’d be 84 F later. A thin line of nascent white clouds trouble the sky blue from being as rich and pure as possible. I tried again to check messages but they wouldn’t come up on an app. My sister, though, corresponds with me on a separate app. Her summaries detailed an overnight firefight in The Mom Saga between Mom, her boyfriend, his family, and my family.
I exercised to engage my muscles and get blood moving in the right direction and consulted my Fitbit for the results. Fitbit hadn’t registered anything. Some scrolling revealed that my Fitbit was fritzing. WTF.
Thirstda, June 26, 2025, was not off to an inspiring launch. Maybe coffee and perusing the news would help. Meanwhile, I would reboot my Fitbit and phone. I mean by that, turn them on and off. That’s often modern technology’s rudimentary fixes: turn it off and back on. It failed this time, leaving me with some WTF mumbling to my caffeinating self. Almost in parallel, I went to the net via computer to search for help. Blank pages came up. Really, WTAF?
Finagling of computer settings were engaged. Results showed. Turning off the Fitbit and turning it on again a few times, I drank coffee and considered the failed results. With coffee in, brain neurons engaged in what was going on.
Hey, they said, did you notice that the time is going backwards on the Fitbit?
Whaaat? I answered. Yes. Each time I turned the FB off and on, the time it showed went further back.
The Neurons said, This has happened before.
I’d tried snyncing the Fitbit with the app. That failed. The app kept telling me that an update was available. But It also told me that the update was already installed.
Well, hold on, partner, The Neurons said. The app is probably hung.
Of course.
Bringing the app up, I worked a hard shutdown on the phone. Yep, that fixed all Fitbit problems.
Thank god for coffee.
Tethered to my computer and technological issues, The Neurons are huddling with songs about freedom. The morning’s hours have sprinted away. Solomon Burke ends up singing “None of Us Are Free” in the morning mental music stream. A line resonates with me: “If you don’t say its wrong, then you say it’s right.” Yep. That’s how I view those Trump voters who say, “I didn’t vote this. I don’t support it.” You spoke with your actions. “The truth is shining bright right before our eyes.”
On into the day I go. Hope you have a better one. Cheers
Clouds are climbing over the mountains and shouldering the blue sky and sunshine out of the valley. It’s Thursda, June 19, 2025. Today will tap out in the low to mid 70s after breaking down to the low fifties, all Fahrenheit, in the night. Rain might be coming tomorrow, along with lower temperatures.
We’re watching a fire to our west. In the Upper Applegate/Ruch area, it’s already eaten over 350 acres. Firefighters are working it; the cooler temperatures are helping. Some smoke is slipping our way, taxing our air quality.
News about Mom is not readily available. When we last left her story, she’d been taken to the hospital where, at a few minutes after midnight, they weren’t sure they were keeping her or discharging her. She was constipated and in intense pain. They don’t know what’s causing the pain.
Today’s music is by the O’Jays. “Love Train” is part of the Philly sound. Coming out in 1972, many call it early disco but I book it as R&B. Whatever genre you label it, the song was part of a more optimistic period, when we were saying, hey, peace and brotherhood are good things and they are possible. It’s possible for us all to live side by side and not just survive but thrive. Some, though, fell behind while others were thriving. Contemptuous neer’ do wells use the gap to wedge people further apart and pour hate in. Whatever someone hates or doesn’t like, they find someone on ‘the other side’ to hate for it. The Neurons hooked it when a snatch of song was heard which may have been “Love Train”. So here we are.
It’s a short entry. I’m off for oral surgery now. Coffee, food, and any fluids are currently off limits. See you on the rebound. Cheers
Munda broke upon us like a soulless morning, 50 F and cloud. Sunshine that seemed hungover peeped in on us. Blue skies sluggishly swept in since and the temperatures drew up into the upper sixties, delivering a cool summerish morning on June 16, 2025.
The 2025 No Kings protests heartened me. So did the poor turnout for the DC parade. I believe mango TACO will respond first by lying. Second, brooding, sulking, and blaming the media and Dems. Third, by lashing out. And fourth, by being a bully. He’ll want to do something to restore his self esteem and regain the respect and admiration which he thinks he deserves. No, he doesn’t deserve it; he’s earned none of that. But he’ll decide he’ll need to be decisive, tough, and forceful. Which direction will he flash? What tools will he use? How long until it comes. Hopefully, it won’t be too over-the-top as in “Let’s attack another country.” But only Trump has the controls on the TACO Express and the track is rickety and unsteady.
While reading news and speculating, I’m wondering, with others, what’s with the KC135/KC46 tanker force deployment? 32 headed to the European theater Sunday night. It’s a suspiciously large number and Defense and the Air Force are being mum about it. Could be part of an exercise but the military PR machine usually likes highlighting those activities in a sort of ‘look at us! look what we can do!’ way.
Today’s music is a cover of “People Get Ready” written by the late, wonderful Curtis Mayfield. Here are some Wikipedia details about the song.
“People Get Ready” is a 1965 single by the Impressions, and the title track from the People Get Ready album. The single is the group’s best-known hit, reaching number three on the Billboard R&B chart and number 14 on the Billboard Hot 100. The gospel-influenced track was a Curtis Mayfield composition that displayed the growing sense of social and political awareness in his writing.
The gospel-influenced track was written and composed by Curtis Mayfield, who was displaying a growing sense of social and political awareness in his writing. Mayfield said,
“That was taken from my church or from the upbringing of messages from the church. Like there’s no hiding place and get on board, and images of that sort. I must have been in a very deep mood of that type of religious inspiration when I wrote that song.“
Once again, it’s Mai 17, 2025. This time, it’s Saturda. It was a rainy night and a drenched morning in Ashlandia. Irritated me a bit. What’s new? I’m often irritated. In this instance, I’ve been cleaning the garage and had stuff outside and was out of time/energy/daylight. So I asked Alexa, “Will it rain?” They responded with comments about clouds and temperatures. My wife and I asked the machine point blank three times. Same answer each time.
Two hours later, Alexa has a notification for me: it’s going to rain soon. Like, WTF? Shoes and suitable clothes donned, I went outside to rearrange things and cover them with tarps. Yes, I was irritated.
It’s warmer and sunny now, but don’t look for too much heat in Ashlandia today. 55 F and cloudy, the high end of the scale will read 61 before it starts dropping again.
Meantime, when I went to relax with some streaming last night, Prime was no longer available. That WTF moment led to a WTF hour of testing, uninstalling, re-installing, researching, etc. Nothing fixed it, and I could not find information about a greater trend or problem among the masses. No, it seemed to be me alone. No, I could not fix it. Several background pieces: I used Roku to stream television in several rooms. Prime was received fine on those Rokus. Yes, Roku was updated. Yes, the Prime app was updated. Yes, the Internet connection was solid. No, an outage for Prime wasn’t reported. Yes, I rebooted the system. Yes, I uninstalled and reinstalled Prime. Many others have been through this fiasco in the past. Most report nothing worked but the system mysteriously and abruptly returned to normal on its own. I’ll see if that’s the case with us later today. I recognize that this is basically first world blues.
Several songs challenged for supremacy in the morning mental music stream. First, another blogger wrote about a song Connie Francis sang. That inspired The Neurons to shift another Connie Francis song, “Stupid Cupid”, from 1959, into the morning mental music stream. I was three when it came out but Mom played it regularly on her stereo, so I knew it pretty well.
Next, inexplicably, The Neurons introduced “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter“, a song which was released the year before Mom was born. It’s been covered by so many singers and acts. The Neurons sampled several before settling on an old favorite by Willy Nelson.
Dropping into the day’s rhythm, though, reading the news, I ended up with Teddy Swims performing “Bad Dreams”. That song was raised because of Trumpgames. PINO Trump is warning a business, Walmart’s, not to pass on the costs to consumers. “President Donald Trump warned Walmart on Saturday against raising its prices, writing on Truth Social that he will “be watching.” Because, you know, Trump knows that high prices are bad for business, but they’re worse for him because he triggered this unneeded trade war. So his solution to higher prices is to tell corporations to tell their shareholders and employees to tighten their belts for the good of Donald Trump. That’s what it comes down to. He raised the prices and he doesn’t want to face the consequences for what he’s done. As always, he wants to dodge the truth and avoid responsibility. It’s one of his standard routines. It’ll be interesting to see what happens with Walmart and their prices, given that Walmart and the Walton family, support Trump and the GOP.
Two, of course, Trump’s warning contradicts how he sold tariffs as a tax which other countries paid.
“She is a liar. She makes up crap … I am going to put tariffs on other countries coming into our country, and that has nothing to do with taxes to us. That is a tax on another country,” Trump said.
So riddle me this, PINO Trump and MAGA: if another country pays the tariff, why is PINO Trump warning Walmart not to raise prices to cover the tariffs?
Well, we know why. It was Trump lying when he accused Vice-President Harris of lying. That is his way.
The other aspect of Trump’s recent craziness is his roll on the new “F55 fighter.” He mentioned the aircraft during talks in Qatar. As with many things Trump says, this is from another reality. No one else was aware of a proposed “F55”. Nor did anyone know about the F22 Super which Trump referenced. Yes, it’s all bad dreams when leaders skid off into surreal rants about things which don’t exist. Trump does so often. That’s why it’s rich bad dreams materials. Who know what the nutter will say next? What was pretty funny was how right-wing leaning media sources touted this as absolutely true, despite baffled defense industry experts. They either never learn, or these media sites are actively promoting lies as facts in order to support Trump. Yeah, no shit, right?
Here we go: Teddy Swims with “Bad Dreams” from 2024.
I’ve cozied up to a cuppa coffee once again. Time to rock and roll, kids. Cheers
It was a long and involved dream. Here are some dreamlights.
I was a young middle-aged man and head of a small business unit. We were located in a semi-tropical, warm, high humidity area. It was not the United States. Outside of my co-workers, the people I knew had all lived in the same huge brick apartment building. All Americans lived there for at least the first four months after their arrival in counrty.
A black 1968 Camaro Z/28 with silver stripes seen three times. A young man was driving it. In real life, I owned a Camaro but not a Z. Mine was not black and silver. Black and silver were Bruce McLaren’s original colors before he changed the team to Kiwi orange or Gulf orange. McLaren was a New Zealand driver and car constructor I idolized as a boy. I had an HO scale racing car of his black and silver McLaren Elva in my car line up.
Musical groups were offered, including the Suzy Qs. That CCR song, “Suzie Q”, was played. Sam Smith was offered, too. His hit, “I’m Not the Only One” was played. In conversation, I was told that not all offerings were available. A weird and arbitrary fashion was invoked to decreed who could be seen, and who could see them. After listening to that, I rejected that method. Said that I wasn’t going to follow or enforce it because it was stupid, and then left. That ended that.
The weekly entertainment was offered on a waxy red poster on a brick wall outside among some foliage. 80 pounds was listed as the admission price for one of them. Hearing that, I opted not to go. A friend was sunbathing nearby. I lied and told her I wasn’t going because there was a baby shower for a woman living in the building the same night as the concert.
Saw two therapists, both women. The therapists were seen three times total. I walked with one of them, talking to her about some of my career frustrations and disappointments. When I saw the other therapist a second time, she couldn’t find my records. I then told her that I’d spoken to the other therapist about that therapist, and then told that therapits what I’d told the other therapist.
The space and time continuum of today says its April 14, 2025, in Ashlandia. Sunshine hunts the spaces between the blinds. Pulling the blinds, blue sky rises into place. They say it’ll reach 26 C today. That’s 80 F for Fahrenheit fans. Right now it’s 58 F. Stand in the sun and it feels like it’s over 70.
The cat is out there acting like the sun king. Yesterday was a 74 F day of sunshine. We had the back door open to let it all in. The cat came in and slept against a wall, under a window in the living room, ten feet away from the open door. He later tail rushed me, asking to be let out the front. My wife said, “You know, the back door is open, Papi.” Papi eeped back. I let him out front. He settled into a favorite space between two bushes in a patch of sun against the house. Scheckter established that spot nineteen years ago. Quinn, Lady, and Tucker owned it for many years. Papi continues to ensure it’s used.
Loaded dreams were had last night. Not a great amount of action but a load of of information. Two songs were included in the dream. One was Sam Smith singing, “I’m Not the Only One” from 2014. Startling to realize that song is already a decade old. Still feels ‘new’ to me. I think that’s how it goes when you age and time speeds up for you.
The other song was CCR’s “Suzie Q”. Hard as it was to accept that “I’m Not the Only One” is ten years old, comprehending that “Suzie Q”, spelled differently than the original, “Susie Q”, is more than 50 years old. A large slug of coffee is needed to digest that. Some serious reminiscing follows about hearing the song as a twelve year old, remembering it being played at parties and gatherings, singing along. There’s a lot of that in fifty years.
A video that fit my needs of CCR performing Suzie Q wasn’t found, so I went with John Fogerty doing the song. Hope you don’t mind.
Coffee has encroached on my systems, lifting me up again. Hope your Monday weather satisfies your scratch and that you discover the secrets needed to make it happily through more days. I’m going out into the sunshine to drink coffee and forget about this year for a few minutes. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 