Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
When the White House first released the plans for the ballroom on July 31, Trump told reporters that the 90,000-square-foot addition would be “built over on the east side and it will be beautiful.”
“It’ll have views of the Washington Monument. It won’t interfere with the current building,” he said. “It’ll be near it but not touching it and pay total respect to the existing building, which I’m the biggest fan of.”
As roaring machinery tore down one side of the White House, President Trump acknowledged on Wednesday that he was having the entire East Wing demolished to make way for his 90,000-square-foot ballroom, a striking expansion of a project that is remaking the profile of one of the nation’s most iconic buildings.
Mr. Trump was unsentimental as news of the demolition spread. “It was never thought of as being much,” he said of the East Wing, which was home to the first lady’s office and spaces used for ceremonial purposes. “It was a very small building.”
The East Wing went from being a place where Trump said, “I’m the biggest fan of” it to “It was never thought of as being much.”
Just one more example of his many tens of thousands of lies. Again.
Solid proof of why he can’t be trusted. Again.
Clear substance that nothing matters to him, not even what he said before. Again.
Munda’s temperature topped out at 99 F around my house. Thunderstorms rolled in. Enough rain drops were issued to prompt some petrichor but mostly the clouds blocked the sun and crashed the temp down to 83 F in less than an hour. Hurrah for that! Twosda, June 10, 2025, has a 91 F high on hand for Ashlandia.
I read Tangle’s coverage of the protests last night. Tangle presents sample right and left side reactions to the news. Nichole Russell’s USA Today’s article was cited for the right. Russell wrote this:
“It’s important to note that ICE agents aren’t arresting just anyone. The Department of Homeland Security reported that the arrests in Los Angeles included people accused of drug trafficking, assault, cruelty to children, domestic violence, robbery and the smuggling of illegal immigrants.”
She repeats several fact-free memes and basically wants us to trust the Department of Homeland Security and the masked ICE gunmen sent out snatch people off the streets. It’s important to note, these people are ‘accused’ of crimes, but, gosh, what happened to innocent until proven guilty? It’s important to note, the the ICE personnel rarely show faces, insigniar, badges, or documents. We’re supposed to trust these people hiding their faces.
I struggle to trust DHS and the Trump Regime. They’ve been caught lying, ignoring court orders, and dismissing the Constitution. They try to rearrange history and semantics to make it seem like not everyone in the United States is entitled to due process. Well, let me tell you, respect and trust aren’t given; they need to be earned. The Trump Regime and the right wing are doing nothing to earn either from me, with a few exceptions, as others remind me, such as Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger.
Today’s music is “Nowhere Man” by The Beatles. I can’t honestly pinpoint what The Neurons were thinking when they plugged the 1965 song into the morning mental music stream. It might have been caused by a dream. Could also be triggered by Trump antics as the lyrics go,
He’s as blind as he can be
Just sees what he wants to see
Nowhere man can you see me at all
I’m off to the dentist! See you in about five hours. Have the best one you can. Cheers
I kind of cringe and debate about answering this. It feels like bragging. But I’m gonna take a deep breath and put it out there.
I received the same compliment from six different people, six different times. It really felt flattering, receiving it every time, and I glow as I remember it now. Each of these people were individuals I respected. So I thought it the best compliment when each called me years after they’d last worked for me and said, “You’re the best person I ever worked for.”
I mean, you know, I tried. I think many do try to be a good boss, someone who is honest to their people, trying to help them grow, and hopefully developing bonds. Half of those people who called were from my military career, and the other half were from my civilian positions. Regardless of whether I was in the military or a civilian, my stance as ‘boss’ was driven by several tenets. One, treat everyone with respect. Two, trust people. Three, be honest. Four, teamwork and communicating are critical to get things done. And five, the best evidence that you’re a good leader is how well your team does when you’re not around. So after all those years, to get those calls, man, it was satisfying and rewarding.
Probably a good thing that they waited and called me up to tell me that, though. Otherwise, it would have gone right to my head.
Sunda, February 2, 2025, arrived in Ashlandia as inviting as a gray, wet mop. Sunshine feels like an alien life form. 35 F, the thermometer says the air temp is, and ‘they’ tell me that the temperature will punch up to 36 F. Light snow is falling.
Kind of light snow is falling. Sometimes, it’s rain, sometimes it’s sleet. A position can’t be staked and claimed for the local weather. Reactions on NextDoor about the weather are frequently amusing about this. “The forecast is for rain. Or snow! Maybe we’ll get zero inches, maybe we’ll get 88! Who knows?!!!” I can imagine someone looking a little wild-eyed and giggling to themselves typing this up. But she has aptly captured the general flow of thoughts.
Part of all this is elevation. Ashland is built on a series of southern mountain slopes. Weather changes are experienced as you slipslide up and down. Our house resides around 2100 feet. Looking up the street, where elevation increases a few hundred more, snow is visible lining roofs.
A winter storm warning is out for our area, so ‘they’ think it’s gonna be something. The rest of us are giving the forecast a jaundiced ‘we’ll see’ gaze. It is good soup weather. Soup, with hot buttered bread, as been conditioned into me. Mom had a practice of dishing out soup on days like this. Campbell’s had advertising campaigns predicated on the need. My wife is also out of that school. Her eyes and expression gain a little light as she states the idea, “This looks like a good soup day.” Best of all on a day like this, with trouble in the news — I haven’t looked but this is now the Trump era, and that’s all there is since he’s been installed as POTUS — would be a big bowl of Mom’s chili. She had an awesome recipe, and I could eat that stuff eight days a week.
Today’s theme music emerges from more conversations with my wife. A lifelong feminist who took on the ideology that everyone is born with equal rights regardless of anything else at an early age, the Trump’s administration to break the world and shove us back into the 1800s has her GRRRRRRR cranked up to eleven. The match point from the convos is that Trump respects nothing. We suspect that he doesn’t even have much self-respect; although he blusters about how great it is, his statements ring with a desperate need to be believed. That’s why he lieks his rallies, where the gullibles line up to worship him as he needs.
The other portion of these talks is that Elon Musk doesn’t respect the Trumpet at all. Being genuinely more intelligent, craven, and cruel, Musk is eagerly taking advantage of Trump to plunder the United States, with eyes on plundering the world. He has no respect for anyone but himself.
All these talking about respect invited The Neurons to pulled up a song from my teen years and dropped it into the moring mental music stream. “Respect Yourself” begins with the lyrics, “If you disrespect everbody that you run into, how in the world do you think anybody’s gonna respect you?” Trump thinks he can get respect by bullying everyone; he’s convinced himself that’s how it works, and his sycophants feed him a steady diet of ‘you got that right, sir’, so he never hears — or learns — otherwise. So this 1971 tune by The Staple Singers is dedicated to Trump and the Grand Ol’ Trump Party as they go about disrespected all others. No one is gonna give you respect in return.
Beyond the sentiments of the song, I love the funkiness dropped by the electric piano and bass. What a sweet sound. With its beat and vocals, it’s an excellent song to sing along with as you dance around the house. Feel free to turn it up loud.
Coffee has suggested that I have a cup. I didn’t want to be rude, so I agreed. And off we go, into the gray and white yonder. Look, it’s raining again. Or is that snow?
Cheers
I was a young man in this dream — which sounds like it could be the title of something, doesn’t it? — and working in some office. I don’t recall any work details other than I was happy and productive, respected and appreciated by management and my co-workers. A standard variation of the U.S. office space served as setting.
One of my bosses came by and said, “Have you heard of the Pinkerton deal?” I answered that I knew who or what the Pinkertons are, and he replied, “You haven’t heard then. But you will.” He later came by and said, “The Pinkertons have made you an offer, but they want you to move to Austin, Texas. Let me know if you’re interested because we’ll better their offer and move you to Austin. We’d love to have you in Austin.”
I replied, “I’m not interested in moving to Austin so I probably won’t take the deal.”
I received the Pinkerton deal later. I didn’t immediately turn them down because it was a great offer, and I was flattered and impressed. I told them that and they replied that they’d give me the same deal without the need for me to move because they really wanted me to join them.
The same boss as before came by. I told him of the new offer and said I was going to accept it. He said that they wanted to keep me so they would match any offer, and to make sure I spoke with them before I accepted any offers.
Astonished — and again flattered — I agreed. That’s where the dream left it.
Pleasurable dream. I came off as successful beyond what I expected (although others seemed to expect it) and was happy, respected, and admired. I was a hero. Isn’t that what we all want to be?
The first dream found me at a football game. I don’t know what level of playing, team names, or anything like that. A running back, I was on the sideline. It was early in the first quarter. My team was down by a touchdown. Okay, it’s early, that’s not bad, but what was demoralizing was that it didn’t look like we could do anything against their defense.
I watched the play from behind. A running draw, our big back was stuffed and lost yardage. But as I watched the play, I knew that it would be different if it me.
I told the coach. He and the others had already reached the same conclusion and sent me in. When I went in, I was doubtful. I was so much smaller. Anxiety swept me.
Then, the play was over. Back on the sidelines, I’d discovered that I’d scored on a fifty-plus yard run. What a great feeling of celebration. Then I found that it was late in the game; it was almost over. I’d scored three times. The other team hadn’t scored again. We were winning in a blow-out.
I read notes on that first scoring play, when I went in. Smaller, but fast, I was able to duck and spin past the initial rush. Then, according to a guard, “Seidel used him like a lawn mower, pushing me ahead of him down the field and mowing down anything in his way.”
Reading that felt great.
Now, it was off to work. I worked in a space operations center alongside engineers, admin people, radar trackers, etc. I was a high-level position. There was a crises. People were waiting for me to arrive. They believed I could resolve it.
I went right to work. Although my desk was at the front, by the status boards and maps, I worked the room from end to end and side to side, talking with everyone, taking notes, making and taking phone calls, and issuing decisions. The crises was resolved but we stayed busy. I consulted with the engineers over a few things. They were always eager to show me what they were doing.
Some were ending their shift and going for food. I was invited but declined. Others decided that a food run was in order. One scientist held up a script of paper. “Here’s my order,” he declared. “I thought that a food order was going to be taken, so I was ready.”
Taking his note, I read his order. He’d used a cryptic shorthand that made me laugh. I had to puzzle through it to make any sense of it.
A cake with white frosting was delivered. A piece was cut for me. I picked up a plate with the cake and prepared to eat. The dream ended.
Everybody should experience uplifting dreams like these.
He came across a disaster. Dead ants were spread everywhere. Most were smashed into small, curled bodies. Some were obliterated. Ant parts were everywhere.
He couldn’t imagine what’d happened. Down on his hands and knees, he ignored the traffic in the street beside him and mourned their losses, watching as the bodies were collected and carried away. After the final body was gone, he went to rise when he saw the ants come out and face him. All were still for several moments. When he felt an appropriate amount of time had passed, he bowed his head and said, “I’m sorry.”
The ants retreated to resume their lives, and he went on his way.
Michael Seidel, writer 