Ashland, southern Oregon.Saturday, September 19, 2026.
Summer is serving up a last hurrah, taking us into the high 80s today and low 90s tomorrow. Sunshine crowns the multi-colored trees and serves up against a deep blue sky.
I’m going to pass on writing about Trump and politics today, so it’ll be a short post.
Today’s music is “Talk of the Town”. It’s in the morning mental music stream after friends and I were talking about the plight of the bears here in southern Oregon. “Talk of the Town” is a 1980 song by the Pretenders. If I was writing about the current national situation, it would be a good song for today.
Sample Lyrics
The rules and such never bothered you You call the shots and they follow
May this day and every day find you safe, free, healthy and happy.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, September 18, 2026.
Another Friday reached, another week trickling toward the end. We drift further into autumn in the northern hemes as they moved toward hot weather south of the equator.
Today has Ashland at 68 F with 83 F on the blue horizons. Leaves are not falling from trees yet, but colors are swarming into the green. Maples are already shimmering with dark reds.
All quiet with Mom and my family. I texted Mom and received one to two words in response. Nothing from any sisters.
Today’s warm sunshine is appreciated. Nicely complements my morning coffee. I usually take it black but my physician suggested that I need more protein in my diet. I now pour some chocolate protein shake into my morning coffee, resulting in a protein mocha, more or less. *smile*
I go through headlines, plucking out information, studying the runes, peering at the tea leaves, hoping for revelations.
Fox News Poll: Squeezed by costs, frustrated voters turn to the Democrats
The omens show a divided nation and a desperate, flailing Trump. Even as I wonder about that, I remember that Trump has always enjoyed being confrontational and combative. He likes to appear defiant and is often bullying, no matter what the circumstances are. He’s rarely conciliatory.
Basically, though, most Republicans still seem to support Trump, according to polls. For a significant part of the GOP coalition, the economy is not the central objective, and his lies and broken promises are not a problem. These are prices they seem willing to pay for cultural dominance, institutional transformation, or the defeat of their perceived enemies.
My overall sense is that we’re in the lull in a storm. More stormy weather is coming.
Der Donald is doing his best to keep us distracted and angry. This week, Trump floated conjecture about demolishing the Kennedy Center because he can’t have his name on it. How very Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! of him. Of course, with any Trump declaration, he can swing swiftly from rhetoric to destruction. Court orders were quickly sought. Whether they’ll slow Trump is debatable. He always claims he’s for law and order but has shown that he doesn’t think it applies to him.
Today’s song is about storms but it came about yesterday. As my wife and I chatted about the novel “John of John” in our home office, we heard thunder. Or it could have been thunder. Maybe it was a passing truck.
Going to the window, we looked out on a confused collage — stormy clouds, bright sunshine, blue sky, distant rain veils. We stayed a bit, continuing to chat but heard no more thunder and saw no lightning.
All that culminated in The Neurons recalling a 1974 Deep Purple song, “Stormbringer”. The song stayed in the morning mental music stream as I read the news and drank my coffee. Part of that is because whenever it’s sunny but rainy, my wife and I look for rainbows. “Stormbringer” references riding a rainbow.
Hope you find a day of rainbows, peace, and good health. Here we go, into another one.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 17, 2026.
Sunny today, but cloudy. 66 F for the moment. 100% chance of thunderstorms, the weather seers tell me, with a high of 78 F.
Mom is back home in the assisted living facility. Suffering laryngitis and diarrhea. Resting in bed, she said, because she feels very tired. Mom has three appointments coming up. She has three medical appointments coming up in September.
I have a new appointment next week. Changing PCPs because my current PCP is leaving to go into private practice, focusing on peptide therapy. I meet my new PCP next week. Hope she turns out to be as good as my last one. Will lightning strike twice?
As expected, Trump launched some more Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! this week.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
I’m not a lawyer but I’ve watched some TV. You’d think that if evidence came out about this plot that any law-abiding, intelligent individual would ensure the authorities had it so that due process could take place and law and order maintained.
No. Not Trump. Instead of doing that, Trump went on social media to bray about it. Which tells us that it’s more fact news. Just another distraction. More Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
That leads us to ask — again — why did Trump make that public claim? Did US intel get it wrong or did Trump hear someone wrong? Perhaps Russia and Ukraine lied to Trump and said they would, to make him appear weak and out of touch.
Or perhaps, truthfully, Trump just pretended this is what happened in order to make it seem like he’s relevant.
These positions and calamities have led to declining support for Trump and his policies. Of course, something from Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! was needed.
We’ve seen enough of Trump to see through his deceptions.
I ended up with Bob Dylan singing “Masters of War” in my morning mental music stream. I think the 1963 release accurately reflects how Trump behaves, hiding, making claims, while destroying our world.
Sample Lyrics
You that hide behind walls You that hide behind desks I just want you to know I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin’ But build to destroy You play with my world Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand And you hide from my eyes And you turn and run farther When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old You lie and deceive
A world war can be won You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes And I see through your brain Like I see through the water That runs down my drain
May your spirit carry you through these times to happier places and a more comfortable and secure life.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Tuesday, September 15, 2026.
Going to warm up to 80 here, giving us a warm late summer day. 57 F under blue skies.
I spent time on the phone with Mom the last several days. Or tried. I would call her and she wouldn’t answer. She would call me but I would be out doing things.
Per a text agreement, I called her at 9 AM yesterday. Didn’t get her. She called me hours later. They took her to Forbes Hospital in an ambulance. Another UTI infection. Severe pain. She was given an antibiotic by IV.
She asked me to ask some favors of Gina, my sister who is Mom’s primary helper among the family in the area. Gina agreed but warned that if Mom said anything nasty, Gina would cut her off.
But Gina is helping Mom, visiting her in the hospital, helping her sit up to eat lunch (chef’s salad), sending us a photo of Mom in bed. Mom is getting an IV of Ertapenem now. Gina stayed longer with Mom, telling Mom stories and making her laugh. Peace is at hand for a few hours.
As for Trump and the United States…
Satisfying that the Roberts Court ruled against Trump and the mail-in ballot scam he’d concocted with the USPS. I laughed and shook my head when I read comments on the ruling that ‘the liberal judges had done it again’. Yes, such a VERY liberal Roberts Court, isn’t it?
Clearly, the deep state got to those justices…right? That’s how the Trump and MAGA mind work.
Donald Trump Jr had his wedding paid in part by a Russian oligarch. Many are making a big thing about it. But c’mon, man, you know how expensive weddings are. And Donald Trump Jr barely has a crypto to his name. Sad face. So happy that a Russian oligarch was there to bail those young lovers out. I’m sure there’s no sweet deal going on there, no reciprocity expected, no politics, scheming, and conning involved. No, this was just an oligarch being magnanimous to the billionaire president’s poor son.
Besides, it’s not like the wedding was a lavish affair. Like most Americans, it was a small thing, involving only friends and family, lasting only three days, held on two private islands, with a fireworks show.
I’m sure that Americans struggling with food and gas security, worrying about paying off credit card bills, coping with the rising cost of healthcare, gas, water, and utilities totally understand.
“Simply put,” the board “cannot install memorials for President Trump or anyone or anything else at the Kennedy Center without Congress’s blessing.”
Thank you, Judge Cooper.
Too bad someone couldn’t tell Trump that Congress needs to approve what he does with the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool and the White House east wing.
For the record, Trump’s Iran War continues, driving up inflation, causing death, and costing our nation and world.
With things going so poorly for Donald Trump on multiple fronts, I expect some fresh AI-generated posting featuring Trump as someone else who is more respected and admired than him. Either that, or he’ll launch more military attacks, screw up another monument or Federal building, or complain about how much he’s not appreciated. Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! never rests.
Busy day ahead for me. Don’t get me wrong — I have a cushy life. ‘Busy’ means medical, dental, and haircut appointments, and I’m always staying busy with writing. Reading, too, as I’m trying to finish reading “John of John” before the library summons me to return the book. And house and yard work.
Thinking about being wrong, as in, “Trump is always so wrong”, as in war, tariffs, economy, manufacturing, grass, AI, history, intelligence…I have Dr John’s 1973 song in mind. “Right Place, Wrong Time” is a fun blend of rock, pop, R&B and funk. He has a lot of fun with the lyrics.
Love the trombone player in this video. She’s enjoying herself.
Sample Lyrics
I been the right place But it must have been the wrong time My head was in a place But I’m having such a good time I been running trying to get hung up in my mind Got to give myself a little talking to this time
Just need a little brain salad surgery Got to cure this insecurity I been in the wrong place But it must have been the right time I been in the right place But it must have been the wrong song
I been in the right vein But it seems like the wrong arm I been in the right world But it seems wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong
Slipping, dodging, sneaking Creeping hiding out down the street See me life shaking with every who I meet Refried confusion is making itself clear Wonder which way do I go to get on out of here
Time to go out and see the world and let the world view me again.
May this day pass for you in comfort and security, perhaps with a little booze.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, September 14, 2026.
Autumn continues showing in the valley here, with leaves putting on their fall foliage of reds, golds, yellows, and orange. Leaves haven’t begun aggressively falling.
It’s 57 F right now. Today’s high will be 79 F. We’re going into summer’s last fling. It feels and smells more like autumn today.
Another rock guitarist passed away. Cheetah Chrome, lead guitarist for the Dead Boys, passed away at 71. I had their debut album, “Young, Loud, and Snotty”. Picked it up when it came out in 1977. My wife, mother, sisters, and cousins all professed to hate it.
I got great joy out of their response. Punk wasn’t about being ‘liked’. I admired how it reshaped what music could, should, and would be. People often prefer things be put into neat boxes, especially pop music, art, and literature.
It also pleased me to surprise others that I, a young Air Force NCO with, trim hair, tidy dress, enjoyed the raucousness that punk often delivered.
In these times of Trump, I think punk, rock, and rap all need to make a resurgence, establish a new identity. Don’t know if that’s in the young musicians of these times. Of course, I’m not tuned in to it. Older now, to label what I am. *smile*
Here’s to the punkers, and to Chrome. Here is “Sonic Reducer.”
Ashland, southern Oregon. Sunday, September 13, 2026.
Autumn is moving in like it owns the place. Summer looks like a goner. It’s 60 F right now, and feels chillier than that. Rain fell this morning. Sunshine has arrived but today’s high is projected to be an anemic 70 F.
Mom’s story goes on. She and I spoke briefly Friday and Saturday. I called again today but she didn’t answer. She seems like she’s in a good mood. Her voice is soft and weak. Long periods of silence dominate as she catches her breath or pauses to remember what she was saying. She often becomes bitter and angry, complaining about her daughters, her room, and problems that she has.
I’ve been a little harsh and angry with my sisters. Ali commented on a previous post saying that she thought my sisters were being strict.
Ali is right. This is exactly what I told my sisters to act months ago. They are acting in everyone’s best interest, limiting contact with Mom, using just one of us as a front.
I have the best relationship with Mom, so it falls to me to the messenger. I’m a little emotionally fatigued by the role. It’s stacking on top of other things happening in life.
That’s how it goes. Life doesn’t take time outs.
Reading the digital news today, it’s easy at this point to write Trump off as a goner. His popularity is falling but most prices and the overall cost of living is not. Some prescription drug prices fell but not nearly as many as he claims.
Oil prices are not falling as Trump’s Iran War continues.
Some records are falling, such as the Atlantic hurricanes record. This is the longest period on record, 103 days since the season began, without a hurricane in the Atlantic Ocean. El Nino is being blamed.
I’ve always liked the word goner. I heard it mournfully declared of people in many western movies when I was a child. Things like, “Looks like Clem is a goner,” was part of the dialogue.
So I’m practicing saying it about Trump. “Looks like Trump is a goner.” I could be speaking of him politically, metaphorically, or about his popularity. “Looks like Trump is a goner” works in all three areas.
Thinking about Trump being a goner brought the song into my morning mental music stream. “Goner” is a melancholy twenty one pilots song which was released in 2015. The song has simple lyrics and a straightforward structure.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Saturday, September 12, 2026.
Sunny today, but also cloudy. Today’s high is expected to strike the low seventies. It’s 66 F now.
Rain is expected after five PM. That has me on a schedule. I cleaned half our gutters on Tuesday, then went for beers with friends Wednesday, blew off finishing the gutters on Thursday, and went shopping with my wife on Friday. So, I must finish dragging the ladder around today. Not difficult or challenging. I just prefer reading and writing.
I’m preparing for the next spinoff of “The Walking Dead” franchise: Mitch Returns. I’m certain there will be little action, lot of pathetic platitudes about greatness, and applause. They’ll continue to ignore the double standard that Mitch, working for We the People, took several months off work, something working Americans can rarely do.
Many believe that we saw a lot of evidence that Trump is falling apart. Trump has been a slow train wreck for the last twenty years, but those MAGAzens are wrecks themselves, falling apart. They happily follow a leader falling apart.
JD Vance has been stepping up, making more speeches, trying to stir confidence in him, positioning himself to be Trump’s successor. JD Vance might as well be a zombie, given his uninspiring demeanor and lackluster speaking skills. He’s not a thinker or orator, but he’s a damn good liar, willing to make things up as needed to gain power.
Today’s morning mental music stream inhabitant is “traitor”. Olivia Rodrigo wrote and sings the song, which came out in 2021. Her song is about dating a guy who insists he wasn’t cheating on her but after they broke up, he was dating the ‘other woman’ within two weeks.
Sample Lyrics
And ain’t it funny? All the twisted games All the questions you used to avoid
And that’s what we have with Trump, the GOP, and MAGAzens, for me: “All the questions you avoid.”
They’re traitors to principles, truth, and facts. Ain’t it funny how they ignore the money that Trump is making, and how he ‘jokes’ about cheating, just like he joked about other things, which he then turned around and did.
May your day be one that finds you refreshed and satisfied when you look back.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, September 11, 2026.
Today it’s 66 in Ashland with rain and a high of 83 F on the way.
It’s the anniversary of 9/11.
Yes, a quarter century has really passed since that day. We had unity in the US for a while after that. Dubya parlayed that unity to into wars against Iraq and Afghanistan. With Dick Cheney as his VP, the intel was constantly skewed to reinforce a drumbeat to war. The intel about WMD was all about stoking fears of greater attacks.
Those paying attention at the time called bullshit. But our voices were often ignored. We’ve learned in drips since that the intel was flawed. We learned that war was a costly and disastrous mistake.
Wreaths will be placed in many places in the US. A moment of silence will be held. Speeches will be made, and people will recall where they were when.
Then we will move on into the divisive era fostered by Trump and the MAGAzens, embraced by the Republicans, fostered by the Roberts Court.
Like many, many others, I will sigh, suck it up, grit my teeth, and go on.
Today’s music is “Wake Me Up When September Ends”. The song came out in 2005. Billy Joe Armstrong, Green Day lead guitarist and vocalist, wrote it about his father’s death in 1982. But the song’s sentiments of loss, suffering, and reflections work for anyone’s mourning, including those of us looking back on the 9/11 attacks.
Sample Lyrics
Summer has come and passed The innocent can never last Wake me up when September ends
Like my father’s come to pass Seven years has gone so fast Wake me up when September ends
Here comes the rain again Falling from the stars Drenched in my pain again Becoming who we are
As my memory rests But never forgets what I lost Wake me up when September ends
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 10, 2026.
Heat is in the air again today. Sunshine sluices down between scattered clouds. 83 degrees F as of now, we’re looking for a high that’s ten degrees more.
I’m trying to negotiate a peace between Mom and one of my sisters. I’ve written before about my younger sister, Gina. She put in a lot of work helping Mom over the years. Gina’s husband, Pat, was right beside her.
When Mom’s partner, Frank, died at 95 last October, Mom was put into a bad situation. Given her needs and medical challenges, she couldn’t live alone in her home. Gina and Pat took it upon themselves to make space for Mom in their home, and tried including Mom in their activities.
It turned out to be a six-month experiment which became progressively worse. By the time Mom was taken to a hospital in February, Mom was accusing Pat of spying on her, stealing her things, and hurting her. We knew from security cameras that none of it was true.
Mom ended up being in an assisted living facility after that. Pat’s feelings were hurt. He was upset, which upset Gina. Since that time, Gina has slowly cut off communications with Mom.
Labor used to be special for our family as we all prepared food and came together to celebrate. I wrote Mom on Labor Day. She was pretty sad and miserable, reporting that she’d not heard anything from any of her daughters. She knew a celebration was going on but nobody included her.
I passed that on to Gina. Gina replied, “If Mom apologizes to Pat for all those mean things she accused him of, I’ll welcome her back to our gatherings.”
I sent that on to Mom two days ago.
I’ve not heard anything back.
Trumpapalooza kicked off last night. As anticipated, it’s about how wonderful Trump thinks he is, the almost open acknowledgement that things aren’t going well in our nation, and Trump’s desperate attempt to win the election by bribing voters. In other words, it’s more Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, an attempt to distract voters from what’s really happening.
Beyond all that, the event is about stroking Trump’s ego. He thinks he’s great, and all others need to bow down to him. If everyone was as great as him, we’d have a great nation is his basic message.
Yes, Trumpapalooza was short on logic, facts, and truth, depending on your point of view. If you want the national and international order disrupted, Trump is doing a great job. If you want a nation based on democratic principles and freedom and equality for all, he’s driving hard away from those principles. Either way, he’s having fun, golfing on the taxpayers’ dime, sending out ridiculous little AI-generated images and videos trying to convey himself as great, blustering at other nations and people with threats if they don’t do what he wants.
Your Trumpapalooza Quote of the Day:
After all that, I ended up with “The Stroke” by Billy Squier in my morning mental music stream.
“The Stroke” came out in 1981. The song is about the music business and the need for bands to stroke music exec egos while the execs must stroke the artists’ egos. Everyone is stroke someone to keep it all going.
Sample Lyrics
Better listen now They said it ain’t no joke Don’t let your conscience fail ya Just do the stroke
Don’t ya take no chances Keep your eye on top Do your fancy dances You can’t stop, you just
Stroke me, stroke me (Stroke, stroke) Stroke me, stroke me (Stroke, stroke)
And that’s pretty much Trump. He does his silly dance and his fancy ‘word weave’. The rest of us know the weave as lie upon lie upon lie, but for Trump, it’s the dance.
May this day reward you with patience, happiness, and good health.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, September 9, 2026.
Sunny warmth has reclaimed the valley. 82 F now, today’s high will crest in the low to mid 90s.
News rocks me my wife every day. Especially these things which Trump claims.
Trump’s latest claims center around what a hero he was on 9/11, down there with a large construction crew, trying to help. Witnesses and reports from that time do not show a heroic Trump anywhere near the twin towers.
The question that hits me is, does Trump believe this fantasy that he’s created about what happened a quarter century again? If so, my concern about his mental state, already very high, given his control of our weapons and his habit of putting his supporters in subordinate positions, to much higher levels.
The other piece of that puzzle is, if Trump isn’t so delusional that he actually believes his fantasy and lies, what drives him to lie like this? And that’s equally scary, because he’s now deliberately trying to twist facts, truth, and history to pretend that he’s someone else.
To what ends does Trump make these lines? To keep control and make himself look better, it seems. And to me, a person willing to do these things to maintain control and power is extremely unpredictable.
The other news rocking me was Germany’s right-wing party gaining strength and winning elections. We’ve already fought one destructive war which resulted in millions being killed.
It’s sobering that Donald Trump eagerly embraced AfD’s election win in Germany. The memory of World War II—where the United States and allied nations fought a devastating global war to defeat the Nazi regime after the far-right seized power in Germany in 1933—remains a cornerstone of the modern international order and the U.S.–Germany alliance. To me, this points to exactly where Trump is moving the nation.
Finally, wearying me today is the chaos around Missouri’s congressional map. Various court decisions about GOP efforts to keep Democrats out of office are out there across the land, so I think we’ll be seeing more of this midterm chaos.
My wife and I discussed these stories and others this morning. She concluded, “I struggle to feel balance. It seems like every other day brings some news that rocks me.” I agreed with her.
My Neurons pounced on ‘rock me’. I immediately had “Rock Me” in my morning mental music stream. This is a bluesy 1987 hard-rock offering from Great White. Maybe you’re familiar with it.
I hope your day brings you a sense of beauty, renewal, and good health.
Michael Seidel, writer 