It’s rainy spring weather and things are blooming in Ashlandia. Temperatures are below average for March 22 in 2025. Right now, we’re anchored to 45 F under a cloudy duvet. Saturda’s high is projected to be ten degrees higher. Don’t even think winter has ended. This is definitely sprinter. I can recall several years here when blooming flowers are surrounded by snow on Easter morning.
Butter Butt, aka Papi the ginger blade, the floof formerly known as Meep has had a busy several days. Getting ready for warming weather, he’s been exercising his exits and entrances, honing his skills to command us to let him in and out of the house, and testing the doors to ensure they open without any problems. He’s been very thorough and diligent. His routine begins around 4:30 AM and goes with few pauses until 10 AM. You gotta admire his tenacity.
Today’s theme music seems like it was destined. My wife and I ran errands and had breakfas out yesterday. When we returned to the car after eating, this song began playing. My wife commented, “This song was playing when we parked.” She was right.
That wasn’t enough, though. We went grocery shopping. Came out and got into the car. Turned it on. It was this song again.
We went home and put away the groceries. I drove off to write. When I got in the car to come on, the same song began playing. It’s little surprise that The Neurons sprang it on me in my morning mental music stream as I circulated through the morning routines. So here is Rosé and Bruno Mars with their 2024 hit, “Apt.”
It’s fun and silly, with multiple pop-cultures nods from famous songs and scenes embedded in it. Hope you enjoy it. As Rosé is a K-pop artist who is a member of Blackpink, her global success with this song is culturally and historically significant.
I’ve tumbled for coffee again, and things are already lookin’ up. Hope your day is lookin’ up as well. Here we go. Cheers
Bold sunshine lured my eyes open. It’s summer, this hoople head’s addled neurons suggested.
It’s not summer. This is Thirstda, March 20, 2025. We’re stepping into spring’s threshold. I went onto the back patio with Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt. The Butt did a little springish frolocking. “I agree,” I said. “It feels like a cold spring morning.” Daffs have pushed their yellow heads out. It’s 37 F but feels like 51 F, and is expected to climb to 45 plus F. Clouds have already hustled in, least we get too optimistic about the blue sky and sunshine. The weather ‘they’ couch their forecast with rain warnings. Not bad for Ashlandia’s first day of spring in 2025.
The addled Neurons have snuck a 2014 John Mellencamp song into the morning mental music stream. It’s a bit cynical. “Lawless Times” rails against the lack of trust that had begun emerging twenty years ago, the latest in many cycles of distrust – the trust in banks, business, goverment, trust in ourselves and one another, were all going down in flames, and here we are. It takes a certain amount of vetting to reach a point where you trust someone. Even though, you keep an eye on them. They might Schumer you.
The song started because I was in a Walmart the day before yesterday. My wife was looking for a kitchen item. Walmart was supposed to have it. I don’t think I’ve been in a Walmart in over a year. It’s not one of my regular shopping stops. Talk about a police state. Cameras everywhere. Signs at the end of every aisle reminding you that cameras are watching. And so many items were physically locked behind glass doors or in cages. Like all camping gear. Cosmetics. Vacuum cleaners. Is this the common American experience now? And that’s when “Lawless Times” first fired up. Walmart sure as hell doesn’t trust its customers. Of course, I do not trust PINO Trusk and his regime. I don’t trust the Roberts Court. I don’t trust the GOTP. I especially don’t trust Elon Reeve Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg. I sure as hell don’t trust JD Vance and Tommy Tuberville, MTG and Lauren Boebert.
Well, I don’t trust myself I don’t trust you Don’t get too sick It’ll be the end of you Don’t expect a helping hand If you fall down And if you want to steal this song It can be easily loaded down My, my, my These are lawless times My, my, my These are lawless times So you might ask yourself Hey, what can I do? I can’t trust the future What’s been promised to you Learn the rules hard and fast Take care of yourself And keep your eyes open On everybody else
Too much truth in that song but it has a catchy rhythm. You might end up, as I do, singing it to yourself as you go through your day.
I’ve invited coffee in again and it’s lit a small flame under The Neurons. Hope you day starts with promise and ends with satisfaction. Let’s rock it. Cheers
Sunshine tangoed in. Then clouds waltzed in, batting the sunshine out. No rain is falling but it’s still early. With a temperature of 39 F, we should be safe from snow for a few hours, though ‘they’ say it feels lie 27. S’posed to top off in the low 50s this afternoon. No word on what it’ll feel like. All this is as expected on the horn of spring as winter fades out in Ashlandia on Wenzda, March 19, 2025.
Boy, this week has been a crazy month, right? You never know what new insult Trump and his minions will levy on We The People. This time, the Trusk Regime has decided that the Code Talkers so invaluably employed during World War II were DEI hires.
Today, Erin Alberty of Axios reported that at least ten articles about the Code Talkers have disappeared from U.S. military websites. Broken URLs are now labeled “DEI,” an abbreviation for “Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion.”
That’s right. Under Trump’s ‘leadership’, the Trusk Regime and the GOTP continue to spit on the honor and bravery of the people who fought for this nation. Someone should remind Trump and his regime that if it weren’t for the Code Talkers’ help, we might all be speaking Japanese.
Trump always claims he loves the military but look what he’s doing to it. Also claims to love the Constitution, and look what he’s doing to it. Ditto the nation. Who will rid us of the pestilence called Donald Trump before our world is destroyed?
The Neurons are playing the 1982 Culture Club song, “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me, in the morning mental music stream. This came about because I read that in many polls, Trump voters support the Trusk Regime’s actions…until they’re personally affected. Then they’re often swearing and crying about what Trump is doing. Like the Miami Venezuelans who supported Trump during the elections.
Venezuelan migrants in South Florida say they feel betrayed by a Trump administration decision to end legal protections for hundreds of thousands of people who fled dictatorships and sought refuge in the U.S.
The move by the Trump administration is a turnabout of a long-standing U.S. policy that has extended TPS to more than a half-million Venezuelans.
Come on, man, betrayal is Trump’s middle name. So, yep, now those Venezuelan Trump supporters are hurting as fellow Venezuelans are returned to the conditions they tried to escape in their country so that they could pursue life, liberty, and the pursuit fof happiness. They stand alongside thousands of farmers, ranchers, bankers, VA employees, veterans, FBI agents, and firefighters shocked to learn that Trump doesn’t care about them. Once they voted for him, it was one and done.
So this song, “Do You Really Want to Hear Me” and its plaintive refrain, is perfect for them. I mean, it’s not like they couldn’t see what Trump did before as POTUS, as a businessman, as a husband, or as a person. He’s always been all about himself. His voters were fools to think otherwise.
Coffee is again soothing my troubled breast. I’m ready to launch one more time. Hope you have a solid, satisfying day. And awaaayyy we goooo. Cheers
We’ve touched down on Twosda, March 18, 2023. The rain has ceased. Winter still dominates the seasonal dance off. Those blackened tufted clouds don’t bespeak of spring. Temperature is sticking close to the upper thirties as if it’s been ordered but 46 F is a projected high, the weather ‘they’ say. Sunlight has been flitting in an out on butterfly wings.
News…we won’t get into that yet. Except, locally, a woman died in rural Central Point flooding brought on by our spate of heavy rains. Was apparently clearing branches from a culvert when her waders filled and she was taken into the culvert and drowned. Sad end to a life, fighting water, trying not to drown.
Jesse Colin Young, a member of the Youngbloods folk pop rock group, passed away, 83 years old. Part of the sound of the 1960s frquently heard through a transistor radio’s thin sound as I moved from being young innocent into inquisitive teenager, Mr. Young was also an activist for peace, justice, and the environment. Soon as I read of his passing, The Neurons slotted the Youngbloods’ 1967 cover of “Get Together” into the morning mental music stream.
Coffee and I got together in the kitchen, continuing our brewmance. Hope your day goes solidly your way. Here’s the music. And off we go, into the darkish grayish yonder…
It’s FOFFing* outside in Ashlandia, where the voters are liberal. Munda has fallen on us and can’t get up. A later winter storm is driving through the valley and the temperature is sticking to 35F. Supposed to rocket up to 48 F but that rocket might not get liftoff, if we use those clouds for our reasoning. If we use history and experience, the weather could go in any direction from here.
This is Munda, March 17, 2025. Which is, yelp, St. Patrick’s Day. Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you. Are you wearing green to draw some Irish luck your way?
*FOFFING: Fat Ol’ Flakes Falling
Watching those flakes reminded me of a cat experience. This is about Jade. She came to be with us in Okinawa. She belonged to the people up the hall in our apartment building. They had a toddler, and Jade didn’t take shit from anyone, telling them so with claws and teeth. So she came to us and was with us for 20 years more.
When she was four, we moved from Okinawa to the United States. This would be January, 1985. We were in San Antonio after landing to visit family. Jade was with us, as we’d just flown into the country. It began snowing. Jade had never seen snow, so she went out to experience it. She would take a step and shake a foot. Step, shake. Step, shake. Finally fed up of it after a minute, she returned to inside the motel room. I still grin, remembering her reaction.
Been catching up on the news. Hear there was some wicked weather across the United States and that the Trusk Regime thumbed their nose at a judge. It’s enough for me to groundhog back to bed for six more weeks. But I’ve served myself coffee so that’s not a current option.
Out of all that news catchup, The Neurons direction Twenty One Pilots to play their 2016 song, “Heathens”, in the morning mental music stream.
Winter blahness continues its hold here in Ashlandia. Yeah, it’s a low key sprinter day. Cold rain pelts the world. I know it’s cold because I stepped out to call in Papi, aka Butter Butt. Butter Butt refuses to accept that it’s bad weather outside. He heads out there as if there is nothing wrong, and then darts for cover and huddles. Fifteen minutes later, I check on him and he sprints in. After three episodes like this, he finally announces, “I’ve decided to stay inside today,” and curls up like he’s ready to read a good book.
Papi never looks up and see the ominous layers of clouds. He only knows that the wind is blowing, there is no warming bit of sunshine to be found, and rain is splattering beyond the porch. Those clouds tell me it’s going to be a cold, wet one, and we’re not discussing beer. Temperature is holding at 37 F but never fear, it’s gonna crowd the low to mid forties before beginning its late afternoon descent back into the mid 30s.
This is Sunda, March 16, 2025.
Locally, we’re cheering on the Southern Oregon University women’s basketball team. Undefeated, they’re progressing through the NAIA championship seedings. We’re hopeful that they’ll take a national championship. I hope I haven’t jinxed that by putting it in eprint. The fates often get irritated with me and end whatever makes me happy. Maybe it just seems like it.
Today’s song is in honor of MAGA America. News of tariffs being levied on the U.S. in retaliation for tariffs PINO Trusk put on others, along with stock market drops and growing unemployment has The Neurons playing “Love Hurts” in the morning mental music stream. Although covered by Cher, Jim Capaldi, the Everyly Brothers, Emmylou Harris, and Roy Orbison, the song in my head today comes from a group called Nazareth. Nazareth is a Scottish hard rock band. I knew their work and songs like “Hair of the Dog” and “Broken Down Angel”. When they released “Love Hurts”, I was taken back. Yet, it works. Well, for some.
Anyway, “Love Hurts” was put into place because every time complaints about being fired from a job, falling stock prices, cut benefits, or dissatisfaction in general emerges from MAGA land, PINO Trusk quickly reassures them that yes, there will be some pain, but they’ll be great in the end, so great, you won’t believe it.
Coffee is consoling me again. Hope your day goes well and features some pleasant weather. Here we go, one more time, eye on the clock. Cheers
It’s a blah day outside our windows. Winter is singing its final stanzas. Bleak ropes of gray clouds are strung together. Mists cling to the snowy mountain tops. Rain has fallen off and on, and the temperature has crept from 34 F to 41 F as a sharp wind whistles and moans.
This is Saturda, March 15, 2025, in Ashlandia.
My wife has been busy doomscrolling. She mostly goes onto Reddit and hits different forums. People who worked for the Federal government have set up many of them to tell about what’s going on in their offices around the nation. She shares tales with me. She also passes them on to her friends; they suggest that she needs to do less doomscrolling because she’d acting so dark, depressed, and pessimistic. I agree with them. But, it has a hold on her. Despite her statements that she wants to do less doomscrolling, she keeps feeding on the darkness, and it feeds on her.
The newscape is fucking bleak out there. How cheerful are we expected to be as PINO Trusk and the GOTP guts the government, slashes services, burns the U.S. Constitution, and talks about using American troops to invade other places?
How much cheerfulness should we offer as the stock market drops and drops, wiping out years of gains?
How cheerful can we be as PINO Trusk tries moving the country backwards in regards to air and water protections, civil rights, especially minority rights, trade and defense agreements?
What level of cheerfulness should we convey as greater discussions of a financial recession become more frequent?
Cheerfulness is a hard-won currency in this era. Maybe it’s just me and my wife. Maybe we’re too invested in following the news and doomscrolling. Perhaps we’re in an information silo where we’re only fed bad news, and it’s really much better. Inflation is dropping, and despite the stock market declines, people are growing happier and more satisfied. Maybe the erosion of freedoms isn’t as great as we fear.
Out of all of this, The Neurons have employed a song called “Unwell” in the morning mental music stream. “Unwell” was released in 2003 by Matchbox 20. The group’s lead vocalist, Rob Thomas, wrote the song.
On the live DVD Show: A Night in the Life of Matchbox Twenty, lead singer Rob Thomas states that he wrote the song as a metaphor for humanity in general, a song for people who are “messed up and feel alone like that. We all feel a little messed up sometimes… you’re not alone.”
I think many of us ar feeling messed up and alone. We’re also feeling frustrated, disappointed, and depressed. The future does not look good as we try to see what is to come. As the song’s lyrics go, “I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired.”
Coffee and I have reached another cooperative agreement. Hope your day is strong, filled with hope and optimism. Here we go. Cheers
Winter is perched in Ashlandia and its surroundings for another day. Yesterday, we sequenced through snow, sleet, rain, sunshine, repeat. Today seems like a duplicate effort. Snow is falling, the temperature is crowding 38 F with a questionable chance the air temp will light up 48 F. This is Frieda, March 14, 2025.
I don’t find it great news at all. All that I’ve seen of DOGE so far is cutting headcount without having knowledge about what they’re doing. This has fed chaos in many areas of government. Facing outrage and backlash to the chaos, GOTP politicians have stopped holding townhalls and avoid meeting their constituents. Meanwhile, many agencies which had DOGE cuts had to hire people back, either because vital positions had been cut, or courts ruled that what DOGE did was illegal. Coupled with PINO Trusk’s tariffs, economic war, and imperial military interests, the stock market is rushing down, talk of a Trumpcession is heating up, and corporations are putting plans on hold and laying off/terminating employees due to ‘economic uncertainy and instabilitly’. Good times! So much winning!
Anyway, I’m not optimistic about what will happen to the mail system with DOGE’s ‘help’. The length of time needed for mail to be delivered has already increased. So have stamp prices. Post offices and satellite offices have been closed. We all drive further to wait longer to get postal business done. Our mail takes laborious, convoluted routes. Doesn’t go from A to B no even A to C. No, it now goes A to K and then back to H, up to P, back to D, and then, finally, B, it’s destination. Dog knows what DOGE will do to it.
Another series of uplifted dreams washed through my sleep. I awoke feeling rested, vigorous, and almost joyful. Weirdly, The Neurons inserted a 1986 song called “Mad About You” by Belinda Carlisle into the morning mental music stream. I have nothing against the song; I know it from the car radio. Driving in my car, doing errands, commuting to work, etc. It’s a bouncy tune with easily heard and appreciated lyrics, simple for a sing along, Maybe you know it and will sing along.
Coffee has established its presence in my system. I’m ready to get out into the snow and wind — didn’t mention the wind before, did I, but, yes, there is wind — and get down to bidness. Have the best day possible for yourself and yours. Here’s the music. Cheers
Winter returned, granting snow some visitation rights. An inch of the white crystallized water coated my home’s area when I looked out. By 8 AM, it was melting. 9:30 found it a swiss-cheese icy shell of itself. 35 F, we’re not expectin’ any great warming and ‘they’ tell us that 40 F is where the temperature reach will end. No more snow is expected but the surfeit of swollen clouds suggest rain is an option. The sun seems to be peering out and saying, “I think I’m gonna stay out of this.”
I have a Doobie Brothers song from 1978 in the morning mental music stream. Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins wrote it. Then Loggins recorded and released it, followed by a Doobie Brothers release with McDonald on vocals. The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream after reading a Justice Alito opinion. Ever an impatient, irritated rightwinger, Alito is adept at twisting words and ideas to support rightwing ideas.
From Alito’s Fiery Rebuke of Supreme Court Ruling Against Trump: The Supreme Court recently ruled that the Trump administration was wrong to withhold foreign aid funds owed to nonprofit groups. Chief Justice John Roberts and Justice Amy Coney Barrett broke from conservative justices in the decision. President Donald Trump has publicly expressed his plans to cut 90% of USAID foreign aid contracts and slash an additional $60 billion in foreign aid spending.
What really has hizzoner is a tizzy is that he thought the lower court Federal judge is overstepping by ruling that PINO Trusk’s regime must pay its obligations. The money was already earmarked for proper payment, through proper and legal process. Doesn’t matter for Alito, who bends over whenever PINO Trusk orders it.
The song “What A Fool Believes” is about relationships, of course. But embedded in those lyrics is an unwillingness to accept the truth. The song is about a man trying to return to a relationship without understanding that the other person has long since moved on, and whatever love was there is no more. In the same sense, Alito and other hard right winger wants to see whatever benefit they can in every situation for Trump, and deny what is really happening. This is often wonderful for the GOTP but detrimntal to our nation.
I also got drawn into a gleeful reading of a Law & Crime article:
The judge ripped into the DOJ lawyers for trying a Wizard of Oz defense: “pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”
The man behind the curtain is PINO Trusk’s Defense Secretary Hegseth. He’d X’d, “Transgender troops are disqualified from service without an exemption.”
The DOJ’s lawyer resisted the implication that Hegseth’s repost was in any way determinative of the government’s actual policy.
Reyes did not credit this approach.
“Why shouldn’t I look at the words of the guy who issued the policy?” the judge asked at one point.
The government’s attorney replied that people use colloquial terms to mean more specific things all the time.
The judge strongly rejected this argument.
“Is that really how you think this all works?” Reyes asked. She went on to explain that the X accounts in question collectively have “millions of followers” and are funded by the U.S. public. “We’re not talking about people, we’re talking about the secretary of defense.”
The lawyer went on to essay the notion that Hegseth was possibly using “shorthand” to refer to the overall policy.
Again, the judge rejected the notion.
“Do you believe the secretary of defense was using loose language he didn’t comprehend or that he didn’t think out?”
The attorney quickly replied: “I’m not arguing that.”
The DOJ lawyer went on to insist the court should look to the words of the policy itself rather than Hegseth’s social media post. The court, however, remained unconvinced.
“The record is that his word is: this covers all transgender people,” Reyes told the government lawyer.
That’s what we witness out of the Trusk Regime and the GOTP time and again: what you see them doing is not what they’re doing. What they’re saying is not what they’re saying.
I’m glad a Judge called them out on that bullshit.
Coffee is singing its love song to me again. Have a the best day you can. Here we go again. Cheers
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
Michael Seidel, writer 