Thursday’s Theme Music – Waiting
Ashland, Oregon — Thursday, March 12, 2026.
Spring is on the way in the U.S.
It shows here. We started at 34 when I rolled out of bed but with blue skies and sunshine, we’ve jumped fast to 50 F, hurtling toward the mid 60s. Best way to put it, with the daffs and tulips blooming and plum tree blossoms enriching the landscape, it’s a beautiful springish day.
Mom and my sisters are quiet, as is my house. In fact, while many things are going on in politics and world news, I feel like I’m waiting for the multiple systems to react — and maybe crash.
So I feed the cat, read the news. My wife and I think and talk as I sip coffee. All the while, I keep an eye on the headlines and digital stream and check my text and messaging systems.
Time was also spent looking at what the state has been up to. The Oregon legislative session ended. Our rep, Pam Marsh, put out a summary of the work done, a welcome reassurance that some government remains grounded, pragmatic, and functional.
Today’s music reflects that sense of waiting. The Neurons are playing “The Promised Land” by Bruce Springsteen in my morning mental music stream. I hum along with the thought of what was promised and what’s been delivered. This is not just in my life as an adult, but what was held out to us as children. Growing up in the television age, we were often sold impressions about stable, white families with Dad going to work and the children going to school and getting into minor mischief. Mom stayed home and cooked in her skirt or dress, wearing high heels as she vacuumed, did the laundry, cooked. Some shows — like “Hazel” — featured more prosperity, and a maid.
More realistic shows came along, such as “The Jeffersons” and “All in the Family”, but our beliefs were hardened by then. Yet, it didn’t often work out as television claimed it would.
Anyway, here I am, waiting.
Hope you have a great day and all that means to you. Peace and grace on you.
Cheers
Monday’s Wandering Thoughts
I always like headlines like this:
All 32 NFL teams (including the Broncos) ranked by 2026 strength of schedule
I thought, wow, they’re including the Broncos when they say ‘all’? Man, that is deep.
I expect to see headlines soon like ‘All of the planets (including Earth) in order according to their distance from the sun.’
‘All four seasons (including winter) ranked by temperature.’
Or, how about, ‘All five oceans (including the Pacific) in square miles.’
Going back to the NFL headline, I wonder, why call out the Broncos out of 32 teams? Strange, no?
Stranger still how much I spend thinking about things like this.
Seasons
Breaking away from writing, I step out for a walk. The sun has warmed us to a comfortable level. I stride along, nodding and saying hello to others encountered.
A shineless brown hot rod comes along. Roadster. Something out of the forties. Driven by a man who looks like he also originated in the forties, and a woman who might be a little younger, maybe even his daughter, as a passenger, bundled up in heavy clothes.
Putting along at 20 MPH, he guides the car to the side and waves a following vehicle past. Silver SUV, its twenty something driver gooses it faster. An electric vehicle, it glides by with a rising brash hum.
The scene on a small-town street seems so perfectly emblematic of change. Trees and their colors tell of the season changing around us, and there goes an old internal combustion car of a kind rarely seen, passed by an electric car, of the kind now commonly encountered.
Reality couldn’t have been better staged.
Fridaz Theme Music
Thickening, layer, dark wool clouds lay seige to diminishing blue sky patches. Hi. Welcome to Frida, October 3, 2025 in Ashlandia. Rains which came yesterday will continue today, chilling the 50 F air and keeping it from getting much higher than the mid-fifties. Autumn is here, and winter is coming.
My wife and I chatted about this as we drove on errands. “I like days like this,” I said, appreciating, at that point, a cloudy sky with a blustery wind and lazy, low angle sunshine. It was about 68 F but felt warmer because the breeze carried in summery hints, like leftovers in the kitchen. Then I laughed. “But that’s how it happens with every season. There’s a sense of gladness and appreciation for the new season. Then.”
“Then you get tired of it,” my wife finished for me. “Summer sunshine is great, and the hot air feels wonderful for a while but then, OMG, it’s hot day after day and you get tired of it. Now fall is here, and it’s great but in another month, we’ll be complaining about how cold and wet it is. That’s human nature.”
After perusing news and skating through details of how Trump is wrecking the United States, I wonder when the MAGA will awaken and turn on him. Well, we know that answer. It’s been established that the vast majority of them won’t turn on him until they are personally aggrieved. They’ll wait until they can’t afford healthcare because premiums are skyrocketing. Inflation won’t bother them until suddenly they find themselves unable to buy the food they’re used to because tariffs and trade wars force them to go without. The shutdowns to colleges and universities and Trump’s decision to curtail the war on cancer won’t hit them until they or a loved-one are suffering cancer’s effects and they wonder, why can’t we fix this. Polluted skies and water won’t bother them until it’s their air they can’t breathe, their water they can’t drink. They’ll remain indifferent about Trump’s anti-vax campaign until their children are sick and dying, and they’re wondering, why? They won’t be upset with what’s happening to the immigrants until suddenly there are fewer people to wait on them, to provide services, or there’s less doctors, nurses, and healthcare providers and they can’t get appointments because trained professionals are no longer available. The MAGA won’t care until the military rolls into their town under Trump’s law and order banner and they discover themselves being thrown to the ground or locked up and held for days even though they’re citizens. They won’t care until the private voucher systems states are instituting start turning out ignorant children and they wonder, what’s wrong with schools these days. They won’t care about Trump gutting tourism with his fear and bullying tactics until there are no longer tourists providing tourist dollars and businesses are closing, leaving empty buildings and unemployment in their wake. They won’t care about the lack of infrastructure funding until their bridges collapse, killing friends and family, and inconveniencing them. They won’t care about free speech until Trump turns on them and warns them, “How dare you criticize me?”
Yes, so The Neurons turned to an old faithful for these MAGAts. They’re acting like zombies. The Cranberries came up with a brilliant song for ’em: “Zombie”. Zombie vocalist Dolores O’Riordan wrote the powerful song after a bombing conducted by the Provisional Irish Republican Army (Provisional IRA) killed and injured people.
There were a lot of bombs going off in London and I remember this one time a child was killed when a bomb was put in a rubbish bin – that’s why there’s that line in the song, ‘A child is slowly taken’. [ … ] We were on a tour bus and I was near the location where it happened, so it really struck me hard – I was quite young, but I remember being devastated about the innocent children being pulled into that kind of thing. So I suppose that’s why I was saying, ‘It’s not me’ – that even though I’m Irish it wasn’t me, I didn’t do it. Because being Irish, it was quite hard, especially in the UK when there was so much tension.
— Dolores O’Riordan in 2017, on writing “Zombie”
h/t to Wikipedia.org
She sings, “What’s in your head, in your head, zombie, zombie, zombie?” Because a zombie is an unthinking creature who is just going along with what’s happening, never awakening to its impacts. That’s what’s in my head this morning, pouring through the morning mental music stream.
Peace and grace seem to be a long way off. I’m searching for some way to lure them in. Maybe a ritual. I hope they find and hold you. Until then, I guess I’ll depend on coffee. Think I’ll indulge in another gulp now, while I can still afford it. Cheers
Wenzdaz Theme Music
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
Munda’s Theme Music
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.
We don’t deal with outsiders very well
They say newcomers have a certain smell
You have trust issues, not to mention
They say they can smell your intentions
You’ll never know the freak show sitting next to you
You’ll have some weird people sitting next to you
You’ll think “How did I get here, sitting next to you?”
But after all I’ve said, please don’t forget
h/t to Genius.com
The coffee is doing its function. Take it slow and roll through Munda, St. Patty’s Day. Here we go. Cheers
Munda’s Theme Music
Mood: Timeflective
G’ mornin’, peeps of the online written word. It’s 2024’s final Monday, December 20, 2024. To celebrate, my other and I will go out for brekkie after she returns from her exercise class. Then we’ll do some groc shopping. Breakfast will be had at Crackin & Stackin in downtown Medford, I think.
It’s 33 F outside. Sunshine and clouds war again. Blue sky wins as the sun prevails. The ground is wet but drying for the moment after a few days of rain on a heavier scale and flooding in other parts of the county. No rain is forecast for the next two days. Today’s high will be 43 F.
I experienced vigorous, positive dreams last night and that’s put me in a solidly upbeat mood. Seeing sunshine reinforced it. Also contributing is that my foot/ankle are happier, and I had a lengthy solid if interesting writing outing yesterday.
Spoke with Mom on the phone last night. Says she’s feelin’ tired. Not surprising. Holidays always sap. Like many, it pushes her out of her comfortable returns. Now at 89, with several major health issues as part of her history, her energy is low, and every day is a new exploration of something in her body contending for attention. Her other, Frank, is doing great, she said. He’ll be 95 next month.
However, one of my younger sisters now has the flu. She is the Trumper who has had COVID three times. Believe she vaccinated before but she reportedly has underlying lung issues. She won’t tell anyone deets so we rumble about what it is. Her husband, a year younger than moi, went through open heart surgery a few years ago and is now dealing with kidney stones.
One of my other younger sister’s boyfriend lost his brother. But 66 years old, the man had a stroke and then a heart attack. Home alone while his wife was away visiting family in another state for the holidays, he was found on the kitchen floor after a day. Rushed to the hospital, he was pronounced dead and was removed from life support. He passed away yesterday morning.
Meanwhile, the boyfriend himself went into the hospital Friday for some scans after he complained about feeling ill and not breathing right. Turns out that he was experiencing congestive heart failure a 56 years old, astonishing us all. He’s 56 and is a regular runner. Those who saw him on Christmas thought he looked healthy and fit. It’s the way of life, I guess.
All that news and subsequent thinking gave permissions to The Neurons to introduce Joni Mitchell into the morning mental music stream (Trademark aging) with “The Circle Game”. A simple song, very poetic.
Coffee downed, here we go, putting another Monday into the books. Have the best you can, right? Don’t know how the next day will change your expectations.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mood: Scandalized
October 9, 2024, is under autumn’s spell. Clouds dab the blue sky, reflecting sunlight and lined in gold. Lemony appearing leaves dapple across the backyard’s grass, thickening into a carpet as more leaves join the exodus from the tree.
It’s Wednesday. 54 F, we’ll graze the low 70s today for our high today before the sun’s trip sends us back into darkness.
Checked on Hurricane Milton first thing on the net. Grew back into a cat 5 last night and has dipped back into a 4. Due to cross over Florida sometime this evening as present expectations go.
This dip into history. Remember when Donald Trump said this back in 2016 when first running for POTUS?
“Hillary Clinton may be the most corrupt person ever to seek the Presidency of the United States. …she’s been taking plenty of money out for herself. Hillary Clinton has perfected the politics of personal profit and even theft.”
I won’t rhetorically wonder what his supporters think of Trump’s grifting since he made that declaration about the “politics of personal profit and even theft” back in 2016; we know Trump supporters aren’t deep on thinking about him and his actions, except when it mocks, villifies, and denigrates others.
What about this quote, also from 2016: “A candidate under federal investigation ‘has no right to be running.’ Further, it would be ‘virtually impossible for (a president under indictment) to govern.'”
Yes, he said it, baby. But under Donald Trump’s Silly Putty moral standards, such declarations don’t apply to himself. Why, he’s a victim of the deep state, he squeals. Totally innocent! They’ve weaponized the DOJ against him.
Never his fault. Never, never, never. He can only take credit, not criticism, and certainly not failure, despite his long string of failures.
Thinking about Donald Trump and his endless lying litany, whining, and empty bragging and boasting brought The Neurons awake. They went along the lines of, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Next thing you know, they have The Cult with “Fire Woman” from 1989 rocking the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). It’s a classic wall of sound thumping beat stadium rock offering.
While the song is about temptation, love, and sex, it’s also about being hypnotized by something to the point that you’ve lost control. While it goes on, “Fire woman, you’re to blame,” my mind paraphrased, “Fire man, you’re to blame.” I was thinking of the deep polarization we’re experiencing as a nation, and the schisms Trump has created and widened through constant lying and wheedling. But his folks can’t see — or won’t. He’s got the power over them. Got them satisfied and pleased about being openly and defiantly hateful, racist, bigoted, and sexist.
Moving on.
Stay positive. Be strong. Vote blue in 2024. Coffee has come by on its mercy mission. Here’s the music. Just as a note, I don’t think I’ve heard this song on the radio in years. Well, there’s so much music out there, isn’t there?
Have a good one. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 