Tuesday’s Theme Music — Smithereens!
Tuesday, September 1, 2025. Ashland, southern Oregon.
September arrived in Ashland, bringing colder weather. 58 F now, our projected high is 72 today with 72% chance of thunderstorms. Tomorrow is expected to top out at 60 F, with 98% chance of rain. So rain will come at last.
Meanwhile, most of the United States east of the Rockies to the Atlantic, north to Canada and south to the Gulf of Mexico, are enduring a heat wave
I’m a bit dispirited today. Another friend has prostate cancer. And Mom sent me a lengthy text last night. Another of my sisters, Lisa, took Mom new checks, along with a new tee-shirt and sweater. Mom told me that she felt chest pains yesterday and rested in bed. Also told me that it takes her three hours to get ready for bed. If true, that’s actually reduced from the three hours she required for several years. I was always astonished when visiting her and she would announce, “I need to get ready for bed.” She usually went to bed at midnight but began getting ready at 8:30.
Today, Mom texted me to ask, “Should I use my old checks to pay my rent?” I just went over that with her last Friday. So did two of my sisters.
Over in Iran, attacks began again as the war, begun in the winter, drags on toward autumn. I remember the days when Trump said the war was already over.
Instead, we have Trump offering a cartoonish AI-generated video of blowing up Kharg Island, declaring it’s “blown to smithereens”.
Like, wow. How old are you, grandpa? I know the expression but I’ve honestly don’t think I’ve heard it in years, maybe decades. It’s extremely bizarre to hear it said by an adult while discussing a war. I mean, it’s such a childish expression.
It’s a useful video for Trump, however. As part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, Trump’s video has us wondering about his word choices and sanity, instead of dwelling on the continuing affordability crisis, or his lies, corruption, and general incompetence.
There are no reports that Kharg Island has been ‘blown to smithereens’. A US military official in fact said it was not targeted.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Yes, I’ve used that quote before. But it’s important, I think, to remember that when Trump was running for office in 2024, he blamed President Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris for bombs falling in the middle east — Gaza. He was arguing that the Biden administration had produced exactly the things he said a Trump presidency would prevent. Then he won, took office, and started war after claiming he would prevent wars, causing the inflation and rising prices which he claimed he would prevent.
Infuriating as hell.
Meanwhile, the Roberts Court said Trump could proceed building the Epstein ballroom. They avoided saying that it was legal for Trump to tear down a wing of the White House and start building something else without funds approved by Congress. That’s perfectly aligned with the weak principles of the Roberts Court. Equally, Roberts was part of the dissent, which is particularly laughable. He was basically bemoaning what the monster he helped create was doing.
Trump’s use of smithereens provoked My Neurons to bring up songs by the Smithereens. Among the songs in my morning mental music stream was “Only A Memory”. The 1988 song is about love, memory, loss, and history. As I have no love for Trump and wish he was history, it seems like a fine song for today.
I hope your spirits are high and your hopes are strong, and that you have the fortitude to overcome whatever is thrown your way.
Cheers
Friday’s Theme Music — Babble
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 28, 2026.
Another cooler day graces our valley with temperatures rising from 70 now to the low 80s later, all Fahrenheit. Signs of autumn are creeping in beyond temperatures as maples are already shifting colors.
Mom finally responded late yesterday to tell me she’s feeling much better, a relief for my mind.
We did grocery shopping yesterday and then went out to see the lunar eclipse. Success, as I saw it twice, once in the evening, and again in the middle of the night. I took some tme to imagine how our ancient ancestors viewed these things. Cool and clear, being out under the stars, watching the moon felt rewarding.
Then it was a night of dreams and a morning of texts with my sisters. My sister, Gina, is going through all of Mom’s letters from Mom’s mother, and it’s a revealation. Gina photographs and texts the letters to us. I honestly don’t recognize many of the names my grandmother writes about. I never met those people and never heard about them.
Vee also visited last night and today. Vee is for visitor, but my wife calls the gray and white tabby because of the lining around the cat’s eyes.
Saw on the net that some are calling for Dolly Parton day. I support the idea. Dolly left a solid impression of what a good person can be. She’s someone worth celebrating and emulating.
Meanwhile, down on the other end of people and personalities, we have Donald Trump. Trump has established himself as Exhibit A in multiple categories of what They Tell Us Not to Be: a liar, greedy, womanizer, racist, hateful, sexist, hot tempered, and a bully. Besides showing poor math skills and cheating on contractors and wives, he craves attention and hates criticism.
This week, continuing to break norms, ignore treaties, and playing a wannabe dictator, Trump declared Lake Ontario would be known as Lake America.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Trying to rename Lake Ontario is another of Trump’s Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! distractions to me.
Continuing a year of failures, he has the mess at the White House, where he screwed up the lawn and demolished the East Wing for a ballroom. First he claimed that ballroom was ‘needed’. Then he said it was a monument for himself. Also, he kept insisting donors are paying for it. Then, oh, no, that ballroom is for national security.
Take his tariffs — please. Up and down, off and on, insisting how great they’re making the economy. But boom — unemployment is level but so is employment. More Americans should be working, and they’re not. Further, thanks to Trump, we have price increases, and a national debt that’s past $40 trillion for the first time in history. Way to go, Trump!
The national debt isn’t just Trump’s fault. The Spend Without End GOP shares a huge share of responsibility. They let Trump blow through money without employing any checks and balances. So long as Trump is in office and the GOP lets him get away with it, the national debt will worsen. Mind you, that’s despite Trump’s claims that he’s cut so much fraud and waste.
Part of that Republican spending spree is on the useless, unneeded war in Iran. Not only is it costing the world in terms of lives and energy, but it’s costing the United States in tangible and intangible ways. Tangibly, we, the world’s most powerful military, has managed to do little but kill people and blow things up. That’s largely because Trump attacked Iran with little planning and no tangible objectives.
On the more intangible side, other nations like China and Russia are noting how inept the military is under Trump, encouraging them to make moves with hard and soft power.
But Trump babbles on, and the GOP stands in line behind him.
What’s worse is the effect of the current situation. We have rising prices, rising bond rates, rising mortgage rates, flat unemployment, rising national debt, anemic job growth and the spectre of rising AI use. Stacked with Trump’s war in Iran, Trump’s erractic behavior and pronouncements, and the upcoming midterms, we’re facing a very uncertain future in the US.
Then add in climate and the expected super El Nino this winter, and brace yourself. This could be a wild roller-coaster ride.
With all this going on, Les Neurons have “Life During Wartime” playing in the morning mental music stream. The 1979 Talking Heads song is about surviving in a dystopian period. Such survival to extreme changes requires a lot of adaptation, and that might be where we’re heading soon.
Sample Lyrics
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, PA?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
Somebody see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter
To last a couple of days
But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no headphones
Ain’t got no records to play
Why stay in college? Why go to night school?
Gonna be different this time?
Can’t write a letter, can’t send no postcard
I ain’t got time for that now
Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock
We blended in with the crowd
We got computers, we’re tapping phone lines
I know that that ain’t allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives
Or in a suit and a tie
I changed my hairstyle so many times now
I don’t know what I look like
You make me shiver, I feel so tender
We make a pretty good team
Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving
You ought to get you some sleep
Burned all my notebooks, what good are notebooks?
They won’t help me survive
My chest is aching, burns like a furnace
The burning keeps me alive
May this day and the days to come treat you with peace and grace as you ride the roller coaster of life.
Cheers
Three Dreams Last Night
I can recall having three dreams last night.
One of them is barely recalled. It’s one of those episodic dreams I sometimes have, where there’s no one who I recognize as me. It’s just a story being told, like a television show.
I remember just part of a second one. Three other men and I were traveling together in an early 1960s something Cadillac convertible. We drove through sunshine with the top down. I was very impressed for some reason that there were four of us, two blacks and two whites. I believe we took turns driving.
We wore a uniform, and I knew we were on the same team but have no idea what team. From what I remember of the uniforms, they were white with dazzling embroidery, like something Elvis Presley would wear in concert.
Hungry, we stopped at a place where we decided we would pretend to be lawyers. We thought that ruse would gain us some food because we didn’t have any money. That didn’t seem to work so we drove cheerfully on through a winding orange canyon to another town.
We decided this time to claim that we were reporters. Women were running this place. One large, barrel-chested blonde woman was in charge. She mocked our claim that we were reporters, but they fed us anyway.
Dream end
Third dream involved family and food. I was with my sisters at some gathering at someone’s home. We were outside for most of the dream, where, weirdly, my sisters were baking. Besides them, there were many children. I barely knew most of them and didn’t recognize them from real life.
I needed an engine for some reason and ended up with a V8 engine with headers, a high rise manifold with a single four-barrel carb. The engine block was painted bright blue, and the air filter cover was chrome plated. After I got the engine, I realized, “I don’t need this.” But I wanted to save it. So I picked it up and put it in one of the rooms. I thought, I’ll leave that here for now but I’ll need to move it later.
My sisters and I talked a little politics. Then one announced, it’s time to eat. We got trays and loaded them up.
As I did, I went to cross the patio. Four tiny, perfect silver and black tabby kittens were playing. They’d found something and pounced on it, batting whatever it was with furious energy. I swear, these kittens were no more than three inches long.
My older sister asked me what I was doing and I showed her the kittens. She watched with me a bit, then I moved the kittens so they’d be safe.
The children and I decided to watch television. I wanted to watch football. I knew it was Sunday and games should be on, because of the time. No games were on, confusing me. I did the math: back home, the games start at 10 AM and it was almost 1 here, so there should have been a game on.
I went back to eat more cookies. My youngest sister was still baking. I walked along long tables mounded with food and wondered, laughing, why is she baking more? I ate a few cookies, which was delicious.
One brother-in-law, the Trump-loving one, was present, stretched out on a dark-brown sofa, talking. I wanted to hear what he said, but a plastic cocoon formed over him, sealing him in. I could hear him still talking but it was only a rumble of sound, and couldn’t see him at all.
Getting another cookie and eating it, my little sister demanded in her ominous ‘mom-voice’, “What are you doing?”
Laughing, I replied, “Eating a cookie? Why are you making more? Do you know you how many cookies there are?”
I saw her move the V8 engine which I’d move. I went over and picked it up to take it away, but then didn’t know where to take it.
Dream end.
Strange, Short Dream
I arrived at home. Not mine, but Mom’s.
It wasn’t one of the places she lived in real life, but I knew it was her house.
No one else was there. The place was messy in many places, totally opposite of anyplace I’ve lived or visited where Mom was in command.
Getting there, I found a narrow bed. White sheets, pink blanket, pillow, but unmade. I decided to sleep a bit.
A long-haired gray and white cat joined me. I talked to it in the way we do with animals, telling the cat, a male, I knew, was very handsome. The cat then *ahem* indicated that it wanted to have sex with me.
Full-blown horror lashed me. I rejected that completely, telling the cat that was sick and disgusting. I added, “You can sleep with me but as a cat, not a sexual partner.”
Unable to sleep after that, I got up and walked around, taking notice of the mess. Part of it on one end was a pond with rocks. Water fed into it but the water was scummy, full of plants and crap. Deciding I would clean it, I went off, found rags, buckets, tools.
My sisters arrived, chattering and laughing, before I could clean it but after a sort pause, I did. In dream fashion, it was miraculously fast and easy.
I showed the others. Everyone was impressed by what I’d done. Two turtles emerged from the pond. My youngest sister exclaimed, “I knew there were turtles in there.”
One turtle puked. Examining that, my sister announced with happiness, “It’s pregnant. I am so happy.”
Mom arrived shortly afterward, the middle-aged person I knew for most of my life. Her hair was blond and she was wearing black slacks with this black and white polka-dotted frilly shirt that she often liked to wear. Smiling and happy, she came in, saying hello to all of us.
Dream end
The Sisters Dream
I was with several of my sisters. We were all younger than now.
Don’t know where we exactly were. Outside. Mostly flat and sort of muddy to start.
I’d been off doing something and then returned, looking for them, as it was time to go. I found them by a large broken cement sewer pipe coming out of the base of a dirt hill. Multiple bottles and trash was there.
One of the sisters asked, “Michael, can you help us? We want to clean up these bottles but we don’t know how.”
They had two large plastic containers with a spout on top. Way too small to put the bottles in. So I tore the top of the plastic away. They thanked me and we loaded the bottles up, often breaking them. Some bottles were already broken. As they warned me to be careful, I picked up the bottles and put them in the plastic. Then I carried those away, depositing them somewhere safe.
I was ready to go, so I began walking. My sisters were several hundred yards away. I wanted time to myself. Deciding to avoid them, I began running. My sisters called my name: I ignored them, running faster.
I crossed the muddy plain and then ended up on a highway’s wide shoulder. Traffic was heavy to my right. Dusk was coming. Left was a lot of new constructions: houses and stores were being built, but was suspended for the night.
I thought, wow, that’s a lot of construction. The construction and changes threw me off. I hadn’t been in the area for a while. Confused about where I was going, I decided to go back to my sisters.
Turning around, I gawked with some amazement. I hadn’t realized how far and fast I’d run. Running back, my speed amazed me even more.
I reached the spot where I’d last seen my sisters. They weren’t visible. I called them; no answer.
Then I found them, along with their previous husbands, and more of my family. I looked for my wife but she wasn’t there. I saw my younger sister’s ex-husband, JJ, and said hello to him, adding, “Good to see you.”
The group told me we were going to Sharon and John’s. She’s my sister and that’s her husband. Then the group kind of wandered around, dawdling. Impatient, I went to Sharon and John’s house.
It was a small place. In the dining room was a large oval, polished wood table. Arrayed in front of it on one side were three rows of seven baby highchairs. They were different colors and ages. Each had a placard on it.
I was mystified. Like, what’s going on here? Is this where they expected us – adults – to sit? We wouldn’t fit in those chairs. No, they seemed to be set up for something. Classes for children?
Then the chairs rearranged themselves. Many disappeared. Matthew Perry was seated at one of the tables. Reprising his role as Chandler Bing from “Friends”, he did a few scenes. Except, he was the size of a baby.
John came in. I said, “How was that done,” gesturing to Perry/Bing in a highchair. John explained, “Oh, that’s Matthew Perry. He was in “Friends”.”
I answered, “I know all that, but that’s not him. That’s the size of a child. Is that a puppet? Animation?” It was completely lifelike.
We went back and forth, with John explaining the same thing in almost the same ways. I kept asking questions, trying to clarify it, but never got an answer. My sister came in, interrupting us to announce that there were sandwiches in the other room.
Dream end.
Friday’s Theme Music — God
Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 17, 2026.
Hot today, but not overly so, with 90 F as the top end. It’s wildfire smoke knocking us down today. Smoke limits the view out the front; we can barely see the valley past the trees across the street, a sight I normally contemplate as I make breafast.
The East Evans Creek has been going on and growing for several days. Started when a car hit a power line, people have been evacuated from several of the surrounding areas.
‘Back east’ as the expression goes, in Pittsburgh, PA, my sisters are complaining about the Canadian wildfire smoke saturating their region. Can’t breathe, they note; gives you an instant headache. One brother-in-law stayed out there yesterday and lost his voice. Surprised that he was out there, as he was stented several years ago and then went through open-heart surgery. On the other hand, he is a MAGAt.
Get ready for more Trump-inspired price increases! Ha, ha, just kidding!
Trump is imposing more tariffs on Brazil.
Coffee is already trading at historically high prices. Last time Trump put a tariff on products from Brazil in 2025, the fallout from high coffee prices politically hurt him. So he exempted food, coffee, and oil this time. It’s only things used in construction, like steel and wood. So housing costs will go up. No problem, right?
Home Listing Prices Post Sharpest Drop in 9 Years as Sellers Face Reality Check
Today’s song in the morning mental music stream is “American Jesus”. Came out over a few handfuls of years ago. By Bad Religion, it’s an anti-war song inspired when President George Dubya Bush said during the Gulf War, “‘We’ll win, because God is on our side!”
As many historians have said since, we may have won that war, but we lost the peace.
Fortunately, we have Trump, a genius among geniuses, in the Oval House and he’s learn all the lessons from that war because he’s the smartest man in the universe’s entire existence. Sorry, I gagged and puked writing that bit of snark.
May your day go well, your health be strong, and your food be tasty.
Cheers
Friday’s Theme Music
Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, June 12, 2026.
Sunshine. Blue sky. Cool now — 68 degrees — but climbing into the upper 80s again today.
Reports from the Eastern Front were about Mom suffering. A storm knocked out power. Afterward, the temperature climbed into the upper 80s and the humidity was high. Mom was in pain with headaches and other problems. Nothing we could do…
When Mom and I text, she often repeats the same questions and statements, frequently almost word for word.
My sister, Gina, sent texts relating all that remains to be done on Mom’s house, and the progress of things. She’s doing the work of five of us. But she’s supposed to be going on vacation two weeks from now, plans established last year. The house closing is scheduled for July 23, which suddenly seems very close.
Despite Trump’s talk of peace deals and the war being over, Trump’s war with Iran grinds on. Trump said something like we could get a deal as early as this weekend, but he’ll say anything.
A report came out in the “The Independent” that Trump’s support among Independent voters is sinking. The losses are among young Independent voters, along with Hispanic voters. Trump’s support with older, white Indpendent voters is unchanging.
A lot of the news is about Elon Musk becoming richer, thanks to the SpaceX IPO. Paul Krugman did a fine job of relating how little Musk actually accomplishes to become as wealthy as he is. Like Trump, Musk made a lot of promises. Much of what he promised was supposed to be done by 2025, but it isn’t. Krugman reminds us of what a disaster X has been since Musk bought Twitter, and how Wall Street bankers are still sucking on those losses.
In other Trump news, Trump used Ariana Grande’s song, “Bye”, without authorization. Grande immediately responded, “Please do not ever use my music in relation to this barbaric, inhumane, heinous nonsense. F*** ICE.
Reading of that, My Neurons responded by instantly playing “Bye” in the morning mental music stream. I thought I’d share it with you. *smile*
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
I hope your day proceeds safely, securely, happily.
Cheers
A Camaro Dream
I’d just signed a contract. Half of the money due me was paid and the other half would come later.
I was going next to visit my family. I decided I would surprise them. I bought four condos which were exactly the same, along with four 1968 Chevy Camaros, also exactly the same. Everything was in excellent condition. I can’t tell you what color the cars were, except they were immaculately polished and gleamed in the light.
I would be staying in one condo but I expected my sisters and Mom to stay in the other condos with their families. I would drive one Camaro; they would drive the rest.
Here it gets a little hazy. It’s about the keys. Whenever I got the keys for the cars or condos, there would be a green light.
I went to leave to meet with my sister, driving the Camaro I was giving her. First, I had to stop. There was unfinished business, leaves which needed to be moved away for Dad. I did most of those very fast, with the car door open and the engine running, then went off and picked up my sister and her son.
I told my sister to drive and told her the car was hers. She didn’t fully understand. I took her to the condos. Oddly, the three condos for the family were on one floor; my condo was alone, stacked on top of them.
I told my sister and nephew that this is where I’m staying and that it’s where I wanted them to stay as well. My sister worried about the expense. I kept telling her that I’d bought it and already paid for it.
Another sister arrived with her husband. I gave them the keys to their Camaro and showed them the four cars. They responded, “That’s nice.” I explained a few times that I was giving them the car. They finally got it and were shocked. My brother-in-law kept talking about the cars’ “mint condition”.
Other family arrived. Some young man from the condos came to help people with baggage. He asked, “Which condo is yours?” He seemed concerned about so many people staying in one condo.
I explained to him that I owned four of them but that I was giving three of them to my sisters and mother. I gave him the keys to their three condos. Catching on, he responded, “That cost a fortune.”
Mom was there, in her nurse’s uniform. She worried that she had to go to work. I kept telling her that she didn’t, but she was insistent.
It was raining, with light flooding. To go to work, Mom had to cross a muddy, swampy stream. I didn’t want her to cross because I didn’t think she would make it. But she went. As I watched, she fell into a hole and went underwater. I began rushing forward to help her but a large man showed up on the other side. Reaching down, he lifted Mom, drenched and covered with mud and weeds, and set her down on the other side.
Dream end.
Friday’s Theme Music — Excursions
Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, May 29, 2026.
Other months have gone by so fast for me this year. May feels like it’s dragging. Looking at the calendar, I’m surprised two more days remain in May.
I looked back at a post last year in May I wrote. I was complaining about the rain then, too. Today is gloomy, rainy, showery, 53 F with 64 high expected. Papi had to bring his outside show inside where he can sleep in dry warmth. Right now, he’s balled himself tight on the bed, eyes closed, snooze position assumed.
My sisters and their others have feverishly worked on cleaning and emptying Mom’s house, preparing it for the realtor’s photos and staging, and making a little money from Mom’s goods. Mom’s bedroom is empty, as is her tiny dining room.
Funny, though, Mom has actually used four different rooms as her bedroom. When she first bought the house, the upstairs was rented out as an apartment. So Mom’s bedroom was what was the dining room. Then she took the top floor back and moved into the ‘big’ bedroom. When Frank moved in, they shared that room for a while. When she started her medical issues, she moved into a smaller room because it was the only one with an air conditioner. Then, last year, with her mobility faltering, the back porch was re-purposed as her bedroom. A beautiful space, she was only in there for a few months.
I visited Mom, noting the changes. Each marked another season of Mom. I think she’s in her final season now.
My wife continues here cleaning/purging frenzy. A drawer, cupboard, or closet each day is done. She sets items out for me to judge: what do they go to? Do we need them? Do they work? What should we do with them?
She told me, “This is the easy stuff. I’m dreading when I get to the big stuff, the things that really matter. It’s going to be tough.”
Over on the Trump front, it’s amazing how quickly the performer lineup for Trump’s America 250 celebration is changing. The venue is called ‘The Great American State Farm’. Many of the artists said they had no idea that it was associated with Trump and turned it down after learning of his involvement. It’s almost like the Trump brand is tainted.
Food prices are up. The NYT reports: “Prepare for sticker shock as summer barbecue season heats up: The price of beef is sizzlingly high. Grilled sirloin will cost more than $14 a pound, on average, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, up 20 percent since last year.”
Sirloin is not alone as a higher price from a year ago:
• Tomatoes — 39.7 percent
• Instant coffee — 22.8 percent
• Coffee — 18.5 percent
• Uncooked beef roasts — 17.8 percent
• Roasted coffee — 17.3 percent
Trump has failed to lower the prices, though. Instead, his actions and policies keep driving food prices up. Energy prices are up, thanks to Trump. And the supply chain has been disrupted, thanks to Trump.
The Trump Iran War continues. So, food prices will continue rising. Trump couldn’t lower them before the war; there’s no reason to believe he’ll be able to after the war — whenever his ‘excursion’ ends.
Besides the war going on, the Epstein files have not been released, and the $1 billion Epstein ballroom is still under construction.
Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! is in a quiet period.
Today’s music is “Purple Rain” by Prince. Two factors played into this. I was talking to Papi about the rain. I was also deciding what to wear. I felt a long sleeve shirt would be appropriate for today. However, I often wear purple on Fridays. I don’t have a long-sleeved purple shirt.
The Neurons put this all together. Voila! “Purple Rain” began playing in the morning mental music stream. Prince said about the song, “When there’s blood in the sky… red and blue = purple. Purple rain pertains to the end of the world and being with the one you love and letting your faith/God guide you through the purple rain.”
Seems right for this time, when we’re divided as a nation into red and blue, and purple is considered a swing area.
May your day be bright with peace and promise.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 