Yes, it’s Satyrda, July 19, 2025. I’m about as amazed as you. It’s gonna be a cool one here, just 90 F as our high, up from the current realm ruled by the low 70s. Clouds have abandoned the blue sky and the sun rules.Although fourteen fires are being addressed in our southwestern Oregon region, we’re fairly smoke free. Wind patterns, I guess. Air quality is good.
I glanced at the news but it’s Satyrda. Not much churn going on at this point. Trump is suing Murdoch over the WSJ’s Epstein story. It’ll be interesting if Murdoch backs down. That’s the usual Trump MO. Sue and force the others to back down. Rarely seems to be about truth; more about pressure and money. In this case, with MAGALand clamoring for the Epstein files to be released, Murdoch might have the upper hand. Will he press it?
Today’s music is “While You See A Chance” by Steven Winwood. I heard the1982 song on television last night and The Neurons are not letting it go. They’re focusing on the lines, “When some cold tomorrow finds you, when some sad old dream reminds you, how the endless road unwinds you. While you see a chance, take it. Find romance, fake it. Because it’s all on you.” And this might also be dream related, now that I think about it a little.
Hope this Satyrdaz find you doing well and taking care of business. Off we go, one more time. Cheerz
Happy Wenzda. Jumped out of bed (it’s an expression), and went to the windows and —
“Alexa, what’s the air quality?” I asked. Because looking west, smoke sheathed the view. What fresh hell was this?
Alexa told me the air quality was good. Yes, I did not smell smoke. Windows were open. Cool 66 degree F air was flowing in. But that smoke was turning the blue sky gray. Must be from one of the nine fires burning west of us. Or one of the several blowing along mountain ridges from the fires burning south in northern California.
Supposed to be 97 F today. That’s what we saw yesterday. Ashlandia summer is in place.
I can become obsessive about things. My routine soon incorporate sniffing the air for smoke smells and looking out the window to see if the smoke was becoming better or worse. Some crow was yelling something the whole time. Another was responding from further away. I don’t know what it was about. I don’t speak crow.
Reading about Trump’s irritation with the Epstein files. While he’s still burning down the U.S., his base is upset about the Epstein List. Trump, being true to his core of caring only for himself and lying and throwing aspersians at others when he gets upset, lashed out on a lie-filled text. I read a good rebuttal with a timeline and a reminder, Presidents Obama and Biden didn’t have anything to do with it. It was during Dubya’s administration and Trump 1. Staunch Republicans Barr and Acosta were involved. Indisputably, though, Trump and Epstein were runners together. Photos exist. Trump talked about Epstein in glowing terms. No doubt, Trump is in that file.
Today’s music is a 1998 Eve 7 offering, “Inside Out”. The Neurons had it playing in the morning mental music stream for a bit, slowly turning the volume up. Finally hearing the part that goes, “I’m not as Ugly sad as you. Or am I origami folded up and just pretend, demented as the motives in your head.” Knowing some lyrics makes the modern net useful for finding the song’s details. Once those details were rehoused in my awareness, some memories about where and when I often heard it — in the car, driving around the bay area, Alex — stacked.
Now I’m feening for coffee. Off we go. Have a most excellent day, as we used to say. Cheers
Cool air regales us today, Twosda, July 15, 2025, in Ashlandia. Tiny wet old smoke offset’s the mountain air’s freshes. We’ll live. 68 F now, 97 F is forecasted. We saw 99.3 at our house yesterday but didn’t need the A/C. A clear blue sky and focused sun says, yeah, this might be a hot one.
On local news, the talk is about affordable housing. Affordable housing has been discussed since I moved here twenty years ago, along with growth. Each time ‘affordable housing’ is approved and built, investors snatch it up to flip or rent out. So it’s all been 20 years of talk and churn with no substantial changes.
Our local economy isn’t doing well. Ashland depends on tourism and Southern Oregon University (SOU) for the most part, along with some spotty light industry, mostly related to outdoor tourism, and of course, healthcare. Wineries and breweries give us two more legs. Beyond that, we have a service based economy, as most residents are older and retired. Tourism has been damaged by heat, wildfires, and smoke. Tourism’s centerpiece is the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, assisted by a series of outdoor concerts called the Britt Festival. Both were heavily cratered by smoke, heat, and wildfires. The pandemic then knocked tourism back again just when recovery began. Now we hold our breath, cross our fingers, and wait to feel what Trump’s attacks on people, trade, common sense and other nations does to tourism.
Meanwhile, healthcare’s rising costs have driven costcutting, layoffs, and firings to that local industry. The Greedy Ol’ Trump Party’s monstrous bill is expected to implode rural healthcare activities, and we’re part of that scene.
Finally, SOU has announced that enrollment has declined again. Tuition has been raised but they can’t keep raising it, so they’ve cut staff and programs. Desperate for money, they’re planning to shift some unused parts of their their campus into that fast-growing industry, assisted living. But again, the greed propelled GOTP absurdly named ‘One Big Beautiful Bill’ is expected to body slam education at all levels. Trump has cut Pell Grants and other programs, and that will leave a mark.
Underlying all of it: Trump’s charge to deny climate change and do nothing except punish those who do try to talk about it and address its impacts and causes. But climate change will affect the beer and wine industry, tourism, and wildfires. Did I mention that insurance companies withdrew from providing coverage in the area?
BTW, talk is about more than just this. We’re also talking a lot about deer, as they’ve become aggressive and attack dogs and people walking dogs.
Today’s song is “Rebel Rebel” by David Bowie. The Neurons slotted the 1974 song into the morning mental music stream for reasons they closehold and don’t disclose.
In a final comment on the morning, the local Internet, and by local, I mean ‘at my house’, is very sluggish. Anything happening to it out there in the world? Probably, but when will we learn?
Have the best day you can. I hope it’s excellent. Cheers
It’s Munda again! July 14, 2025. I don’t know about you, but we’re just ripping through July in Ashlandia. The days and hours whisk by like they’re passing on a blink of light. Some clouds slashed with grays and whites have braved our blue skies. It’s cooler today, peaking at 97 F, and should drop into the sixties at night. Yesterday saw 102.8 F at our place at 5 PM. We’d been doing well without running the A/C but my wife requested it at ten last night. She said that she had to apply something to her face but her face had to be dry, and it wasn’t dry. Nope, because it’s a humid heat. So we ran the air for about thirty minutes.
Our local fire, the Neil Creek, is 20% contained. Smoke is almost non-existent in the taste of today’s air. I’m grateful for that on behalf of my sinuses.
There are six birthays in July in my extended family. Two of those people, though younger than me, have already passed away. Cancer in both cases. Don’t know the specific cancers. A cousin’s birthday is today, my sister’s birthday is tomorrow, and my wife’s birthday is Wenzda.
Some Florida lawmakers visited Trump Concentration Camp Florida. Democrats, of course, found the conditions appalling. Republicans thought them okay, on a par with other ‘detention centers’. “Nothing to see here,” Republicans said after going on the guided tours. Just like there’s nothing to see in the Epstein files, right?
I was awakened (names and causes will be omitted) at four AM. Although I felt quite ready to return to sleep after jumping back in bed, my mind began playing a 1987 song, “Night Train”, in my mental music stream. It stayed through for the morning. I’m pretty sure of the cause and effect behind this one. The cat is a night train. And someone (hi, Ark) mentioned “Night Train” in the comments the other day. I’d not heard the song in yonks so I hunted down a video and watched and listened and thought and remembered. And, as it’s night, I suppose all this made sense to The Neurons and they brought the song up. The lyrics also played into it as I tried ‘guess the time’ and looked for signs of daybreak. “Down on the night train, I feel the starlight steal away, use up a lifetime looking for the break of day.”
Coffee has been introduced into my body once again. Time to get out there and rock the day away. Hope your day rocks you in a good way. Cheers
I begin my Sunda with the summer morning ritual. I step out to rebalance my circadian rhythm, feel the air temp, and give it a sniff test. How hot is it now and how much smoke is polluting the air are the dual concerns. Today it’s now 80 F, up from the 71 F holding when I first went out. We’ll be at 103 F today, a few degrees above yesterday’s 99.8 F. The smoke isn’t bad. I water things and close windows, sealing us against whatever nature is plotting against us today. I have learned that by closing the blinds and windows and keeping everything shut, we’ll be 13-15 degrees cooler than outside. We like to use fans to move the air when it warms, as the air conditioning, while cooling, makes our noses run. My wife is one who needs heat anyway.
This is Sunda, July 13, 2025. It’s a cousin’s birthday, but she passed away. Cancer. Cheery morning thought. Then I ate a lucious moderate-sized fig, savoring the experience with a slow chew, trying to be mindful. I don’t think I’m mindful enough. At 69 yo, can I become more mindful?
I jogged yesterday morning. It was a whim and I wasn’t prepared, just testing myself to see how far I could go before my body rebelled. The Fitbit says that was 2.5 miles, surprising me. It felt good. I jog walked home, thinking that I should combine those words and create a word: jolk. Yes, I jolked home, letting my sweat drip dry. No aftereffects strike this morning, knock wood. I thought I’d hurt somewhere.
ICE and wildfires dominates our news feed. Nextdoor reports an ICE vehicle was spotted in Ashlandia yesterday morning about 9:30 on Ashland Street by the cemetery. People advise others to report it on the app. A judge blocked random ICE raids in LA. We’ll see if this is appealed to the Roberts Court and swatted away. A man died from a fall during a chaotic ICE raid.
Getting news of the local fire plaguing us, the Neil Creek fire, is problematic. Something like 72 fires are burning in southern Oregon and northern California. The Neil Creek fire is closest to us but isn’t threatening anything (last heard) and is not large. Media focus is on the big burners. I understand that but my understanding doesn’t alleviate my frustration over lack of Neil Creek fire information. The last updates were days ago. Also, I haven’t seen or heard tankers since yesterday morning. Surely all this must mean good news, right? I finally find a Neil Creek fire update on Watchduty from fourteen hours ago. It’s five percent contained. Then there’s a summary:
Despite increased fire behavior, crews held fire lines with the help of helicopter water drops. Firefighters continue to strengthen lines and expand mop-up around the fire. Along the south end of the fire, crews removed hazardous standing dead trees to allow firefighters to access the southern perimeter safely.
There was an incident in the night. The neighbor’s dog erupted with furious barking. Bear or cougar, my wife thought, hurrying to the back door. She flicked on the lights and opens the door but stays in, leaning out to look around. I get a flashlight. By then the dog’s owner has talked the dog down and quiet has reclaimed the world.
“Overkill” by Men At Work is in the morning mental music stream. It’s all about the line, “I can’t get to sleep.” I awoke sometime in the night a few hours after the barking dog, mulled and dissected a dream and then the writing muses took over. I wrote for a while in my head before I managed to shut them down with a meditation process I use to induce sleep in myself. But the song remains in the morning mental music stream. While looking for a video to use, I found this accoustic version by Colin Hay, the band’s vocalist, where he’s backed by a choir. I thought it a cool difference maker and offer it to you.
Coffee has been sucked up. Time to press on. Hope your day answers your needs. Cheers
Welcome to Smoky Satyrda in Ashlandia. The smoke isn’t heavily visible but the smell of sodden wet wood hangs in the air and shifts my sinuses into overdrive to flush the crap back out. Yeah, poor me, right?
It’s 77 F now in Ashlandia with 99 F projected. The local troposphere looks up to it with blue skies gleaming down and a mighty sun raising up. Wouldn’t surprise to break 100 F; that’s the forecast for the valley overall.
A friend has fig trees on her land and gifted us with about five pounds of fresh, ripe figs. These things are huge and gorgeous. I’m married to a fignatic. We just spent $11 for a pint of figs the other day. They weren’t the best of figs but my house’s fignatic was happy to have them. You can imagine her joy from this gift. The figs are also a great addition to my morning diet. Yum. Pairs well with bananas. No so good with coffee.
I subscribe to multiple newsletters about books, writing, and publishing. One email subject said, “New Horror for your Summer”. I was like, no thanks, I have enough of that crap in the MAGALand daily news. For instance, when Trump’s gestapo rounds people up, their pets are often left alone in homes and apartments to die of thirst and starvation. This is Trump’s United States: cruel, mindless, thoughtless, heartless. Should I add greedy? That’s pretty fuckin’ self-evident when Trump brands and hawks new trinkets and consumer goods every month. Beyond that, there’s climate change and growing natural disasters around the world. As a couple nations war on each other and the wars threaten to engulf more geopolitical regions, TACO cuts back on the State Department and retreats.
Trump also announced he’s rolling out new tariffs. Will he or won’t he? TACO loves getting attention from making these announcements. Project 2025 goons installed in his regime loves him to do it, as they continue to operate under the distractions he generates with his blithering dithering — or is it dithering blithering? Trump makes announcements as the world burns and crashes around him, and the MAGAts clap in approval.
All that brings me to the morning mental music stream offering. After a surprisingly restless night and just one remembered dream (but a good dream), I found myself in the kitchen with a specific chorus echoing in the MMMS.
“Never free, never me, so I dub thee unforgiven. You labeled me, I’ll label you, so I dub thee unforgiven.”
Yes, that’s Metallica with their 1991 offering, “The Unforgiven”.
The Neurons were dubbing ICE agents as unforgiven. The entire damn Trump Regime is dubbed unforgiven, as are those senseless MAGAts who rolled this mess into existence. They’re unforgiven.
Have the best Satyrda you can. I plan to do the same. Cheers
Clouds are climbing over the mountains and shouldering the blue sky and sunshine out of the valley. It’s Thursda, June 19, 2025. Today will tap out in the low to mid 70s after breaking down to the low fifties, all Fahrenheit, in the night. Rain might be coming tomorrow, along with lower temperatures.
We’re watching a fire to our west. In the Upper Applegate/Ruch area, it’s already eaten over 350 acres. Firefighters are working it; the cooler temperatures are helping. Some smoke is slipping our way, taxing our air quality.
News about Mom is not readily available. When we last left her story, she’d been taken to the hospital where, at a few minutes after midnight, they weren’t sure they were keeping her or discharging her. She was constipated and in intense pain. They don’t know what’s causing the pain.
Today’s music is by the O’Jays. “Love Train” is part of the Philly sound. Coming out in 1972, many call it early disco but I book it as R&B. Whatever genre you label it, the song was part of a more optimistic period, when we were saying, hey, peace and brotherhood are good things and they are possible. It’s possible for us all to live side by side and not just survive but thrive. Some, though, fell behind while others were thriving. Contemptuous neer’ do wells use the gap to wedge people further apart and pour hate in. Whatever someone hates or doesn’t like, they find someone on ‘the other side’ to hate for it. The Neurons hooked it when a snatch of song was heard which may have been “Love Train”. So here we are.
It’s a short entry. I’m off for oral surgery now. Coffee, food, and any fluids are currently off limits. See you on the rebound. Cheers
Sunday morning brings us a dirty gray blue sky with a dirty white veneer. Air quality is in high double digits, so not too precarious as far as the readings go. Just looks off.
This is September 8, 2024. Currently 69 degrees F with smoke but it’ll climb to 92 F with smoke. Meteorological rumors has Wednesday’s high capped in the mid to upper sixties, with a 92% chance of a quarter inch of rain. We’re pretty jazzed about that in this Ashlandia household.
The beginning of Peter’s column gives the guest’s background.
Lynn Myrick is a Trump supporter. He is a retired Southern Oregon family law attorney. He practiced for 47 years and still serves as an expert witness on attorney ethics and billing practices.
Myrick is a regular reader of this blog. My critique of Trump’s criminality, his business frauds, his sexual crimes, and his seditious effort to overthrow the election did not dampen Myrick’s support of Trump.
Peter goes on, Critics may think he sounds drunk, stupid, willfully uninformed, profoundly biased, or worse. They may think Myrick is mired in the alternative reality of a religious cult led by a con-man guru. But Myrick is not stupid. This is what he thinks. Something along the lines of this interior monologue takes place in the minds of a near-majority of our fellow citizens. Read it as literature. Read it for insight on how it is possible Americans might choose to elect Trump.
I was hugely disappointed in Myrick’s post. Less of a word salad than Trump himself would present, it’s a right-wing talking points gush, without any context, historic perspective, or critical thinking. For me, it seems like he gets all his news from right-wing sources and challenges none of it. That’s a common perception, right or wrong, that I have about most Trump supporters; they’ve inculcated a narrow perception of the world and hunts facts to bolster that perception. Those facts are often wrong because the purveyors providing the false information are catering to the right wing’s need for false facts. The right wing is going through life with blinders on these days.
Worse, Myrick is like, ‘look how terrible Biden/Harris is’ without any contemplation of the alternative, Trump and Vance. Trump has rightfully earned himself a label of weird. Hugging the flag, claiming he wants votes and doesn’t want them, lying about everything and anything without any limitation. Add to that, he’s under several indictments and has been convicted. He is a felon. He tried overthrowing the election in 2020. That’s apparently okay with Myrick. He offers no comments at all on Trump. Just staunch, no Dem! Dem bad!
But then, that’s what the right wing chamber declares, along with ‘Trump good’, without offering evidence.
Myrich probably thinks he wrote a sharp, damning piece. And the right-wing probably agrees with him.
I guess from thinking about the GOP, which can be called ‘the other side’, caused The Neurons to summon “The Other Side” by Aerosmith to the morning mental music stream (Trademark dark). I remember this song coming out. I was already familiar with it, as it was released in 1990 as a single but it was from the album, Pump, which I’d already purchased. Holland–Dozier–Holland, the Hall of Fame songwriting team, threatened Aerosmith with a lawsuit because “The Other Side” had some resemblance in parts to “Standing In the Shadows of Love”.
Alright, on to other things. Smoke is getting worse out there. Over 100 now on the air quality index. You stay positive and be strong, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been swallowed a few times. Here’s the music. Cheers
Saturday padded in on floof feet, bringing clouds. Not so chilly this morning, it’s already 73 but will climb to only 95 F today. That’s 10 degrees less than I saw at my house yesterday.
Quiet outside, the main news comes from the avian Karens known as scrubjays. They get involved in everything, flying around making loud announcements about what people and other birds and animals are doing. A small aircraft putters by hundreds of feet overhead, its putter a steady sound that gains volume and then falls into a distant hum.
Air quality is okay on Siskiyou Blvd., about a hundred yards down the hill from us, but quickly deteriorates into mid-triple digits as you travel up the mountain flanks. A burnt wood smell hangs in the air, leftovers from some fires, somewhere.
We did two jigsaw puzzles in August. A three-hundred-piece puzzle was done on the first night of vacation. Another was started there, and then transported home, where we finished it. We started a third one last week and finished it last night. This was another Wysocki puzzle, produced by Buffalo, one thousand pieces.
The Neurons have plugged “Notorious” by Duran Duran into the morning mental music stream (Trademark seedy). Don Old Trump’s latest round of speeches and proclamations set off the 1986 song in my head. Trump is just notorious for saying notorious crap.
“Donald Trump apparently doesn’t care whether or not he wins in November anymore.
At a Fox News town hall on Thursday, the Republican presidential nominee revealed that his 2024 campaign strategy excludes anyone who he doesn’t believe supported him in the last election cycles.
“One person who didn’t support me—he said, ‘I must admit I had the most successful four years of my life but I’m gonna vote for some—’ and now that person came back to me. I don’t want that person,” Trump said to muffled applause. “I don’t want that person.
“You know, they say you should take everybody, but that’s not the way I’m built. It’s one of those little problems,” he added.
All of this is probably depressing to those people who want him to talk about policies and be a serious politician. But he’s just too weird.
He said those things at a town hall meeting on Thursday. But on Wednesday, the day before in Pennsylvania, he was pleading for votes.
“Even if you don’t like me, you can sit there and say, ‘I can’t stand that guy, but there’s no way I’m gonna vote for her.’”
He also apparently forgot on Wednesday where he was, alluding to New Hampshire instead of Pennsylvania, and who he was running against.
“I can’t imagine New Hampshire voting for him. Anyone in New Hampshire who votes for Biden or Kamala…” he told the crowd.
Trump has become notorious for mental gaffes in 2024 as well as ducking responsibility and claiming he’s never said anything, or that he’s responsible for things. He’s claimed that he knew nothing about the photo at Arlington National Cemetery. He also claimed that Vice President Harris made it up. His campaign claimed there wasn’t a physical altercation with anyone as described.
Meanwhile, a Trump spokesperson wrote, “For a despicable individual to physically prevent President Trump’s team from accompanying him to this solemn event is a disgrace and does not deserve to represent the hollowed grounds of Arlington National Cemetery,” he said in a written statement, misspelling the word hallowed. “Whoever this individual is, spreading these lies are dishonoring the men and women of our armed forces.”
The person they’re referring to is the U.S. Army employee who works at Arlington National Cemetery.
That’s Trump and his campaign. Notorious for word salads, lies, and contradictions. Notorious for lacking principles or honor. Notorious for blaming others. Notorious for being a hot mess.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. The smoke pollution is worsening. Gotta go close the windows and turn on the air purifier. Cheers
Today is Saturday, August 24, 2024. It’s a chilly 54 F this morning. I turn on the fireplace and open the blinds. Light rain peppers the greenery with some needed moisture. Sunshine emerges and steam begins rising. Today’s high will be an un-summery 70 F.
We’re back in Ashlandia, where the worries are palpable and the angst is regular. A second well-established restaurant is shutting down after years of business. This is a trend we don’t like.
Ashlandia is dependent on tourism. Drought, pandemic, fires, smoke, and economics have all tested our tourism. Each have contributed to a point where the ‘you are here’ dot is tiny and prickly. We’re home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. It’s our major industry, abetting revenue brought in by being an outdoor adventure location for fishing, rafting, and skiing (Mt. Ashland) and what Southern Oregon University contributes. Under the impact of those big five factors of pandemic, etc., we’ve been in a slow downward spiral.
We’d already lost the seasonal business called the Water Street Cafe. It’d been a longtime draw but the owner passed and the survivors couldn’t make it work. It’s now a crepe place, and we have high hopes for that.
Last week, the Black Sheep Restaurant announced they’re shutting down. Now Cucina Biazzi is closing. We’re already lost many book stores like the Book Wagon, and coffee shops like The Beanery and Cafe Boulevard. In their place, we’re gaining used clothing stores, marijuana dispenseries, and tattoo parlors. This are not major draws when every other town is offering more of the same.
Being back home, I miss stepping out of the Waldport vacation house and into the seaside environment. I enjoyed going out there each morning and tasting the breeze, studying the tides’ levels, and gathering in sunshine and clouds. I do the same thing here, but it’s not the same with the ocean missing.
I begin another theme for the coming week today. The theme now is songs with time in their titles. Lots come to mind. The time theme came out of being stuck in traffic yesterday as an accident was cleared away. The first song offering from The Neurons is “Time Won’t Let Me” by The Outsiders from 1965. The fast-paced rocking roller is filling my morning mental music stream (Trademark delayed) like I was back in a neighbor’s Wilkinsburg basement listening to it on a 45 record. Actually, I think my memories have better fidelity than that little record player in use. I would’ve been about ten at that time.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue. Coffee has made itself comfortable in me. Time for the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 