Wednesday’s Theme Music – Moron
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, September 16, 2026.
Summer’s pullback continues. Thunderstorms are forecast for the area. With a temperature now of 64 and a high of 78 F, we’re leaning toward the cool side.
Sour mood again. Sorry. Apologies.
Mom is being discharged from the hospital. She’s to return to Heritage Grove assisted living. My sister, Gina, is taking her. Gina reports Mom is loopy and confused. They have her on O2. It feels like it’s a setup for another mess, which leaves me and my sisters down. With all of Mom’s issues, we know that only one thing can resolve her problems. The weariness just drags on.
Likewise, Trump news is a drag on the soul. His EPA is repealing pollution limits on fossil fuel power plants. Speaking with Trumplike stupidity, an EPA administrator said, “”The days of Biden and Obama working to destroy natural gas and coal are over.”
Yeah. That’s what Presidents Obama and Biden were doing. Sure. Had nothing to do with climate change. BTW, 2026 is set to go down as the hottest on record. But please, let’s put more pollutants in the air and water so that what we breathe and drink harms our health. People are already struggling with healthcare costs. Let’s load more problems. That’s Trump’s backwards thinking.
Never mind the history books full of stories about smoke from burning coal darkening the skies. Forget rivers on fire and cancer rising as industries dumped their pollutants into water systems.
And please, do ignore all the studies which show that improving the air and water quality led to increases in productivity.
No, Trump and the GOP are just going back in time, dragging us with them.
And what’s hilarious is that Trump wants more AI because he thinks the Chinese are pulling ahead. Without knowing how AI can generate profits and without regard to what all those AI centers can do to our health and environment, Trump wants to bull on.
It’s sadly funny but he’s amazing stupid, greedy, and short-sighted. But as said by many, because the truth is clear, Trump only cares about Trump.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Gosh, yes, Donald Trump, once you say, beautiful, it changes everything! Why, that’s amazing! You ARE such a genius, you idiot.
Here’s a photo of an American city back before the EPA was created, along with the regulations to protect the air, land, and water. You’re a fool if you can stand in that, look around, breathe in, and call it beautiful. As a 70-year-old, I lived through that air in my childhood and survived, and don’t want to see us go back to those days.
But when it comes to facts, truths, and history, Trump is an utter moron.
Which brings me around to my morning mental music stream. I don’t listen to a lot of Primus but I always liked the premise of “Moron TV”. Released in 2011, it’s a diatribe against how TV is used to shape children’s opinion. While that’s the focus, I think politics share this methodology, especially the Trump and MAGA crowd.
Sample Lyrics
Just when I thought I’d seen it all
They pull a cretin from the shelves
And flash that filth under their nails
To make us feel better about ourselves
Well that one’s fit for a sex tape
Well that one’s fit for a dad
Well that one had more babies
Than anyone’s ever had
That one married a rock star
That made all little girls squeal
And that one want to be president
Cause she’s got more eye appeal
May your day come dressed in peace and grace and you finish with joy and happiness.
Cheers
Trump Knows Better
Trump has said for years that he knows better.
Trump knows grass, claims he probably knows more than anybody in the world.
Trump knows more than the generals, he said. He’s always believed he knows more about trade, finance, and economics, as well as tariffs. Trump also claimed he knew more about medicine during COVID-19 than many doctors.
That’s why, despite all Trump’s expertise, the national debt is skyrocketing.
Measles outbreaks have achieved levels not seen in over a quarter century.
Affordability remains a growing crisis in the United States, with oil, diesel, and energy prices leading the way.
The COVID-19 pandemic didn’t disappear overnight as Trump claimed it would. Over a million in the United States experienced COVID-19 related deaths. We are still coping with COVID-19 six years after Trump made those claims.
Look at the messes Trump has made across the world. Let’s begin with the garish gold he put on We the People’s house.
Shift to how he’s demolished the East Wing, wiping out a heritage he couldn’t grasp, which can’t be duplicated.
Trump then turned his ‘expertise’ to the Kennedy Center, which is now falling apart and begging for money.
Likewise, Trump messed up the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pond. Every time Trump had work done on the pool, Trump claimed, I know better. Every time, Trump disparaged others’ knowledge and efforts. Every time, Trump lied about what happened and bragged what he was doing next.
Trump burdened our economy with tariffs, thinking that will drive manufacturing to the United States, and started a war which he doesn’t know how to stop, which is only worsening the affordability crisis.
That would be the prices which Trump complained about as being too high under President Biden. Now they’re higher under Trump. But under Trump, Trump Double Standards are employed. He spins a new word weave. These prices are not higher. They’re coming down soon. And they’re not his fault. Nor are they a problem — it’s a golden age! Here’s some tariff relief to bring prices down and more pulled from the Strategic Petroleum Reserves to try to reduce prices.
Then, Trump proffered five grand if his party keeps control of Congress.
Finally, in a desperate effort to displace blame and responsibility, Trump pivoted, blaming Ukraine for high diesel prices because Ukraine bombed Russia while pretending the war he started with Iran isn’t the single largest driver of rising prices.
Just as a reminder, Trump said he would end the Ukraine Russia war by the time he took office in 2025, eighteen months ago. Despite that claim, the war continues.
In short, Trump has created a shit show.
Now Trump is claiming that he knows more than AI experts. Eschewing their warnings, just as he dismissed warnings about tariffs, war with Iran, COVID-19 — just as he’s ignored every warning any true knowledgeable expert gave.
Your Trump Quote of the Day
Trump’s dismissive response to experts’ AI warnings has all the hallmarks of a Trump mess:
- Trump called it a hoax
- Trump declared himself strong and smart
- Trump insisted that those worried about it are part of a ‘conspiracy’
Dig in. The shit storm is about to get real.
A Dream of Dad & Others
Last night’s dream featured three dead people: my friend, Randy; Dad; and my mother-in-law, Belle. It also featured a high school English teacher, and my father’s second wife. He was married three times, although he also loved with another woman for about ten years.
I was young. At the dream’s beginning, I’m up above, in a house, with others. Down below is a large green lawn with some green maples or oaks. Dad, stumbling drunk and very loud, was down there with his second wife by the trees. She was pregnant. Dad had two long rifles.
A man and woman were walking backwards across the grass, away from Dad. The man wore a straw hat. He also had two rifles.
Although I could hear them yelling, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. But they were having some kind of argument, and it was escalating. From what I saw, the man seemed to threatening to shoot Dad.
Turning, I found two weapons beside me. Picking up a sawed-off shotgun, I pointed it down at the man and called out.
He acknowledged something about, “Oh, now you have a shotgun in the fight.”
Another man and woman seemed to be approaching from the other side of the lawn to join that man and woman.
I realized the shotgun would be ineffective because of the range so I picked up the long rifle and aimed it at the man.
He moved back forward toward Dad and raised his rifle. Then he backed away again, turned and began walking away.
At that point, Dad threw his rifles into the air, hurling them away from the house.
The man left and Dad and his wife came in.
Dad could barely walk because he was so drunk. He went into a room where he said with a sloppy grin, “I’m going to lay down.” Then he passed out on his back on the floor.
Meanwhile, I had homework to do. I shifted to being in a classroom with my high school English teacher. She was explaining to us, a small class of students, what she wanted in our assignment.
The assignment excited me. I went home and worked on it on my computer. Then the file crashed, which upset me. I had two other assignments due but now didn’t have enough time to complete it all. Thinking about what to do, I concluded that I needed to tell the teacher that I couldn’t get it in on time and go from there.
I then went out to join the others. We were in a very large, well-lit house, brick, with many windows. All of us went to one small room. My mother-in-law (Belle) was in there. Something she said or that we saw satisfied us. We concluded, “That’s taken care of.”
Moving back into a hall, I said, “Now we need to figure out where we all sleep.”
Randy, my dead friend, began walking down the hall, talking with me. We were looking into the bedrooms. They were small, with a small bed, and no doors. I saw one and thought, I’ll sleep there, though I said nothing.
Randy led me into another small bedroom. “I can put someone in here,” he said. I noticed that there was hall attached. Saying, “What’s in there,” I went into the hall, which turned out to be a huge, well-lit bedroom. As I walked in, astounded, I saw an enormous room, with a huge king-sized bed, and two other, smaller beds.
I said, “People can sleep in here,” then I realized, oh, this is Belle’s room. If we put people in here, where will Belle sleep?
Dream end
The Wake Up Ping
WARNING: It’s ‘nother first world blues rant.
I don’t usually keep my phone near me when I’m in bed. Had a lifetime in the military, along with my time in marketing. People always wanted me immediately available.
Well, no longer! It’s one of the declarations of independence I made when I retired from all that work stuff. The phone stays in the other room.
Except, yesterday, it didn’t. I wasn’t feeling well. My car was in the shop for routine maintenance. I was waiting for them to call or text to tell me it was ready. So I had the phone on my nightstand.
They called about four-ish, asking if they could keep it overnight. No, nothing major found; they were just short-handed and overscheduled.
Shrugging it off, I agreed, sure. “Call me in the morning when it’s ready.”
I went back to sleep, off and on, and forgot about the phone.
Until six AM this morning.
The phone pinged with a message. In irritation, I thought, sisters. That was more a matter of my mood than anything. My sisters have habits of getting up early and sending texts early. They’re on the east coast of the US, so they’re three hours ahead of me. Texts that they’re sending at 8 AM are pinging on my phone at 5 AM.
But it wasn’t my sisters.
Nor was it the car repair shop.
No, it was Google Health, formerly known as Fitbit.
Google Health pinged me awake at 6 AM to tell me that I didn’t have a good night of sleep.
Sure; that made total freaking sense.
As Mom often grumbles, “Those so and so’s.”
A Bulb Tale
More first world blues!
I barked out a laugh.
My wife absently asked, “What’s so funny?”
We were in the home office, each quietly doing computer things. Sitting back, I turned my chair to face her. “You know how that garage door light bulb went out?”
The background: there’s a light that goes on when you press the button to raise or lower the garage door. It was no longer going on.
She nodded, waiting for me to drop the other shoe.
“Well, when you were out the other day, I replaced the bulb. That didn’t fix it, though.”
“Oh,” my wife said.
“Anyway.” I gestured at the computer. “I figure, must be something else. So I’m researching online. One of the things I came across was that I should use a light bulb specifically made for garage door lifts.”
My wife frowned. “What?”
I laughed. “Exactly. We’ve lived here twenty years. I think I replaced the bulb one before. I replaced our Half Moon Bay garage door light one time. I’ve never bought a special bulb for it.”
“Why would the garage door need a special bulb?” my wife asked.
“It’s supposed to be ‘more rugged’.”
She and I both laughed. “I think that’s crap,” she said.
“I agree,” I replied.
We returned attention to our computers.
More First World Blues
My wife lost her phone.
So, I’m changing information in online accounts. The procedures were all originally all set up for us do online — technological DIY, if you will — back in the Internet’s infancy. Since then, the net has been terrorized by security threats and thefts.
Anway, the saga begins…
I log into my account. Navigate to my profile. Go to the phone numbers. Try to change the number.
Can’t!
Because I have already added that number.
I attempt to delete that number.
Can’t!
In order to do that, they want to text me a security code on the number I’m attempting to delete because the number is no longer valid.
Yet, that’s listed as the primary contact. I can’t move the other name up. It has a strange, inexplicable logic to it.
No other options are available online. My only choice is to call them and explain it all.
It’s a technological catch 22.
First World Blues: The Phone Saga
I entered the house.
My wife looked at me with hope. “Did you find my phone?”
“What?” I asked.
She explained. She’d called and left messages. She’d lost her phone.
My phone never rang.
After cursing that, I examined my settings. The phone should have rung. It’s possible it rang and I didn’t hear it.
Anyway…
My wife lost her phone. She thought it happened at the coffee shop. I called them to ask if they had found it. They looked all over as I called the number.
“No, sorry,” Katie told me.
We drove over to the coffee shop to look for ourselves. No sign of the phone.
Then I got a phone call from her phone. Children were making a prank call.
I tried talking to them. I offered a reward. I texted them with an offer to buy the phone back.
No response.
After two days of trying, my wife accepted, the phone was gone. She needed to cancel the service for that number.
She called the support center.
A bot answered. It explained it was a bot and asked her what her problem was.
My wife explained the situation.
“Hold on,” the bot said. A few minutes later, it came back on the line. “Can you explain your problem again please?”
My wife did.
“Please hold,” the bot said. “I’ll be right back.”
The back came back and suggested, “Turn your phone off and on.”
“No,” my wife replied. She explained again: she did not have her phone. Her phone was lost. She needed to cancel the service.
“Hold on,” the bot replied. It went away. My wife listened to hold music. The bot came back: “Turn your phone off and on.”
“That won’t work,” my wife answered. “Let me speak to a human.”
The human had her sorted in thirty seconds. If she had spoken to the human in the first place, the call would have been under a minute.
Instead, she was forced to endure having a bot tell her, “Turn your phone off and on.”
AI.
Right.
Friday’s Theme Music
Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 24, 2026.
It’s a hot, sunny day. 85 F now, 95 later. But the air is free from smoke.
Fasted last night so I could go get some blood tests done today. So then went off and ate breakfast after that was completed.
Then the morning got a little complicated. My wife lost her cell phone. Children found it and wouldn’t return it. Yes, rewards were offered. She didn’t have the phone locator turned on, a choice she made years ago but now regrets. She also didn’t set up phone security. Fortunately, she used it for nothing except texting, games, and phone calls.
BUT —
It was the primary number for receiving security texts for different accounts. So I’ve been going through the very painful process of changing that number with several companies. It isn’t just ‘log in and fix it’; it’s log in — or, call us. Give us your name, DOB, address, social, UserID. Now, take a photo of both sides of your driver’s license. And a selfie. Now hop on your right leg three times, turn in one complete circle, spit toward the sun, and declare, “New phone number” three times.
Classic first world blues.
It’s pretty apparent these days that Trump’s shallow thinking has exhausted its ability to come up with new ideas. Deeply into repeating himself, Trump is inflicting new tariffs on us (even though the US is projected to refund $85B in tariffs and our customs duties receipts are negative $26B in June) and trying to add his name to another building as part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
Not surprising, given Trump’s flat ideas and bullying leadership style, Trump is losing staff. Those he chose who were approved by the Senate are escaping while they can. Could be that they know that the mid-terms are looking like another Trump disaster — like:
- Trump’s Iran war
- Affordability
- The Epstein ballroom
- Trump’s new ‘Air Force 1’
- The Epstein files
- The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool
- The growing measles cases — now more than all of last year, with five months left in the year.
No worries; he’s not.
We’re becoming the land of the poor, sick, and broken under Trump. According to a Harris Poll, 95% of U.S. adults believe the country is facing a severe affordability crisis.
Still living in a fantasy, Trump thinks the next president will have it great.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
The other way that we can take this quote is that Trump made another Freudian slip. He’s actually acknowledging that he’s doing a shit job, and that anyone after him will look much better in comparison.
Given his declining physical appearance and the way he often babbles, I wonder if he’ll be alive to see the next Oval Office inhabitant.
Maybe Trump will pull a Mitch McConnell. That might be even why the GOP isn’t trying very hard to prove Mitch is still alive; they’re testing the waters to do the same with Trump.
Today’s song came to me as I was driving and thinking, returning home from my lab visit. I had the radio off, thinking about my dreams from last night. With my daily routine shifted, I thought, “Come up for air.” From that, “Miracle Mile” by Cold War Kids began playing in my morning mental music stream.
May the season’s winds carry you to a happy, healthy, and safe future.
Cheers
The CIA Dream
I was working in marketing again, as I had for several years in real life. I was about the same age as well, early 40s, after retiring from the military.
Just returning from a long trade show, I went to my office and opened my cabinets to put things away. There I found that someone had been delivering food to me! Much of it were three by three inch cubes with Kanji on them. The wrappers were white, with either a red, green, or blue.
They totally mystified me. I questioned others, where did the food come from? Who brought them? No one could say.
I figured out through examination that the colors on the cubes represented fish, beef, or dairy. That amused me but needing my space, I began clearing them out.
Next I found bags of candy. Like WTF? Then cans of soup and containers of melted ice cream.
I couldn’t believe it. Why would someone put that in my cabinet?
A female co-worker came by and explained that the same thing had happened to her. It was part of some lunch program. We didn’t go in to get our food, so they delivered them to us. We weren’t there, so they put them away for us.
“But ice cream?” I protested. “That doesn’t make sense. Also, how much food do they think I need? There must be weeks worth.”
I was amused more than I was angry.
While I was cleaning, basically trying to do with this food, I kept getting summoned to meetings or interrupted by people coming by.
Two of the people who came by were CIA agents. Or so they said.
Male, dressed in suits, with ties. They wanted a favor.
Something was being installed. It was down on the ground floor, outside. They gave me a red and white placard. A white 5 was in the middle.
“Just put this on the cover of what they make. That’s all you need to do.”
Sure. Why not? Made no sense but did I care? Not really. I was too busy with other things to wonder about this strange venture.
Resuming my cleaning, I was almost done when two more men – white, in suits – stopped by. They identified themselves as part of the CIA. These two wore sunglasses.
I wondered, is this a joke?
One explained, “There is new construction being completed downstairs.”
The other held up a white thing. Basically resembled a white tent peg. “We want you to put this about a foot behind the construction, about a foot to the right. That’s all you need to do. We’ll do the rest.”
I repeated all that because it made no sense.
Then I asked, why are you asking me to do this?
“We’ve seen your records,” the first said, as if that explained everything.
I figured he meant my military records, and all those security clearances, and just accepted it.
Later, I did what the two pairs of agents asked. Privately, kind of secretly, ensuring no one was around to witness it.
Then I laughed as I walked away.
Dream end.
