To begin, I found myself in a car that became trapped in a flood and incapacitated. That meant I wasn’t going to make my destination on schedule.
I wasn’t bothered. Getting out of the car — no idea of its make, model, or color — I waded out of flood waters. Two things began working in parallel: I started making arangements for a rental replacement and I worked on understanding my location. With the former, I learned in phone calls that a car was available but wouldn’t be there for several hours. In the matter of location, I found that I was close to my father’s house. I could visit him and his family while waiting for my rental car.
Their home is in the southwestern U.S. in the dream. In real life, Dad lives in Texas but in the dream, I was unclear if it was New Mexico, Arizona, or Texas. With dream magic swiftness, I arrived at Dad’s and was knocking on their door. A family member I didn’t recognize answered the door. They recognized me, introduced themselves in a vague way and let me in. Then I remembered them.
Then, it was visitor time. Cousins on my father’s side were living with him. Two of these cousins have already passed away in real life. The other point is that I’m 5’8″ in real life and the cousins are half a foot plus taller. My dream had these roles reversed. That surprised m and it came to a point that I realized, I’m tall, they’re looking up at me.
Food and drinks were offered and accepted. After I ate, my father’s current wife entered the cosy western room where a fireplace hosted blazing logs. I explained the situation to her and asked her about my father and seeing him. A little distracted, she told me Dad was there and he wanted to see me but he had to do some things first and it would be a little bit later.
My Dad’s wife’s daughter called from open French doors in the rear that there was an animal playing in the water. I moved there to see a young wild cat chasing something through the water. Almost simultaneously, I realized that night was falling, it was pouring rain, that the house was built by an arroyo, and that flash flooding was underway. On the next moment, I saw that there was a much larger wildcat — about the size of an adult cougar — in the water and figured it was mom, and another little one. Those three animals easily moved their powerful bodies through the raging muddy waters. Mom cat noticed us and that’s when the next pair of realizations bolted in: that back door was just feet from the raging waters, and three wild predatory animals were also just feet away. But the animals went on and we backed into the house and eventually closed the door.
More family members briefly visited but all had other things to go do. I ended up alone. I noticed that they had this small, rough shaped wooden table, about the size of a petite coffee table. A piece of art was worked into the table’s top. I thought I’d fix it up as a gift to them so I took it to a small shop I located on the property and cleaned the top until some western piece of cowboys with lassos in iron and style was revealed.
After polishing it up, I returned to the house. Dad’s wife met me. I showed her and others the table. They were really pleased. None had noticed the top. The piece was a family heirloom and they were told it was priceless but they didn’t know anything about the art.
My rental car had been delivered and I needed to leave. It was night and Dad hadn’t shown. I left and went to the car. Once I reached, I laughed: I was still carrying the table in one hand. Going back to the house, I saw several of them through the window. The lights were on inside. They looked right at me. I realized that they couldn’t see me because of the lights and reflections, so I just went in, showed them the table, joked about almost leaving with it, and then left again.
Boom! I still had the table. I realized this in a few steps and hastily rushed back in, set the table down, and left the house. The dream ended as I reversed the rental car, turned it around, and drove into the night.
As before, all cases are in unvaccinated people or people with unknown vaccination status. Of the 48 cases, 42 are in children, including 13 between the ages of 0 and 4. Thirteen people (27 percent) have been hospitalized.
On Thursday, for the third day in a row, the White House prevented Associated Press reporters from attending official events, a spokesperson for the news organization confirmed to The Washington Post. An AP reporter was blocked from attending two afternoon events in the Oval Office, including a swearing-in ceremony for Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.
By way of an explanation, White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt told reporters on Wednesday, “I was very upfront in my briefing on Day 1 that if we feel that there are lies being pushed by outlets in this room, we are going to hold those lies accountable.” She added, “And it is a fact that the body of water off the coast of Louisiana is called the Gulf of America, and I’m not sure why news outlets don’t want to call it that.”
It is not a fact, except in Truskworld. But Leavitt was right about lies being pushed by outlets in the room, but it’s the White House and her behind those lies.
PINA Trump hasn’t even taken the oath of office yet, and the crazy is already at a third-year frenzy. He’s grabbing headlines this weekend by bellowing about the Panama Canal.
“The Panama Canal is considered a vital national asset for the United States, due to its critical role to America’s economy and national security,” Trump said Saturday on his Truth Social platform. “A secure Panama Canal is crucial for U.S. Commerce, and rapid deployment of the Navy.”
Inspired by Trump’s demands, Putin put out statement that maybe Russia should demand Alaska back. “Alaska is considered a vital national asset for the Russian Federation due to its location and wealth of natural resources. A secure Alaska is crucial for Russian commerce, and a rapid deployment of our military forces.”
Not to be outdone, France issued a statement suggesting that they might demand the Louisiana Purchase be returned to France. “We were tricked into making that sale,” the statement said. “America’s ambassadors supplied champagne, whiskey, and wine to the meeting, and took advantage of France’s representatives.”
Representatives of King Charles III’s government put out a statement that they are re-thinking the history of the original thirteen colonies, and might demand that they be returned as well. Spain has suggested it might demand that Florida be returned to them, “Because it’s a really warm place and is important for our ability to relax, enjoy the sun, and visit Disney.”
Several Indian tribes in the United States have given notice that they intend to demand their territories back, noting that the United States failed to live up to treaties or killed the people inhabiting it and stole the land.
In another official statement, the President of the United Mexican States said that although Texas was once part of Mexico, they were willing to let the United States keep it.
We climbed into a Wednesday November 27, 2024. Day before Thanksgiving in the United States. I know a large of people who will be muttering, I don’t have anything to be thankful about.
It’s foggy and cold, 30 F, in Ashlandia, white with frost and ice, but it will get warmer, with the temperature rising to about 48 F. Blue sky can be spied through the thinning fog. I enjoyed cold, foggy days as a child. Encountering days like this in Penn Hills, PA, I’d step outside and let that cold whip my face. I found it exhilerating. And the fog made the world narrow, small, mysterious. It was also usually quieter. People didn’t go out into it. I soon knew my friends wouldn’t go out into it. Some just didn’t want to, complaining that it was cold and foggy. Others said their mom wouldn’t let them. I’d tramp on my own, verifying that the world still was beyond the fog’s envelope, feeling like an explorer. Being careful about your steps were important. Yards dropped off into steep hills and cement culverts lay in wait. I’d sometimes get lost in that fog, and when it burned off, I’d find myself surprised at where I was. I always thought it was fun. Guess that’s why I was considered a little strange, LOL.
The Texas committee that examines all pregnancy-related deaths in the state will not review cases from 2022 and 2023, the first two years after Texas’s near-total abortion ban took effect, leaving any potential deaths related to abortion bans during those years uninvestigated by the 23 doctors, medical professionals and other specialists who make up the group.
Texas, led by Republicans, doesn’t want to know why women are dying in pregnancy-related deaths. I think they know they will find that their draconian fucking laws are killing women. Then they would need to spin that in a way that makes sense, and they know they can’t. Worse, it would provide facts about how poorly the GOP goes about ‘protecting women’. I’m sure if you read this, you recall that Trump declared as a candidate that he would protect women if elected POTUS. Now firm evidence is emerging that the climate, culture, and policies that he promoted is doing just the fucking opposite. Rather than trying to address the evidence, Republicans are doing what they do best: ignoring facts and creating a fake reality by pretending that all is well. “We just won’t investigate those deaths,” they nod and tell each other. “Then they’ll go away.” Dipshits.
Looking out at the fog this morning, The Neurons kept trying to recall a song about fog and confusion. For a while, “Ball of Confusion (That’s What the World Is Today)” by the Temptations in the morning mental music stream (Trademark hazy). Then, Foghat crowded in, because it has fog in its name. But I wanted to remember that song. Not much of it would come back. I was finally forced to turn to the Internet to restore the details. With about four minutes of searching, the Meat Puppets and their song, “Confusion Fog”, was finally restored to my operating system. A co-worker at PAS in Palo Alto, California, where I worked in the mid to late 1990s, turned me on to them. It’s a unique sound the Meat Puppets provide, more like country from the early 1970s than punk to me, but I like the vocals.
Coffee and I have reached detente. The fog has burned away. Sunshine and blue sky rule the day. Hope you find a better way, to make this one to remember. With fondness, here’s the music. Cheers
Clouds and sky share uneven, uneasy streaks. Blue and white. A muted sun brings light but not much fresh heat. Shadows barely break out of the ground at the sun’s touch, faded dreams of being on the grass and asphalt. A smoky nuance curses the air’s freshness. I don’t know where the fire is but I suspect someone has their fireplace going.
This is autumn. This is fall.
It’s Friday, October 12, 2024. While we’ll see a high of 77 F, right now it’s 52 and feels more like 48.
Those shadow thoughts, along with dream remnants brought up a song by Joy Division. Joy Division was a group of hugh promise and potential in my eyes. I heard them while stationed at Brooks AFB in San Antonio, Texas, after returning from my Philippines assignment. San Antonio had a terrific rock FM station where I’d hear music way different from the chart busting rotation of the more commercialized stations.
“Shadowplay” from 1976 is circulating in the morning mental music stream (Trademark faded). Don’t think I’ve ever heard it on any venue outside of a movie once or twice. I didn’t have any Joy Division albums that I recall but many years later, when stationed in Germany, a friend had the album which featured this song. We listened to it and reminisced.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. I’m working out some coffee now, testing how it fits in with my taste buds, see if it’s a keeper. Here’s the music. Cheers
Carrying on with modern traditions and protocols observed in the western world, I find myself in Wednesday, June 5, 2024.
What a Wednesday it is. Sunny and fresh, like it just came out of the oven. 74 F now, we’ll climb to 86 on the thermostat. No talk about rain or thunderstorms but some suspicious clouds are hanging around.
You see the weather in Texas? After clipping 105 degrees F in Marathon, Texas, they had a minus 50 degree swing and ended up with several feet of hail. It’s all part of a miserable extended period of bad weather and weather swings — thunderstorms, tornados, flash floods, extreme heat. A few are dead and power was out for over 600,000. I feel for Texans and hope that we don’t end up on the same route out here in the PNW.
Now a bon voyage to Wiltmore and Williams. I know it sounds like a law firm specializing in personal injury cases on late night television. They’re not. They’re astronauts on the Boeing Starliner heading for the ISS.
Today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark flooded) inhabitant is “Woman from Tokyo” by Deep Purple. The 1973 song is quintessential seventies rock. Yet it has that soft, reflective middle interlude that puts a pause to the rocking beat. Why are The Neurons playing it for me his morning? Don’t know. They’re not talking. While I remember several dreams from last night, I can’t trace the song’s lineage to any of ’em. Just another mystery. Either way, this is a fun rendition of the song for me.
Stay positive, deal with the weather as needed, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. The coffee consumption has begun. Cheers
First, it’s a longer post than usual for me. Politics drive it. Let’s get into it.
34 F greeted me in Ashlandia, where the sunshine is bright, and winters are above average. Blue skies, wind, and sunshine followed us into this Tuesday, December 12, 2023. Already 53 F, a high of 55 F is being suggested.
I’m disgusted, again, with political news. My focus now is on Texas. My major concern focuses on the anti-abortion farce in red states, and the bullshit about the issue which they spread. Texas under the GOP often competes with Florida is spreading the most disgusting bullshit. They succeeded this time with the case of Kate Cox. Pregnant, a mother of two and resident of Texas, her physician informed her that her fetus had trisomy 18. She was told her fetus had malformations of the spine, heart, brain and limbs.
What mother wants to hear that? A devastating diagnosis, most trisomy 18 pregnancies end in stillbirths. Infants born alive with this diagnosis endure anguished lives, which are often short and painful.
But those paragons of virtue we know as the Texas GOP knows better than doctors, unintentionally ironic. Remember how Republicans always insisted that ACA, or Obamacare, would have death panels if it was instituted. Yeah, look who insists on death panels now. That’d be you, Republicans. This is their interpretation of ‘right to life’; so long as your right belongs to them, they’ll decide who lives and dies.
Observers outside of the magic conspiracy cone where Republicans often now live expected this. We all know from experience that the right wing loves to project what it does on others. Just read almost anything that Donald Trump, a documented liar now in court for fraud and other crimes, says about lying and fraud. Remember when he said anyone being investigated by the FBI is unworthy of being POTUS. *chuckle*. Now that it’s him, it’s a witch-hunt being conducted by the deep state. The deep state is the GOP’s favorite boogeyman, their reason for anything happening against them.
Kate Cox was also told that if she continued her pregnancy, it posed threats to her health and was at risk of losing her future fertility.
Nonsense, those learned doctors on the Texas Supreme Court said, denying Kate Cox an abortion. She’d, fortunately, felt how the wind was blowing and vacated Texas to get the modern health care needed in a more advanced state than Texas, which would be every blue state.
What pisses me off as much as the stance taken by these cruel Texan frauds is that back when all these harsh anti-abortion bills were passed, those outside of the GOP conspiracy bubble had foreseen the shit that went down in Texas. We were revolted when Texas pretended to care about the mother’s health and exigent circumstances because we knew Texas Republicans were not the flexible, thoughtful, compassionate, and intelligent people their exemption bill needed them to be. And they proved so at the first opportunity.
Soon after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade last year, horror stories started emerging of women denied medically urgent abortions for pregnancies gone dangerously awry. In response, the anti-abortion movement developed a sort of conspiracy theory to rationalize away the results of their policies.
Abortion rights activists, they argued, were deliberately misconstruing abortion laws, leading doctors to refuse to treat women who obviously qualified for exceptions. “Abortion advocates are spreading the dangerous lie that lifesaving care is not or may not be permitted in these states, leading to provider confusion and poor outcomes for women,” said a report by the anti-abortion Charlotte Lozier Institute. The Catholic conservative Richard Doerflinger accused “pro-abortion groups” of spreading “false and exaggerated claims in order to ‘paralyze’ physicians and discredit the laws.”
Whether this argument stemmed from genuine denial or a cynical desire to mislead the public, a shattering case in Texas shows how absurd it is. Late last month, Kate Cox, a 31-year-old mother of two, learned that her latest, much-wanted pregnancy was doomed because of a severe genetic disorder. If the pregnancy continued, she was likely to have a stillbirth, and if she didn’t, the baby had virtually no chance of surviving long outside the womb.
She’d made several trips to the emergency room for severe cramping and what seemed to be leaking amniotic fluid. Her doctor told her that carrying the pregnancy to term could jeopardize her future fertility, and Cox very much wants more children. So she, her husband and her doctor sued the state, seeking a court order to allow her to terminate her pregnancy in Texas. If the Texas abortion ban had workable medical exceptions, it’s hard to see how they wouldn’t apply to Cox. But it doesn’t, and the state attorney general, Ken Paxton, fought the Cox family and their doctor every step of the way.
Goldberg elaborates on what Kate Cox did chasing the exemption and pursuing the best outcome for her and her fetus, and concludes —
An irony here is that if the State Supreme Court had allowed Cox to end her pregnancy in Texas, it might have benefited hard-line abortion opponents. Were the state to codify clear exemptions for people in extreme medical distress, offering a sliver of mercy to women like Zurawski and Cox, its callous abortion ban might seem slightly more politically palatable. That, after all, is why abortion opponents falsely insist that such clarity already exists.
But right-wing politicians and those who support them would rather inflict unimaginable suffering on women than relax the tiniest bit of control over their medical decisions. I asked Duane if any anti-abortion groups had filed amicus briefs on Cox’s behalf. I wasn’t surprised that the answer was no.
Exactly.
In a tangent, I remember being horrified by what Donald J Trump declared when running for POTUS in 2016. There were some who suggested that he’d be different if he won because the office changed the person in it.
They were fucking wrong. All of us with eyes could clearly see what he would be. We were right, and we’re right now: his chuckling, aw-shucks comments about only be a dictator on the first day in office is total bullshit. That’s exactly what he wants.
By the way, in other Texas political news, Republicans have been battling to limit what moderators can do on Reddit. They passed HB20 in 2022. From CNN/Business:
Texas officials passed HB 20 last year amid allegations that tech platforms unfairly censor conservative speech. Social media companies have widely denied the claims, but the Texas law imposes sweeping obligations on platforms, prohibiting them from moving to “block, ban, remove, deplatform, demonetize, de-boost, restrict, deny equal access or visibility to, or otherwise discriminate against expression.”
Mainstream legal experts have said if HB 20 survives legal challenge, tech companies would be forced to host spam, hate speech, pornography and other legal-but-problematic material on their platforms in order to comply with the text of the law. It could also serve as a blueprint for other states. More broadly, they have said, letting the government force private parties to host speech would reverse decades of First Amendment precedent, which has held that the government may not compel private speech.
Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton celebrated the court ruling in a tweet, saying: “I just secured a MASSIVE VICTORY for the Constitution & Free Speech in fed court: #BigTech CANNOT censor the political voices of ANY Texan!”
Let’s pause to savor Paxton’s celebration for the Constitution and Free Speech for a few moments.
More evident of GOP hypocrisy and double standards, to me.
I’ve had three songs taking turns in the morning mental music stream (Trademark stolen by the deep state). First up was, “I’ll Do Anything” from the musical Oliver! No audit trail showed up to inform me why that song was in the stream.
The next came up in parallel to feeding the cats and was less of a surprise, as it was “My Floof” based on the song, “My Girl”, written by Smoky Robinson and Ronald White, and originally performed by The Temptations back in 1965. “My Floof” was performed by me and the Flooftations in my sunlit kitchen. Sorry, no videos exist.
Finally, though, Jackson Browne was singing “Doctor, My Eyes” from 1972, when I was in high school. The Neurons explained, the reason for this song’s presence in the morning mental music stream is simple and drawn right from the lyrics:
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years And the slow parade of fears without crying Now I want to understand I have done all that I could To see the evil and the good without hiding You must help me if you can
Alright, I’ve vented enough. Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee is being served, and I shall partake. Have the best day you can muster. Here’s the music. Cheers
Hello, Friday, my old friend. We’ve come to visit you again.
Friday. August 11, 2023. Ashlandia, where the airport is small and the bus costs a dollar.
68 F out now but they are warning us of a triple digit weekend. Actually, triple digits might not hit until Sunday. I’m hoping we’ll avoid them completed. Today, we’ll be visited by low nineties.
Had a smoke scare last night. We’d gone done to the music in the park. City band’s last performance in the park for the year. It was parked. We enjoyed the music and a longish walk in the cooling evening air through the park by the creek and then headed home. Windows and doors were opened. The evening cooling process commenced.
Then, tennish, the smell of wood smoke snuck in through the windows. Strong smell in less than a minute, coming from all directions. This is unusual; usually the smell strikes from one to two directions, letting us close those windows will leaving a few others in the opposite direction open. And the smoke’s smell was very fresh. Yeah, you get to know these things when you worry about wildfires.
After closing the windows, I went out to test how strong the smell was, get the cats in, and see if I saw any threats or heard any sirens. Nope. Back inside I headed to neighborhood, city, and fire websites for warnings of a fire and checked the police and fire department communications. Nope.
Hour later, I checked, and the smokiness was faded. Two windows were cautiously opened and I answered sleep’s summons. Sky today is clear and blue. Fingers crossed, it’ll stay like this. Sinuses and throat disliked that smoke dose, so there was some saline clearing, coughing, and blowing done today.
The Neurons have drawn up Paul Simon’s song, “One Trick Pony”, from over fifty years ago, for the morning mental music stream (Trademark fragmented). Frankly, this isn’t a stretch and is strictly politically driven. Reading about the latest GOP efforts to undermine democracy in Florida (notes from parents needed for nicknames to be used at school — but tell me again how they’re all about freedom and small government, please) and Texas (where a Trump-appointed judge directed lawyers to attend eight hours of training by a right-wing group, the Alliance Defending Liberty) led to a rant with my wife. We were both ranting. Missouri got thrown into the rant after we discussed Ohio and the voters decisive returns on the GOP’s efforts to criminalize and block abortion. There was a humorous moment to it when a right wing radio host complained about Joe Biden’s father’s behavior in WW II. Remember WW II? Prominently features NAZIs and White Supremacy, you know, the sort of people we see now at GOP rallies. They have chutzpah, if nothing else, but then again, they’re singing to a cult. Anyway, “One Trick Pony” is today’s theme music.
Coffee is available in the break room. Be strong, and stay pos. If that doesn’t work, try the coffee. It’s pretty good. Here’s the music, and away we go.
September flourishes. Not. Yet, maybe. I feel like a pet chasing the little red dot as I pursue time and life. Damn if it isn’t quite elusive.
Today is Thursday, September 2, 2021. Sunshine began its warming, illuminating trend, red, gold, and orange through thin gray smoke, at 6:37 AM. The sun’s flight away, if like yesterday, will be a dirty peach at around 7:43 PM. The cooling trend given us by the seasons changing continues. High yesterday was only seventy-nine in my niche of existence. Today should be just 80 F. The cooler weather brings the cats in. That pleases me. I don’t like them being in the smoke. They have their own minds about where they go and what they do, though. They know how to floofnipulate me.
I’m reading of a number of disasters this morning. Flooding. Ida. New abortion law in Texas. SCOTUS ruling on it. Caldor Fire. Other wildfires. Smoke pollution. Tornados. COVID-19 deaths. Just the U.S. news so far. Well, it includes accusations about Afghanistan. Yes, we’re leaving a screwed up country after twenty years of war, many lives, and a huge chunk of money. Somehow, though, that becomes Biden’s fault. I mean, he has been in office for almost eight months. Eight months out of two hundred and forty, give or take. Yes, I see the reasoning.
Anyway, I end up with “Wasteland” by 10 Years (2005) in my morning mental music streaming. It’s a song about intentions. Inspired by someone dealing with drug addiction. We could easily make the case that the U.S. — even the world — is dealing with addiction. Addictions to greed. Money. Power. War. Addictions twist and malign intentions. Inculcate bad habits, policies, and practices. Bad results follow.
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask. Get the vax. Unless your addictions to death, suffering, and hatred stop you. Here’s the music. Gonna go get some coffee. Don’t call it an addiction, though. Just a friendly relationship. Cheers
I was explaining an analogy to a young deceased relative.
First, though, I was arrested.
I’d made the decision to take actions to be arrested. This, I thought, would be for the best. So, I returned to the table on a stand where I’d been working with others. I wrote a not on a small yellow Postit using a heavy black marker, just a few words, and then I made a phone call, and then sat back to be arrested.
Others were confused, first about my return, because I would be arrested if I returned, and then that I’d returned knowing that I’d be arrested. The police arrived, and then my wife. I was walked in handcuffs by the police. My wife and others followed behind me as my wife explained that I was being arrested.
Once arrested, I was processed in a dream blip and then released to confinement to clear myself. I knew that the gates were closing at midnight. I had twenty minutes to get out or I’d need to wait until morning. I didn’t want to wait because I knew where I had to go and do to clear myself.
I hastened to dress and clean up. A black man was there, my cellmate. He was sitting at a card table, eating and watching television. I set myself up at another available card table and went off to brush my teeth.
The bathroom was open. Two sets of sinks and identical red toothbrushes were in a cup. One must be my cellmate’s, I figure. I picked one and looked at it. It seemed used, so that should be his.
The segment ended.
Next, I was sitting in a room, explaining something to my cousin, Jeff. Younger than me, he’d died almost twenty years ago. I told him, “Your abdomen is part of your torso, but your torso is not part of your abdomen. See how it works?”
He didn’t, so I did more. I said, “You’re from Texas. Texas is part of the United States but the United States is not part of Texas. One must contain the other to be part of it. Like, your hand. Your finger is part of your hand but your hand is not part of your finger.”
He remained confused. An officer I’d worked with in 1983, Walt, had entered. Listening, he’d been mulling it over. Walt, said, “Well, I don’t know if your analogy works on all levels.”
I replied, “I’m talking about physical aspects. I’ll specify the physical.”
Walt said, “Oh, alright, then,” and my cousin nodded, understanding.
Michael Seidel, writer 