Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Thirstda, January 8, 2026. Eight days into a new year, and I remain reflecting about weather patterns and national and international politics.
Looking at the weather, the advisory which has been shadowing our hours for several days warned, snow is coming.
Snow didn’t quite come to Ashland. It dusted surrounding mountains and firs like confectionery sugar. Down on the valley, chilly wet ground is visible. Temperatures roam from 35 F to 46 F.
The last temp, 46, comes from Southern Oregon University’s observations, and has struck me as accurate. That range, 35 to 46, highlights the impact of mountains and valleys. We’re in a valley’s neck, and SOU’s observations take place in a field down closer to the valley floor. So we see, it’s colder in the mountains than at lower elevations, re-affirmation of long-known temperature dynamics.
Now they’re telling us that the weather is going to warm. Ten-day forecasts are serving up highs in the sixties. Like any season, we’ll wait for the end before it can be judged. So far, worries about having needed snow deposits to carry us through the summer keep nudging up.
Reflecting on national politics, concern is now going up about the latest shooting and Trump administration’s response to it. ICE agents in Minneapolis shoot and killed a woman. Following a standard script, Kristi Noem claimed the agents were defending themselves.
Early video evidence and civilian statements completely undermine Noem’s claims. Now the FBI has declared that nobody is allowed to see any collected evidence.
Until that point, a familiar pattern was being followed, with local, state, and FBI investigating together and cooperating. The FBI announcement, coming without warning and contrary to previous investigations, causes worry that transparency needed to reassure citizens of impartial and fair consideration of evidence has been jeopardized.
On the one hand, the FBI’s approach is an old tactic used by repressive governments in the past to cover up crimes and manipulate results. We the People have witnessed multiple times when that happened in the last twenty years. Think Walter Scott of South Carolina, George Floyd of Minneapolis, the Franklin Park ICE shooting, to name some prominent examples.
Cover-ups of law enforcement was a concern before 2026 began. The Minneapolis ICE killing only heightens the distrust many have of the Trump administration and ICE.
Watching the weather and studying the news pulled The Neurons into an unsurprising direction. Eating my breakfast found them filling the morning mental music stream with “Watching the Detectives” by Elvis Costello from 1977. What a sense of humor The Neurons sometimes reveal.
Well, I hope that 2026 finds a turning point soon and begins arcing toward the freedom, justice, and equality which most of us prefer. In the meantime, I’ll sip coffee, keep watching, and wish you all a rendezvous with peace and grace soon. Cheers
Twozda in Ashlandia finds us cold. Blue sky is in firm command. Sunlight washes over the valley.
It feels like something is broken or disconnected in the weather systems. The temperature is unfolding from 30 F. Alexa and online sources say we’ll get to 61 F today. I don’t know that they can be trusted. My systems and three other local systems all noted 29 to 31 degrees F temperature. At the same time, Alexa and online sites claimed our temperature was 40 F.
This is the same thing we went through several weeks ago; what we observed and felt locally is not what the national systems reported. Back in those weeks, we were steeped in cold fog while the national systems were trying to tell us it was sunny with some clouds. You can see why I’m not sure if we’ll get a high of 61 degrees.
No news has come from the Mom or Dad fronts. I had a long conversation with Dad’s wife yesterday. She related that after the fact, they conjecture Dad may have had a stroke, a-fib, or both. He had no idea how he ended up on the floor. Dad is doing very little talking or eating since that day. Only soft foods are permitted, such as eggs, apple sauce, and oatmeal. Swallowing those challenges him.
His wife says that he responds to voices. Though his eyes are closed, he’ll turn his head toward the speaker. She’s not sure if he recognizes her voice.
She also related that a few days before his fall, she discovered Dad had plotted to move away. He told her that he’d been on the phone with his other son and resolved the transportation issues and had identified all of his needs.
His son confirmed, yes, he and Dad were speaking about this almost every day. My brother was just going along with it to humor Dad; he certainly wasn’t going to help Dad move away. His part was just to indulge Dad because Dad was energetic and into the planning.
The revelations made me smile. I recognized Dad in that. He likes being in charge, making decisions, leading the way. He does not like having others take care of him. Making those plans were his way to stop from being a burden and getting back to being in charge.
Today’s theme music comes from a mental melange. Dreams, thinking, and headlines are all poured into this. Part of that thinking comes from Dad’s predicament.
Overviewing what was going on in my head, The Neurons placed “Wake Up Everybody” by Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes in the morning mental music stream. It’s a song I probably haven’t heard in years. It’s also possible I subconsciously heard it going on in the background somewhere.
I first learned of this song from my Black friends and co-workers. It wasn’t featured on the radio stations that I normally had on. Released in 1975, when I was a young airman in the U.S.A.F., I thought Teddy Pendergrass’s vocals put beautiful and heartfelt power to the words.
The opening lyrics were what I heard today but there was a little verse which I think about as I considered the world’s news and politics. Here they are.
Lyrics (h/t to AZLyrics.com)
Wake up, everybody, no more sleeping in bed
No more backward thinking, time for thinking ahead
The world has changed so very much from what it used to be
There’s so much hatred, war, and poverty, whoa, oh
The world won’t get no better
If we just let it be
The world won’t get no better
We gotta change it, yeah, just you and me
It’s quite the song of hope. It seems like we had more songs like this back in the last century. Moreover, we seemed to be moving toward them. No, it wasn’t straightforward, level progress but it did seem measurable. This century feels and appears very different to me.
Coffee has been served. My hope continues that peace and grace come by to give us all a lift. I know I would appreciate it.
Cheers
A tight light gray sheet is pulled down over Ashland. Woven of clouds, rain, and fog, it reduces sunlight to graylight. As light rain sings, the temperature hangs at 38 F with a high of 38 F looming. This is Twozda, December 23, 2025.
Thinking of Mom, life, and politics led me into paths of cogitation about how we shape others’ impressions of us. Sometimes our impressions of others actually undermine our ability to see who they are and what they mean. History with them, and disappointments with them, seem to frequently color our greater impressions and reactions. Emotions overtake thinking. Anger sets in and calcifies. Then we limit engagements, refuse to talk to them. Why should we? They’ve proven who they are to us.
Yet, we know that one of the greatest constants of existence is change. Many of us try and succeed to change ourselves for the better. Sometimes we awaken from whatever cocoon held us and realize, “Oh, shit. What did I do?” Then we hunt avenues to fix whatever mess we created.
Not all, I guess. I’ve known some terminally ignorant people who refused to ever admit they were ever wrong, let alone try to fix things. But others saw them for that toxicity and drifted from them until they stood alone, stewing in their rage about how they knew they’re right and everyone else is wrong. I think Trump is deeply into that circle. The thing is, his wealth and power keep extending his life. He’s surrounded himself with enablers. To admit that he’s wrong is to admit they’re wrong. And they’re shying off from that.
Like Trump, like Mom, like me and others I know, underlying our behavior are health challenges. I’m dealing with mine and seem to be rapidly improving. But I know others who are skating downhill, picking up speed, piling up the problems. It’s harder to see those things in others, whether their causes are emotional, neurological, matters with digestion, depression, or the simpler and more insidious problem…getting old. Even when you know ‘what’s wrong with them’ in clear and lucid terms, it’s hard to grasp the many ways that what’s wrong with them interferes with their being, causes them suffering, and makes them seem to lash out. Some people magnify what they’re going through, hungry for attention. Others hide it as deeply as possible, shunning attention and sympathy, disgusted that they might be *gasp* pitied. We’re complicated beings in a complicated world.
I have Fall Out Boy in the morning mental music stream. “Save Rock and Roll” featuring Elton John is the breakfast soundtrack. It hinges on the pins of my reflections and a lyric that goes, “You are what you love, not who loves you.” Not sure how it fits into my morning morass of mingling musings.
Rock and roll never forgets even if peace and grace seem to. Got my coffee. Here we go, into the gray future once again. Cheers
Satyrda, December 20, 2025 finds us under a blue sky marbled with fine white clouds. Sunshine licks the land with lavish light. Not much warmth, though, as we find ourselves floating through the low to mid-thirties right now. Highs in the low to mid-fifties have been cast.
The storms up north in Oregon and Washington abated for the moment but a parade of storms are forecast for them, all part of the atmospheric river. Send energy their way that the disaster doesn’t deepen and become even more tragic for them.
The December calm continues for Mom and sis. Each are privately giving credit to me in their texts along the lines of, “I don’t know what you said to her, but she’s being much nicer to me.” I only suggested that both of them are trying their best, both are frustrated, and please, find some patience and sympathy for the other. Although they initially snapped at the advice — “I am being patient, it’s her!” — I think they went off and thought about it. Or maybe it was just serendipity that I gave that advice but other things intervened to change their moods. Who knows? I’m just accepting the fragile peace with hope that it grows, deepens, and develops into something more sustained.
I read of Trump’s asinine suggestion for his Trump Games. Another distraction from the shallow thinker. Upon reading of it, I wondered if someone joked to him about it with The Hunger Games in mind and he jumped on it as a great idea, “The greatest, most beautiful, most patriotic games EVER!!!” Christ, I hope no one mentions Running Man to him.
In Trump’s honor, The Neurons suggested the 1980 song “Games People Play” by The Alan Parsons Project for the morning mental music stream.
Where do we go from here now that all of the children are growin’ up?
And how do we spend our lives if there’s no one to lend us
I don’t want to live here no more
I don’t want to stay
Ain’t gonna spend the rest of my life
Quietly fading away
Games people play
You take take it or you leave it
Things that they say, honor bright
If I promise you the moon and the stars
Would you believe it
Games people play in the middle of the night
~snip~
h/t to sonichits.com
I’m personally impressed with the song choice The Neurons made. Trump does all his game playing at night, diddling on Truth Social, ranting and raving, promising money to people to curry their support. Then he betrays them faster than an eyeblink.
By the way, going back to the Trump Games, did he mention building a new stadium for it yet? Bet that’s bubbling in his tiny noggin. Yes, he has said he wants an NFL stadium renamed in hizzoner. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t instead have something torn down to have a giant stadium constructed in his name. Donors would pay for it, of course *cough cough gag gag*. And it would be “THE BIGGEST AND MOST BEAUTIFUL STATIUM IN HISTORY!!!” Probably have Trump’s name in gold everywhere, along with his portrait. Likely built with ‘illegal immigrant’ labor. He’ll give them a deal. “Build my stadium for room and board and I’ll reward you with U.S. citizenship.”
But as we know, it’ll all be lies and broken promises in the end.
Coffee has appeared in my cup and is making the traditional way to my innards. Hope peace and grace slip out from their spider holes and show up in our lives sometime soon. Till then, peace out. Cheers
Brace yourself for another first world rant. Technology oriented. Well, Microsoft.
Bought a new computer this past summer because I was using Windows 10 and it was aging out. In other words, Microsoft was sunsetting support for Windows 10.
Yeah, I complained and contemplated shifting operating systems again. I’ve done it numerous times. The other piece of that is apps and programs. I’ve been through multiple iterations of those things over the years, too. At this point, I wanted stability and continuity without me needing to think about problems and pursue answers. Yes, shorter answer: I’m lazy.
I did investigate and discover that my laptop of that period, then ten years old, suffered from an old architecture. Hardware differences would challenge any notion of easily shifting browsers and apps. I contemplated adding more RAM and doing other things, but I wasn’t into that sport.
So I sucked it in and bought a new laptop with Windows 11.
Here’s the crux of this rant: Microsoft 11 is buggy. Unstable. Tabs crash. The browser window crashes. Word crashes.
Like, WTF?
As I experienced this, I looked for answers on the web. Why is this happening? What is the fix? Searches found the usual suggestions to clear out caches, etc., exercises which point to them not knowing what’s going on and offering suggestions which they hope might fix it.
What bullshit.
Finally saw an article today that Microsoft agrees, there might be a problem.
This is exactly the kind of thing that drove me away again — and again — from Microsoft. You’d think I’d learn my lesson.
So I’m wrestling with myself all over again. Keep using Windows and cursing it, or take the time to install and start using a new browser and apps?
As Jill Dennison would put it, GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
Experienced five short dreams last night. That’s contrary to recent habits which had long, meandering dreams. I’ll only bore you with one.
This was military related. I was tasked with retrofitting a secure file cabinet fitted with a combination lock to ensure it could store Top Secret/Special Compartmentalized Information, along with Communications Security items (COMSEC), militaryese for code books. Some old military guy was half-heartedly overseeing my activity. Meanwhile, I was on shift with a young member. I expected the young airman to handle all the day’s routine events but had to address that with him several times, issuing reminders to complete the shift checklist, inventory our weapons, standard Air Force command post stuff during my career.
Then I attacked the file cabinet. It’d been previously cleared for classified but wasn’t considered robust enough for our new needs. I’d never done anything like this and lacked instructions. Pulling out drawers, I saw a sort of white, thick lining on them. I needed to pry that out, I decided, and hunted down a hammer, along with a large screwdriver, to pry the stuff out. But then, lo, when I went to apply the brute force and leverage, the pieces slipped right out.
I thought that would be the hard part and was delighted it went so well. Then, though, I had to do paperwork to document this thing’s new existence and use. I had the proper forms but someone had marked all over them and it wasn’t clear to me what to do.
As I puzzled that out, that old military guy came in and queried me about how it was going. I related that I’d finished the safe part. Somehow a crowd gathered to one side. The old guy boasted that he could probably crack the vault in less than three minutes and proceeded to make that effort. I drifted away from that effort to finish the paperwork, deciding, make a decision and do the best I can.
Dream end
Michael Seidel, writer 