Tag: thinking

Satyrdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

I’m struck by Trump’s vision for the United States. He’s sending the military into cities and states, even if it’s just national guard units at this point. That makes it feel like he knows he’s unpopular, that his popularity will worsen, and he’s ready to attack We the People with weapons.

He wants manufacturing and factories to return to the United States. These will supply jobs. Yes, but imagine the jobs which factory work will provide. Having never worked in one, I’m dependent on others’ experiences to provide me with any sense of how it is. I understand they’re often noisy, that the work is frequently tedious, and that the repetitive style of work causes mental, emotional, and physical issues. So it sounds like Trump’s dream for our citizens is of a weary, broken people locked up in buildings, slaving for others.

Along with that skewed vision, his regime is removing protections to keep the air, water, and earth clean and safe. We can assume, since actions speak loudest, that he’s okay with people and animals getting sick from a polluted environment. Children and the elderly would be most vulnerable, so he obviously doesn’t give a toss about their health. That’s one reason why he’s letting RFK, Jr, wreck our health systems, too. An unhealthy population will struggle to fight back. They’re too busy just trying to live. Thanks to their actions, diseases will rise again.

Trump doesn’t like protests. He dislikes dissent, such as free speech. He wants everyone to agree with him and idolize and adore him. He enforces this through his regime’s demands on the press, states, cities, universities, and businesses to align themselves with his policies, or else they’ll pay some price. We can basically discern from that that his United States would have little to do with the Bill of Rights and the freedoms embedded in them, other than amendment number 2. Trump’s staunchest MAGAts love their guns.

To make it all work, to make United States citizens willing to accept being sick and working in factories for little pay, Trump is cutting education for the public and the poor. Trump doesn’t want a thinking, intelligent electorate. He wants an ignorant and malleable population.

So that’s his vision for We the People: uneducated, poor, hungry, and sick work slaves struggling through filthy air, drinking poisoned water, all so we can sell more goods in other nations and enrich the already wealthy and well-to-do.

I think it’s one of the cruelest and ugliest visions a human being can devise. It doesn’t matter what Trump says. This is what he’s doing.

6

The Passing Moments

Watch the spiral

Sigh and mourn

Think about all that’s happened

Since the day you were born

Remember the places

Where you visited and stayed

The people you played with

The ones who led the way

And the music that you knew

How you sang and played along

Never quite realizing

That time would soon be gone

You lived like it was forever

Sometimes you still do

Thinking about the past and future

Wondering about what is true

2

The Exercise Routine

A friend went hiking and then needed a few days to recover. Hips and a bum foot gave her issues. She wins for the best insightful comment about exercising: “I guess my approach of one hard day of exercising a month to overcome the lack of activity every other day needs to be reconsidered.” I’m paraphrasing. She put it better.

I found myself in a similar way. After my arm was broken in two bones a few years ago, I was left without exercising it much. That resulted in atrophied arm and shoulder muscles, which really pissed me off. Just as I was working on recovering from that, I had a ruptured tendon. Repaired with surgery, I was off of intense exercise for over six months last year, beginning in September. Guess what happened to my right leg, home of the ruptured tendon? That’s right, atrophied leg muscles. Like, mother of pearl.

Recognizing these things need to be fixed, I began working to improve. Just free weights, running, pushups, the old-fashioned stuff I’m used to doing. I saw improvements. Better muscle tone and definition, higher energy levels, clearer thinking, weight loss. Then I went on vacay. Other than walking and stretching, I didn’t exercise during the ten-day vacay experience.

Well, when I dropped to give twenty a few days ago, my left arm, the one with the atrophied muscles, was not happy. I barely eked out eleven pushups. The offended limb throbbed in irritation afterwards. Same yesterday and today, proving that it wasn’t a one-day fluke. The throb doesn’t last past five minutes, but it’s another annoyance. It doesn’t affect me when I plank, but it does affect my light weightlifting.

I’ll keep working it. I mean, what else is there to do? Well, yes, I will research and adjust my exercises, and find ways to address the throbbing, but I’ll press on.

That’s the bottom line. Giving up just isn’t an option.

2

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Today’s music was almost “Smoke on the Water”. After a day that peaked at 93 F, clouds swollen with thunder and lightning climbed over the mountains to fill our valley last night. At one point, smoke coiled out from the pass north of us and hustled down the street, congregating in the valley like a well-organized demonstration. After a recce, I came in and told my wife, “It sounds like the drum section of a drum and bugle corps is marching down the street.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand what that means.”

“It means there’s a lot of thunder out there. Sounds like drumming.”

“Oh. I got you.”

The smoke surrendered, though. I never did learn a source.

Today is Wenzda, August 27, 2025. 84 F, a hazy blue sky hosts lurking cumulo thingies. Gonna get to the mid 90s F again. Thunderstorms are on the menu, but they sometimes run out before their time here. We’ll see how it flows.

Papi the ginger master of all he surveys doesn’t appreciate thunderstorms. They’re loud and ominous. He goes into the master bath to outwait them. After their passing, he heads back out to his floofdom. A bit south of midnight, cat singing commences. I go out to see Papi chatting up a black and white tux. The tux is dismissive of Papi. I’ve seen this one before. They weren’t real concerned. I asked, “What’s your name?”

That suggested a song to The Neurons. “What’s Your Name”, a 1977 southern rocker by Lynyrd Skynyrd, was pushed into the morning mental music stream. I protested to Les Neurons that the song refers to a ‘little girl’ who is a groupie. This tux was not anyone’s groupie. Being as obstinate as granite, The Neurons dismissed this objection faster than the Roberts Court rules in favor of the Trump Regime.

I’m encouraged by arguments rising out of Iowa. Democrat Catelin Drey defeated a Republican by 10 points in a state legislative contest. Okay, good news, but it’s too early for me to celebrate its significance too much. Trump still rules MAGALand and can do no wrong in their estimate. Much of what he’s doing, declaring that he’s the president and can do whatever he wants, is gut-wrenching to hear. Checking polls, many GOPers are quite happy with his declaration, continuing to support and cheer him on.

Meanwhile, much of his activities reminds me of the U.S.S.R. under Joe Stalin. Stalin’s means of governing involved one party and a police state. Stalin established purges based on his declarations that those he purged were ‘enemies of the state’ and ethnic cleansing through deportations. Any of this beginning to ring any bells when thinking about Trump’s efforts to control the media, imprison enemies, send the national guard out as a police force, and ICE disappearing people off the streets?

MAGAs and the GOP will never recognize or acknowledge any of this for the most part. They’re firmly in the ‘means justifies the ends’ corner, even if that means disavowing all the principles, tenets, and checks and balances our founders established when the United States became a nation. What is also distressing is listening and watching while so much of the established media downplays events. It seems like they fear Trump’s retribution to the point that they’re making themselves more and more irrelevant.

Well, coffee has arrived in the system. I hope peace and grace gang up and reward you with a beautiful day. Time to go write like crazy, at least one. More. Time. Cheers

0

Choices

Maurice was the new man. Looked like his birth gender might have been different. Or maybe he was just a beautiful man with some exquisite feminine elements. Either way stirred me into intrigue.

He glided us through the identification protocols. I played nice. The others punish you if you don’t play nice. Outside of this establishment, they’ll pound you until death gives you a smile unless you play nice. Death and I played tonguesies a few times before that lesson found a way through my paywall.

Now to business, Maurice orchestrated a beautiful smile my way. Wonder if all those beaming white chicklets were real and natural. Such aquamarine eyes, too. Wars nicely with the glass-smooth mocha skin. Ah, to be wrinkle free. Like that matters to such as me.

“You have two outstanding attributes which might be available to you, Mickey,” Maurice purred. My mind surfed a mental register of attributes and awaited further info. “Invisibility and timetravel are both possible for you, but only one or the other.”

My mind jumped, flipped, and twirled like Simone Biles. Invisibility is the second-least attribute found in people. Time travel is queen of the rarest. No wonder pretty Maurice was here chatting me up. “Wow,” I said like a hayseed blown in on the wind. “I’d like being them.”

A professionally contrite expression landed on Maurice’s beauty. “I’m afraid that you can only be one or the other.”

“Oh.” I poured sadness into my gaze. “That’s a bummer. I thought it’d be so great to be an invisible timetraveller. Just think of the fun.”

“Yes, the opportunities which present do boggle the mind.”

LOL. Only salespeople talk like that.

Maurice ran me the drawbacks and bennies the program provides with those attributes. I made noises and expressions like I paid extreme attention and contained excited interest. I knew from farm skuttle that every attribute has drawbacks. As Maurice delicately phrased it, “Time travel unfortunately damages the cerebral cortex, amygdala, and hippocampi. Being invisible shreds muscle mass and does nerve damage.” He went on with greater clinical details without graphic explanation about how long it generally takes to do these things to people with those attributes.

My mind had already harvested those details and was racing through previously exercised pros and cons in the two choices, searching for the answer, which attribute will be the Amazon Prime delivering my freedom? My shackled co-inhabitants in the farm all punched in with seasoned reasoning about the attributes and freedom. We did it with all the attributes. Nightly ritual. No matter, as Daisychain always said as the bottom line, “You might think you’ll get out, but they will bring you back.”

Someone always put in the addendum, “Or kill you.”

We always laughed with deathly glee. Like being killed was terrible.

Yes, we were ignorant about how terrible things could be in the Farm. We didn’t know that they protected us from knowing.

So, like others, thinking myself more cunning than our masters, I answered Maurice’s ultimate query with suitably guarded hope, kidding myself that they didn’t see right through it.

“I’ll go for timetravel.”

Because I didn’t know that, yes, there are people who can both timetravel and be invisible.

They were the ones who began the program.

I was soon to meet them.

0

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Yachats, Oregon, sunset, 8/19/2025

It’s a foggy Yachats morning. Inspired by cool ocean air, the temperature is hovering at a cozy 59 F. The land is expected to slip out of the fog at about 11 AM and jump to 65 F. Meanwhile, I’m happily wandering around in a fog.

Lively post dinner conversation last night revolved around Trump’s arrogance, lies, and continual power grab. How will it all ultimately unfold? There’s hope that the people will rise up. There’s worry that Trump will shrug that off, and, braced with the Roberts Court’s stance and GOP governors providing national guard troops to subdue We the People and our rights.

We were also introduced to a game called Mexican Train which involves dominoes. I was pretty damn leery of playing but it was fun and addictive. I look forward to playing more. We also walked for miles, with me accumulating ten miles.

Today’s music arrived via last night’s sunset. Of course. Waiting for it to arrive, my group started singing snippets of songs about sunset. The Neurons jumped into the routine and, lo, here I am this morning, with Gordon Lightfoot singing “Sundown” in the morning mental music stream.

Coffee has arrived in my body and The Neurons are doing the coffee dance. May grace and peace find and keep you. Cheers

3

Thirstdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

One thing many of us notice when we buy things online: they frequently arrive in boxes. Sometimes it’s boxes in boxes. The Bloomberg News information read via Alternet about box sales then becomes another warning sign for the Trump economy:

‘Not looking great out there’: Analysts warn this unexpected indicator predicts Trump slump

Bloomberg reports falling cardboard box sales are starting to worry analysts about consumer spending in the Trump economy.

“It’s just not happening, and they have no control over it,” said Adam Josephson, a former sell-side analyst who covers the paper and packaging sector. “[Across industries] all the measures I track are pointing in a not-very-good direction.”

Given Trump’s fear of facts and truths, it would surprise me not if some wealthy donors or other organization just starts ordering boxes to push the numbers up. Illusion, lies, and misinformation is the TACO Regime way. As noted economist Paul Krugman has commented, the hard data catches up with the soft data. And the soft data of CEOs announcing plans to cut back on production, lay off employees, and raise prices due to tariffs, shows the economy heading downhill.

1

Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

I’ve been hearing a little voice in my head. Well, there are actually a few. I live by a committee of voices in my head. Some are writing advisors, editors, and muses. Others are DIY budgeteers. Several more very vocal citizens and progressives are in there, often spitting mad with exasperation and disgust as the Trump wrecking ball obliterates democracy, decency, and morality in the United States. Besides them and voices of memory who like to bring up things I have done and enjoyed, I also have a couple health consultant voices, a few therapists and exercise coaches, and relationship advisors. On the whole, they’re mostly civilized, respecting the other voices, only speaking up when the others are quiet.

One thing I’ve learned from all of these is not to ignore them. As time has threaded past, I’ve repeatedly been re-educated that the little voices often know a lot more than me about what’s going on and what I should do. When I ignore them, things will go bad, as they predict. Naturally, they then say, “I told you so. You should’ve listened.”

So I’m vowing to them again, “Okay, I’m listening.”

Naturally, one snidely replied, “Sure.”

The voices are a lot like me.

0

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