

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
It feels like my computer is starting to treat me like it’s Trump. It doesn’t tell me what’s going on or give me a reliable time window.
I’m accustomed to my computer telling me to do things but explaining why it’s doing things. They gave me options: do you want to update and shutdown, or shutdown without updating? Other options were also available.
Along those lines, the computer would inform me about how long it would take — three minutes, two minutes, six.
Yes, they were using computer time. This is not ordinary time. Comparable times are shopping time and waiting time.
“It’ll be just a minute,” I hear. “Maybe two.” Those minutes compound into ten. Fifteen.
Worse, though, are NFL minutes. Especially the last two minutes of a half or game. I did some research and the average final two minutes of an NFL game lasts ten to twenty minutes. Some estimates show that the final two minutes of a four-quarter NFL football game can consume about five to ten percent of the game’s total time, which is wild if you think about it.
The NFL does give us a ‘two-minute warning’. Unfortunately, they’re very terse about it. “This is the two-minute warning.” They should add, “The next two minutes can take anywhere from two and half minutes to eternity. Go use the restroom now, get something to eat and drink, and let your family know where you are.”
Computer time has now overtaken the NFL’s final time minutes as ‘the time that can’t be measured’. My computer doesn’t tell me many times now how long updates or searches will take. It leaves it vague: “This might take a few minutes.”
You think?
I was running a process to check for memory leaks the other night. Yes, on my computer, not for me.
Anyway, the computer warned me, “This might take a few minutes.”
Thirty minutes later, I was still waiting for an update.
And that’s like Trump. Time doesn’t mean anything when he makes promises or projections. Well, neither do facts, for the most part.
For example: Trump was asked when he would come up with his replacement for ACA. Two weeks, he told us, over five years ago.
When will the Iran war end? “When I feel it in my bones.”
Great.
Sounds just like my computer.
When will the search be finished?
“When I feel it in my hardware.”
Thank you for your attention to this matter!
Tuesday, February 10, 2026, finds Ashland reunited with sunshine. White and grey faintly marble a powerful blue sky with 44 degrees F on the thermometer.
All is not well, as Papi pointed out. Hustling in from outside, he turned and snapped a sharp meow at the wind. Winds are at the evilest of the evil, in the ginger wonder’s opinion. After cleaning the wind off him, he curled up, pacifying his sour mood with a nap.
Hard to think that we’re already ten days into February. 2026 has no speed governor and the days seem like they’re tearing along. It already feels like the month was a year with everything going on. Trump’s hold seems diminished, and that appears reflected in less violence, although his hate remains turned up.
We’re still awaiting many outcomes. The Trump Effect of transforming things to trash has hold of the crypto market and the US dollar is losing value. Part of the White House is literally demolished. The full revelations of Trump’s multiple appearances in the Epstein files is still snaking to the surface.
Yet, the Roberts Court somehow hasn’t announced an announcement about the Trump tariffs legality, even though arguments were heard months ago. It’s almost like they’re stalling.
In hilarious news, Senator Rick Scott, a strong Trump supporter, insisted that US Olympian daring to employ their freedom of speech to criticize the nation should be stripped of their uniform because the United States a ‘beacon of freedom and democracy’. Apparently, what he’s saying hasn’t sunk into the Florida senator’s brain.
And despite the speed of the month, we’re still awaiting the official jobs report, which was due last week.
With all that going on, Trump’s approval ratings are going down like the Titanic. It’s almost like a spell has broken.
And that transports me to today’s music.
The Neurons have “I Put A Spell On You” playing in my morning mental music stream. The song was originally called up in response to a dream about discovering someone had cursed me. As I thought about the day’s news headlines and Trump’s activities, I thought the song fit the need as Tuesday’s theme music. There are several wonderful covers of this song but I’m going with the one which surfaced in my head first, the CCR version.
Once more into the day. I hope that peace and grace bring you fair winds and good news.
Cheers
My wife and I arrived at a resort hotel, meeting our friend, Bob and his wife. Real-life note: this is not the same Bob from my previous dreams, but a friend and co-worker from my military days. The wife in this dream wasn’t his real-life wife.
Bob, who was prematurely bald, had thick black in the dream. My wife and I had just arrived. Bob and his wife came by to greet us and make plans.
I noticed some filth on the ceiling. It disgusted me so I looked for something to clean it up. I found some spray and sprayed it all over but then needed a ladder and rag. A young hotel worker asked me what I was doing. I explained myself. He shook his head and reassured me, “Don’t worry about it, we have it covered. It’s not your problem.”
I went back into the room and noticed the spray had already made the ceiling mess almost invisible.
Bob and I ended up outside, where it was like a desert after a rainstorm. He was carrying a young animal he’d rescued. Noticing a young brown cougar down the hill, I followed behind Bob to protect him from the cougar and found a large stick to use as a weapon.
Waiting on a porch for Bob’s return, I saw the cougar watching me. As that registered, the cougar approached. Raising the stick, I yelled and made myself big.
Sitting down, the cougar asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m making myself big and making noises to scare you away.”
The cougar chuckled. “Did you really think that was going to work?”
“That’s what they tell us to do.”
“Anyway, you’re safe for now,” the cougar said, “but you scheduled to die tomorrow, and I’ll eat you.”
I was appalled and vowed not to let that happen.
The cougar shrugged. “It’s going to happen. It’s on the schedule.” He indicated a bright pink and blue poster. I read the poster but saw nothing about my death on it.
Back in the hotel room, I showered and cleaned up. Bob came by to see if I was ready. I told him that I needed to shower. I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower and then realized, what am I doing? I already showered.
I was now naked downstairs and needed to up to my room. Entering the stairwell, I caught a reflection of myself and found I was astonishingly good-looking — much younger, lean and muscular, with a thick head of dark brown hair swept to one side. As I started up the steps, a young woman entered.
“Eek,” she said, pretending to turn away. Covering her face with a hand, she looked at me between her fingers. “A naked man.”
I laughed and apologized, continuing up the steps, and encountered another woman. “Locked out without your clothes?” she mused.
“Yes, that’s what happened.”
She chuckled. “We’ve all been there.”
Now dressed, I joined Bob and our wives in another area of the resort. I saw the brown cougar in the crowd, watching me. I realized that I’d forgotten something in the room and needed to go back. Bob drew up a complex map, showing me where we were and how to get back to my room, 1004, at the top of the building. Although his map was detailed, I felt bewildered and said, “I’ll never find my way back through that maze.”
Bob said, “Alright, let me go with you, at least part of the way, until you know where you’re at.”
Dream end.
The explosion landed
In silence
Revealing exactly where he was wrong
And right
In one burst of time
Moment
Thought
Leaving him to sit with
details
The cracks show –
Spreading
He missed them
At first
Clocking them
Only after
Others
Commented.
He finds
Life emptying out
Contemplating
His time chasing
Time
Until time ran
Out of
Sight
Leaving him
With
All the time
Needed.
Giving him a
Smile –
Clues were
Forever
There
An unfelt
Hand
Pushing.