Mood: Coffbulant

June has pounced. Hope you weren’t too surprised.

It’s Saturday, June 1, 2024. The year is plowing into its second half. Probably will be as fucked up as the first half, perhaps more. The board has been set for that.

I’m back home, where I’m happy to be, although I was living a good life back in Penn Hills, visiting with family and enjoying Mom’s company. I can tell you about the long day of travel to reach home but I made it unscathed. Although it’s much better than taken wagon across the nation or driving backroads in something like a Ford Model T, this mess of late arrivals and departures, full flights, and constant jockeying for a place in an aircraft feels like the new norm. Airports must be thrilled; bet business is up at all those airport restaurants, and that’s probably good for the restaurant. Airlines are probably indifferent: the bottom line is financial and not customer satisfaction.

It’s a pleasant 79 F here in Ashlandia, where the ground is dry and the greenery is browning.  Left the house Thursday at 5:30 AM back in Penn Hills, got home Friday at about 1. Been playing catch up since. That’s what you do when you return from traveling. But my wife, cats, and house all seem fine, as does the town.

I leaned about former POTUS Trump’s convictions while traveling. I was surprised. I honestly anticipated a hung jury and can tell you I’m really happy to have been wrong.

Listening to reactions since amuses me but brought little surprise. His stout supporters, which seems to be most of the GOP these days, still insist that the doddering, inept individual who is too old to be POTUS has pulled another one over Trump and the GOP. While I don’t agree with their characterization of President Biden, even the GOP must admit that their party and its candidate must be woefully unprepared and even more inept to allow President Biden to take down the GOP and Trump as he’s apparently done. I mean, to cast President Biden as so incapable and then have someone that’s so incapable beat Trump and the GOP down so completely must feel like a huge burn.

But no; they can’t hold such reasoning in their mind. Even though some of them claim Trump is sent by God. Guess their God abandoned them. It’s bizarre and sad thinking over there in MAGA Land.

Telling you, though, I think this trial chewed Trump up. Here he is, one unsullied by justice and the legal system suddenly being forced to sit in a courtroom and listen to the truth being told about him. Hearing 34 times that he’s guilty. Hearing twelve impartial jurors saying that he’s guilty.

Look at him. He looks tired. Worn out. OLD.

Listen to that speech after he left the courtroom. OLD. TIRED. LISTLESS.

Yes, his mojo took a big hit.

Today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark unsullied) comes from Taylor Momsen. Seems that a bat bit The Pretty Reckless vocalist when they were opening for AC/DC. I thought, that’s pretty fucked up.

Bang, The Neurons leaped on that. See, one of The Pretty Reckless’s songs is “Fucked Up World” from 2014. It’s a fairly raw rocker:

Back to these back door bitches begging me to behave
Jamming Jesus down my throat, no, I don’t wanna be saved
Ain’t a chain on my brain, I’m nobody’s slave
I got one foot in the cradle and one in the grave

h/t to Genius.com

Be strong and positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Cheers