After a beautiful Ashlandia day yesterday, today has improved to a better version of itself. Yesterday punched up to 89 F under rich sunshine. Today’s sky is bluer and cloud-free. But other conditions have been checked, so our high has dropped to the low 80s region. 60 degree F air armed with a cool mountain breeze moved through the windows and open doors this AM, kissing us with a refreshing chill. Little too chill for my wife, who turned on her little space heater.
This is Thirtsda, May 29, 2025. We’re sailing on through the second quarter of 2025. What a time it has been. Trump has earned a new name, based on his cowardly behavior. TACO means “Trump always chickens out”. Calling him TACO Trump would be repetitive. Should just be PINO TACO, or as I frequently absently call him in my mind, “Little PINO Trump”. Now, air warning: Donald Trump doesn’t like his new nickname, TACO. Feels it’s hurtful, mean, unfair. As he’s never flinched from smirking and bestowing hateful and cruel nicknames on others, I think we should spread it far and use it often.
Other Little PINO TACO news has the mango boi losing out in the courts and getting sued more frequently.
The Pretenders own my morning mental music stream with a 1984 offering. The Neurons found it in my mental basement and cued it up after I read more news stories last night and this morning. My response has often been, “Time will tell.” Reacting to that, The Neurons gave me “Time the Avenger”. The song is a story told to a 1980s rock rhythm about time’s influence on lives and relationships.
The writing mind is getting greased and primed by a new load of coffee. Here we go, on into another day. Cheers
Here we go again. We didn’t know…we didn’t think that it meant — yeah, fill in the ending. It’s classic ‘leopard ate my face self-pity.’
In this case, the ending is Carol, a woman in Missouri. They love Trump in Missouri. Voted strongly for him. Now they’re shocked — shocked — that it turned out that voting for Trump and his policies meant that someone beloved in their community would be affected.
“I voted for Donald Trump, and so did practically everyone here,” said Vanessa Cowart, a friend of Ms. Hui from church. “But no one voted to deport moms. We were all under the impression we were just getting rid of the gangs, the people who came here in droves.”
She paused. “This is Carol.”
So, yeah, they were okay when it was other people’s lives being torn apart and disrupted as people are deported under PINO Trump’s monstrous, careless, unthinking, and cruel deportation policies. They were okay when it was, say, someone in California, Michigan, North Carolina, Vermont, Massachusetts, Arizona, or any of the rest of the states. You thought Trump was compassionate? Thoughtful? Actually, what the fuck were you thinking, Missouri?
This is what you voted for, Missouri. I hope you start thinking more deeply about things in the future in the ‘show me’ state. Carol and the rest of us would appreciate it.
It’s been over two weeks since I last heard the furnace warming our house. That pleases me. Pleases my mango tango, the ginger floof known as Papi even more. He scampers in to say hello and eat but otherwise lives a life snoozing in secret places among cooling bushes and vinca. Not a bad life for him, I think.
Today is Wenzda, May 28, 2025. Munda passed in a flounce. Tuesday barely registered for me. Here I sit on Wenzda, enjoying blue sky and sunshine. Air temp is already 80 F with 88 in our sights today. Later this week, we expect to push past 90 F. We’ll soon see the green hills on the valley’s northern sun brown like baking bread.
I went to cut back the backyard. The weeds had shoot up to a foot in height. Finally turned my attention to whacking it back, but when I went out there — bees were buzzing around the weeds. I was so pleased to see them. A hummingbird zipped by, too. Hallelujah, sang The Neurons. Out front, a thick buzz was rising from the tree upfront which the bees regularly frequent. They hadn’t been around yet and I was happy to see them back.
The Neurons have blessed the morning mental music stream with “Bad Company”. “Bad Company” is a 1974 power ballad by the group called “Bad Company”. Ostensibly, it relates to the chosen life of being a gunslinger but to hear him say it, he really had no choice. I can dig that; I feel as if choice is taken from me when it comes to writing. This boy’s gotta do it. However, I don’t know why The Neurons plugged “Bad Company” into my head. Was this a reference to people coming into town to visit, or were they making a disparaging remark about my attitude? Hard to say with The Neurons. They jump out with a claim and then dance away before they can be questioned.
Over in the political quarter of my life, I read about Republican Rep. Mike Flood’s town hall meeting in Nebraska. Flood was there chatting about the disastrous bill that the Greedy Old Trump Party passed in the House last week. When called out about one provision, Flood admitted that he didn’t know the provision was in it because he hadn’t read the bill.
Republican Rep. Mike Flood appeared before his constituents in Nebraska on Tuesday for a town hall that turned ugly as he tried to defend President Donald Trump’s “big, beautiful bill,” the reconciliation package the House of Representatives passed last week, and which is expected to force millions of Americans off their health care coverage and food aid.
Unfortunately, Flood hadn’t actually read the bill.
Flood could barely get through a sentence without facing boos and heckling from the audience. At one point, when asked about a provision in the GOP’s massive reconciliation package that would restrict the judiciary’s ability to hold government officials in contempt, Flood said he did not agree with the provision, before admitting that the “provision was unknown to me when I voted for that.”
That’s what we’re hearing time and again from Republicans in Congress: the classic but weak defense, “I didn’t know.” It’s especially weak when it’s their job to know. That’s why he was voted into office, wasn’t it? As their servant and representative? As seen across the nation during PINO Trump’s first four months in office in 2025, rising numbers of constituents are pissed that their representatives aren’t doing their jobs. Flood went on to claim that he’s taken an oath that he’ll defend the Constitution. As always, actions speak louder than words. With his inaction, he’s complicit in undermining the Constitution, our checks and balances, and the rule of law. Likewise, he’s part of the party gleefully tearing down the education system that helped the United States advance as it did last century. But as part of the Greedy Old Trump Party, he can’t see or admit what he’s doing.
Rep. Mike Flood is a DOGE Faithful and Trump lover. Back in March, his constituents called him out for DOGE’s cuts to research, Medicaid, and Medicare. Flood defended it by saying that cuts were needed because of the national debt. Back then, Flood said, “Ultimately, where we need to go is to a balanced budget. How can you be against a balanced budget?” This, before passing that bill that cut taxes for the wealthy. It all reeks of bullshit and hypocrisy, doesn’t it? The way they’re ‘governing’ is a crime.
Okay, out of lecture mode. Coffee has been embraced; into writing mode. Have the best day you can, and do things that make you hold your head up high. Cheers
As law officers search Arkansas’ rugged Ozark Mountains for a former police chief and convicted killer who escaped prison this weekend, the sister of one of his victims is on edge.
Grant Hardin, the former police chief in the small town of Gateway near the Arkansas-Missouri border, was serving lengthy sentences for murder and rape and became known as the “Devil in the Ozarks.”
I’m surprised that he’s on the run. Trump just pardoned another convicted sheriff. His own DOJ was behind the prosecution and sentencing for former sheriff Scott Jenkins. Jenkins was found guilty and sentenced for bribery. But Scott Jenkins is a Trump supporter. Naturally, Trump pardoned him.
I figure that Grant Hardin should turn himself in, declare himself a massive Trump supporter, and ask for a Trump pardon. All he’d need to do is make a few speeches about how Biden was behind his prosecution and wax about how brilliant Trump is, and how the mango one is the greatest president ever, and a Trump pardon would surely be forthcoming. The violence shouldn’t matter. Trump is not that far removed from accusations of rape, and he eagerly pardoned all the Jan. 6 insurrectionists, even though people were killed through their violence. I figure another pardon for another convicted rapist and killer is fitting for Trump, the ‘law and order’ president.
The morning’s routine skipped past faster than a visit with a good friend. Starting at 53 F when Papi ordered me out of bed, the sun pushed the day through the sixties in short order. It’s a hot sun. Yeah, all suns are hot, but you know what I mean, that given air temp and sun angle and other factors, this one puts out extensive heat in our region. A cool northerly breeze sometimes drops in with relief. We sit at 75 F as we race toward an 89 F high. Sunshine? You bet. Blue sky cuts a fine scene behind the green themes of the hills and mountains surrounding us. Ice still caps the highest posts for a moment. This is Twosda, May 27, 2025.
My wife and I spoke about transitioning out of the holiday mode. I said, “Isn’t it interesting that we’re aware of that, that we feel that, even though we don’t work? Yet, we feel that holiday spirit.”
She made a face. “It was a weak holiday. We have the so-called leader of our country denigrating and insulting many of those who fought for this country because of a difference in politics or skin color and things like that. It’s pretty sad. Pathetic, really.”
No argument from me. I’m pleased that with the bad weather warnings and air traffic control issues, no major disaster marred the weekend. That feels like slim praise: yea, no crashes! We made it. But that’s the state of the nation under Trump.
I read that consumer confidence was up higher than economists expected. I heard that it was because Trump put off doing something with tariffs. People apparently responded, “Yea, we’re saved!” I had to laugh. Like the arsonist didn’t start a fire, so everyone is happy because there’s no fire to put out.
Meanwhile, the Senate takes up Trump’s Big Disastrous Bill. One of them at least and at last mentioned the piece of non-finance legislation in this spending bill that says, “Courts can’t say Trump or his administration are in contempt.” So they just want to keep re-writing the laws to cut out criticism of his un-Constitutional behavior. That’s so sad, weak, and spineless. If the merits his decisions and ideas can’t stand the scrutiny of the law, they’re not worthwhile. By calling for weaker enforcement against him, the Greedy Old Trump Party just hastens us toward the bottom. We’ve been climbing that mountain for hundreds of years and they’re happily pushing us back down it.
Dreams influence by music choice today. A lasting image from my dream had me speeding through a bold blue sky. It wasn’t flying but free fall. But The Neurons supplied “Fly By Night” by Rush to my morning mental music stream. The progressive rock song from 1975 has a spirited, uplifting feel to it. It came out the year my wife and I married, and was sort of an anthem for me as I went about my military career. Neurons have it right as a theme choice, I think, as the lyrics go, “Fly by night away from here, change my life again.” That’s about how I feel, but in a good way.
Coffee has made its entrance. Time to rock on. I hope the best for you and your day. Here we go again. Cheers
We’ve made it through another cycle, and we’re set up to repeat it again. I mean the week, of course. Today is May 26, 2025. The month is singing its last notes. Many associate Memorial Day in the U.S. with the beginning of summer. I’m a traditionalist, though, and recognize summer’s start with the June solstice, as we’re north of the equator. The weather doesn’t care what we’re calling the season; it’s gonna do as it wants. Today, it looks like it wants more cloudiness baking with some sunshine. 60 F now, we’re be roaming the seventies through the late afternoon.
My bright mood has expired. Darkness has soldiered in. That’s my standard cycle. I just need deep breaths and patience to survive it, and then more normal moods will rotate in, and it’ll be up and down again for a while. That’s me.
“With each new Republican administration, it is the same promise. With each round of tax cuts, it is the same result: vast benefits for the wealthiest Americans and a pittance for everyone else. There is little growth but widening inequality and an even starker gap between the haves and have-nots.“
Reagan promised tax cuts in 1981. Bush Senior was forced into tax increases to address the damage done by Reagan’s cuts. Dubya promised tax cuts, and then Trump in 2017, and now Trump in 2025. Each time those cuts came, the economy did not do better. It took Democrats in charge to clean up the economic mess and get the economy on track again. And here we go again. Will it work this time when it failed every other effort? Time will tell.
But as Mr. Bouie writes of this latest effort:
We are now looking at another round of Republican tax cuts. Yet again the claim is that this will benefit most Americans. “The next phase of our plan to deliver the greatest economy in history is for this Congress to pass tax cuts for everybody,” Trump said in his March 4 address to Congress. But as Paul Krugman points out in his Substack newsletter, this latest package is both a shameless giveaway to the rich and a ruinous cut to safety net programs for lower-income and working Americans.
Today’s song comes from reading about the viral corruption spreading under the Trump Regime. Out of that GRRRRRRRRRR news review, The Neurons dropped “Perry Mason” by Ozzy into the morning mental music stream. Perry Mason is a fictitious lawyer of high repute. He saved the innocent and delivered the guilty for a serving of justice. He came onto the scene in a series of Erle Stanley Gardner novels in the 1930s and joined the pop culture as a television show starring Raymond Burr in the 1950s and 1960s. Yes, I know of the later series. Anyway… Ozzy Osbourne put some words to music by guitarist Zakk Wylde and keyboard player John Sinclair. The song’s chorus goes,
Another sun filled blue sky day cups Ashlandia. It’s a quiet one out there. Like it’s a holiday and everyone else has gone away. They don’t know about the 70 degrees F and sun-kissed wind toying with our hair in Ashlandia. Clouds are gathering and we’ll top off our temperatures at 75 plus F today.
Papi is loving this weather, prancing in and out of the house with his tail up. Whenever we go out back, he emerges from his sun nap to visit with us.
This, for the record, is May 25, 2025, part of the Memorial Day holiday weekend in the United States. As always, my wife and I compare our childhood Memorial Days. For her, it was Decoration Day. Her family would make the pilgrimage by car to the family’s graveyards. They had two, one for Mom’s family, and the other for Dad’s line. Both were born and raised in southern West Virginia and had a family line that went back several hundred years. The graveyard was cleaned up, if needed, and fresh flowers were put on the graves.
My family, in contrast, were relatively new, in some ways. Mom’s side came over on the Mayflower and kept moving west. She was born in Turin, Iowa in the 1930s. Her grandfather helped establish the town, and her mother was born in Turin in 1910. Dad’s father’s family came over in 1899, went to Pittsburgh, PA, and stayed. His mother’s family arrived in Pittsburgh a little bit later and also stayed.
Memorial Day for me, then, wasn’t and isn’t about graves, but about sports, family, and food. As I aged, it did become more about military service and sacrifice. Now it’s just my wife and I out here in Oregon. Her mobility and diet are limited, and Memorial Day has been relegated to just another spot on the calendar.
My theme music today relates to a conversation with my wife this morning. A friend highlighted a post for me on Facebook. I don’t go much on Facebook. My wife doesn’t have a FB account but uses mine to lurk, so she saw the post and told me about it. The post is about misunderstood song lyrics — mondegreens. One song was “Panama” by Van Halen. A popular mondegreen, unfamiliar to me, is that they’re singing “padded bra!” instead of “Panama!” Reading this to me, my wife sang the “padded bra!” part, cracking herself up. The Neurons immediately shipped the song into the morning mental music stream, where it shares time with my thoughts.
My wife and I were in the office this morning, each pursuing our computer agendas. Suddenly she bursts, “There’s a FEMA carveout for Trump’s residences in the bill that was just passed.” She was livid. “Trump doesn’t send FEMA to help anyone any more but if one of his places are hit, he’s taken care of. This is ridiculous! This is disgusting! He’s supposed to be the servant of the people, not the other way around. When will those idiots wake up?”
A few minutes later and she launched into Trump’s latest crypto scam, piling on about how he’s using the presidency to enrich herself. I commiserate but don’t otherwise respond. I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of how Trump and the Greedy Ol’ Trump Party is enshittifying the United States. I’m taking the day off from it.
Hope you have the best day you can. I’m gonna try to do the same. Coffee is at hand. And away we go.
Michael Seidel, writer 