Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I read a summary of a Coast Guard report about the 2023 OceanGat submersible failure in 1440 today. I added some emphasis to point out a few facets.
The US Coast Guard released its report yesterday on the 2023 OceanGate submersible implosion, concluding the disaster was preventable and directly caused by the company’s disregard for safety protocols. The Titan submersible imploded in the Atlantic Ocean during a paid trip to explore the Titanic wreck, killing all five passengers on board.
The 335-page report identifies eight primary engineering failures and four contributing factors, finding that OceanGate’s leadership dismissed safety concerns, failed to properly test and certify the vessel, and intimidated employees who raised alarms—including by filing a SLAPP lawsuit against a whistleblower.
I added those emphasis because, under the Trump Regime, with a nod to Project 2025, dismissing safety concerns, failing to properly test and certify, and intimidating whistleblowers, are all hallmarks of Trump’s decision tree. Safety! Testing! Certifying! Whisteblowers! Those are anathema to MAGALand. They want a land free and clear of pesky, time-consuming, money-eating testing and regulations. That’s that woke stuff! Down with woke!
Oh, he’ll tell you that it’s the bestest ever! The most beautiful ever of whatever he’s touting. The absolute greatest! But he’ll cut corners wherever possible and expect those in his employment to do the same. And the results are typically gaudy and shoddy. Just look at this Bible and shoes, or the new stone plaza that replaced the venerated Rose Garden.
The OceanGate findings are now history. One thing Trump has proven multiple times, he doesn’t learn from history. He’s too busy pretending he understands it to take the time to understand it. And the cowards in his regime are never going to try to change that. Of course, at 79 years old, it’s probably too late for that mango dog to change, anyway.
He and his ‘leadership’ is an ongoing disaster.
This dream had quite a jumbled collection.
It starts with me returning. I was off to the military; now I was back. People had been staying in my place while I was away, but that was done with my permission. Things were a little out of hand because they’d treated it like a party crib. I had a stern conversation with them; yes, they were welcome to stay there. Sure, it was okay to have people over, but they’d start trashing things, and that wasn’t appreciated. They were very understanding in return.
Then I was tidying. I had shelves of old electronics, mostly stereos, cassette and 8-track tape players, CD players, and VHS players. The dust on some were thick. As I resettled back into life, I exclaimed to myself, “Man, I have a lot of gear here. How the hell did I get it all?”
A young boy came up. He didn’t pay any attention to me. He seemed to be looking for something so I asked, “What’s up?”
The boy answered, “I’m looking for a music player for my friend. He wants one for his bicycle.”
I said, “I think I can help him.” I pulled out a small black box and dusted it off. “This has a radio and tape player. It’s small and he can mount it on his handlebars.” I looked more closely at the black box. “It also has record player on it so I don’t know if he would want it.”
“That’s okay,” the boy said. Taking it, he went away.
In a weird dream shift, my place was both outside and inside. I worried about my cats. I had two, and they were a plush gray with golden eyes. Both were young. I looked around for them. They were busy investigating things just outside and playing. When I called their names, they hastened to me, which mitigated my worries.
Then, I worried about my schedule. I needed to call and find out where and when I needed to be for work. Going through my cluttered place, I picked up the phone and dialed 633 while going to my desk to find what the final four numbers were. A woman answered the phone, “Operator intersect.”
I laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t expect that,” I said. “What’s an operator intersect?”
The operator explained, “The call is diverted to the operator whenever the call is not completed but the line is open in case someone has an emergency but can’t finish dialing.”
I answered, “Sorry, I just don’t know where I’m calling. My bad.”
Next, I thought, oh, I should call Mom. So I did. Answering before a ring finished, she said, “About time.” No hello or anything else.
Irritation jumped through me. “Wait, are you pissed because I didn’t immediately call you when I got home? Is that what’s going on here?” She did not answer. I said, “You’re being childish. I’m going to count down from five. If you don’t start talking before I’m done with the countdown, I’m hanging up. Understand?”
No answer.
I began the countdown. When I said, “Three,” I went on, “Oh, forget this. This is stupid. You’re an adult, Mom, and you’re behaving like a child.”
Then I hung up on my mother.
Dream end.
This was obviously a dream about change. Anxiety. Confusion.
My wife and I were young people. We had a habit of driving to work together. We were taking turns driving. One would drive one day, the other would drive the next day. The dream showed this happening. Different cars for her and me; my car was a black sports car. Don’t know any details of it. Less is known of her car.
Although always going to the same place, part of our daily drive process was to consult on our phone about where we were going. That’s because the path changed every day. So whoever wasn’t driving was tasked with looking up the destination on the map and give driving instructions.
The dream showed this. I drove, she drove, I drove, she drove, etc. She looked up the directions, I looked them up, she looked them up, I looked them up.
Traffic was busy each day but the weather was good.
Our daily destination was a parking lot by a restaurant. We’d park near there and go on our separate ways to work. After numerous days of this, I was driving. My wife was looking up the instructions. But she was struggling with a signal and I, meanwhile, had made some guesses and found the way. She announced, “Got it,” right as we arrived at the restaurant.
But as I pulled up, I noticed that it was completely different. All of its tables were gone. The usually thriving place was completely empty.
Stunned, I told my wife, “Look. Something happened.” She was busy getting out of the car and heading to work so I repeated myself several times, further elaborating, “There’s no one there. The tables are gone. The place is empty.”
She left for work. I walked over to the area and then walked through the empty place, wondering how it had all changed, seemingly overnight. What I wondered most was, where are all the tables? They had so many tables. There was no sign that any tables had ever been there. As I stood there looking, I saw others hurryng by in the sunshine.
None gave the place a second look.
Mood: sunsational
The weekly wheel continues its stops. Today it lands on Thursday, March 21, 2024. What’s that about spring? Why yes, it does seem to have arrived in southern Oregon. We have sunshine to sell today. At least for now. Sulky clouds are peeking in over the box valley mountain barriers. It’s 56 F with 66 F allegedly coming our way.
Caveats are required. We witnessed 66 F yesterday. Subsequent clouds dropped us to a surprisingly chilly 62 F. On the surface today is like yesterday, presenting fair warning about what we might get.
I’m in shorts, though. Once we convincingly put the 70 period reliably behind us, I pulled out my shorts, gave them a sniff (yes, they smelled and looked clean), and slid them up my pale legs. Chilly on the knees and thighs yesterday evening, though.
Thoughts about these troubled times led The Neurons to call “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark paperwork lost). Elvis Costello and The Attraction’s cover of the Nick Lowe song was the one playing in me head. Costello and his group released it in 1978.
When Lowe was originally writing it, he considered it a joke. This was a send up of others’ reactions to hippies and their visions of peace, love, and understanding. It eventually evolved into a serious question about why others considered peace, love, and understanding a joke.
Costello and the Attractions cover made it more of an upbeat rocker, adding sincerity and intensity. It’s since be covered by a clowder of others. (See, I consider clowder correct here. Used to designate a group of cats, I’m using it for a group of musical cats. Heh.)
But I roll with the lyrics, whoever is belting them out.
As I walk through
This wicked world
Searchin’ for light in the darkness of insanity
I ask myself
Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?
And each time I feel like this inside
There’s one thing I wanna know
What’s so funny ’bout peace love and understanding? Oh
What’s so funny ’bout peace love and understanding?
h/t to AZLyrics.com
Want to pause to mention, a comic strip by Iizcat.com referred to cats as ‘vessels of chaos’. I just love that description.
Stay positive, remain strong, keep leaning forward, and vote. Coffee drinking has commenced for the day. Hope it’s an excellent day for you wherever you’re at. Here’s the music. Cheers
The dreams flowed together. All were of a military sort but had nothing to do with my military career.
The first found me with others outside, beside parked cars outside of apartment and business complexes. My wife was with me and the others. All the folk were dream acquaintances, no one from real life.
My wife said with alarm, “I just heard that they’re going to set off a nuke.”
Disbelief coursed around the group. Several said, “They wouldn’t.”
A muted boom froze us. Turning like one being, we looked across and over trees. A bright white light flashed.
“They did it,” someone said, a comment echoed by others.
“We’d better get away,” people said, “get to shelter. Run, hurry.”
The rest ran. I stayed by a car. I wanted to see what would happen to me when the nuke’s energy struck. Seeing it coming as a red light, I closed my eyes and ducked my head, then flattened against the car’s side. Red radiation painted my skin. As I rose, looking at my skin, I thought, I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.
But it was done.
Next, I was with an army in place outside. We were all in woody camo gear. Thin, steady drizzle dampened our spirits, clothing and equipment. Across the valley was a like enemy encampment. We were waiting for them to attack.
The waiting was so tedious. Boredom overtook me. And I was cold, wet, and underdressed. From this, I decided to sneak away to get a outerwear. With continuing glances to ensure I wasn’t observed but also that the attack wasn’t imminent, I stole away from the woodsy front. Behind it was a village with widely spaced dwellings. Free of tension, relaxed, it was a wholly different state. I found the cottage where I’d been staying, went in and found my gear. After changing, I added the coat and headed back out.
Outside, I saw our commanders talking, heads down, close together, strolling. I slipped in behind them, following them, to see what I could learn. Eventually, they went to a place where a whiteboard had a map drawn on it. They wrote on it. Continuing to spy, I realized that the two men were in love with one another but wouldn’t address their relationship, and that was paralyzing their abilities to think, plan, and lead. Dismayed, I headed back to the front.
Back there, I settled back in. Nothing had changed. I stayed for a while, watching, drizzle falling, chill air kissing me, until someone came by and told me I was relieved so I can sleep and eat. Fully dressed, I settled into a bed. Someone else was on my left side. As I slept, others would join me and I’d wake up. Typically a woman, they would curl up against me for warmth, slept for a time, and then leave. Waking to return to duty, I knew that had happened nineteen times. One had been my sister, who came by, laughing, confessing that she’d heard I was warm and comforting.
I returned to duty. Looking through the drizzle across the valley, I saw a smiling white woman with frizzy brown hair and glasses appear. The enemy commander, I knew. I passed the word that she was there and warned others to be ready because she was working her way down through her troops, and I thought they might be preparing to launch their attack. We got ready to fight but the commander went down and disappeared from sight.
Suspecting subterfuge, I began watching our flanks. In a moment, I saw her appear, coming to us from the left. “There she is,” I told the rest, rising to go and confront her. As I went out, though, she transformed into another person who looked almost the same.
Surprise surmounted me. Had I been wrong, or was this a trick? I divided my time between watching her and surveilling the enemy across the valley, waiting for something to happen.
Dream end.
Look at this: Sunrise: 7:30 AM. Sunset: 5:18 PM.
We’re squirting toward ten hours of sunlight here in Ashland, Oregon. The delta has become just twelve minutes. Twelve minutes. At this rate, we’ll have ten hours of sunlight by the end of January. That, my friends, is progress.
Yeah, I’m a sunlight fan.
We could use more sunlight today but stormy clouds have paraded in. The clouds brought a sharp wind as their plus one. Present temp is a chilly 31 F, which feels like colder. Today’s high will be 39, so no relief. Still, we’re faring better than places where single digits or piles of snow reign.
Today’s song, “Last Nite” by The Strokes, came out while the century was still young, 2001. Sweet and young, the new century was naive and combative, as the 2000 election showed. We’ve been fighting ever since.
How does “Last Nite” fit in? It’s all about understanding, innit? Don’t know if you recall/are familiar with “Last Nite”, so let’s paste in some lyrics, courtesy of Genius.com.
Which sums up a lot going on in U.S. politics to me, which is how the song got into my head this AM. I was thinking about how people don’t understand one another. We took about it a lot. How can anyone trust Trump? He’s a proven liar and failed businessman. I don’t understand. Meanwhile, over on the spectrum’s other end, they’ve been yelling, Trump tells it like it is. The left doesn’t understand. But, but, but, how he’s telling it are lies and bullshit. I don’t understand why they don’t see that.
Stay positive — I know, it’s hard — test negative, wear a mask, get vaccinated, and persevere. The list keeps growing.
Here’s the music.
Michael Seidel, writer 