Beautifully autumn outside. Trees blaze, showing off fab colors. Blue sky highlights the look as the sun beams on it like a doting father. We’re up to 62 F after an overnight shift into the upper thirties. 74 F degrees is being held out a possible high.
My floofs are on this weather like children going after their Halloween candy. It’s perfect feline weather for the moment. Each boi has staked out sunny spots and are living up to their stereotypes as well-groomed, sun-loving beasts.
We received our latest COVID Jab — or COVAB, as I put to others but it’s not catching on. Went much like our first jab back into 2021. First hours, okay. Last night, the vax slammed me down and wouldn’t let me up. I crashed in a big way. Wrapped up in sheets and blankets, my head felt like a match that’d been struck and was burning. Then I spent a period of shivering uncontrollably.
After about thirteen hours of sleep, I forced myself out of bed. The cats helped. They’re like, “Dude, we must be fed and let out. Come on, get your priorities straight and get your ass out of bed.”
So I arose like a creaking suit of armor. Made my path to the kitchen where coffee was administered. Coffee is a wonder drug, don’tcha know. Anyway, I thought along the lines of being out of sync physically and mentally, a condition that borders on being called ‘sick’. The Neurons began playing Jackson Browne and “Doctor My Eyes”. Grazing through the net, I found this version from “Playing for Change”. Hope you like it.
Stay positive and test negative. Get the jab, as it will help, in the long run. Here’s the music. Where is my coffee?
Friday morning, October 18, 2024. Outside air temperature is 31 degrees F. Doesn’t stop the floofs from wandering out into sunshine. Heavy sunshine, no clouds, and sharp blue sky herald the trees’ autumn gowns. They show off vivacious, vivid golds, lemons, ambers, scarlets, reds, and orange among the greens. It’s a new show every year. Our high today will be in the mid 60s.
I got struck with a fake virus popup scam. Where they want you to buy, download, or call somewhere to get rid of it. Go in and clean it out later. Right now, it’s just an annoyance.
Picked it up when I was looking for birthday flowers for Mom last night. Clicked on one site. It came up with the standard thing about wanting to send me notifications. They seem like beggars to me with that ubiquitous plea, “Want me to send you notifications?” I can see them at a traffic corner, newspaper and water in hand, ready to clean your windshield for you. Anyway, I clicked no, of course, and bang, here was the scam. Deep grrrrrrrrrrooowwwlll.
I have a Twenty One Pilots song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark scammed). Song came out in 2009. The Neurons plucked it out of the stuff floating in memory because I was out there with the cats thinking, hey, it’s a good day. That’s basically the sense of TOP’s song.
Coffee warms my throat as I watch fat dark gray clouds sailing across the sky. Sunlight clears the clouds, dramatically lighting their heights. Looks like fall, alright.
Many people live by the weather when it comes to the season. I’m one of those. My attire today are jeans. Long pants. Long sleeve shirt.
Wind, chill, and rain, and lack of sunshine pulled the decision to don jeans free of my brain cells. Much as anything, it’s that feel to the air, the color of the sky, and the mood it all presents as winds chase leaves down the street, that the seasonal change is really here.
So, I’m wearing jeans, looking back on the hot, smoky summer, shifting my gaze toward the future, to the coming winter, and what it might bring.
Much like my ancestors probably did. Without the jeans.
It’s a stillish fall morning outside the windows. Rain’s been falling from darkly loaded clouds. They’ve overtaken the blue and sun today.
It’s Thursday, October 17, 2024. Chilly with that rain, the high will be 61 and the low will be 37 F. Freeze warnings are in effect for tomorrow morning’s early hours. On the bright side of matters, our air quality is excellent, just single digits.
Got a call this morning from the county emergency system. Today is the great shake-out. They wanted us to pretend an earthquake was underway and practice surviving it. I’ve been through a few smaller quakes so I easily imagined the shaking.
The situation provoked some pre-coffee thinking. When I was a child in Wilkinsburg, PA, I remember us doing a duck and cover under my desk, in case the commies launched their nukes. Then, in the military, we were always practicing surviving war and natural disasters. There were fake NBC attacks. Fake unexploded ordinance to deal with. And of course, nukes and EMP. What would happen if we lost our telecommunications; how would we survive? We practiced decoding messages which would send us to war, and other exercises to receive notification hostilities were over. My career’s final years saw me fighting simulated space wars. Throughout, I was engaged in war planning, getting ready to deploy equipment to some theater’s front lines, etc., and reporting on our efforts to get ready and be ready, briefing the general who was our commander five days a week at one assignment, and getting ready to brief him.
Naturally, here in southern Oregon, we stay ready for wildfires. We have checklists and go-bags for evacuation. I’m fairly prepared in that regard, as I wrote local plans, checklists, and guidance for evacuating bases for wherver I was, and trained others in executing that stuff.
Seems like a lot of my life has been about getting ready. I was getting ready to be an adult as a teen. Beyond getting ready for war and natural disasters during, I was constantly getting ready for flu season, to move to another assignment, and I was getting ready for retirement.
Now I’m getting ready for my foot surgery. Getting ready for Mom and Dad to pass. That could be my life motto: “Get ready.”
Of course, as I reflect on my needs to get ready as a child and adult, I think it’s better than the active shooter drills so many children now go through to get ready for the real deal. Their need is driven by people with guns walking into schools and committing mass murder. My need to get ready was much more abstract and distant.
I have a pre-op appointment for my foot surgery next Wednesday. It’s to get me ready for the surgery. Actual surgery takes place the following Wednesday. The pre-op appointment came out of the blue. No phone call or coordination about what time works best for me; just a sudden message through Mychart telling me that the appointment was made. Poor communication, to me, and sort of arrogant, and annoying. Like, hey, what if I was out of town that day? Fortunately, I’m not, but still…
Today’s music comes via Tom MacInnes’s website. I enjoy Tom’s posts about music history, along with his experiences as a teacher and a father, particularly his stories about reading with his daughter and his students. Yesterday’s post was “The Great Canadian Road Trip…Song #76/250: Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne”. I ended up with “Sk83r Boi” in my morning mental music stream (Trademark bopping). It’s a lively, energetic song, and completely free and clear of political nuances, so I latched onto that. I need a political break from scanning news on either side of the schism, and tales of polls, rumors, innuendoes, and courts. Just give me some simple teenage offering.
I’m pretty pleased with it as a song choice. The Neurons had been offering “The Monkey’s Uncle” from the Disney movie with the same title. I don’t know why the hell The Neurons chose that song. Never saw the movie, but I knew of its elements, and obviously that song and some of the other songs the movie offered. That was from an era of beach movies. I never dug ’em.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been introduced to my systems once again and I believe I have a pulse. Here’s the music. Get ready for the election.
It’s 54 F degrees. 61 is being looked at as the high. Rain and clouds give us a sloppy wet one in greeting. It’s Wednesday, the humpiest day of the week. October 16. We’re on the tenth month’s downside. November and the holidays beyond loom behind an uncertain gray veil, put there by the impending elections and the uncertainty sown by Trump.
Well, for some of us. Others are all, que sera, sera.
Had coffee duty this morning. Ordered two Starbucks Travelers and delivered them to the Family Y, where a surprise birthday party for a 95 year old friend was being put in place by her daughter. Used to be our neighbors across the street. Life and circumstances changed that. Now she lives in a cottage in her daughter’s backyard closer to downtown, about 1.5 miles away. This woman — the 95 yo — no longer drives so she walks around town or takes the bus. She’s vigorously involved in her church activities and other charity, and she exercises three mornings a week at the Y. My appreciation of her and admiration for her remains broad and deep.
I was asked to assist through my wife, natch. Her daughter reached out to my spouse, and my spouse reached out to me. No problem. I was due to deliver the coffee at 9:15 and entered at 9:16. My wife saw me and exclaimed, “You made it!” She made it sound like I’d finished the Oregon Trail.
Today’s music in fact comes from the latest Trump rally fiasco. No, not the one where he left people out there without rides back, without facilities, water, or food, as darkness came down. No, this is another one.
Rather than continue after paramedics assisted the two people, Trump instructed his staff to just play music from a playlist he has personally curated and famously often turns on during dinners at Mar-a-Lago.
“Who the hell wants to hear questions?” Trump said at the event where the entire point was to take audience questions. “Right?”
What followed was more than 30 minutes of Trump swaying on stage and occasionally doing his well-known two-handed dance to some of his favorite tunes, chatting with the event’s host, South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem, and occasionally interacting with attendees who were seated behind the stage.
“This is the weirdest church service I have ever been to,” a first-time rallygoer who did not give their name told NBC News of the music portion of the event, which opened with “Ave Maria.”
So rather than questions and answers about policy, as expected at a political rally, Trump delivered some dancing and music. And at least one attendee mused about it being a ‘church service’.
I mean, really, WTF is going on over there in MAGA land?
The music it inspired The Neurons to play in the morning mental music stream (Trademark blown) comes by way of Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. “Karn Evil 9” is all about the show. Guaranteed to blow your head apart. That’s how I feel ’bout many of the Trump shows. It’s a show with little substance. He gushs about himself and he insults others.
Off into the rain I go. Be strong and stay positive. Vote blue in 2024. Let’s keep sanity in the White House. Coffee and I have come together on a plan to jumpstart my heart.
Here’s the music. It’s a long one. Great drum solo. Cheers
We rocked and rolled into another autumn day. Blue skies, no clouds, lots of vapor trails.
Another Tuesday. Another October — my 69th October. I’m 68 but we don’t start counting until we’ve been alive for one year and I was born in July. And ‘nother 15, as this is 10/15/2024.
As the new weather norm goes, it was chilly, in the low fifties at night. Sunshine thrust in past trees and over mountains as the Earth rotated. The thermometer began clawing its progress up the scale. Now at 62 F degrees, 72 F might be here at 4 PM. Rain is anticipated at 5 PM, and that’ll change everything.
The wind is still and the air is clear.
This is floof weather. The boys — Papi and Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) — settled into favorite sunshine-favored spots in the backyard grass. Napping followed grooming, with interruptions to head lift for disruptive noises. But all is well for them.
They — the cats — inspired The Neurons’ music choice today. I checked on them after dressing. Seeing them in their sunshine spots, The Neurons jerry-rigged a Rihanna song with new lyrics: “We found sunshine in the backyard, we found sunshine in the ba-ackyard.” This was a butchering of “We Found Love” from 2011. Calvin Harris wrote it and Rihanna had a hit with it. After using it for their purposes, The Neurons introduced the proper tune to my morning mental music stream (Trademark hopeless) for the full experience. It’s a technotune with a driving beat that soon had The Neurons jumping and bouncing, a bit disconcerting as my body’s other cells were clamoring, “Where’s the coffee, huh? Give me coffee.”
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue. Don’t know what history will say after this election but I’d like to give our nation a longer tenure as a democratic republic. Electing Harris will bend us toward that course. Selecting Trump will divert us further off course, as we saw from his first term and his behavior since.
The body finally had its coffee prayers answered. Here’s the music. Cheers
Another autumn day has been sprung on us in Ashlandia. We shouldn’t be surprised; it is October 13, 2024. Yet, here we are. Facing a blue sky and unimpeded sunshine, we’re braving 54 F right now. 77 F is on the way. All those gorgeous sunshine highlights the unabashedly fall foliage. It’s a good day for leaf peeping — leafping — if you’re into that. Even if not, it can be a pleasurable way to ease through this October Sunday. Our air quality is good.
I spent last night drilling through emails, blog posts, and articles as the Oregon Ducks defeated the Ohio State Buckeyes on national television turned on in my background. Most of the news can be categorized as ‘dumb shit Trump said or did’. Exasperating. But going through Crooks & Liars, I listened to Lennie Kravitz with Slash from GNR playing “Always on the Run” from 1991 on Jon Amato’s Late Night feature. Haven’t heard the song for a few election cycles and it simmered and stewed overnight. The Neurons put it on play in the morning mental music stream (Trademark running) this morning.
Just 23 days until November 5, 2024. It’s getting raw out there. Most pushback against Harris claiming victory comes as ‘reasoning’ masquerading as racism, sexism, fear, or bullshit. Like the folks whining, “I don’t now if she’s up to being President.” Doesn’t stop them from voting for a convict and failed President, though. They apparently think he’s up to being President even after many of his former staff declare that he isn’t. And that was when he was years younger. Now on the short end of his late seventies, he’s demonstrating many of the same issues that had people wringing their hands over President Biden returning to the White House.
I will say that AARP’s little political foray pissed me off in their mailer. They claim, ‘Oh, we’re non-partisan. We’re just giving both sides of the issues. Here’s what the candidates said.’ Paraphrasing for them.
Like, what a crock. Like Trump isn’t carrying the baggage of being a felon, on record for lying, lying, lying, and more lying. Like he didn’t take classified documents, lie about taking them, and refused to give them up, and then lied about that. Like Trump isn’t an ignorant blowhard who makes unfounded claims and accusations with every speech. Like Trump didn’t incite an insurrection and lie about it. Like Trump has any principles or values beyond how he can wring more money out of others for himself. Like Trump cares for anyone except himself.
Like Kamala Harris isn’t an accomplished individual. Like she wasn’t the Attorney General in California. Like she wasn’t a U.S. Senator. Like she hasn’t been Vice President for almost four years. Like she hasn’t articulated and written about her positions.
Hopefully, the people going through AARP’s piece will read and think about what Trump said, as most of it is vague promises and claims about how great he’s gonna make everything, just as he vaguely claims every year, every day, without changing much for the good.
Of course, I despair that anyone voting in this election is depending on AARP guidance after all the news being blared across the ether 24/7. But we know what kind of world it is and how some folks function. That’s why there’s a vein of undecided voters causing tremors about how the election will play out.
Be strong and positive. Vote blue in 2024. Vote for Kamala Harris for President. I’ve had some coffee, so I’m ready to go. Here’s the music video. Cheers.
Remember that thing we used to learn about some truths being self-evident?
Under the GOP, that’s no longer directionally correct.
“The Wrong-Direction Election” by Ben Mathis-Lilley delineates exactly why the GOP has become so half-assed. It’s about being ‘directionally correct’.
Not familiar to you? ‘Directionally correct’ is a way of covering the GOP’s collective ass about Trump and Republican lying. Orwell is likely shaking his head in amazement. From the article:
“And being directionally correct—or sometimes directionally accurate—is, according to many of Donald Trump’s supporters, something that Donald Trump is very good at. His claims about trans athletes, immigrants, and the 2020 election might not be strictly true, these advocates say, but they are directionally so, because he’s talking about a real problem, or at least a feeling that there’s a real problem.”
Isn’t that precious?
The Republicans have become masters of bullshit. If I get the gist of it right, my saying that that the GOP are all unprincipled hypocritical, gun-loving, women-hating sexist, greedy, anti-democracy lying racist bigots, I’m directionally correct, because there’s at least a feeling that’s there’s a real problem with them and their lying campaigns in response to every critical moment in the nation’s recent history.
It’s a windy beast out there this morning. Definitely a creature of autumn. Trees are shimmying and waving branches like they’re cheering on the University of Oregon Ducks football team.
It’s technically a Sattyday, or Saturday as they call it in some parts of the U.S., samedi in some other places. October 12, 2024. 64 with a lovely balminess riffing. Most of the sun action is obscured behind a cloudy gray monolith. Our air will tiptoe into the low to mid sevenities this day.
The cats are out there, trying to make out like they’re happy with the weather’s shape. But their dismayed whiskers reveal their truths, that this wind is disturbing their sleep, mussing their fur, and annoying them with its sounds. Whenever I go by a door or window and look out, they eye the house like they want back in. I will go back and see if that’s true. Both will probably come in. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) will stay but Papi will go back out. He has a short memory when weather is introduced as the topic.
You know who else doesn’t like the wind? DJ Trump dislikes the wind. The former President said some stuff about the wind at one of his rallies last week as part of his magic weave. This is lifted from a Huffpost article shared on Yahoo:
“The wind, the wind, it sounds so wonderful. The wind, the wind, the wind is, the wind is bullshit, I’ll tell you,” he said.
The crowed roared.
“It’s horrible, so expensive. Just too expensive. It doesn’t work. All of that to do y’know one tenth of one percent, I mean the whole thing is crazy,” he said.
Trump complained that wind power means people can’t watch television on days with no breeze.
He is right; the whole thing is crazy.
Speaking of wind, it’s a mess down in Florida after Hurricane Milton finished with them. Millions without power. Massive flooding. Sixteen dead, but people left homeless. Gas stations lack gas and alligators are swimming freely as a threat. President Biden has asked Congress to return to pass more funding for FEMA. Let’s see how the GOP reacts.
Moving on.
I have a friend with a fruitful fig tree, and she’s generous with its produce. After receiving pint after pint after pint of fresh, ripe figs, my wife baked a fig cake with a mix of almond and white flour. Excellent with coffee. I theorize it’d go well warm with a scope of vanilla bean ice cream as a dessert. But I’m having it this morning, cold with my coffee. Still fine riding on the taste buds.
All this wind thinking lends itself to songs about wind. I ended up with Kansas singing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark blown away). The Neurons agreed with the choice (although they did campaign for “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger and The Scorpions’ windy offering, “Wind of Change”. So here is “Dust in the Wind”, the 1977 progressive rock offering.
Stay strong, be positive, and vote blue in 2024. Rock on with your day. I’ve been rocking mine with coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
Dreamed I came into a windfall of cash. The amount was never specified but I bought a new Porsche 718 spyder and paid cash.
Next, I purchased a Dior pewter gray suit. Though off the rack, it fit me perfectly. Oh, and this was a young thirtyish me. Along with the shirt, I bought new shirt, tie, and shoes. Wearing these things, I drove the car around. In one odd sign, however, I seemed larger than the car.
I stopped and exited the car to chat with some people I loosely knew. They admired my suit, guessing, “New?” Yes, I proudly answered. I realized I had the price tags attached. I fretted about my wife finding out how much I paid for the suit. I believed it was thousands but I couldn’t read the price tags. Each time I tried, something imposed to prevent that from happening.
I decided that I wanted to remove the price tags. I needed a knife or small snips. Looked for both, roaming around, but found neither. Did receive many more compliments about how the suit looked on me.
Getting back into the car to leave, I found that while the cockpit was as expected, the rest of the car was expanded to be an open-air bus filled with people. Didn’t surprise me. We were leaving a museum. I saw a woman who I wanted to intercept walking toward another vehicle exit. I decided I would circle around and chat with her.
“I just have one stop to make,” I told the rest. “Then we’ll be on our way and I’ll drop you off at your destination.”
I was driving down the road while making that announcement. Lovely day of blue sky, sunshine, and clouds. The roads were spacious and well-maintained, concrete with curbs, abutting parks, plazas, and museums. I circled right and went under an overpass and came back around to where I was.
That surprised me. I’d expected there to be a turn off that would take me over to the other road. I tried again — three more times in all — and met the same result. With the fourth time, my passengers said, “Oh, no, not again.
Asking for their indulgence, I gave it one more effort, but this time shifting over by one road which I’d noticed. That worked, taking me to where I wanted to be.
Michael Seidel, writer 