The Negotiations
Grandma and her granddaughter came into the coffee shop. They’re lovely regulars.
Today, the granddaughter declared, “I want ice cream.”
Grandma said, “No, you can’t have ice cream for lunch.”
“I want ice cream.”
“How ’bout chicken noodle soup?”
The granddaughter pouted. “I want chocolate ice cream.”
“How ’bout if you eat chicken noodle soup first and then you can have a little ice cream?”
“I will have chicken noodle soup and then chocolate ice cream,” the little girl agreed.
They moved to the counter and ordered the soup.
The barista said, “I’m sorry, we’re out of the soup.”
Grandma was amazed. “You’re out of the soup?”
“How ’bout a piece of pizza focaccia bread for lunch?” the barista suggested.
As grandma and her granddaughter agreed, the barista said, “Oh, no. We’re out of focaccia pizza, too.”
“You’re out of the pizza thing, too?” Grandma was amazed.
A breakfast burrito was suggested as a compromise.
No ice cream was ever ordered.
Yet.
Saturday’s Theme Music — Traitors
Ashland, southern Oregon. Saturday, September 12, 2026.
Sunny today, but also cloudy. Today’s high is expected to strike the low seventies. It’s 66 F now.
Rain is expected after five PM. That has me on a schedule. I cleaned half our gutters on Tuesday, then went for beers with friends Wednesday, blew off finishing the gutters on Thursday, and went shopping with my wife on Friday. So, I must finish dragging the ladder around today. Not difficult or challenging. I just prefer reading and writing.
I’m preparing for the next spinoff of “The Walking Dead” franchise: Mitch Returns. I’m certain there will be little action, lot of pathetic platitudes about greatness, and applause. They’ll continue to ignore the double standard that Mitch, working for We the People, took several months off work, something working Americans can rarely do.
Many believe that we saw a lot of evidence that Trump is falling apart. Trump has been a slow train wreck for the last twenty years, but those MAGAzens are wrecks themselves, falling apart. They happily follow a leader falling apart.
JD Vance has been stepping up, making more speeches, trying to stir confidence in him, positioning himself to be Trump’s successor. JD Vance might as well be a zombie, given his uninspiring demeanor and lackluster speaking skills. He’s not a thinker or orator, but he’s a damn good liar, willing to make things up as needed to gain power.
Today’s morning mental music stream inhabitant is “traitor”. Olivia Rodrigo wrote and sings the song, which came out in 2021. Her song is about dating a guy who insists he wasn’t cheating on her but after they broke up, he was dating the ‘other woman’ within two weeks.
Sample Lyrics
And ain’t it funny? All the twisted games
All the questions you used to avoid
And that’s what we have with Trump, the GOP, and MAGAzens, for me: “All the questions you avoid.”
They’re traitors to principles, truth, and facts. Ain’t it funny how they ignore the money that Trump is making, and how he ‘jokes’ about cheating, just like he joked about other things, which he then turned around and did.
May your day be one that finds you refreshed and satisfied when you look back.
Cheers
Trump — Narrow and Backward
Let’s begin with your Trump Quote of the Day:
This was from the Dallas 2026 midterm conventions. Trump insisted that the convention be made about him. That way, the midterm will be about Trump, because Trump thinks he’s the greatest.
And those of him applauding and pledging with him must agree. Why else put your hand up and say those things — unless they’re like Trump, willing to say anything?
Trump made many claims during his speech. A few had a basis in truth. Like, he did increase oil and gas production.
But that’s the problem. Trump’s focus is so narrow and backward. While he increased oil and gas production, that resulted in:
- Record high profits for the energy companies
- Diesel gas prices going over $6 per gallon for the first time in US history
- The highest average price per gallon for gas on Labor Day in the US — ever
- Increased costs for food and construction due to high construction costs
- A record national debt that is growing faster than our nation
- And an affordability crisis for Americans
Now for our second Trump Quote of the Day:
Trump has insisted that we’re not at war (although Trump also claimed we are at war and that’s why we can’t afford things). He always calls the war with Iran a conflict.
But here he is, verifying, yes, he thinks of it as a war. He used the word ‘war’ repeatedly this week.
Because it is a war.
“I think the war’s going to end immediately after the election because they can’t hold out any longer,” Trump said. “They’re desperate to affect the election, so that we can get a nice, weak group of people in there and leave them alone and let them have their nuclear weapon. All they want is their nuclear weapon, and if they have a nuclear weapon, the whole world is in deep trouble.”
Which means that he has illegally taken our nation into war over six months ago. The Constitution states only Congress can declare war.
I know Trump apologists – Trumpologists – are hurriedly giving him cover. “He was just talking,” they’ll probably say. “That doesn’t mean that we’re at war.”
That’s what Trumpologists always say about Trump. Trump was just talking, whether it’s about why he ordered the attacks on Iran, when the Iran war will end, declaring he’ll balance the budget, reduce prices, start no new wars, be a unifier and a peacemaker, release the Epstein files, cheat, or lower drug prices by over 100%.
He was just talking.
Trump cannot be trusted to keep his word. And his attitude and policies are too backward and outdated for what’s needed in this century.
Instead of facing this, Trump lies, bullies, cheats, and exaggerates.
I believe we need people in our leadership positions who are willing to face the challenges and rise to them, instead of trying to drag us backwards.
Otherwise, we’ll forever be going backwards as the world goes forward.
Vote Blue in 2026. End the war, stop the lies, and restore trust.
The Toilets Dream
Last night’s dream was a masterclass in chaos. Had a lot of fecal matter, too.
Backing up a little, I was again in the military, running some operations center. They’d been having issues there and I arrived to fix them. Which I immediately started doing, explaining it to the young airmen there. They began to understand what I was doing.
Weird thing was, the operations center wasn’t the classic secure and windowless, vaultlike facility where I usually worked during my military career. No, this place was part of some kind of large and busy convention center. People were coming and going. Loud, it was getting busier.
After arriving and doing some things at the ops center, I drifted out and changed clothes. Well, I basically took off everything except my underwear. Then I decided to go back to work to ensure everything was okay. To do that, I donned a short, furry pink robe that barely covered my rear end. Wearing only it and my undies, off I went to work.
Musicians were finishing a conference in the ops center, something which was entirely aligned with what I expected. Although they didn’t have instruments, I knew they were musicians, holding a meeting in the ops center conference room. I talked with them a bit, asking about how it had gone, small talk.
Others were impatiently waiting to use the conference room. I rushed around to get it ready for them but so many people were going in and out that I struggled to get anything done. Part of my cleaning was to check the commodes.
The first was out on a busy floor’s center. On carpet. No walls, no way to have privacy.
Which didn’t surprise me. Getting to the toile, I found – OMG, it was completely full with feces!
I was disgusted and angry. What was wrong with people that they kept using it when it obviously not working? How did they even do it? They would have had to squat over the toilet to avoid the piled crap.
I had no idea how to clean it out; there was no water, no way to use a plunger. I would need to shovel that shit out first. I was going to find someone else to do that, and that was an issue for later.
There was another toilet availab. I rushed to check it, confirm it was okay, and tell everyone to use it. But guess what? It, too, was stopped up. It at least had water and wasn’t as full but as soon as I put a plunger in, feces-filled water slopped out.
Nuts. Filling conspicuous in my short pink robe and bare white legs, I decided to go change before trying to fix this mess. Along the way, I ran into my superiors and gave them an update on the twin messes. Then I went on to change.
Dream end
The Net’s Take on Trump This Week
Thank you to those in Ireland who took the time to make Trump a greeting for his pending visit.
h/t to Daily Kos.
Couldn’t put it better myself.
Over in sports, they’re talking about the Trump Curse. Two of the three teams Trump he mentioned as capable of winning the Superbowl, New England and the Los Angeles Rams, lost their season’s first game. It’s a long season, though. Trump will probably deny he ever said it.
Trump is scrambling like a quarterback under a fierce pass rush, trying to buy time, searching for ways to remain in power. First was the effort to block voting by mail, now thrown out by another court — or was it Republican efforts to gerrymander their way to power? The two actions were being done in parallel.
More recently came the $5K ‘Trump Dividend’, money Trump is willing to pay out of the nation’s funds if his party stays in power.
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
On to the net.
And a little satire…
Friday’s Theme Music — September
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, September 11, 2026.
Today it’s 66 in Ashland with rain and a high of 83 F on the way.
It’s the anniversary of 9/11.
Yes, a quarter century has really passed since that day. We had unity in the US for a while after that. Dubya parlayed that unity to into wars against Iraq and Afghanistan. With Dick Cheney as his VP, the intel was constantly skewed to reinforce a drumbeat to war. The intel about WMD was all about stoking fears of greater attacks.
Those paying attention at the time called bullshit. But our voices were often ignored. We’ve learned in drips since that the intel was flawed. We learned that war was a costly and disastrous mistake.
Wreaths will be placed in many places in the US. A moment of silence will be held. Speeches will be made, and people will recall where they were when.
Then we will move on into the divisive era fostered by Trump and the MAGAzens, embraced by the Republicans, fostered by the Roberts Court.
Like many, many others, I will sigh, suck it up, grit my teeth, and go on.
Today’s music is “Wake Me Up When September Ends”. The song came out in 2005. Billy Joe Armstrong, Green Day lead guitarist and vocalist, wrote it about his father’s death in 1982. But the song’s sentiments of loss, suffering, and reflections work for anyone’s mourning, including those of us looking back on the 9/11 attacks.
Sample Lyrics
Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my father’s come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are
As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends
May we find peace and solace in our lifetimes.
An Aston Martin Dream
Young again, middle-aged, I was with my wife and others in this place with blue carpets. I don’t know why the others were present, but I was there to see a doctor. The doctor, young, White female, with, with short, dark hair, briefly saw me.
“You need surgery,” she said, indicating my neck. “We’ll do it today.”
That pleased me although I was surprised that my neck was to be operated on. I waited for the my scheduled time to arrive. I noticed the others began dressing up. My wife emerged wearing a dark suit with a white shirt. From overheard snippets, I realized that everyone else was waiting for surgery as well.
I was taken back; I’d not seen the doctor examine any of them. As people came out dressed up, the doctor began telling people when she would see them. Hastily I dressed like the rest, in a black suit with a white shirt and tie, but laughed at it as I did, thinking, this is silly.
Then – poof – the surgery was completed. I didn’t notice a thing but I knew it was done. It’d been so quick and simple, it was completed in an eyeblink.
I encountered my sister-in-law. She and I went off to await everyone else finishing off. I began helping some children drawing with crayons. I ended up with crayon on my white cuffs. While wondering how I was going to clean those off, my SIL showed up with a similar problem. I then took a paper towel and blotted the colors off. I shared what I was doing with her and she started doing the same.
We talked while we did that. I asked when she was going home and how long it would take her. Then I remembered that she lived in Florida. No, she answered with surprise. “I live just an hour and a half away. I’m taking my boyfriend’s train him.”
I hadn’t met her boyfriend but I knew of him. My wife arrived. She and I talked with my SIL and my wife and I announced that we would go get my SIL and her boyfriend some food for their trip home. We went out and bought very large sandwiches with French fries. We ate while we were there.
Then we rushed back to give them their food. They were already gone. We looked down the track to see a three-car train pulling away, which amused me and my wife.
We then needed to go deliver a package. I jumped into my car, a gorgeous and expensive Aston Martin roadster, green, with a white interior. I raced down the highway at very high speeds, overtaking many cars. Then, seeing a line of cars breaking, I slowed down and moved left.
Good thing I did, I told myself, as we overtook a long line of cars and trucks pulling travel trailers. They were stopped. I worried that we wouldn’t be able to mail my package.
Then I pulled up to a booth. Jumping out of the car with my package, I told him what I was doing. He was short, solemn, round Black guy. He listened and worked as I apologized for the state of my package and for not having it correctly prepared.
He shrugged that off, saying something like, “No problem.” I thought the packaging needed to be replaced. He consulted with a co-worker. They agree, it just needed a new clear plastic bag. He put that on, then grinned and told me, all down.
I laughed, surprised at how easy it went. Returning to my car, I prepared to drive away.
Dream end.
Just Keep Trying
I wrote a brief post about writing novels and searching for agents the other day. My friend, Nan, commented on it and asked how I go about finding an agent. I pointed her to one of the places, MSWL, which I use to search.
Nan commented back.
Way back when I was ready to publish, I did my own research for potential agents and contacted a few with minimal success … which is why I ended up self-publishing.
I suppose a site like this is helpful, but from a quick look-see, it appears more like a resource for “agents” that aren’t getting enough submittals through regular channels.
But it’s been a loooong time since I wrote/published my book, so what do I know? 😉
Nan’s problem before remains my problem now. How do you find an agent?
MSWL is one of five online resources which I use. The publishing industry is changing, though. Traditional publishing and agents are still out there. So is self-publishing. But either one requires editing, marketing, sales channels. Doing these things yourself is a challenge when you self-publish.
As far as I can tell, all the agents which I review are getting many submissions. But they all have different requirements for submitting, whether it’s by snail-mail, email, or online tools like QueryTracker. Some want only the first five pages. Others request a light synopsis or outline. Some agents ask for the first ten pages while others request the first fifty. There are asks for bios, previous work, comps.
Will you hear back? Probably not. You’re generally submitting into a void. The agents are upfront about that.
The many sites are themselves problematic. It’s a challenge for agents to define what they’re looking for and how they’ll accept submissions. But keeping up with keeping sites up to date is yet another challenge. All too often, I find an agent which seems like they’ll be a good fit my offering only to begin the submission process and find that that they changed agencies or are closed to submissions.
It’s a familiar lament. Writers have put out many stories about how many times they’ve been rejected and how long it took them to find an agent and get published. More stories are rising about how writers self-published and achieved success, and then had agents and publishers come calling on them.
I began years ago with a simple question, how do you write a novel? I read books, magazines, blogs, and spoke with successful published novelists. The bottom line: you find out what works for you, and you do it.
It feels like that’s the same answer for publishing: find out what works for you.
Do it.
And to find out, you just keep trying.
Michael Seidel, writer 