Comedy Festival Dream

Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanza are two characters from “Seinfeld”, a television series which was originally broadcast last century. Jerry Seinfeld played himself as a comedian living in New York, alongside Jason Alexander as his best friend, George Costanza.

I ran into Jerry in a dream. Jerry and I were talking when George came up. Jerry said to me, “Hey, we’re going to a comedy festival. Should be fun. Want to come?”

I agreed. After brief discussion, we decided I would ride with Jerry in his car, and George would drive himself, due to commitments after the festival.

Jerry and I set off on a straight road toward a sunset. Looking back, I confirmed George was following. Turning back, I watched the road in silence. Jerry, behind the wheel, was absorbed with his phone. We were coming toward a tree-line section and another vehicle was closing fast when I realized we were drifting across the centerline.

I said, “Jerry, the road,” but in a calm voice.

Without saying anything, Jerry set his phone aside and took the wheel, moving us to the right side.

We arrived at the open festival and met up with George. Jerry led us to our seats in an open-roof amphitheater. I settled in and watched acts, and then concocted my own and delivered a monologue up where I stood. To my surprise, it was broadcast a few minutes later to much laughter and applause.

The show ended. People began moving toward other activities. I realized that I’d lost track of Jerry and George and began walking around, both looking for them, and taking in sights.

Coming across a large pond set in rocks with fountains spraying into the air, I went into the water, in part for fun but also to escape the crowds. When I came back out, I realized that I’d been wearing sunglasses. I searched my pockets in case I’d absently taken them off but decided that I must have lost them in the water. Beginning to retrace my steps, I shrugged it off with the realization, the loss didn’t matter because this was only a dream.

Dream end.

January 16, 2026 0

January 16, 2026 0

Fridaz Theme Music

Frida finds our Ashland home peaceful. Alexa says it’s 55 F outside, but my systems put it at 38. Other locations report it’s 48. The invisible fog has lifted, leaving sunbeams a clear path to spread warmth and light through the blue sky.

Today is January 16, 2026. 60 is our projected high, kicking off a week of days in the low to mid 60s. We’ll see if that holds, given weather’s changing ways.

Whatever the temperature, Papi is in good spirits. Patio sunshine glows off his white and orange as he grooms after breakfast.

After a night of a long series of dreams, I’m in a very good mood. One had me with Jerry Seinfeld and George Constanza going to a small, intimate open-air comedy festival. I was with Jerry, who was driving, while George followed in his own car. Although an interesting time, I lost my sunglasses. I kept thinking I’d lost them in the water but consoled myself, it’s only a dream.

I also feel very good with where my health is — today. I’ve kept my lost weight off and still run and exercise. My feet, legs, and ankles stay almost pain-free, with twinges sometimes remarking on what I’m doing. Aided by supplements, my abdominal discomfort and bloating have diminished. I remain careful about what I eat and always give myself time to digest before thinking about eating something else.

While I continue to percolate with dream details, feeling healthy and peaceful, I’ve avoided looking at the news. Trump has a habit of making a good day bad, and a bad day — worse. I’ll eventually scan headlines, hoping that ICE violence isn’t climbing, the U.S. hasn’t attacked another nation, or measles aren’t spreading.

Looking at Trump statements over the last several years, remarks made by him counter history or demonstrate a weak grasp the government. I calculated that Trump has been alive for about 32% of the United States’ age as a nation. You’d think he would’ve picked up that information by now. He is college educated.

Now, for no particular reason at all, The Neurons are playing “The Passenger” in the morning mental music stream. Iggy Pop wrote, performed, and released it in 1977. As it plays, I think, here we go, off on another daily journey.

Hope your journey today is happy and carefree, graced with peace and hope. Cheers

January 16, 2026 4

Cats In A Glass Room

A cat dream came up last night. Featuring a recurring dream theme, I was living in a house. This house was first identified as being in Germany and it’s a real-life abode. Like the other dreams, it’s a house but connected to other houses via tunnels that I slowly find, open, and use, always doing so alone.

Though not much dream time is spent there, my house is comfortable with luxury accoutrements. The tunnels go down and are in good condition and clean. Along the way, I find glassed in rooms. A German neighbor is encountered and tells me that my neighbors have all been wondering when I would come down and use these rooms.

While exploring, I find stray young cats — black and white, ginger, tabbies, seal point, short and long-haired. Huddling together, they’re struggling to survive a storm of growing intensity. Night is falling and it’s getting cold. I open one of my glass rooms and herd them into it with little effort, then go off, returning with food to feed them.

A German woman goes by. At this point, I step out of the tunnel. Looking back and up the hill, I see my house on the crest and know that it’s in California. I register that without thinking it contradicting my earlier idea that it was in Germany. It’s perfectly okay that the house is located in both locations.

Returning into the tunnels and the glass room where the cats are, I run into the German neighbor again, getting rid of watermelons. I tell her that animals like the rinds, which surprise her. I put broken watermelons into the glass room with the cats. They begin eating and licking them and I leave to get them more food.

In the kitchen, I speak to my wife, in the other room, and tell her about the watermelon rinds and the neighbor. She’s amazed as me that she didn’t know that animals like the rinds. Taking cat food down to the cats, I watch the cats through the glass. A handful and a half of cats has grown to about fifteen. Among them, new kittens wrestle with watermelon pieces.

I go in. The cats run to meet me with happy meows.

End dream.

January 15, 2026 2

Short-sighted Solutions, Complex Problems

Drew Magery lashed out on SF Gate with an arresting piece, “JD Vance is a piece of s—t”. Magery critiqued how Vance carries on the Trump practice of bending reality and spreading misinformation.

Magery’s anger is contagious, and it hardens my own frustration with what’s happening in the United States. Examining the stack of events, it seems clear that Trump uses diversions from issues like the Epstein files to maintain his base support.

To his supporters, Trump offers solutions such as capping interest rates or creating home-buying schemes. These measures address symptoms and energize a base that distrusts banks, viewing them as elitist institutions.

Yet these proposals don’t address the root causes. Low wages and the reliance on credit to cover essentials push prices up via supply and demand. Credit card debt is a symptom of the U.S.’s market-oriented economy; a simple cap might make splashy headlines, but it won’t fix it.

Likewise, Trump’s attempts to encourage homeownership are unlikely to succeed. Housing supply is limited, and that limitation stems from a complex mix of zoning, construction, labor, and infrastructure issues. Increasing mortgage availability without addressing supply may even drive prices higher, as more buyers compete for the same homes.

The situation is worsened by climate change. Extreme weather, wildfires, and prolonged drought threaten housing stability and supply across the country. Yet Trump and the GOP consistently deny climate science and oppose measures to mitigate its effects.

Returning to Magery’s critique of JD Vance, the Trump Administration’s approach is to deny facts and evade responsibility, especially when policies produce negative outcomes.

That, to me, is the nub of the problem. Trump, the GOP, and their base want quick, easy solutions to systemic problems rooted in culture and structure. Real solutions require hard work, difficult choices, and confronting uncomfortable truths — none of which will happen if people continue to ignore facts.

MAGA is fundamentally about nostalgia — “Making America Great Again.” The movement promises a return to a simpler time but refuses to confront the long-term, structural problems which actually determine outcomes. They prefer finding easy targets as scapegoats.

This creates a cycle of frustration and illusion. So long as this pattern continues, the solutions pursued will recede further from reach. Military action won’t help. Greater attacks on immigrants won’t help. Crackdowns on protestors and freedom of speech won’t help. Nor will increased polarization and divisiveness.

If this cycle continues, I wonder, when will Trump’s base accept reality, roll up their sleeves, and go to work on the hard solutions?

Judging from what I read on sites crowing about Trump’s ideas and victories, many years will stack up before that happens.

January 15, 2026 2

January 14, 2026 0

The Writing Moment

Standing and stretching from my coffee-shop table, I said, “Hi, Kim.”

Hair red as a cardinal catching attention, Kim grinned. My coffee-house writing friend. Three novels out there and counting.

“Hey, Michael. You leaving?”

“Yes, the table is yours if you want. It served me well.”

We laughed. I was giving up the corner table, the best for writing, offering comfort, privacy, and stability. Certain tables rock when typing. Precious as we are, the rocking disrupts needed writing rhythm.

Kim went on, pointing over her shoulder, “I was over there but that table is just too low. It makes my back and neck hurt.”

A grin overtook my face. She was as particular as me. “I know! It really makes it hard when you’re hunkering down for a two to three hours.”

Packing up my gear, I vacated the space. She swept in. “Happy writing,” I offered, then went on with a smile.

It was a good writing day for me. Hope it’s a good one for her, too — though, with that table and her talents, it’s bound to be.