The Moron in Chief

How long did it take me to realize Donald Trump was a clown when he first crossed my radar? And when did I realize he was a very dangerous and evil clown?

My first indication of his clown act was probably when I saw him on "60 Minutes" back in the mid 1980s. Contrary to the bombastic maverick millionaire he protrayed on screen, I saw just another self absorbed jive ass turkey carnival barker. I will admit, I was entertained at first. Never did I even consider that one day he would have our nation bent over hay bales and without even a hint of lube, was ............ You get my point.

In the last 40 plus years Trump has managed to keep his sleazy self absorbed image prominently displayed in media centers around the globe. If anyone has found his true calling, it is Trump. He is definitely not a smart man in any conventional meaning of the word. But he is a canny manipulator, whose expertise is projecting an illusion of power and competence, while at the same time, openly proving he is a fake and a moron. 

The contradiction hurts my brain when I try to parse it out. No one this incompetent and stupid, should wield the kind of power he does. My only conclusion is, I have overestimated the level of common sense in America and underestimated the level of stupid that resides in much of our population. Add in the fact, that he also has zealots who think he sits at the right hand of God, well...... how did I not see this coming?

It was his Birther Conspiracy BS that made me pay attention to him after my previous decision to consider him a clown of no worth. It was at that moment, I realized his overwhelming tenacity in supporting the unsupportable with no retreat, always doubling down was his strength. He had learned the power of "Tell a lie often enough and it can become the truth" (Illusory Truth Effect). That was when I considered him more than just a funny clown. He had stepped into the area I reserve for the Evil Clowns. He was not quite Stalin,Putin, Ayatollah Khomeini, or Idi Amin but I was sure he would fit right in at one of their parties.

Time has proven in many ways, Trump has surpassed all of them with his ability to embrace the most evil tendencies of all of them. That he is still limited somewhat from implementing his worse impulses and desires is a testament to the limitations that somehow still exist in our Constitution. Add in the fact that his brain seems to be actually rotting, we may be saved by a near miss. Only time will tell. The problem now is, how much time do we have before our country devolves into that banana republic I have been predicting for so many years.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................................

________________________

The image above was released by Governor Kathy Hochul of New York. She tought it might be the bi-partisan spark to begin mending the political fences that have become a huge dumpster fire. The MAGA folks would like it and the Trump haters might too. I like it; an honest representation of a living president who has his eye on every ball that bounces his way. I would only add that on the bill, it should have a printed caveat;  "Only worth the paper it is printed on - 4.1 cents". The prez gets another thing to put his name on and the respect his kool aid gulping minions score the show of respect Trump deserves.

______________________

This song was a hit back in the late 1950s o rearly 1960s. I remember it because of the drums and its tendency to pop up anywhere, anytime. The song itself meant little to me as I had all the money I needed; I was 7, 8, or maybe 9 years old. I had an allowance of 50 cents a week. Life was a worry free existence for me then. My oh my, how Life has changed. 

Here is "Money ... ( That's what I Want)" by Barrett Strong. 

Little Boxes

On September 23, 2025, I had the pleasure having my one millionth visitor here at "Lost in the BoZone". I started blogging at the end of 2004. It took almost 21 years for those million visitors to find me. Today, June 3, 2026, my visitor count sits at 1,622,891 visitors. Twenty plus years to have 1 million visitors; nine months to tack on over 600,000 more. At the rate I am going now, I have a chance to make the visit count over two million before the end of the year.

I cannot explain it. It is not as if my writing has improved enough to justify the increase. Matter of fact, I often consider my blogging period between 2008 and 2011 as the period I was not only the most productive, but I wrote better I think. Once again, I cannot explain that either. 

I may not be able to explain the recent rise in interest in the "BoZone", but I certainly can make guesses, both wild and more likely ones that are boring and no fun to write about:

• It could be that I may have finally caught the attention of a World starving for insightful and witty commentary on everything under the Sun. ............
• It could be that beginning to incorporate musical entertainment as part of my posts has enticed people to punch up my next post, just to see who's performing this time. ...........
• Most likely though, The Internet has become a jungle filled with too many algoritim bots wandering around looking for more information to process into new and improved money makers. 

I only mention this interesting burst of statistical growth as an observation that really needs no explanation. Not really. There is an outside chance the World might be interested in my blog. The reality is more likely the gazillions of bots out are just doing what they do; finding new and improved ways to separate us from that last dime we have in our pockets.

I only became interested in the stats when I was checking my published post count, which with this post will make 1996 posts in 21 plus years. A lot of words containing fewer words that might have entertained folks at some point or another. Up untill I saw the upcoming "You are the ..... visitor" statistic, I had not bothered checking blog stats for years at a time. I still don't check regularly now, but I peruse them more ofen.The stat page has all kinds of "in the weeds" information:

• Where the visitors visit from
• How many comments
• What operating systems are used to visit
• Url's who have visited.

The list is endless. If I had monetized the blog, the information would have broken down the information even more.

This bottomless pit of data on my blog is of no interest to me, other than in passing and even then, it's a yawner. However, there is no such thing as useless information, now that we have trillions of Bots crawling all over the planet's interactions of the Internet kind. There are countless creaters of Algorithmic equations who will find some way to make money, empower someone or something, or create alternate facts that support a thriving alternate world in our minds.

And what is the ultimate goal of gathering data like this? I think it is just another tool the puppetmasters have at their disposal to steer us to the conclusions they want us to have. Original thought is frowned upon now. The powers that be want to know how to lock us into little boxes they can arrange in any order, category, or location they want. 

Telling us what we want to believe is the process. Having us swallow their bullshit is the aim. Controlling us, the ultimate goal.

Keep it 'tween the diches .....................................................

______________________________

I had the post song chosen before I finished the post. No agonizing, no time wasting or frustrated searching; "Little Boxes" was written by Malvina Reynolds in 1962  and first recorded by Pete Seeger in 1963. The song was a popular folk song but did not really catch the mainstream mind until it was used as the theme for the TV series, "Weeds". That is when I first noticed it.

It is the perfect song to point up the never ending efforts of our culture to put us all into "Little Boxes".

Ain't Too Proud

Carol, a client of my wife the accountant, owns and operates a local weekly ad circular. Carol has been a booster and supporter of the Ogunquit Playhouse in Ogunquit, Maine for years. Because of her good relations with my wife, we have had the opportunity to see more than a few productions gratis. 

The playhouse is one of the premier summer playhouses in America. Since 1933, hundreds, if not thousands of actors and performers have played there. Many played there before they were famous, many played there after they became famous. The list of the celebrated stars is huge. 100,000 people take in performances every summer.

My first experience with the playhouse was in the summer of 1961 I think. I was in Maine spending some time with my aunt and uncle. They took me to a children's matinee production, the name of which, I cannot remember. Since then, I have had the pleasure of seeing many shows there.

Last night, we experienced a musical biopic of "The Temptations", a rythm and blues (Soul) group from the 1960s and 1970s.The Temptations, along with "The Supremes" often owned AM radio as their music crossed over racial lines and helped our culture heal some wounds between the races from the nasty legacy of Slavery and later, the Jim Crow era in the South.

I never owned a Temptations album, but I knew their songs. Their music popped up everywhere; Teen Club nights in the North Bethesda Jr. High gym and teen clubs across the nation. I can remember "My Girl" as one of those early "our songs". For the life of me, I cannot remember the girl's name who shared "Our Song" with me. 

"Ain't too proud" was a real treat. 31 songs woven into a narrative as told by Otis Williams, their leader for years. It  followed the trajectory of this super group's rise and fall. The voices of the players were amazing, the band that played the score was true to the music of the group. Overall, another excellent presentaation at this iconic playhouse.

One section of the perfomance caught me up and I could feel my eyes moisten. It was their journey through the Jim Crow South around the time Rev King was assassinated. For a few moments I was back in Tallahassee, Florida as a 12 year old watching white peckerwoods with bats and sticks descend on black protestors as the cops turned their backs or just looked away. I had gone to the protest, defying my parents orders to not go. I never told them until I was an adult.

That moment still haunts me 63 years later.The reality of Jim Crow came full circle for me. I really had no experience with racism until my years in Florida. It was a rude, in my face come to Jesus experience that insured I would never be comfortable around racism. It was maybe my first hint that white folk were no better than anyone else, contrary to the image they painted of themselves.

The biopic last night was not only a great musical treat, the way the narrative of the Temptations became an integral and seamless part of the story made for some fine theater. I had a wonderful time. The set was sparse. But a minute into it, I knew they were not going the rely on the set to prop them up. It was the narrative and the music. The music was fantastic. The outfits were perfect and the doos right on target.

I would have never thought all those years when I was dragged to this concert, that theatrical production; that it would all rub off on me so that now that I am an old fart, I can appreciate that which I did not as a child. Again another full circle has been completed.

Keep it tween the ditches .............................

_______________________

Of course I am going to use the Temptations hit, "Ain't tToo Proud to Beg" for this post. I also have to include the first and maybe the only "Our Song" I ever shared with a girl. "My Girl" is a song that has stood the passage of time. Finally, my favorite Temptations tune, "Ball of Confusion". Not just a political song, more importantly, they stepped outside of their comfortable "Pop Music, Motown" sound. 

Coming Soon......... Maybe

Once a week, I  am going to try to use a writing technique I picked up years ago when I first got into writing Flash Fiction.

It's about taking ten minutes to write anything I want, no editing, just write. At ten minutes, stop writing, read what you just wrote and then use only enough words to finish the thought, button up the plot, finish it some way that might be presentable. Editing is acceptable.

The Ten Minute writing limit comes from my involvement with a Flash Fiction challenge group, "Thinking Ten". I participated sixteen or so years ago until the blog owner decided to move on. Running a writing challenge every week is a lot more draining than one might think. 

I learned so much about writing that way. I was a kid in a toy room. I was allowed to run amok and play with any toy I wanted. When "Time" was called, we had to put the toys away and clean up the room. I wrote some of my favorite pieces then. My standard bloviations are fun and all; "Thinking Ten" proved to me brevity had its place also. Keeping the writing tight and clean helped me determine tipping points.

When the blog owner closed down his blog, the last thing he did was to create a book containing some of the stories our group wrote, including one of mine. At the time, I did not understand why he picked the one he did. There were others I wrote I felt were better efforts.

As it turned out, the blog owner was a teacher at the college level and the book was too become a teaching tool he developed to use in his classes in the future. Not counting a few letters to the editor over the years, it was only the second time I had seen my writing actually published. I thought I would be thrilled, but well, I am an adult with some years under my belt. Patting my own back is just not as satisfying as it used to be.

A fellow wannabe writer like me once commented that he wouldn't waste his time writing Flash Fiction. If he couldn't at least turn out a short story, what was the point of writing anything in the first place?

I have considered his words more than a few times. Every time I come back to the only reason I write in the first place. Though it's nice to garner compliments and be noticed, I write first and foremost because it is fun; especially fiction. Making up stories that never existed before or telling stories that did keep my brain still looking for the wonder that still exists out there. We just have to think it up. When the writing is over and I smile, .... That's what makes me happy.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .......................... 

___________________

I can't say for sure that I haven't used Procol Harum's song, "The Devil Came from Kansas" with one of my posts. The song is off their underappreciated album, "A Salty Dog". Released in 1969. It was one of the albums I purchased literally out of the back of a Ford Econoline van. The guy delivered albums and 45's to record stores in New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine. He also refilled 8-track racks in gas stations, restaurants, and anywhere his company had one. He came by the gas station I worked at once a month. He charged $1.50 an album, cash only. Over two summers, I built up a collection of over 100 albums. Almost all of them, albums he picked for me or ones I thought had a cool cover. I discovered early Fleetwood Mac and Peter Greene, Frank Zappa, The Grateful Dead, John Mayall and the Blues Breakers and Jethro Tull's first album, "This Was" along with Led Zeppelin's first album.

"A Salty Dog" had a cool cover. I bought it. It was the first album I had ever bought where I liked every tune on it. I liked it so much, I bought a second copy the next time the record guy came by. I knew I would be wearing it out. ( 3/28/26)

As I said, the album is one of those albums that I loved every tune. Picking one song took me two or three replays. As I write this, I still have not decided.

• "The Devil Came from Kansas" was my initial choice. The end of it is awesome as the guitar riff bounces from one speaker to the other.
• The next song, "Boredom" is anything, but not boring.
• Then I remember "Juicy John Pink". A blues tune. And I love the Blues.
• The song that follows "Juicy John" is orchestreal and grand. "The Wreck of the Hesperus" always makes me feel good and gives me rushes as it builds to the full orchestral climax.

Shit. Can't decide which song. Guess, I need to throw dart at the song list. That's the only way I will get through this.

"Boredom"  A Flute. A Glockenspiel. A combo made in Heaven.

End Times

The comment and my reply below are from the post, "Iconic Cinema Moments" that I posted on the BoZone the other day, 

"Iconic scenes and iconic lines become part of  lexicon like the poems we learned in school"

My reply

"The future of the printed word and human created arts seem destined for the dustbins of academia and will eventually become nothing more than part of polite cocktail conversations as the future intelligentsia sip martini's and nibble on little bits of meat stuck on toothpicks. Meanwhile, the average Joe and Joan will have been reduced to a mind numbing existence under the thumb of A.I. nursemaids."

The worst case future scenarios created by written fiction and cinematic magic have proven to be for the most part, just fictional stories that entertain. But sometimes, the story will ring true as we replay them at a future date. There are countless examples of present day cautionary tales predicting future eventualities that come uncomfortably close to the Reality we end up living in that future moment.

Many writers, especially writers of fiction are fascinated with predicting future civilizations or fantasy alternate realities. They often draw on the current events swirling around them at that moment to use as what they see are forks in the roads of Mankind's destiny. They will either create the doomsday scenes as accidental and heap sympathy on the poor helpless humans, or in my favorite models of the future, they create worlds that turn ugly because the population did nothing to stop the decay or actively helped it cause their doom.

I think most writers have favorite scenarios they work into their fictions regarding the end of Humanity on this planet.

One favorite is the future where we destroy ourselves through conflict with each other, or we kill ourselves off due to our careless stewardship of the resources we need to function. Both of these ends can follow differing tracks; so many tracks in fact, the possible scorched earth scenarios are endless.

Then there are the world ending events that incorporate pandemics that just kill off everyone or turn the majority of humans into mindless Zombies who somehow, even though they are technically dead can still attack people and eat their brains, their bodies, blah, blah, blah. This scenario seems to be a current favorite with countless books, TV series and Movies scaring us with a fantasticly absurd story of dead people wandering the countryside. Personally, I like many of the depictions, but only because they are so funny.

As popular as the Zombie Fad is, the Alien Invasion premise historically, blows the Zombie scenario away. It was a fantasy long before the Zombie Apocalypse. We are invaded by superior races of beings from distant parts of the Universe who consider us as nothing but fauna to domesticate or eat.They see us as nothing but vermin polluting an otherwise beautiful planet.

The possible takes on the End that are not funny in my mind, are the Apocalypitical tales and films where disease, war, or environmental destruction are the spark that turns all of us into rotting corpses scattered over a landscape bereft of any hint of the Eden we destroyed.

Regardless of the numerous takes on how we all end up face down as carrion feast on our dead flesh, I am fascinated with the fascination and attention people waaste on worrying about the End.

One view of End Times I find especially comical is Christianity's assertion and belief in the Rapture. Some God we cannot prove exists other than thrrough our own foolish emotion we call "Faith", ... this god will one day pull the plug and reach us through designated channels ( read: crazy pastors, priests, mullahs, and other grand poobahs who are scattered around the planet ).  Their stock in trade always depends on throwing the fear of God at their flocks. Many Christian sects will often contend God is fed up and about to call all of the faithful back from what apparently is a battle that has been fought in the poorly delineated struggle between "Good and Evil". 

I say comical, but what organized religion is, is a tragic comedy. The means and structure that make up the various religions are based on laughable and illogical premises. The methods used by these organized religions to drive their points home are anything but funny and often destructive. The end of the world, in my opinion, will have a seriuos religious element that will enhance the speed at which we race to our undoing.

It may seem I have stepped off the path I started with. I think though, I have stayed on target; that target being how Humanity understands that our existence is defined by a beginning and an end. Our fascination with our end, creates stories about that end, that either feeds our fears, helps us to embrace that end, or makes us laugh about it. We spend more time than we should about the ends of things. We are here and then we are gone. Suck it up and enjoy yourself. Or wallow in fear of something you cannot really do anything about.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ................................

________________________

I picked a favorite song by The Cranberries. "Zombie" is not about End Times specifically. It is about one of the infinite paths we travel to accomplish End Times. The struggle of Ireland to come out from under Great Britain's thumb has been an all too often bloody struggle that began as far back as the 12th century. That is a long time to decide that hate and discontent is better than caving and become vassals of an overbearing government from away. If I sound like I am in Ireland's corner, well, I am the progeny of Scotishs ancestors. The Scots had and still have their own bones to pick with the British. The subjugated do seem to flock together.

In the scheme of planetary importance, these petty squabbles between the inhabitants do not mean squat to the planet. They're nothing but squabbles between members of the same species. The planet will never give them a second thought once they are gone. It has seen so many like them come and go.

So enjoy this song by one of the best female voices of the the last 50 years.

The Worst Douchebag to Ever Pollute the White House

He may not know how to play a fiddle while America burns, but Trump does know how to conjure up new scams and cons to separate his loyal minions from their money, private and public, while he flushes America down the shitter.

I have given up worrying about what bullshit he will come up with next. I have stopped concerning myself with his inability to focus on running the government to the best of his abilities. He has no abilities other than the questionable talents and ethics of a carnival barker. He is smart enough to be a sleaze bag, just not smart enough to be very good at it. The man has more failures under his belt than anyone I can think of. Yet, he continues to find suckers who swallow his spiels, lies and all. 

A recent failure of Trump, the Gold Phone Phone System Scam, was still very profitable for the Donald. The 590,000 people who put up a hundred bucks each to be the first ones on their block to be part of Trump's latest bound to to be the best phone network in the world ........ Well, the 590,000 expectant suckers who signed on, were just notified the new Gold Phone System has been canceled; and oh by the way, the $100 upfront deposit will not be refunded. That means Trump's scam made $59 million dollars by failing.

Donald Trump has figured out how to fail and still put money in his pocket. He is by far, the best racketeer in the history of racketeers. He promises the sky. Takes your money. And then delivers shit. He has been doing it his whole life. And somehow 40% of American voters not only bought into his bullshit, they continue to buy into it; while some folks are even praying to and for the asshole.

I cannot emphasize enough that the existence of Donald Trump in our culture is a self inflicted problem. We did this to ourselves. We own Donald Trump. Made in America and representing the worst of the worst America has to offer. And he continues to get away with it.

I hope at some point the country will wise up. At this moment, it is not looking good.

Later .........................

______________________

An anti -Trump song , "Mr No.1" caught my eye.

Title 28 § 2414 - Trumpbino Family Graft is Legalized

When I heard that Trump had dropped his bogus lawsuit against the IRS, I was suspicious but had no idea how bizarre the results of that would be. Right on the heels of dropping the suit, Trump came away with an IRS promise to never look at his tax returns and they created the $1.776 billion "Anti-Weaponization Fund"  on  the premise of compensating Americans who have been harmed by their government. The acting US Attorney General, Todd Blanche, did not specifically indicate the money was to compenstae the January 6 insurrectionists for being prosecuted for their treasonous riot at the Capitol; but he did say they could apply for compensation. Bullshit. I know, and by now, anyone who is paying attention knows who will benefit the most from this slush fund. 

This money is to come out of our pockets. We are expected to pay for their crimes that were legally ajudicated. The trials played out in the open so America could see that the bullshit the j6 assholes stirred up would not be tolerated. And now that the Trumbino Family has the country by its short hairs, the plan now, is to reward these despicable traitors.

I was confused how this fund was a legal use of taxpayer monies. It made no sense that criminals found guilty of crimes against America could end up with money in their pockets for being traitors. I dug deeper than usual to find the laws or rules that are allowing this fund to even exist. 

Every government has to deal with lawsuits, foreign and domestic. In order to declutter and streamline the high numbers of suits through the DOJ, various laws and readjustments to those laws created a means to compensate people without clogging the courts. Certain cases were able to be ajudicated at the whim of the DOJ without ever hitting a courtroom. Originally, I understand the law was meant to settle the small dollar suits, $100,000 to $1,000,000. Even though some lawmakers sounded some wimpy alarms at the possibility of abuse should a sleazy administration be in charge, the fund was continually fine tuned to what it is today.

All the different laws and riders to those laws are clustered under an umbrella called the "Judgement Fund". Below are the originating rules and the major adjustements that we have today. These are the meat that make up the fund that eventually gave the power to create a judgement fund to the IRS. And now it is up to the DOJ to do with the fund as they wish.

From Google A.I. :

• Original Enactment (1948): When Title 28 of the United States Code was originally codified, § 2414 governed the payment of final judgments against the United States in federal district courts. It required the General Accounting Office (GAO) to settle payments once certified by the Attorney General.
•  The 1961 Amendment (Addition of Compromise Authority): Congress passed Public Law 87-187 to explicitly expand the scope of § 2414. This amendment added authority for the Attorney General to certify and settle claims from state and foreign courts, and most importantly, established the legal foundation for the government to enter into compromise settlements before a final judgment was reached.
• Interplay with the Judgment Fund: Since its inception, § 2414 has been closely tied to the Judgment Fund (31 U.S.C. § 1304). The Judgment Fund is a permanent, indefinite appropriation designed by Congress to pay legal obligations without requiring an act of Congress for each specific payout. Under § 2414, the Attorney General’s certification that a settlement or compromise is in the "interest of the United States" is the trigger required to authorize the Treasury Department to pull funds from the Judgment Fund.
• Decentralization of Payments (1996): Congress passed the General Accounting Office Act of 1996, which transferred the settlement payment duties from the GAO directly to the Secretary of the Treasury.

Acting US Attorney General Todd Blanche has said that this fund is absolutely needed to right the wrongs of the past ( wink wink, he means during Joe Biden's term). He continues with the idea that all Americans are giving their stamp of approval. He mused, "How can any American be against this?"

The lies just never stop. The abuse of the truth and manipulation of the facts is no longer just a problem of Trump and his inner circle. This administration has managed to complettely saturate the government with the same self serving sleaze and lies the orange shit-gibbon has been using since his first term.

I think what we do this mid term election will define where and how long America has to put up with a government quickly losing any veracity, impartiality, and inerest in the public good. They just do not care about America's citizens; they are only interested in their agenda and are more than willing to rob our national coffers and exploit our resources for their personal gain. 

Trump has already made sure the USA will be sucking hind tit to China for the foreseeable future and beyond. He has also managedd to alienate all of our critical allies to the pint, they have given up relying on the USA for anything. How much longer the madness continues can be mitigated to a degree if the Democrats win both houses in Congress this mid-term election. Anything less will insure that our fall from the top picks up speed.

Don't be apathetic or feel helpless. Fight for our country,  and at the least, make the time to vote.

Later ......................................

__________________________

"For What It's Worth" is a protest song that waas written by Stephen Stills and recorded by Buffalo Springfield in 1966. Meant at the time as a critical look at the protests of the Vietnam War, Civil Rights struggles of the  1960s and 70s. It is one of those songs with a type of fit all size anti- movement of any kind. There is criticism in the song that can be applied to both sides of an issue. Maybe that is why it is one of the favorite songs to cover. The original version is excellent. Many of the covers are also.

This cover uses most of the lyrics, but includes new ones also to bring the song up to date to a specific issue we are dealing with today........ The Reign of Donald Trump and his band of evil assholes. I assume the folks who came up with this cover retained permssion from Stephen to change the lyrics. After all these years, I am told Stills is still a left leaning liberal.

Iconic Cinema Moments

I first saw "Cool Hand Luke" in the theaters when it first came out in 1967. It was so great I sat through it a second time. To say it is a long time favorite of mine would be a serious understatement. Paul Newman at his best. He should have won an Oscar, but well, he didn't mesh well with the politics of Hollywood back in the day.

I watched again for the umpteenth time a few nights ago. The movie is chock full of wonderful cinematic moments and acting, but the one moment that stands out and the scene I think of first was when the prison captain of the work camp says:

"What We've Got Here Is Failure to Communicate"

He is justifying beating Luke for being an uncooperative prisoner. Definitely a cinema nugget that has been immortalized as one of the great ones.

There were so many iconic moments in my quiver of iconic cinema moments, I could write about them ad nauseam. But I won't. Here is two more.

The the image of King Kong on top of the Empire State building in the original 1933 film is the iconic moment most people mention. The scene in the film I remember though is when King Kong kills the Tyrannosaurus Rex he is battling by prying his jaws apart. Still gives me the willies when I think about it.

It was the first and only movie that ever gave me nightmares that I remember. I was age seven or so and living on Augusta Street in Bethesda, Maryland. My parents told me it was the last time I asked to sleep in their bed. The only reason they ever brought it up was because they refused my request. It was one of those forced "grow up moments". I returned to my bed and laid wide awake for quite awhile. That I still remember it now 67 years later tells me that night was a tough one to get through.

Another cinema nugget I remember regularly is from the film, "Schindler's List". Being shot in Black and White makes the horror of the Holocaust stand out so much more vividly than shooting it in color would have.

The point is driven home and singled out as a little Jewish girl shows up in quite a few scenes wearing a red coat; the only color in the whole film. Understanding the point of the red jacket puzzeled me at first, until towards the end of the film. As the Ghetto is emptied by Hitler's troops and the Jews are processed to be shipped to the concentration camps, a handcart carrying bodies enters the scene. One of the bodies is wearing a red coat. That scene is on the loop of cinema memories I carry around to this day.

I have many other cinema moments. These three are ones that came to mind when I decided to write about the power of the arts. I have similar memories from books I have read, art I have looked at and music I have listened to. The Arts should always be free to expose the good and bad of Humanity. To censor any of it is to cut out parts of our souls.

Take care and please, Beware. .............................

_____________________________

I googled "music from Cool Hand Luke and found Paul's version of "Plastic Jesus".

I did the same for King Kong and found this. It is called "Main Page". I call it an overture.

And finally,from Schindler's List, this wonderful piece performed by Itzhak Perlman and conducted by John Williams.

The Cigar Aficionado

I spotted a recent issue of "Cigar Aficionado" sitting at the kitchen table this morning while savoring my second cup of coffee. The name on the label was my wife's accounting business in Springvale, but with our home address under the name. How she came to have a subscription to "Cigar Aficionado" delivered to our house is one of the many modern mysteries directly associated to our new high tech existence. 

It appears that the publisher decided to reach out to accountants. Reach out? Why would a magazine devoted to smoking cigars reach out to an lady accountant in Maine?  My wife claims she does not smoke cigars. I have no memory of ever seeing her chewing on the butt of a 50 cent cigar. I will have to take her word on that. 

It must have been through gee whiz computer wizardry, the cigar market analysts discovered there are millions of accountants out there. It would follow, that most accountants must be men, what with crunching numbers being only slighlty less macho than ropin steers out on the Range. Accountants are most likely not poor. And because they wear suits, they are probably not fans of Chawin Tobacca.

Accountants often have offices with waiting areas. What do we find in most waiting areas besides chairs and small tables? Magazines. Clients who need accountants on a regular basis usually have deeper pockets. While the clients sit waiting, they might just pick up the "Cigar Aficionado" and be sucked into the world of cigars, bitches in bikinis, and guys wearing pork pie hats with names like Longshot Louie.

Using these assumptions, they must have thought they had a chance of landing more fans. There is a reasonable chance there are enough stogie smoking accountants to support the expense of sending them gratis, an obviously expensive to publish magazine. I am also guessing that a manly mag that supports the cigar smoking culture would be ecstatic to win over some these awesome examples of maledom who roll up their sleeves and fight the good fight, using nothing but their large brains and a calculator.

As I pondered all this and sipped that second cup of coffee, I noticed that the person on the cover was none other than one of my favorite Wingers to hate, Ronald Dion DeSantis, lame duck governor of Florida, the Sunshine State. And lying next to "Cigar Aficionado" was a black sharpie. 

Old men, no matter how old, never really grow up. Well, I know I haven't. I can think like an 8th grader in a heartbeat. Matter of fact, the older I get, the more fun it is for me to remember the silly fun and stupid games I created at that age; not really out of childhood and not exactly a teenager yet either. 

I picked up that sharpie and my awesome artistic talent took over. While I drew my masterpiece, I remembered how much fun it was sometimes to be a boneheaded 8th grader.

I looked at what I had done and laughed and laughed.

Ya'll keep it 'tween the ditches..Hear?

___________________

I promise. I had a tune picked out not 1/2 hour ago. Just right now at this moment, I have misplaced that thought. It is understandable, given how much garbage I have shoved into my brain over the years. There's not a lot of room anymore for any more garbage. And because I am a hoarder of things physical, apparently my afliction includes stashing my thought waves also. Instead of a garbage in, garbage out scenario, in my case it's garbage in, nothing out. And before I know it, my short term memory quiver is so full, it makes the 3000 emails I have ignored look like chump change.

I have never heard of Steve Earl . He is a musician I am not familar with. I was caught by his tune, "City of Immigrants". It is excellent. A real foot tapper with great lyrics. One play and I am hooked.

Not sure how I missed Steve Earle. He was born in 1955. He began his career as a songwriter in Nashville, Tennessee. His first abum debuted in 1986. He didn't look back I am sure. As of 2026, he has recorded or been part of 21 studio albums. He plays Country, rock, folk and most likely a slew of other genre's. The man is a talent. I can't wait to taste all of his music.

2000 Years Does Not Wash Away Their Sins

I find it ironical that the Roman Catholic Church would fault any institution for using conversion therapy of any kind. Pot / Kettle comes to mind. Conversion Therapy has been been the bread and butter of the the Church since its inception almost 2000 years ago. Their early methods often included brutality and violence we can only imagine today.

The LBGTQ+ community is only one group of a multitude of groups who have suffered under the harsh use of "Conversion Therapy". There are still many, many heathens out there in need of converting. At least now, the Church seems to have retired their more zealous methods of "Conversion". But when they get on their Holier Than Thou high horse, all I can think of is the death and destruction they either abetted or were directly responsible for over the last two milleniums.

The Catholic Church will have to do more than issue a report to wash away their many sins and disguise their hipocrisy. The Roman Catholic Church is a business. Everything they do is for the Church first and the faithful second. They were my first example of why I hate organized religion. They were the model upon which the big religions of today also built their empires. They have a lot to answer for.

I have been criticized for my harsh opinion of organized religion, especially my disdain for the Catholic Church. The defenders claim stuff like The Church was a mirror of the times they were living through. Okay, but does that forgive the institution for the many blind eyes they turned away from the ugly brutal times they existed in. They are supposed to be the protector of our moral codes.The church is supposed to look over us. They are supposed to be our guides, not our exploiters.

LBGTQA+

The whole Gay thing started with a word chosen by the homosexual world to give them a designation that was positive, not degrading like Fag, Puffboy, blah, blah, blah. The word "Gay" kept it simple and I understood it. 

Since Gayness was of no real interest to me, I moved on with my life, having found a satisfactory moniker for the predilection. What happens? Today, the Gay community has blossomed, or maybe ballooned is a better word to describe how big the Gay tent has become.

The next time I noticed gays had changed their preferred designation, was when Gay splintered into LBG. Okay, that was fine, they wanted to give each deviation of Gay their place on the marquee. Before I could catch my breath, it became LBGTQ. I had to ask my daughter what the T and the Q were for. She explained the differences to me in very simple easy to understand words, though I am sure she wanted to use the big words tha are always on the tip of her big brain.

Once I got my head around what the new mini-group's letter stood for, they went ahead and added a plus sign. ......... WTF? So this morning when I looked up what the + was all about, I noticed there is also a new letter tacked on, giving us ..... LBGTQA+.

They added the plus sign(+) initially to cover all the residual groups who fall outside the social norrms of today. The Plus sign should have covered it. But no. the Asexuals wanted their letter on the marquee also.

I dunno. It seems like more trouble than it is worth and at the same time causes confusion among all the dumasses of the straight world who won't be bothered to try to understand the nuances of the non straight world.

I have a solution. Can we just go back a few years , like maybe 50 years back . I remember the polite way to designate sexual identity was heterosexuals were called "Straight" and gays were called "Not Straight". Ambivalent, Innocuous, and mostly non confrontational perfection.

The marginalized of this country want a home and the LBTGQA+ community is open for business. What makes me sad is that any group feels marginalized. What makes me sad is the waste of time, energy, and resources spent on hating each other. Damn humans can be so fucking stupid.

Later gators ........................................

_____________________

How do I come up with a tune that ties in with the Catholic Church and the LBGTQA+ world? Worrying about either is a waste of time and energy. I'll pick the first song I like and be done with it.

Well, I got into the weeds again. I found a group, a trio of women to be exact, who perform Neo Rock Christian. Their sound is more of a Neo Metal Christian sound, but what do I know? Anyway, combine some AI trickery and visuals and what we have is a Christian Metalhead's wet dream. 3 hot women sportin football black under their eyes, cowboy boots and braided hair. They go by the name, Shunned at a Funeral.

There is no doubtng their righteousness. "Lay the Hammer Down" is all about driving the nails into Jesus' body parts and pressing down his crown of thorns. Here's a fragmented taste:

I was the Hammer, I was the Thorn

He Took It Tattered and Torn

But now I Temble, Grace Won't Let Go

He Wore My Death So I Could Know

Nailed Again, I Drove it in

But He Turned Rath Into a Win

The Blood I Spilled Has Made Me Whole

The Cross I Cursed Now Claims My Soul

There's quite a bit to unpack in this song. If I had one word to describe it, that word would be "creepy". First of all, Heavy Metal is not a musical genre I associate with Religion. But then with the Christian Nationalists frothing at the bit to remake America in their image, I could see how this song would work for them.

It's metal, play it loud.

The Arrogance of Their Ignorance

The Republican Party of the 2020's

The Arrogance of Their Ignorance Has Convinced Them They Are Infallible

Recently, I have been doing a pretty good job of ignoring the daily stupidity Trump and his clown show come up with. At some point though, I do need to relieve the built up pressure inside my cranium. I don't want to blow a gasket, right? While I think I have a head big enough to handle whatever comes down, Trump and his shitshow have managed to irritate my last nerve with their constant onslaught, 24 - 7, of the worst performance of any administration in my lifetime. Trump is incompetent and a sleazy crook. It would follow that he chose people of similar mindset to do his bidding. Their focus is mostly on pilliaging everything they can while at the same time, working hard to destroy the bedrock ideals we founded this country on

The image I threw together at the top, in one sentence, sums up in a nutshell what the MAGA/Christian Nationalist movement is based on; willful ignorance comprised of an immoral ethical base fraught with rampant hypocrisy. Christian Nationalists are not a sect of Christianity, they are a political movement that has hijacked Christianity to use as their cover. The theocratic givernment they seek is not based on any god's will. It is based on their own self serving will.

Their version of "Holier Than Thou" might work in a few muslim nations, but it will never be completely successful here in the USA. Entirely too many of us remember the better days from not that long ago. Unforgiving rigid rule does not a good citizen make...... 

Just a short post to reset my tolerance levels. Not sure how much more of Trump I/we can take. What a complete waste of a human being he is. An even bigger failure than he was in his first term. It only took him a year into his second term to secure the title of the worst presdient the USA has ever had. 

I feel better now. Ya'll have a good day ...............

________________________

This was the first song I sampled and was my initial choice. But I never make it easy on myself. I had to check out some other tunes. An hour later, here I am back at this cover of "Higher Ground", written and recorded by Stevie Wonder in 1973. The folks at "Playing for Change" produce some great covers. Add to that that they are a charity dedicated to spreading goodwill and highlighting musicians from around the world. Afterall, the planet isn't as big as it used to be. 

Enjoy.

Who is Really Smarter?

My mom was sure women were smarter than men. My father never contradicted her unless he was drunk. Not just drunk, but stupid drunk. As a functional alcoholic his whole adult life, he crossed the line into the stupid drunk zone quite often. When he was sober or just at the functioning drunk peak while drinking, he was usually the smartest person in any room he walked into.

So, I was raised to accept that women were smarter than men, if only to get along better with them. My father never really believed women were smarter. He did believe however they were sneakier and much better than men at laying evil plans. Of course, his record of three marriages would indicate they were smarter. At least the ones he married were. Each marriage cost him an arm and a leg that meant his General officer paygrade only elicited the pay rate of a First Lieutenant after the alimony had been paid. 

My mom also thought that while women were considered second class citizens by men, she felt the effort to lift them up should have been done with better planning. Her favorite example was that living with low expectaions actually made women more powerful. She was sure women and their higher IQ's, and men's tendency to think with their genitals made manipulating men easy peasy. Coming at them like they were equals did not often work out; where "yes dearing" them often kept their men on the path they wanted their men on. Too many great men had wives who made them greater. Mom had little sympathy for the women in her circles who did not use their superior intellect to get what they wanted out of the relationship.

I love and admire my mom. But I hated her ability to twist me and my father around her little finger. My dad was a genius. But my mom? Well, my mom was an evil genius.

Which brings me to my point; a point I reached many many years ago. Women are smarter and tougher than men. Men are fighting a losing battle trying to get them back in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. If we men were smart ( it is apparent we are not); If we were smart, we'd hand over the keys to the Kingdom to women. The male species has proven that under the Male ego guidance, Humanity's growth has been hit or miss. We have survived in spite of the patriarchy's hamfisted way of running things.

Later Gators ...............................

_________________

This post is the result of my wanting some words written to accompany a song I was humming in my head when I woke up this morning. Here is a cover of "Man Smart. Woman Smarter", by the Grateful Dead. Harry Belafonte made this Calypso tune and many others famous back in the 1950s. I always liked Harry's versions, but then I remembered the Dead performed it quite often. The number of their renditions on Youtube is impressive. 

Burying Cats

There is no better place to stash bodies than in a freezer in the basement.

Hmm. ..... How's that for an opening line?

That thought crossed my mind a couple of days ago when I remembered, that in my freezer, I had stashed three cat bodies. At the time of their demise, each one was placed in the freezer with loving grief. Each one died during the Great Cat Die Off that occurred over a three year period starting in 2019 I think. My excuse was they all died during the cold months and the ground was too hard to dig. But really? 

Two of them had been raised together and had lived to double digit plus years. Lil Asshole was a bit younger, but he lived at least 10 years. I think I put off burying them because I knew it would painful. It always was. Never a pleasant moment when a fur member of the family dies.

Five years is a long time to wait just to delay the sadness I knew I would have to deal with. The freezer needed to be de-frosted and we could use the room that removing three cats from their frozen purgatory would give us. The ground was thawed. The spot was chosen. I dug them out of the freezer and placed them in the ground. Some tears and fond memories flowed. 

First to die was Fernando El Magnifico. He died in his sleep, laying on the coffee table while I slept on the couch next to him. Freaked me out when I woke up and found my buddy dead like that. He was a great friend. And he loved me. Fernando never really stopped being a kitten. 

Next in line came Eyeleen, a contrary cat, who took her sweet time to accept me and become my friend. Again, another cat I loved, even if at times it was hard to do. Towards the end of her life, she gravitated in my direction and we became a cuddling duo. She was never very healthy; all skin and bones.

Finally, Felix, AKA, "Lil Asshole" went into the great beyond by dying in his sleep on the the same coffee table Fernando chose to die on. One cat passing next to me is one thing, but a second one in three years in the exact same way.... well, I felt cursed. Lil Asshole was a tough little shit. He was a ninja cat. He'd attack feet on occasion and often decided that a hand was a chew toy. Loved that little shit.

Our home has been been a pet sanctuary for many, many years. I have never  gotten used to their deaths or disappearances. We solved the disappearance issues when we stopped letting the cats out. But dying, well, the little fur buddies do that all the time on their own. We have double digit graves scattered here and there in the yard. Usually I picked a site that was not buried in the pucker brush, but close by. 

I thought burying them would be tough. But nothing is tougher than writing about my dead buddies as I look through all the Kodak moments I took of them. They were missed when they died, they are more missed now.

RIP Fernando, Eyeleen, and Lil Asshole. You guys brought joy into my life and I will never forget you.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..............................................

_________________

Again, only one song came to mind. The genre of Primus' music is defined by some audiophile expert as "Alternative Metal". .... Now we're getting into the weeds. "Metal "has sub-genres now. I guess it had to happen once the anal retentive, everything in its place folks got a hold of it. Okay, Primus is just another group I like.Their bass player kicks ass. Their songs are unique and clever. Their music would have also driven my parents crazy. That, by itself, makes them worthy of listening to. ........... Enjoy .........or Don't. Here is "Tommy the Cat".

Same Ole Shit

So it's the last day of April, 2026. Shit happened this month; mostly forgettable shit. Pretty much the same shit as March, only warmer.There were some moments when some really good shit went down. But then many more when  bad shit unfolded. It was mostly the same ole shit we have been dealing with since Trumplestiltskin took over the town. 

I expect May to be another month of the same ole shit, but you never know. That's what is geat about the future; never knowing what is possible. Not like the past when you rerun it, it is usually the same old shit; only you were younger when it happened.

What happened in April that rocked our world? Or was the world also stuck with the same old shit? The 3 week war / not war with Iran has now stretched into months and is quickly becoming the same old shit. That the WIngers continue their quest to fuck America has certainly become the same old shit. The Wingers will continue to excuse their fuck ups as mistakes created by the Democrats. And that certainly qualifies as really tired same ole shit.

I entered another year of life. Now into my 75th year, I hope to make it to 76. Neither of my parents made 76. Not sure why I want to live longer than my mom and dad, but there it is, any reason to keep the Grim Reaper at bay is a good one I guess.

The same ole shit is not much inspiration for a post to close April out. Maybe some odd, possibly newsworthy people, events, crimes might liven up this same ole shit I get lost in.

Gertie, a chicken residing in Portland, Maine was officially named by Guiness, the "Oldest chicken in the World". The average chicken lives three to four years. Gertie is 15 years old. In recognition of her importance in chicken lore, she has been moved into the house and now resides in a crate in the living room. According to Frank, her owner, she is partial to Jazz, Charlie Parker in particular.

Maine Turnpike Authority is placing speed detection cameras on the Maine Turnpike. If someone is speeding, a picture is snapped; a nearby Smoky is notified and they go after the speeder.

Geez, other than a few April Fools jokes, April in Maine was pretty much the same ole shit. 

Keep it 'tween the ditches .............................

_______________________

Just because I like this tune. No other reason; it's as simple as that. Just because. Here is The Big Push, with their cover of  "Englishman in New York". Sting made the song famous in an album from the 1980s. Enjoy.

Orange Barrels

I actually checked emails the other morning. Near the top of the piled up spam was an email from John, a fellow cadet from back in high school. John seems to be the self assigned historian of all there is to know about Charlotte Hall Military Academy. John's email was about past cadets who became famous statewide, nationally, and even worldwide. An institution that lasted 200 years is bound to have a sizable celebrity bucket. 

I looked through the list. In a school that never had more than 200 students in any given year, I was impressed by the number of eventual movers and shakers who would make headlines later in life. 

There was one ex-student who was conspicuous by his absence. Owsley Stanley was a student for one year at Charlotte Hall. He was expelled for supplying enough alcohol to intoxicate a large charge of the student body. Owsley would continue his manic way through life, upsetting conventional apple carts wherever he went. Eventually he would stock the nation with enough LSD so millions of Americans could: 

"Turn On, Tune Out, Drop Out"

Owsley never graduated from high school, yet he was accepted into college. That lasted one year and he was off on his own road again, landing out west where he took a job as an engineer at some high end defense contractor. It was around this time in the early 1960s, he discovered LSD 25. He learned how to brew it up in his homeade lab and the rest of his influence on the planet became legend. 

Owsley Stanley became the largest manufacturer of LSD on the planet. There is no way to know how many hits of LSD he made and distributed, but in the mid to  late 1960s and early 1970s, nobody made more. I was told the Orange Barrels LSD I ate on my first trip in 1969, was Owsley Acid.

Owsley Stanley was not content to just flood the West Coast with LSD. He sponsored and gave out free acid during many Acid Test hoe downs the Merry Pranksters took on the road. The Acid Tests was where he hooked up with the Grateful Dead. They were the local band that played at most of the Acid Tests in the west.

LSD was but one part of Owsley's life. It is however, what he is most famous for. Many people consider him one of the pioneers of the modern audio world. He took a job at some point during the Acid Test Days as the sound man for the Grateful Dead. From his LSD profits, he paid for, designed and built the band's famous "Wall of Sound". It was the sound system they hauled around for awhile so the huge crowds that attended their concerts could hear them, up to a 1/4 mile away. The system had over 500 individual speakers and ran on 28,000 watts of power. 

Sadly, the system's reliance on antiquated tech created so many gliches, they abandoned it after only a few years of use. But it set the bar high. The sound company I would drive for a couple of years later, owe Owsley some credit for showing what was possible.

A wonderful biography by Robert Greenfield gets right into the weeds with his book, "Bear: The Life and Times of Augustus Owsley Stanley III".

Regardless how anyone feels about Owsley's influences on the American landscape back in the Hippy days, he was a giant in the roles he chose to pursue. His nickname was "Bear" which he got while going to Charlotte Hall. I find it interesting he ended up at Charlotte Hall for the same reasons I did. He was deemed unmanageable in the public schools. Montgomery County did the exact same thing to me. I was a punk, that is for sure. My time at Charlotte Hall came at a perfect time in my life. I enjoyed the three years I went there.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...............................

________________________

What to play? 

After some consideration, "In Da Gadda Da Vida", by Iron Butterfly, is the only song that could fit. 

Spring 1969,  someone asked me if I wanted to Trip. I was still at Charlotte Hall Military Academy at the time. I knew I wanted to. But where? We were stuck on campus for that weekend. The fellow who had the LSD lived in the New Barracks on the side that bordered woods. He told us there was a small clearing just a few feet into the woods. We would start there. "Start there?" What they fuck was he talking about? Where were we going?

I found out. He put this 17 minute long version of "In Da Gadda of Diva" on his record player and set it to repeat. For the next I don't know how many hours. this song blared out through his open window while we played in the woods. He said that if we got lost, follow the sound. It would take us home. I remember my anxiety level jumped a little more. Lost?... Follow the sound? Shit, what was I getting into?

He told us the LSD we had just ingested was called "Orange Barrels". It was made by Owsley. Okay. Yeah, so what? I would find out during the many LSD trips I took over the next few years, Owsley LSD was far and away the best of the best. Chemically so pure, I never had the uglier side effects of pre trip cramps and coming down was always gentle. I might wake up exhausted, but I was ready for whatever came next.

While the other guys eventually wandered off into the woods, I settled down in a prone position and watched an ant hill for what seemed like forever. Iron Butterfly's song washed over me, time and time again, raising the hair on my body and causing laughter inducing rushes to rage back to back. I never left the clearing physically, but mano - man, my brain left the planet. I was  in that anthill, man... in that anthill.

I understand if one might not want to listen to the whole song. Yes, It is long, But it kept me calm in the face otf what could have been something else. Or so I thought at the time. Apparently, I was one of those people who never allowed LSD to completly take over. I certainly gave it plenty of chances.

And today, as I write this ode to Owsley Stanley, I feel a circle of sorts has been completed, or was completed on that day when I first ate LSD. The man who provided the way to a different approach to Life, had come back to reap some revenge on the power structure that had always tried to keep him down. Owsley was never tamed.