Don't give it up

After the unhinged performance in Davos Wednesday, I was thinking today’s earworm had to be “Yakety Sax”. Or maybe “Horst-Wessel-Lied”, for ICE kidnapping four children—one as young as 5 years old—to literally use as bait to draw out families who otherwise wouldn’t open their doors for fear.

(The children have all been sent to concentration camps in other states.)

But I decided that all of them can get fucked, and I’ve been surrounding myself with music that envisions the world we could make, if we really wanted to.

Viz: Playing for Change’s cover of Bob Marley’s “Get Up, Stand Up”.

I mean—think about the world we want to leave for Keith Richards.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Sadly not at Davos

Since I have no words (well, I do; but they’re very uncouth and I’d just run them on a loop for 72 paragraphs) for yesterday’s unhinged performance at Davos—by which I mean everything every member of this unhinged administration said and did—here’s a photo of some Canada geese:

(Apologies for the quality of the shot: it was 17°F, my glasses fogged up and I had the light behind me reflecting on the mobile screen.) 

TBH, I’m not a fan of them; they’re the rudest thing to come out of our neighbors to the North, they act like gangsters and they poop everywhere. (I reference the line from Patton, where the general promises that his Third Army will “go through Europe like crap through a goose.”) But compared to Republicans up and down the line currently in office, they’re organized, focused and would not follow anyone attempting to invade Greenland. (Or Iceland, as the case may be.)

These guys were on the golf course I sometimes walk through. I gave them a wide berth.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

So long...

Spotted this yesterday in the parking lot of the little park down the street.

Seems like a sad end to the season for a little guy who’s just trying to bring some happiness into the world.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

He has the nuclear codes

This is the week the world discovered the real reason that Li’l Donnie Two Scoops is saber-rattling about needing Greenland for US national security: he’s miffed that he didn’t get the Nobel Peace Prize last year, so he no longer cares about peace.

That’s exactly what he told Norway’s prime minister, Jonas Gahr Støre, in a text message:

(And it wasn't enough that he sent this to Støre; he directed that the State Department send it to EU ambassadors to pass it on to their governments as an extra so there!)

So—any upheaval that transpires as a result of the United States either attacking the territory of one of our allies, breaking up our longest and most honored military alliance, imposing snit-related tariffs on other alliances who back Greenland’s sovereignty or (probably) him stubbing his toe getting out of the shower is all on Norway.

Here's Ann Telnaes' take on this:

Honest to God—SCOTUS and the Republican pimples in Congress are going down in history as the most reprehensible cowards the American republic ever produced.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: Be Good

Today I give thanks for the life of Renee Nicole Good, who was murdered by an ICE agent in Minneapolis on 7 January. She was 37.

I didn’t know her at all, and I probably wouldn’t have except for the circumstances of her death. She described herself online as a poet, writer, wife and mother; others have described her as loving, compassionate and kind. Her wife, Rebecca, said, “Renee was made of sunshine.” The Presbyterian Church of the USA (not the branch with a poker up its butt) issued this statement, which—among other things—mentions her mission work in Northern Ireland.

But I’ve been thinking a lot about Good in the two weeks since her murder; I can’t get the images of the glovebox in her car overflowing with stuffed animals and her open, smiling face instants before she was shot out of my mind. As her killer circled her car and then transferred his mobile phone (which was recording) from his right hand to his left so he could draw his weapon and fire three shots at her, she smiled and said, “That’s all right, dude. I’m not mad at you.”

Here’s what I absolutely know about Renee Good: she created more love, kindness and joy in her 37 years than the withered, aggrieved husk in the Oval Office has at more than twice that age. And I know that she is the exemplar I need to follow, starting with this gratitude.

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Not to love the Fuehrer is a great disgrace

Events earlier in the week inspired Ken White, one of the Law Bluesky people I follow (a resident of Pasadena), to rewrite the old classic, “Der Fuerher’s Face”. Viz. his new verses:

So it seems appropriate that I give you the Walt Disney original, which for some unaccountable reason, is still available on YouTube, even though the Disney organization has entirely caved to the Kleptocrat. (You'll note the racist tropes—this is a propaganda film from 1943. What's remarkable is how appropriate it is for today.)

But we take our opportunities as they arise, because if I didn't laugh, I'd be sobbing constantly.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Chirp

I pulled into the cluster the other morning to note that one of my neighbors might be having plumbing issues—viz. the well-branded van.

But what I noticed first was the license plate.

Nice use of the state bird plates.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

Moving messages

Given what’s going on right now, I think it’s time for another installment of Vanity Plates Around Town.

Because I’m running out of words.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

Product-market fit

I suppose that signs for services (and events like “government auction—Rolex!”) that pop up around the neighborhood are distributed by people hired for the purpose, not by actual representatives of the company being advertised.

And my point about this is that the people hired to drive around areas and jam the sign prongs into the ground are exactly like the ones who walk around neighborhoods and stick flyers for commercial services on doorknobs or in mailboxes: they’re paid by the number of units distributed, not for the specific locations that might represent bang for the buck.

Witness this one for GC Moving:

It’s at the entrance to the “luxury” townhouse development behind me; the development where the units start north of $1.2M.

I mean—it’s possible that, after you’ve signed a mortgage in the seven figures, you might want to save a few bob by hiring a flat-rate moving company. But I’d really question the wisdom of trusting your high-end furniture to such a venture.

Also—Bit Defender won’t even show me their webpage without me signing a risk waiver, so...

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: not alone

I got this totebag maybe a year ago.

It comes from The Barnraisers Project, a group I joined sometime in mid-2023, because I needed help with the concept of community. (And very grateful indeed am I that I discovered this group.) Their leader, Garrett Bucks, writes a really powerful and inspirational newsletter/blog called The White Pages. I strongly urge you to subscribe.

But it’s this tote that inspires my gratitude today because it was central to a lovely encounter I had last week—you know, the week that stripped all pretentions of law-abidingness and decency from the administration and its supporters.

I was at Trader Joe’s, buying milk, carrots and peas. In the past, one cashier (who’s from South Africa and used to be a flight attendant—some years ago we got talking because I’d just been to Singapore) had noticed the bag and gave me a verbal high-five.

(Interestingly, no other cashier at any other grocery store mentioned it, not even at Whole Foods. I suppose in that job you get to the point where you don’t even notice what the customer is handing you.)

Different guy this time, a Black man wearing a face mask (because we’re in the midst of a major flu outbreak, not to mention measles and still Covid-19). He was zipping through my purchases and then said, “What does this bag say? I have to see.”

When he did, he looked up at me and nodded. And he said that he appreciated seeing that message, especially on that day (Thursday), because we can feel so alone with all this shite (I paraphrase), but we’re not.

“No, we’re not alone,” I replied. And we’re not; we are a community, and it’s important that we are reminded of that.

So that’s my gratitude for today: for the message on a totebag I was using that inspired relief in someone I met, and that he reflected back to me.

Now—here’s another one for my shopping arsenal:

 

©2026 Bas Bleu