Wednesday, May 27, 2026

Among us

We here in the environs of the District They Call Columbia have been in a Seattle weather pattern for nearly a week. It’s been completely overcast since last Friday; Friday and Saturday it rained all day; every day since has seen at least some sprinkles.

(The rotting Kleptocrat cited "bad weather" when he moved yesterday's Cabinet meeting from Camp David to the White House. Right after returning from Walter Reed, where he got his third "annual" medical check-up since taking office 15 months ago. I mean...)

So of course the mushrooms are loving it. This crop is just from yesterday morning, when the weather was 71F and soupy at 0800.




I did not harvest any. I just let them live their best lives.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Prime seating

I came across this on my walk Monday morning:

It was alongside the W&OD Trail, near absolutely nothing; closest office building 100 yards across Sunset Hills and closest residential enclave beyond the third hole of the golf course. So I don’t know whether this is some kind of statement, or a prank, or what.

But it was gone yesterday morning.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Tuesday, May 26, 2026

Waiting for me

I noticed this after one of our recent rain storms. It seemed beautiful to me, so I took the photo.

It’s all around us, if we look.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Monday, May 25, 2026

Gratitude Monday: Full measure

It seems appropriate that Memorial Day is a Monday holiday, because it’s the day we’re meant to reflect upon the sacrifices of the men and women who defend our country.

You know—to express gratitude in some way for their willingness to trade their lives for the security of our society.

As a military historian with a focus on the human element of conflict, it’s always been clear to me that the real cost of war isn’t the treasure, it’s the blood. It’s the sons and daughters who go into harm’s way and never return, or who return so altered as to never really find their way back. As we reflect upon those costs, we really ought to consider the suicide rate of combat veterans; per Department of Veterans Affairs figures, 17.5 veterans killed themselves every day in 2025. That’s 6500 per year. I’m not going to talk about drug and alcohol addiction or homeless rates resulting from PTSD; they’re line items on the butcher’s bill, too.

I wonder what that says about our society that we send these people out to do terrible things on our behalf and then essentially shrug our shoulders and avert our eyes when they come back not in bandbox tiptop condition? Kinda feels like a broken contract to me.

Memorial Day marks the “official” start of summer in the US; rather like acknowledging the dead who made possible the picnics and fireworks of Independence Day. I kind of shudder to think what Cadet Bonespurs will do to mark the occasion, in this, our 250th anniversary of nationhood. He’s certainly been doing his part to increase the population at military cemeteries, although of course that’s just a collateral part of his primary goal, which has always been self-aggrandizement and -enrichment.

But it’s Memorial Day and Gratitude Monday. I’m grateful to my brothers and sisters who, through the generations, have given, as Lincoln said, “the last full measure of devotion.” I take it personally.


©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Friday, May 22, 2026

It's a crime

In honor of the Kleptocrat’s latest massive theft from the US treasury—the “settlement” his acting Attorney General handed him of $1.8B to disburse as he sees fit to his minions, today’s earworm is Pink Floyd’s “Money”.



Thanks, Republicans—we are so fucked.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Thursday, May 21, 2026

No matter where you go...

I’ve noticed in my walks around The People’s Republic that street signs at intersections sometimes seem to get turned around. But this one:

I mean—okay?

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Wednesday, May 20, 2026

Moving messages

It’s been a while since I’ve don an installment of vanity plates, and boy-howdy, they do pile up. So here’s a batch for you:

Um...


Often parked in the lot next to the W&OD Trail.


On a Volvo:


Presumably Seahawks fans.


Not sure about this. I'd have read it as Raider Family (I've long since lost track of where the Raiders play; they're absolute whores); the logo is for the Washington Capitals (ice hockey); and the frame is Team USA. I just dunno.


An alum, I presume:



I was shooting this one in the Trader Joe parking lot when the M of this plate came out. Her name is Muriel, her husband's David, Gray is the surname and she's a retired nurse.






Not sure at all:


Nice use of the local sportsball logo:



©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Tuesday, May 19, 2026

Everyone's a critic

Last Wednesday I posted about the new tag on the American Dream Way bridge.

Thursday morning it had been removed.

Sic transit gloria mundi.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Monday, May 18, 2026

Gratitude Monday: At last

A small gratitude today. After about eight years of making pizza most Friday nights, I am happy to report that I’m finally producing pies that are recognizably round.

If you had any notion of how misshapen my pizza have been for years, you’d kvell with me.

(One of my colleagues at my last job used to say his pizzas looked like the Elephant Man, and mine were right up there.)

Yes—it will not change the world, and I bury it right away with arugula anyhow. But it’s a small victory, and I am grateful for it.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Friday, May 15, 2026

Tryn' to fool the public

At time of writing, the Kleptocrat is in Beijing, having his ass handed to him by Xi Jinping, although it’s unlikely that fact will have penetrated to the porridge that sloshes inside his cranium. He’ll come back raving about “the deal” he made, when basically Xi gave him bupkis.

Cf. the big “summit” he held with Putin in August, when KGB Daddy left even before lunch.

Anyway, I think today’s earworm needs to be “Tears of a Clown”, so here are Smokey Robinson and The Miracles to sing it for you.


 

©2026 Bas Bleu