Bring me something I can use

Whee, doggies—another whirlwind week in global geopolitics, brought to us by the worst, dumbest, most corrupt and incompetent administration in US history. Just a few highlights:

The kind of messaging you never want to see regarding any war (much less an illegal war of aggression) from the brain-rotted asshole driving the show:

Then we find out that said asshole—the one whose Daily Presidential Briefing on intelligence has been reduced to three bullet points in crayon accompanied by some swell GIFs—can’t take anything more complicated by way of reports on the war from the military chiefs than a two-minute video compilation of (as one aide described it) “things going boom”. He only wants to see “successful” operations before he gets his little container of pudding.

And finally, House Republicans announced on Wednesday that they’ve created an “America First” prize, and the first recipient is…the asshole who still doesn’t have a Nobel Peace Prize. I am unable to find any images, but it is indubitably gold-plated. Possibly in the form of a calf. It may be that Republican ladies have contributed their gold jewelry to be melted down for the purpose.

Seriously—this timeline sucks.

So our earworm for today is “Don’t Nobody Bring Me No Bad News”, from The Wiz. It just has to be.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

New civic art

In all the years (nine, to be precise) that I’ve been walking this stretch of the W&OD Trail, this is a first:

Someone has tagged the wall under the American Dream Way* bridge.

*That street was the drive up to the headquarters of Fannie Mae, the government-backed corporation founded in 1938 to help Americans finance house purchases. It is now the site of a butt-ugly development of 82 three- and four-story townhouses costing more than $1M, crammed onto five acres of what used to be a parklike setting. The developers are currently razing the actual Fannie Mae building and parking garage to make way for a zillion more townhouses. So the street name has become ironic in the extreme.

Wonder how long it’ll stay up?

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

The importance of use case scenarios

I was in Paris Baguette the other day, waiting for my latte (I don’t know what it is, but their lattes are infinitely better than the ones I make; their milk must be from exceptionally happy cows), when I noticed that I was next to the shop’s thermostat.

Which was encased in a locked plastic box:

I’m thinking that it was an unfortunate and thoughtless placement of a device that controls the space’s temperature; ergo the after-market security feature.

I wonder how long it took after opening to encase it? 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Stewards of the land

Long ago, in the Before Times, when the developers of the corporate campus behind my house were still trying to get planning permission to turn five acres of parkland into 82 four-story townhouses, I had an email exchange with a lawyer fronting the project about many of the scores of mature trees they’d destroy.

He assured me that “the canopy will not be affected,” which meant that they’d rip out/cut down all the trees they could and eventually plant an approximately equivalent number of saplings. For dealing with county agencies, that amounts to “the canopy won’t be affected”.

Well, they’ve got eight units completed of their 82, with framing done on another five or six. All the parkland has literally been paved and plumbed for the remaining units, and they’re working on the landscaping. Two months ago I wrote about their allée of hollies that look fine now, but will never again bear berries unless they stick a male plant in the vicinity.

And as I was making a tour on Sunday morning (the only day of the week they don’t have crews out violating the start times), I noticed that three shrubs right next to the model unit do not have long for this world.

Wonder how long it’ll take them to replace them?

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: movement restored

My gratitude for today is, in the global scheme of things, miniscule. But for me, it’s big. I’m grateful that my sacroiliac joint is almost back to normal.

Can’t recall if I wrote about it when the issue first arose—about two years ago. It was agonizing and required weeks of PT to beat it back. (Let me just say: you may not realize it, but just about every movement you make makes a transit point past the SI joint. If all the muscles are fine, you don’t notice it. If not, you do. You really do.)

So, of course, when I got back to normal, I stopped doing the exercises. A few months ago, it flared up somewhat, but I dragged out the PT and it subsided.

Then, during the Big Freeze in January, I slipped on ice; I landed on my left hip (which was the problematic one), but clearly knocked something awry in my right. I tried walking it out, to no avail, so back with the exercises. It receded, but then kicked back in, right around the time I was helping with the monthly food pantry at a local church. (For that, I bag produce on the Wednesday and on Thursday push carts for my neighbors who collect food at the church.) I observed A Pattern: on the Friday after the pantry, big flare up; impacts everything, including yoga.

Like I said—everything you do passes across your SI joint.

But this past week, after steadfastly doing my exercises, I’ve finally corralled the pain to mild discomfort, so that about a half-mile into my morning walk, I don’t notice the muscles complaining. I also pinpointed the triggering event: bagging sweet potatoes, onions and cabbage last Wednesday, I realized that the bag was heavy enough to feel in my butt. (Those heads of cabbage can weigh upwards of 10 lbs alone.) It’s not the cart pushing, it’s the produce schlepping. I can continue helping with food distribution, but I’ll back off the bagging.

This is a lot of verbiage to get to the point: being cognizant that at a certain age we cannot assume full functionality in our musculoskeletal system, I am grateful that I am still able to command mobility and that my muscles are responding to proper exercise. I suppose I have to be more aware of what I’m doing, which is kind of a bummer, but given the alternatives, I give thanks for what I have.

Also—the magnolia trees are awakening.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu