On a winter's day

So, one standout from this week down the rabbit hole is the Kleptocrat announcing that—along with higher prices on everything—having Iran take out San Diego and Los Angeles would be “a small price to pay”.

I don’t hold with trying to sort out meaning from the elided and jumpy word salads that shambling orange carcass spews out, but I think the object for which the destruction of two large coastal cities that reliably vote Democrat is Iran not having a nuclear weapon, since that’s the pole star he always returns to when he’s floundering for a response to a question on this war. So I’m really confused about how, exactly, Iran would “take out” LA and San Diego, because he’s also told us that the US “obliterated” the Islamic Republic's nuclear capability more than a year ago. And—even if they’re somehow miraculously “two weeks away” from developing another one, I’m not seeing how they’d deliver it across the Pacific Ocean.

But the goobers in Nebraska, where Cadet Bonespurs first invited a country he considers a blood enemy to attack US territory, positively ate it up. So, he’ll repeat it (as he did Wednesday in San Antonio).

And today’s earworm is “California Dreamin’”, of course by The Mamas and the Papas.

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

Failure to communicate

Yesterday I made an emergency run to Trader Joe’s after my PT session and getting my Covid shot. I don’t like to go after around 1030 because just the parking lot becomes a war zone the closer you get to noon, but I had absolutely nothing on hand to use to make a salad, so I bit the bullet.

The bag I pulled out of the pile in the car to hold my groceries happened to be one I got from a community-building group I belong to. Here are the two sides:

It was interesting to watch the TJ crew member at the cash register process the text message. Sadly (and I could tell because he was literally moving his lips), he seemed to have trouble with “dismantle”, but I didn’t say anything.

 I mean, he scanned my groceries, packed the bag and wished me a great rest of the day. He did his job.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

The color...

Okay, I just thought this was funny because it is so obviously not a yellow cab:

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

Hard times

It’s been my observation that chiropractors are the most venal of healthcare professionals—they always have something to sell you, from supplements to pillows—to add on to their adjustment services.

However, I’ve noticed that the dentist who took over the practice from the man I saw for thirty years after he retired seems to have kicked up the heat on “extras” that start adding up.

And—this is a first—when I was in the new ophthalmologist’s office a couple of weeks ago, they had these posters all over the place:

(I did not take them up on it.) 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: Community

 I sometimes walk through the Charter Oak cluster as a way to bump out my step count. The townhouses were built in 1969, which makes it deeply established in the People’s Republic, and I often find things in their individual gardens that fill me with joy. Like the front yard with purple flowers beloved by bees. There are others that go big time (townhouse edition) for Halloween. We’ll see them later this month.

But what’s sparking my gratitude today is the tree house that the community built in one of the two central green areas:

They had the rope swing for years, but they added the platform last year, and it just invites you to climb up the ladder and survey the world. It kind of makes me think of the forecastle of a pirate ship, but I expect that it can become whatever the kids on it want it to be.

What sparks my joy, however, is the dedication plaque:

Not (as my cluster’s tot lot is signed) for residents and guests; for all children.

That’s community. Gotta be grateful for that.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu