Thursday, January 29, 2026

Snowed in

To my knowledge, the snow-and-sleet storm that hit the region of The District They Call Columbia on Sunday has not been given a name; no Snowpocalypse or Snowzilla. But—at least in the environs of the People’s Republic, it looks to me like we got right much of it, and—since temperatures are not to rise to even the freezing mark for days—it’s going to be with us a while.

I finally took a walk around the block and took some pix. I think some of these cars are going to be there until at least Groundhog Day. You decide.







These guys got dug out by Wednesday; they’re hopeful about getting their spots back.




 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Wednesday, January 28, 2026

Post-storm

As you might be aware, there was a snow storm here. The company contracted to clear snow from our cluster left a 2ft-high margin of 5ft in front of all the parked cars, which means that anyone wanting to move their vehicle out had to shovel about 60cu ft of packed, frozen snow from in front of it. It’s not expected to get above the 20s this week, so that snowpack isn’t going to melt any time soon, either.

I emailed the cluster board, and got back a load of nonsense from one of the members, and put in an urgent property management service request to send the plough out and narrow the margin to about 3ft. The PM for our cluster replied, "I have already reached out to the snow management and am awaiting their anticipated schedule for the next few days." 

What I would have liked would have been, "I've reached out to them and asked them to return and finish the job."

At the cluster board meeting on Monday night I brought it up again, and she gave me some bollocks about it being an unprecedented storm (on account of all of the sleet), and the contractors have to be careful about not wrecking their blade on the blocks of ice that form. Which makes no sense to me: if you can plough to a 5ft margin, why can you not safely go back and carve out 2ft on either side? 

We should "give them the benefit" and let them return for further passes, either Monday night or yesterday.

But as of nightfall yesterday, they hadn't returned.

(Fortunately, I managed to dig out the Saab, and made it out for emergency Kalamata olives and cherry tomatoes.)

Walking is also curtailed—despite HOA requirements that residents shovel the walkways in front of their property, not everyone gets with the program. Also, no one is responsible for clearing sidewalks along the city roads here, so pedestrians have to wait for a good melt, or else walk in the street.

So here’s a picture of a candle for you. I was interested by its burning pattern.



 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Tuesday, January 27, 2026

If not now, when?

Eighty-one years ago today, the Red Army—no strangers to nightmares—came upon a hollowed-out shell of a compound that became the one-word representation of the worst that humans could do to one another. And so today, on the anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, we mark International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Auschwitz-Birkenau was a conglomeration of factories—both for manufacturing and for death, as distinguished from other camps like Majdanek or Sobibor or Treblinka, which were devoted to extermination pure and simple. Great German industrial powerhouses, like the chemical monolith I.G. Farben and arms giant Krupp, consumed hundreds of thousands of prisoners as slave labor in their factories. Those who could no longer work went to the gas chambers, where one of Farben’s most famous products, Zyklon B (developed for pest control), snuffed out their lives.

Oh, well—you know all that, don’t you?

And yet, you don’t, or you forget, or you become impatient with remembering, because it’s uncomfortable and inconvenient and even unpleasant to think about it. And there’s always someone ready to shout about how one atrocity is offset by another because it preceded it, or went on longer, or involved one ethnic or religious group or another.

But the events of recent weeks (and years and decades) have made it all too clear that those who do not learn from history’s mistakes are doomed to repeat them. Anti-Semitism, intolerance, racism, fascism and dogmatism are on the rise—and all of them right here in the US. And now that pretty much anyone has access to assault rifles, RPG launchers, bio-weapons and worse, we do well to haul ourselves out of our daily stroll through the trees and take a good, hard look at the bloody forest.

We have been provided with irrefutable proof on an unimaginably massive scale, within living memory, that those who begin by burning books have no qualms whatsoever about burning people. If we can’t learn that lesson, I just despair.


©2026 Bas Bleu



 

Monday, January 26, 2026

Gratitude Monday: Feathered friends

We had a big snow storm yesterday. Prolly about 5” in The People’s Republic, as measured by the top of the table carved out by the heated bird bath.

Sleet started dropping around 0900; by 1300 it was coming down like steady rain.

Forecast is for days of never-above (or even approaching) the freeze point, so I reckon I’m not getting out of here in my car for a while.

The weather also restricts my cardio workout, because no one’s responsible for clearing the sidewalks on public streets around here, so morning walks would be more danger than benefit. I have to wait until it unfreezes long enough to melt and dry away all the snow.

Still—I have provisions, heat and power; at time of writing I have detected no frozen pipes, so I’m doing really quite well.

I also have a bin of safflower seed, handfuls of which I toss out on the patio about every hour. And the birds who’ve congregated to tank up at the Bas Bleu Snack Bar—the juncos, blue jays, sparrows, finches, chickadees, downies, cardinals, wrens, nuthatches, titmice and even the doves—are my gratitude today. Because I spent hours, snuggled under an afghan crocheted by my sister’s late mother-in-law and sipping my way through a pot of tea, just watching them dancing in the unexpected largesse of food. (And also the unfrozen source of water.) The sparrows, especially, made me smile, because they were all fluffed-up little balls against the cold.





After the horror that was Saturday in Minneapolis, those birds saved my soul.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Friday, January 23, 2026

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

 

Thursday, January 22, 2026

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

 

Wednesday, January 21, 2026

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

 

Tuesday, January 20, 2026

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

 

Monday, January 19, 2026

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

 

Friday, January 16, 2026

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