Fire burn and market bubble
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the tariffs boil and bake
An excellent career. He passed away in his sleep on July 22 at the age of 84. While it may have happened, I never heard of him having any problems with drugs or the law.
https://www.cnn.com/2025/07/24/entertainment/chuck-mangione-death
Tom Lerher had an amazing life. He was a math prodigy and entered Harvard at the age of 15, completing his Masters at 18. He did not complete his doctorate, preferring to remain a grad student. He taught at various universities throughout his career, mainly settling in Santa Cruz, CA. But he was also an amazing musical political satirist with a very sharp POV. His music career was fairly short, lasting from the '50s through the early '70s, his music remains tremendously popular even though he wrote only 37 songs over 20 years and made only 109 public performances.
He also composed music for The Electric Company and for This Was The Week That Was.
He passed away Saturday at the age of 97. His friend who announced his death 'did not disclose the cause'. I find this an utterly ridiculous statement - LERHER WAS NINTEY-SEVEN! HE WAS BLOODY OLD AND HIS BODY WAS KIND OF TIRED OF KEEPING HIM ALIVE!
One brilliant thing that Lehrer did a few years ago, and I posted about it here, was that he released all of his music to the public domain! Recordings, lyrics, everything! All of it released for the enjoyment of all, forever. I thought it was a truly magnanimous gesture.
I had heard that he said that he stopped making music when Kissinger was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, saying 'There's nothing left to parody.' I don't know if that's true.
https://www.cnn.com/2025/07/27/entertainment/tom-lehrer-death
https://entertainment.slashdot.org/story/25/07/27/2347205/tom-lehrer-satirical-songwriter-and-mathematician-dies-at-age-97
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https://www.smbc-comics.com/comic/lesson
Roadkill limited to a garter snake tangled on a downhill and a mummified squirrel pancake I may have reported on the last ride over this route.
No interesting metal birds over at the airport/base. Did hear something heavy taking off but I wasn't in a place to see it. I think C-17 from the engine sound.
Got out on the bike, past the fair grounds before the crowds could jam up the works, over hill and dale and home. Did not die. Ride takes me over 300 miles for the year, about half what I'd like to have nearing the end of July.
15.71 miles, 1:30:50
This is the sixth year I've been doing these collages every week, and so perhaps it is not a surprise that certain thoughts and themes come up repeatedly. This week, I've been preoccupied with my ongoing cough, which seems to be the result of a terrible summer cold that has jump-started my asthma again. Well, I'm sick of talking about my problems with coughing, and I hate the thought of being an aging lady who has nothing better to do than complain about my health. And I've made collages about this subject before.
So I thought I would do a collage about my bedroom, as I'm quite pleased with the artwork I've put up. But again, I have done several collages on the subject already. See this, this, this, this, and this.
Realizing this, I felt stuck. Wouldn't I just be boring people? And that, I noticed, roused a strong reluctance in me to get started on doing something this week.
That thought triggered the memory of another conversation I had this week. I was moaning to Pat Wrede about my struggles with the book I'm attempting to write, the sequel to Emerald House Rising. "The things I struggle with the most in writing are twofold: I have a difficult time coming up with a plot. I just have such a hard time figuring out what happens next.
And I get stuck because of the paralyzing fear that I am boring people, because I have nothing interesting to say."
As I struggled with the decision over what my collage should be about this week, I recognized (again) that this is a significant neurosis of mine. I was so dreadfully wounded years ago when my best friend of twenty-five years cut me entirely from her life. In her last conversation with me, she made it clear that she had become weary of listening to what I had to say about my life.
Even now, sixteen years out, I still haven't entirely gotten over it.
Here is the artwork I have purchased that I love so much: a tree (you know my affinity for trees) that is a static silhouette on the wall that somehow gives an impression of movement:

I stared at that tree and I thought about the fear of boring people, and of things that come up over and over again--and then I saw the connection. This tree is an embodiment of autumn: the leaves are blowing away in the wind. Soon, all the leaves will be gone. And the winter will come and the tree will become quiescent, and then the leaves will bud out again.
As I contemplated that, my fears seemed absurd. Who would be so nonsensical as to say that because spring comes around every year, it is meaningless? Is that not what nature does? What life does? Is that not the nature of reality itself?
Suddenly, a verse from Ecclesiastes 1:9 came into my mind: "That which hath been is that which shall be; and that which hath been done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.
I am entering the last third of my life--looking at retirement and moving toward the ending where I will have to sum it all up. What has my life meant? Does it matter that things come up over and over again? I have always taken such comfort from ritual (St. Lucia Day, washing my face with dew every May Day, eating strawberries every July 6, holiday gatherings with my family), and what is ritual, after all, but things that repeat?
This, as I said, is an inner neurosis. But because I am aware of it, I challenge it in my mind when it starts to oppress me, and I will not let it overcome me.
Yes, things come up again and again. But that does not mean that my life is meaningless, or that my thoughts are not of interest to others. There is comfort and wisdom that may be gained from seeing things with new eyes, even as they recur. And I need not be self-conscious about that.
Here is this week's collage:
Image description: An artistic rendering of a tree made out of wood, blown by the wind. Birds and windblown leaves give an impression of movement. The tree is silhouetted against the sun in a sunset-colored sky.

Click on the links to see the 2025, 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.
Roadkill limited to one bullfrog in a thoroughly residential setting. Also, the usual supply of stains on the road with no visible corpse. Did smell skunk over by the DOT garage. And no geese or ducks yet on the cemetery pond.
Got out on the bike, up to the golf course and over to the road through the bog and back, warm and sweaty work. Did not die.
15.33 miles, 1:25:48
VERY good story! I'm about 60% or so through it, Russet finished it already but she had more time to read today than I did. I'm quite enjoying it, looking forward to the ending.
I think this is something like #14 in the series.
Here's where you can find me at the Seattle Worldcon, August 13-17, 2025!
Improbable Research Dramatic Readings
Wed 1:30pm-2:30pm, Terrace Suite (4F)
The Ig Nobel Prizes—and Improbable Research more generally—celebrate "research that makes people LAUGH… then THINK." Put another way, it celebrates the fun of science. In this panel, we will have dramatic readings of scholarly research articles that are new to the people reading them. The audience will then get to ask these "experts" about the papers they have presented. Hilarity, and then thinking, will ensue.
Mikołaj Kowalewski (M), Geri Sullivan, Liz Zitzow, E.A., Mason A. Porter, David D. Levine, Janice Gelb
Muppets, Puppets, and Marionettes
Wed 4:30pm-5:30pm, Room 343-344
We love bringing puppets into our movies and shows. What is the mystique? Why do we love them and how they can say what we can't.
David D. Levine (M), Andrew Penn Romine, Mary Robinette Kowal, Merav Hoffman, Sho Glick
Reading: David D. Levine
Wed 8:00pm-8:30pm, Room 428
I'll be reading from "Rust," a short story told from the perspective of an ASL-using enhanced chimp trying to survive in an abandoned undersea laboratory. It'll be appearing in the September/October issue of Analog.
David D. Levine (M)
The Short and Long of It: Short Fiction, Its Mutability, and How to Transform It
Thu 9:00am-10:00am, ACT Theatre (ConCurrent Seattle, a separate event)
A craft discussion about writing, editing, and publishing fiction at every length, and growing - or shrinking - the format. But how do you know how long a story should be? Are there tricks for coaxing out specific lengths for pieces? Panelists will discuss these questions and more.
Sam Asher (M), LaShawn Wanak, David D. Levine, AW Prihandita, Lauren Ring
Live Action Role Playing Around the World
Fri 3:00pm-4:00pm, Room 420-422
Live Action Roleplaying (aka LARP) takes the game off of the tabletop and brings it to life through acting, costuming and character. Explore how this unique approch to gaming has developed worldwide; from the ongoing sagas of USA LARPS, to the full-immersion weekends of European Larps, and beyond.
Eleri Hamilton (M), David D. Levine, Terilee Edwards-Hewitt, Vivian Abraham
Autographs
Sat 3:00pm-4:00pm, Garden Lounge (3F)
Ken Bebelle (M), Bethany Jacobs, Cecilia Tan, Christine Taylor-Butler, Ctein, D.L. Solum, Dan Moren, David D. Levine, Edward Martin III, Fonda Lee, Henry Lien, Nancy Kress, Robin Hobb, Sonia Orin Lyris
Do Androids Dream of AI Slop?
Sun 3:00pm-4:00pm, Room 322
What is artificial intelligence and how does it differ from the image and text generators that have proliferated over the past few years? Is science on the track to creating R. Daneel Olivaw, or is all of this a mirage?
Jon Lasser (M), Avani Vaghela, Chris Kulp, David D. Levine, Elektra Hammond