Monday, July 27, 2026

Two whole decades: Whirled Musings turns 20

Today, July 27, 2026, this Whirled turns twenty. Two full decades. That's right: I've been hobby-blogging on this platform for twenty years, spewing out many hundreds of thousands of words, as well as a huge gallery of tawdry graphics to accompany those words. As I noted on last year's blogaversay post, it's been fun for the most part. At the very least, I'm keeping myself entertained with it.

I like to think I've been keeping a few other folks entertained over the years as well. I know I've angered some, which has earned me quite a few ungrammatical, marginally literate, and highly amusing verbal assaults, the occasional death threat, lawsuit threats, and even an actual failed lawsuit (or "flawsuit" as I like to call it). But for the most part these days, the larger world ignores the Whirled. And that's fine with me.

It's worth mentioning how much my little corner of the Internet has shifted since 2006 -- transitioning from the early days of lampooning the ludicrous pseudoscience and crassly materialistic McSpirituality of The Secret, to tracking real-world tragedies like those caused by the late and not-lamented James Arthur Ray, to extensive reporting on serial scammers like Kevin Trudeau (aka K.T., aka Katie on this blog), to navigating the exhausting, air-sucking era of modern politics, i.e., the Error of Trump.

It might even be said that this modest little blog encompasses a massive chunk of Internet history. If I really wanted to wallow in self-importance I would go so far as to say that I haven't just been hobby-blogging; I have also witnessed and archived a major cultural evolution. Or maybe "evolution" isn't the proper word. Maybe "devolution" or "regression" would fit better.

In any case, I have observed
the Whirled birthday/anniversary/blogaversary every year, sometimes with a brief mention and other times offering a more extended rumination about the history and purpose of this endeavor. Regarding said history and purpose, the latter of which has, as noted above, evolved over the years, I have said pretty much everything that I think needs to be said, and don't feel compelled to say it all again. But for anyone who's curious, this page tells it all.

If this were
a 20th wedding anniversary, the traditional gift would be china, symbolizing the delicate yet resilient beauty of a marriage that has lasted two decades, while the modern gift is platinum for ultimate endurance. The traditional gemstone for the 20th wedding anny is the emerald, and the flower is the aster. But I don't need fine dinnerware, precious metals, gemstones, or flowers, and besides, this is a blogaversary we're celebrating.

The one gift that is appropriate any time for any occasion or non-occasion is money, and after the year I've had (major move, major medical crisis) it is needed now more than ever. Here are some ways to give it:

  • Venmo: username @Connie-Schmidt-42. Here is a direct link to the Venmo page.
  • PayPal: -- Here is a direct link to my PayPal page.
  • Old but still good: You can click on the "Donate" icon that currently appears on the right-hand side of every page of this blog on the Web version. There's also a donation link at the end of many of my older blog posts. In the case of both the icon and the links on the older posts, as well as the link in this sentence, this is also a PayPal link, but it references the email account RevRon -- which is cool, because it all ultimately goes to the same place.

NOTE: If you are donating by PayPal, please specify that your contribution is for "friends and family," which will waive PayPal's substantial transaction fee.

Whether you can donate or not, thank you for visiting this Whirled. I can't promise (or threaten) another twenty years, but I'm gonna keep it going as long as I can.

Saturday, July 04, 2026

We the People vs. The Ugly Orange Stain: musings on America’s 250th

Happy 250th Birthday, America! A quarter-millennium of this grand, messy, experimental democracy is officially in the history books.

But if you're at all familiar with this Whirled, it will come as no surprise to you that reaching this milestone feels to me a bit like limping across a marathon finish line while wearing a ridiculously ill-fitting blue suit, a too-long red tie, and cheap shoes that are much too big. It's very hard to fully enjoy the patriotic fanfare when a significant portion of "We the People" remains completely enthralled by Mango Mussolini and his circus of grievances, which they have adopted as their own just because he commands it.

Watching the toxic wave of Trumpism wash over the land for nearly a dozen years has been exhausting, disheartening, and flat-out ugly, particularly during Trump 2.0. Every time we think it can't get any worse, Trump and/or his allies say, "Hold my beer." So again and again, many of us find ourselves looking around in dismay at the ruins, both figurative and, in the case of DC, literal, that litter the landscape on this momentous occasion. In that light (or lack thereof), the frantic flag-waving and grandiose expressions of patriotism we're seeing everywhere seem like little more than ostentatious virtue signaling by masses of people who, knowingly or unknowingly, are supporting efforts to tear this country limb from limb and throw it to the wolves.

I am not the only one who feels this way, of course. Millions of others in the US
are similarly upset by the state of the union today, whether or not they blame Trump specifically or view Trumpism as symptomatic of a malaise that is both larger and deeper. And on the world stage, America has definitely lost its former glorious standing, with both allies and adversaries viewing the US at 250 as "a solid global citizen gone rogue," in the words of a July 3, 2026 headline for an opinion piece in The Guardian.

But birthdays are for reflection, not just complaining.

If these 250 years have taught us anything, it is that America is much bigger than any single demagogue, any single administration, or any temporary bout of national madness. This country, this flag, and this July 4th holiday do not belong to a cult of personality. They belong to all of us.

The red, white, and blue has survived deep wounds, terrible errors, and profound divisions before. A fabric this resilient can handle a stubborn, garish orange stain. It won't wash out overnight, but it is not permanent.

So today I am holding onto hope, the same hope that, hand-in-hand with my cynicism, I have consistently expressed on this blog throughout the Error of Trump. I am choosing to believe in the enduring power of our democratic experiment and the quiet decency of the people who keep it running. We are still here. We are still writing the story. Even my favorite foul-mouthed pundit, Jeff Tiedrich, took a break today from his usual Saturday "This Week In Stupid" column
with this message for Americans:

today, let’s rest. tomorrow, the fight continues.

above all, do not let some tinpot fascist wanna-be spoil your day. the Fourth of July belongs to We the People.

here’s to you on this July 4th, America, you great big beautiful fucked up country.

So pass the hot dogs (or vegan equivalents), light the sparklers (but be cognizant of fire hazards, and please keep your pets safely in the house away from scary fireworks!), and let’s keep working to make this union a little more perfect.

PS ~ Here is an uplifting 250th birthday message from the president I miss the most, Barack Obama.