Floofney Spears

Floofney Spears (floofinition) – Born in the UFA, Floofney Spears is a singer and songwriter sometimes called the “Princess of Floop” for her role in revitalizing teen floof pop (floop) music.

In use: “Floofney Spears’ second album, Oops!… I Puked Again, sold 500,000 copies, debuting at number one on the Floofboard Hot 100 in May of 2000.”

Ovfloofture

Ovfloofture (floofinition) – An animal’s initiative toward agreement or action.

In use: “To floofjole treats from his people, Boo began by toddling over to them and rubbing against their legs. Next in the ovfloofture, he’d looked up, meet their eyess, and whisper, “Meow?” until they floofpitulated.”

Saturday’s Theme Music

It’s spin back Saturday!

Woke up with The Who’s rock opera, Tommy, in my mind’s center hall. Then the two song medley, “See Me, Feel Me/Listening to You” (1969) goes on loop.

It’s an appropriate song when thinking about the cults of politics percolating around the world, especially of the great wing type, especially of the Trump cult. It’s in sharper focus for me because that’s my country. I hear and read the staggering knots and twists employed to justify supporting him to the detriment of everything that matters, unless you’re white, wealthy, and male. The Evangelicals, Blacks, and women who support me startle me, but this medley seems to illuminate their position.

On the one hand, you have Trump – Tommy – isolated and self-centered, emotionally distant. Where the analogy collapses is Tommy knows his state and wants healed; Trump is blissfully unaware of himself and doesn’t want healed. He doesn’t know he’s sick. Feeding his base, he doesn’t see himself as sick.

Then you have the base. The comparison with Tommy shines here.

Listening to you I get the music
Gazing at you I get the heat
Following you I climb the mountain
I get excitement at your feet

Right behind you I see the millions
On you I see the glory
From you I get opinions
From you I get the story

Listening to you I get the music
Gazing at you I get the heat
Following you I climb the mountain
I get excitement at your feet

h/t to Genius.com

Decided to post the Woodstock video as it captures the essence of that time in rock. Have a listen, please, and as they say in America, “Have a nice day.”

 

 

 

The Flying Man Dream

I’m a young boy climbing a slippery dark green hill in the dream. It seems like it’s late in the day.

I’m muddy and grass stained. I hold onto tufts of grass to pull myself forward. The grass breaks again and again. I fall backwards and slide, but catch myself. I’m making progress, but it’s slow, wearying, and tedious.

A shadow passes over me. Engrossed with my climbing, I notice it but don’t look up. When it passes me again, I think, bird. When the shadow goes over me a third time, it seems slower and larger, so I look up.

It’s a man with wings.

My first thought is, “Angel.” He’s grubby and bearded, though, with dirty hair and torn clothing. I decide, “That’s not an angel.”

Wings beating the air, he hovers above me. I think, he shouldn’t be able to do that. His wings aren’t beating fast enough. I wonder if wires hold him up.

He says, “Do you have the map?”

I don’t know what he’s talking about.

He says, “The map. You’re supposed to have the map.” He’s speaking slow and loud. “Do you have it?”

I shake my head. I want to continue climbing the hill.

After watching me some time in a way that makes me itch, he flies away. I resume climbing. Then, thinking, the map, I stop and begin searching my clothes for the map. I recall, yes, I’m supposed to have a map. I remember the flying man and realize that I’m no longer a little boy. I want to turn and look down the hill. The hill seems like a mountain now. I don’t look back because I think I’m still back there, climbing as a little boy. I don’t want to see that.

I search the sky instead, looking for the flying man, trying to catch a glimpse of his shadow.

I think, was I the flying man?

He could’ve looked like me.

Or I looked like him.

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