The Village Floofs

The Village Floofs (floofinition) – Floofmerican floof pop (floop) and floof disco (floofco) musical band formed in 1977. The group became widely known for their suggestive lyrics and elaborate costumes and stage productions, hitting their peak popularity in the late 1970s.

In use: “The Village Floofs had several major hits, including “Y.F.C.A.”, “In the Kennels”, and “Macho Floof”, all of which scored big with floofco crowds.”


Floofvocate (floofinition) – 1. A person who pleads causes for animals before others.

In use: “More floofvocates are rising, speaking out against animal cruelty, whether its agribusiness and slaughterhouses, puppy mills, or big game hunters who senselessly kill animals as sport.”

2. Among housepets, to promote receiving a share of meal or snack, a reward, or special treatment through behavior geared toward making humans surrender.

In use: “When Sally made a sandwich, her cat and dog sat down beside her, floofvocating their hope for a share with large, imploring eyes. Naturally, she — again, and as usual — gave in.”

The Friend’s Comments

My buddy, Bob Hoesch, sent an email out to his beer-drinking buddies last night. Liking it, I received his permission to share.

If any single image can sum up the tenor of an era, I would suggest this as a legacy photograph for the Trump Era.

Yes, that’s Don the Don, hawking Goya foods on the Resolute Desk in the oval office, because the owner of that company had just publicly praised him.

I didn’t know this until now, the Resolute Desk has been in the White House since it was gifted to the United States by Britain, during the tenure of Rutherford Hayes. FDR had it modified to accommodate his wheelchair while he ran WWII. The name comes from the decommissioned British warship HMS Resolute, whose lumber was used to make the desk.

Trump’s innovation was to use the desk to promote canned foods to the Mexican-American community. He should be remembered for that, as the most openly transactional national politician we’ve ever had.

“People of privilege will always risk their complete destruction rather than surrender any material part of their advantage.” — John Kenneth Galbraith, The Age of Uncertainty (1977)

Tuesday’s Theme Music

It’s a cold, wet, chilly, dull, day. Yeah, I know that cold and chilly seem redundant. I think the day calls for it.

Like, where is the sun? Out there somewhere, I surmise from ambient lighting. Just not breaking through. Not warming us up.

We’ve been wanting rain, so complaints are moot. We’ve been enjoying an October and November warm spell. I like that expression, ‘warm spell’. It was in the low seventies here last week, down into the mid forties at night with, as Alexa puts it, “a lot of sunshine throughout the day”.

Of course, we needed rain and wanted rain. Actually need snow to build up our Cascades snowpack. The snowpack is our summer water supply.

But I’m a ranter (which reminds me of the ol’ Dr. Pepper commercial, “I’m a ranter, he’s a ranter, she’s a ranter, wouldn’t you like to be a ranter, too?”). With that done, naturally, my head turned to music. What music speaks to me from this weather and this rant?

Why, the Rascals with their 1968 song, “People Got to Be Free”. Yeah, that makes total sense. Who else do you think of when all the leaves are brown and the sky is gray, right?

I think the Rascals song arrived via a Venn splice in my mental stream, where dreams, current events, and music came together. One dream featured a 1968 Camaro. I had one, once, pushing the nostalgia buttons. That may’ve called the song up on the mental shuffle.

Politically speaking, the song fits the times.

You should see, what a lovely, lovely world this would be
If everyone learned to live together
It seems to me such an easy, easy thing this would be
Why can’t you and me learn to love one another
All the world over, so easy to see
People everywhere just wanna be free
I can’t understand it, so simple to me
People everywhere just got to be free
Ah, ah, yeah . . . ah, ah, yeah
If there’s a man who is down and needs a helping hand
All it takes is you to understand and to see him through
Seems to me, we got to solve it individually
And I’ll do unto you what you do to me

h/t to Metrolyrics.

These are, of course, socialist thoughts that progressives like me push, that so many others fear. Helping others? Everyone equal and free? Why, how barbaric.

Have you read this far? Then, thanks. Have a good one. And wear a mask, please. For all of us. Merry Christmas.

What, too early?

Mysterious Ol’ Facebook

A small mid-morning rant, category: technology.

Facebook notifications won’t load/display this morning. After playin’ with it five minutes as I sipped coffee and doing a few searches for fixes, I shrugged it away and reported it. Not a big deal, really.

After reporting it and sending a screen shot, I noticed my FB support inbox was showing four new messages. I opened it.

None were new. One was over sixteen months old. They were all about my violations of their community standards. They’re a laugh.

One was a Bored Panda post I’d shared about people working from home and dealing with their dogs. This affronted Facebook’s spam standards.

Whaaat? They don’t want me to share humorous animal stories because they’re ‘spam’? Geez, I think I’ve been using FB wrong lo’ these many years.

Two others were messages updating me about my protests. They’d blocked two others because they violated their community standards. I’d appealed. These were notices that they were wrong, and had restored the posts. Well, good for me. Good for FB.

The fourth was an appeal I’d put in about another post they’d removed. They were reviewing it and would get back to me soon. Dated June 12, 2019, I figured their idea of ‘soon’ and mine doesn’t match.

Now, the most interesting thing is that the notifications that I can’t see on FB, I can see when I’m in my FB support inbox. Intrigued, I went back to FB and attempted to see the notifications through various feeds. No go. But the push notifications still pop up and load.

Well, it’s modern technology, innit? When it works, it’s great. When it fails, it’s a big friggin’ mystery. In the ol’ days, we’d clean the cache, or reboot, or sumpin’. I’m going to have more coffee, and see if that takes care of it.

Two Dreams

Thinking harder about two of the five dreams I remember from last night. Disclaimer: all were short dreams. Two seemed like brief skits. I didn’t appear to be in the third, but was an observer. Either that, or I was someone else. Not sure which. To the two.

I’m uncertain of their order, so I’ll go with the car dream first. My wife and I were in a car. It was a new Chevy Camaro. Blue with white stripes, it sparkled in the sunshine. It was a gorgeous car, and I was very proud of it. Although brand new, it looked more like the 1968 model than the current model.

We were driving down a wide, well-maintained asphalt road, going through countryside. The day was wonderful. No other traffic was met.

After stopping for gas, we resumed our journey, talking about what a wonderful day it was. I said, “And we can enjoy it more, because this is a convertible.”

So I retracted the top, and we went on through the sunshine.

Such a short and simple dream. Prompts me to think, it’s the simplest pleasures that are best.

The second dream found me traveling on business in southeast Asia. I was in a taxi, going to the airport to return home. Having time to kill, I stopped at some small place.

The taxi ride had been pleasant, with the driver and I chatting about everything and nothing. I was relaxed. When the cab left, though, I discovered that I didn’t have my phone. After thinking about it a moment, I realized that I’d left it in my briefcase, and I’d left the briefcase in the car.

Well, damn. I went into a shop, told the owner what’d happened, and asked him if he could help. He did, by figuring out what cab had brought me, and then calling him. After talking with the driver, he told me, “Bad news. He has your briefcase with your phone and airplane tickets, and he’ll bring them to him, but you must do him some favors, and take things with you.”

After a Q&A, I realized that I was being asked to smuggle. I rejected that. Instead, I’d buy a new phone, see what I could do about the tickets with the airline, and replace the briefcase. I was annoyed and disappointed, but not angry. I was also trying to understand who I could report this to.

I went around looking for a new phone to buy. Nothing satisfied me, either because of design, or cost. I returned to the original store. I’m not sure what drove me to do that, but when I entered, the owner said, “Good news. Come with me.”

I followed him to the back. There was my briefcase. I was surprised. He said, “The driver returned it. He decided that you would report him, and he’d lose business, so he dropped it off and apologized. I said that I’d give them to you. He hopes you won’t report him.”

I opened the briefcase. Everything was there. Taking my phone out, I said, “I guess I won’t report him.”

That’s where the dream ended.

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