Floof 182

Floof 182 (floofinition) – Califloofia musical trio formed in 1992 that soared to flock (floof rock) stardom in the late 1990s via three-chord flock.

In use: “Floof 182’s 1999 song, “What’s My Breed Again?”, became one of the band’s best-performing singles, reaching number two on the Floofboard Hot 100 and number one in the Floofnited Kingdom.”

Floofmatic

Floofmatic (floofinition) – An immediate response to an animal’s demand.

In use: “Many animals train their people to be floofmatic, i.e. teaching their humans to get up and let them in (or out), feed them, play with them, or provide them treats, upon demand. The trick, animals say, is to use persistence and cuteness, and when necessary, make people feel guilty for not responding.”

Floofdemonium

Floofdemonium (floofinition) – A wild uproar because of excitement or anger about, or caused by, an animal (or animals), including their treatment.

In use: “Floofdemonium exploded on social media as hunters displayed photos of their ‘big-game trophies’, beautiful animals senselessly killed by humans.”

A Dream of Angst and Symbolism

Dream hits keep coming. In another busy night, one stood out.

I was welcomed into a luxury hotel, room 506. There, I found wonderful devices. Connected to my brain, they enabled to accomplish things with simple thought. Think the words and they’re typed. Imagine a food and it’s there. Ponder a drink and it’s at hand.

Wow, of course, right. I was giddy with amazement. Enjoying myself, I went off. Dream time zipped by. I found myself lost. Struggling to find my way back to my hotel and room, I ended up down on an airport tarmac looking for a way in. A woman gave me a white cap. Realizing everyone was wearing one, I put it on so I blended in. Then, trying to sneak into the building past the others (I was casual about it), another woman with a loud voice accosted me, demanding that I write three things on my cap. That confused the hell out of me. (Love that expression: look, no more hell in me! It’s a temporary state, though.) I asked, “Why should I write that on my cap?”

She snipped, “Because you’re part of my security team.”

Removing the cap with a smirk, I answered, “No, I’m not.”

I just walked past her after that. Suddenly back in the hotel, I asked the staff, “Where’s my room?” They replied, “Who are you?”

Although it irritated me, I gave them my name. Then I asked, “What room am I in?” They told me that I should know my room number. Irritation growing because they weren’t helping me and I couldn’t remember my room number, I began guessing. I recall something about two. “Two something, two something. Two oh five. Two oh six.” Then it hit me, no, no, it’d been eleven. One and one was two. I’d reached that by adding the numbers together. Right, five oh six.

Knowing the room number and suddenly the key, a card, was in my hand. I rushed to my room. Shock and dismay quickly displaced my happiness and satisfaction. The room had been trashed. All my neat stuff was damaged and broken. Walking around, I demanded, “What happened? Who did this?” As answers didn’t come, I thought, I must fix these, and began picking up the pieces.

That’s when this dream ended. Yes, this one was weighted with all manner of symbolism and angst. Still fun, you know?

Tuesday’s Theme Music

This is another cat-inspired choice, but also reflects on politics, life, you know…general stuff.

The lines which came to head this AM when cat dealing was, “You’re hot and you’re cold, you’re in and you’re in and you’re out.” Twenty-seven degrees outside, Youngblood (aka Meep, Papa, and the Ginger Blade) was testing a theory that if he came in and stayed two seconds, it’ll magically warm up outside.

With part of that song — Katy Perry, “Hot n Cold” (2008) — already in me, I started reading the latest Trump fiasco. He wants bigger stimulus checks all of a sudden. This after doing jack for months. This after sending in Mnuchen to negotiate with Congressional leaders to deliver the package that he didn’t want to sign, the one with smaller checks, less benefits, and, in Trump’s words, “pork-laden”. But, ahem, your man was in there doing your biddin’. And, ahem, that’s your GOP at work. So, ahem. Ah, hot and cold. He was in and out, as always. Just like his guidance for COVID-19. Wear a mask. Don’t. I never do. But you should. I’m the greatest. Now I’m outta here. Gotta go golf. But I’m always working.

It’s also a good song for NFL teams. Pittsburgh down 24-7, doing nothing, come back to win 28-24. Cold, then hot. Ah, we’re all hot then we’re cold, or cold, then we’re out, in, and then hot. Change is the only constant. You gotta keep up.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. Over and out.

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