Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Dufloofcity (floofinition) – Animal behavior that seems to show they’re going to do one thing but then do another.
In use: “Many people were aware of their pet’s dufloofcity, warning before they left the house, “Stay off the sofa,” or “Don’t jump on the counter,” to which the animal replies with wide-eyed assurance that they will, and then wait to hear their people leave and go do exactly what they were told not to do.”
Hello. Welcome to our show.
Today is Saturday, the tenth of April, 2021. Weatherwise, clouds have rolled in with ominous harbingers of rain. Their presence has kept us cool. Sunshine spilled into our southern Oregon valley at 6:39 AM, bringing a token of warmth. We’re up to 55 F now, and think, maybe ten degrees more will be achieved, before the sun retreats at 7:47 PM.
The post is a later than usual as we were out getting the COVID-19 vaccination. That’s done.
To the music! Today’s offering is cat-influenced, or as animals say, infloofuenced. (They — my cats — always insist that the word, ‘influence’, was originally, ‘infloofuence’. I point out that there’s no history supporting their claim. They smirk back. “We’re older than words, boy.”) Youngblood (aka Papi, Meep, and the Ginger Blade) loves going out throughout the dark hours. He loves coming back in during those times, as well, and then going back out again. He’s developed his knocking patter, coming to the bedroom slider for entrance and exit. Although socks are sometimes tossed his way to stop him, he’s a persistence boogerfloof. So I let him in and out, in and out.
Well, that in and out thinking dredged up a 1975 song by The Who out of the memory mines. “Squeeze Box” was an international hit for the group. The lyrics are all about an accordion, which is also known as a squeeze box.
Mama’s got a squeeze box
She wears on her chest
And when Daddy comes home
He never gets no rest
‘Cause she’s playing all night
And the music’s alright
Mama’s got a squeeze box
Daddy never sleeps at night
Well the kids don’t eat
And the dog can’t sleep
There’s no escape from the music
In the whole damn street
‘Cause she’s playing all night
And the music’s alright
Mama’s got a squeeze box
Daddy never sleeps at night
She goes in and out and in and out
And in and out and in and out
She’s playin’ all night and the music’s all right
Mama’s got a squeeze box
Daddy never sleeps at night
h/t to Genius.com.
Wear a mask, get the vax, stay positive, test negative, and carry on. That is all.
I had a dream in which I ended up wondering, while in the dream, if I’d dreamed what I was thinking. I’ve gone similar routes to this before, but this one ended up as a laugher to me.
I was racing at LeMans in a D type Jaguar. The race had just begun. My co-driver (name not given, never seen), had qualified us, putting us at the front of the grid (but not pole). I was starting the race for the team. I managed a great start, and was battling for the lead.
From my point of view in the open cockpit, another driver and I raced our cars down a long straight, engines screaming, car shaking and vibrating around me. Taking the car to the absolute limit, holding it there, I edged my car’s nose ahead past a competitor on my right.
Now for a surreal bit. There was a small, bright green, bean bag hanging to the left along the straight. Whoever reached the bag and pulled it down was the leader of the first lap. I raced toward it, pulling ahead of the other car. Veering left, I threw my hand up and caught the bean bag.
Wasn’t over, though. We were hurtling toward the final corner. My competition wasn’t making it easy for me. They were holding back to brake at the last second; they also had the inside line, the true racing line. Coming up on the corner, I counseled myself, “Wait, wait,” watching the competitor. When he finally braked I told myself, “Now, brake, downshift, turn.”
I guided the car into the turn. Teetering on the edge of cohesion, the car progressed through the long righthander. Then I was through, in the lead, leading the first lap of LeMans. Jubilation roared through me as crowds cheered me on.
Then, as the segment ended, I pulled into victory lane.
I’d won the race.
Still in the dream, I was stunned. I’d won LeMans. As it was a D type Jag, that was in the fifties. Sitting before my computer, I searched on “Seidel Wins LeMans”.
Then, I thought, hold on. I couldn’t have won LeMans in the fifties; I wasn’t born until 1956.
And in the dream, I wondered, did I dream that? It seemed so real.
As I was about to tell this to my wife, she brought a tall white man and his daughter into the room. I was like, “Excuse me, WTF, who are they, why are they are?” My wife brushed aside my questions.
The child went to play. The man joined me. Reading a newspaper on the desk beside me, he scoffed. “Mansfield is in trouble.” He scoffed again. “I’ve seen this happen before.” He blithered on about some other companies who’d been in trouble. “They’re going to need help. Search for Mansfield and help.”
I did as he directed. I was only typing with one hand, however, and kept screwing up the search. Then, dream shift, I’m in a writing class with other students. The instructor is telling us about four elements. I’m taking notes.
A man comes in and calls my name. He wants to know if I’m okay. “Yes, fine,” I reply, puzzled. The teacher tells the man that I seem fine, why is he interrupting the class to check on me.
“Because he sent a message that said ‘help’ on a computer,” the man replied. “We received his message.”
Realization rising about what happened, laughter spilled out of me. I explained that I’d been trying to do a search on Mansfield needing help but kept screwing up.
Two other men, stocky, with crew cuts, in suits, solemnly brought stacks of books to me. “What are these?” I asked.
“Help books,” one man replied. “You sent so many messages for help, we thought you could use these books for help.”
End dream.
Spanky, a navigator who I worked with in Germany, was in my dream. He wanted a Playboy magazine but didn’t have time to get it. I decided that I would get it for him.
I ordered it and it arrived. Before I could give it to him, he had to go on a mission. My wife didn’t want a magazine like that in the house, so I had to hide it. I ran around the house considering hiding places, finally deciding that I’d hide it behind the HVAC return filter. She’d NEVER look there. But as I was hiding it, Spanky came in. I gave him the mag. Delighted, he took it with him and left on another mission.
Meanwhile, I’d received a red notice in the mail. The note said in big black marker, “Your package delivery was delayed by bad weather. We apologize for the delay.” The note confused me because I wasn’t expecting any delivery except the magazine. It had already arrived.
I then went to my wife and told her I’d bought the magazine for Spanky. That angered her, but I shrugged it off. Spanky wanted it, and I thought he deserved it. It only cost me five dollars, including delivery. I thought that was a good deal.
Efloofgelist (floofinition) – A person who seeks to convince others of animal rights and intelligence.
In use: “The Internet has amplified efloofgelists’ message by showing videos highlighting animals acting and thinking compassionately, like bears saving crows, a pit bull mothering kittens, a cat befriending a lynx in a zoo, and a cat embracing an orphaned squirrel as one of her own.”
Hey, it’s Righty Friday, April 9, 2021. Daybreak came at 6:40 AM as Ashland rotated around to Sol’s embrace once again. Night is expected after the rotation turns us away from Sol at 7:45 PM. Between those hours, we expect the sun to take our temperatures into the upper sixties under azure skies. We’ve made it to 43 F so far.
I’ve been living with Righty Friday for several years. A right hander, I’ve always enjoyed reverse days when I attempt to use my left hand as my dominate. Part of that is flipping the order of donning my pants. I put my pants on my left leg first by habit. The difficulty I had putting it on my right leg first amazed me. By then I was in my late fifties. My recurring practices had shaped my muscles, bones, and coordination. Thereafter, I designated each Friday as a Righty Friday, when I would put my underwear and pants on my right leg first. Although it’s called Righty Friday, I alternate left and right throughout the week. So, Saturday, Monday, and Wednesday, I put my pants on in the correct order, left leg first. It’s reversed on the remaining days.
Today’s music is by Chaka Khan. Prince wrote and recorded “I Feel for You”, but I’m intimate with the Melle Mel and Stevie Wonder infused version. Released in 1984, it reached number one on several U.S. charts, and made the top ten on music charts around the world. We were well familiar with the music video. I was stationed on Okinawa, Japan. We had limited music videos, and this one was played ALL THE TIME. Melle Mel’s rapping always amazed me and my friends. We’d try to keep up with him. Impossible. The effort reduced us to blithering, laughing idiots.
It’s a memory, prompted as I think about visiting with friends as we cautiously begin re-opening in southern Oregon. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers
Mondefloof (floofinition) – A misheard word or phrase that causes an animal’s reaction.
In use: “Noting that when she asked her husband where the wok was, the dog went for his leash to go for a walk, she vowed to spell wok in the future to avoid the mondefloof.”
I was with some others. They remained misty and uncertain, voices on the periphery of my awareness.
We were to drive three identical Cadillac automobiles. Cream and brown two-toned sedans, I knew them as late 1940s cars, a model called ‘Sedan de Ville’. I was to be the driver of one of these three large cars.
Sheets of silvery rain were soaking the world outside the building where we talked, striking down visibility whenever I looked out a window. I knew we were in a city. We were addressing a large, electronic map. It showed the route to follow in thick dark green on a yellow background. Part of the discussion was about what to call our exits. Studying the map, I somehow came up with Jo Three, which struck me as funny. I explained why it should be called that and why it was funny but those details are lost to waking me.
Before leaving, white brunette women dressed in 1950s fashion presented each driver with two loaves of freshly baked warm bread. These loaves were set on the back shelf behind the rear seat, on on each side, in all three cars. I happily went about, checking the loaves, verifying what they were (rye, marble rye, whole wheat, etc.), and that each loaf was unique. Satisfied, I confirmed my loaves were where they should be, climbed behind the car’s massive steering wheel, and set off.
Rain still hammered the streets and sidewalks, denuding color so that everything resembled sepia photographs. With no wind, the rain fell straight down. Although it was day, street lights were on. The straight multi-lane roads were in good condition. Traffic was sparse. The place seemed familiar.
I saw a woman walking along a sidewalk under an umbrella. I knew her. I thought she was upset and decided that I needed to speak with her, and that I would offer her a ride. As I caught up with her, she was under an underpass at an intersection, waiting to cross the street. She crossed; I turned left, pulled alongside her, and wound the passenger window down. As she didn’t stop, the car continued parallel to her, propelled by the idling motor.
Leaning across the street, cold as mist came in the open window, I called, asking her if she wanted a ride, speaking loudly over the rain and the car’s engine. She declined, telling me that she enjoyed walking in the rain. I then apologized to her and told her that I understood why she was upset. She replied that she wasn’t upset, and that’s not why she wasn’t accepting a ride. She had been upset but now she just appreciated being alone, walking in the rain.
I accepted her answer and drove off. As I did, I looked back in the rearview mirror and watched her walking on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, getting smaller as the distance increased.
Greetings from Ashland, ladies and gentlemen, floofs, and the rest. The day is Thursday and the date is April 8, 2021. Our sun broke sky at 6:42 AM. The sun will exit sky west at 7:44 PM. That’ll give us a pretty solid thirteen hours of sunshine, brothers and sisters! Current temp has us at 42. A high in the upper sixties to low seventies is looked for but not counted upon.
I awoke with “I Can Dream, Can’t I?” by the Andrews Sisters (1949) roaming the streets of my mind. Yes, dream magic invoked that song, for sure. Thinking of it (1949, when I was born in 1956?), I wondered how I’d come to know it. I suspect Mom’s influence with her stereo. That’s the easy response but I recall seeing them sing it in black and white, so I pivot to seeing them on a television show or a movie.
Can’t I adore you?
Although we are oceans apart
I can’t make you open your heart
But I can dream, can’t I?
h/t to Metrolyrics.com
It was later covered by others, like The Carpenters, and Annie Lennox, but I enjoy the sisters’ powerful vocals and harmonizing.
Another song, “Hanky Panky” by Tommy James and the Shondells (1966) quickly overtook the Andrew Sisters offering. I can’t trace its lineage in my mind today. As far as learning the song, that would probably be my older sister’s influence. She was one of those forty-fivers, spinning little vinyl discs on her portable record player. Or I learned it via AM radio in the car, or on television from shows like “American Bandstand”. Do not know.
Anyway, that’s today’s music choice. Here’s an interesting video of it. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Time for coffee. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 