Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I received a free coffee from my regular coffee haunt for my birthday. As part of the exchange, I told the barista, who is a friend, that I was 68.
Shock traveled his expression. “Wow. I thought that I was older than you but you’re several years older. But you look like you’re ten years younger.”
Now that, friends, is a gift.
Flooferitus (floofinition)– An animal retired from professional life or special position but allowed to retain as an honorary title the rank of the last office/position held.
In Use: “Candy ruled the house until Morty arrived when Candy was older, but Candy remained the Queen Flooferitus until her final day.”
In Use: “Chester tried to shift T Rex into an flooferitus but T’s stony stare and throaty glare gave the youngster second thoughts.”
Earlier this year, the SCOTUS cut down the Chevron decision of 1984 while adjudicating Loper Bright Enterprises et al v. Raimondo, Secretary of Commerce, et al. In the Chevron decision, it was established that courts must defer to federal agencies when it comes to interpreting certain laws. The bent right-wing Roberts Court has now said, “Naw, uh.” The decision significantly changes how Federal regulatory agencies’ decisions are addressed in the judicial system and hamstring the ability to enforce Federal regulatory standards.
As if on cue, Iowa suffered heavy rains and flooding in the northwest corner. Agribusiness is huge there, and one area where Iowa has been pretty laconic is how animal manure is handled. Their solution was to put it in large ponds, creating a fecal soup. Guess what happens when floodwaters overtake fecal ponds? Yes, water drinking supply systems are contaminated.
The same sort of story was told in North Carolina a few years ago after a hurricane caused major flooding, so projections about what Iowa will experience, like skyrocketing e-coli levels, are known. Did Iowa learn from that? Hell, no.
So, to recap, in an age when regulatory enforcement is being blown up, an age where climate change is causing more extreme weather and droughts are endangering the nation’s water supply, the dangers and damages of such lax oversight is clearly demonstrated again and again. And yet, they won’t change, cause — money.
That’s the wisdom of the 21st century GOP.
Mood: Coffeeupped
Santana and Rob Thomas are performing “Smooth” in my mental music stream (Trademark classified) as I begin to write. Because it’s gonna be a hot one.
Yesterday, my tiny home weather station said it was 100.0 F at 3:38 PM. The temperature eked up to 101.9 from there, and then began sinking. We were down to 83 F by 9. Despite our home AC outage, we kept cool. Didn’t really heat up in the house until after 7 PM, when it went to 84. That’s cause we’d capture and stored cool AM air. Translation: we opened the doors and windows in the morning, got the house cold, and then close it up and turned on a few fans. It worked, knock on wood.
It’s 77 F now. The projections are that we’ll reach 107 F today. As with yesterday, we have a blue, cloudless sky. When I step into the sun’s heat, I can feel body parts became crisping.
BTW, this is Friday, July 5, 2024.
The breakfast buffet yesterday was delicious as memories of past years predicted it would be. But the parade itself was a little flatter. We were set up in a tree’s shadow along the route, and it was only 79 F at that point. But most participants seemed mildly invested. The parade itself petered out, rather than ended with a flourish. So, meh, a 6 on the parade scale that goes to 11.
“Smooth” has been scuttled. “Along Comes Mary” has replaced it in my morning mental music stream. Tucker, my large black and white floof inspired the song. I’d opened a can to feed Papi, who was quite eager for the moment, chirping and purring about it with big eyes and a tall tail, and wondered, where’s Tucker Cat. Well, he was coming at a casual gait, mumbling something about, “Food, at last,” as he came. So I sang, “Along comes Tucker,” and poof, The Neurons had an Association production going in my head. Song came out in 1966, when I was ten. Have you ever listened to these lyrics? Pay attention, cuz they’re fascinating.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I have already greeted each other in the traditional manner. Here’s the music. Cheers
Sixty-eight has a good feel to it to me.
I’m 68 years old today. Well, if you believe the state’s official records, and Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad claim they were there. But you know, parents tell stories. Like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or that they walked ten miles through snow uphill to get to school every day. Who can believe them?
My phone and computer has been pinging with birthday wishes from friends around the world. That really makes my heart swell three times its normal size.
I’ve been looking forward to becoming sixty-eight. It’s because of cars. See, in 1968, when I was twelve, cars excited and interested me. At one point, I thought I’d become an adult and design cars. I drew them all the time. ’68 was the year I saw sporty performance Mustangs and Camaros, along with an actual XK-E Jaguar that someone parked in a neighbor’s driveway. So cool!
So 68 has a good feel for me. It’s exciting, full of energy and promise. I hope I can sustain that across 365 days, because I’m getting pretty excited about becoming 69. Wait till I tell you about it.
Michael Seidel, writer 