Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Pecfloofniary (floofinition) – Of or related to the money spent on an animal, or an animal’s worth.
In Use: “After Jared spent money on his floof’s medical needs, many people focused on the situation’s pecfloofniary aspect, but to him, his dog’s companionship was priceless, and he would prostitute himself if it brought in the money for his dog’s medicine, surgery, and x-rays.”
I read a Jamie Bouie opinion piece yesterday: “The Black Box of the Undecided Voter Won’t Yield Its Secrets”
His comments and that of experts about undecided voters were sensible to me in an abstract, collegiate manner. They’d hold true in most elections, meaning if we didn’t have Trump as a candidate, and the hollowed out, morally bankrupt GOP that now graces our nation.
I mean, when John McCain ran, I could accept him as POTUS. He’d established principles and held to them. I disagreed with most of his policy positions, but I could see him working with his party and the Democratic Party and moving forward, addressing issues and solving problems for the nation’s good, along with that of the world. I didn’t have a feeling that John McCain would try to drag us back into an era that celebrated discrimination, racism, and sexism. Nor did I think he would ally with dictators against our allies.
That’s what Trump stands for, IMO. He will crap on his base for a dollar, and crap on the Constitution for a penny. His give-a-fuck levels about treaties, democracy, and equality has dropped below acceptable standards. They’d be problematic in a citizen, but in a party leader, they’re horrendous because of the amplification.
See, the ideas behind Jamie Bouie’s piece, like much of the NY Times and many mainstream media, pushes the fallacy that Harris and Trump are equal on paper, a premise that ignores Trump’s foaming at the mouth hatred, and his urgent willingness to lie about immigrants eating pets to gain votes. It ignores his ‘faux pas’ like the claims about the Revolutionary War and airports. Oh, that was a teleprompter problem. Sure. Who in their right mind with a high school education would accidently make a claim about airports during the Revolutionary War?
If that was one gaffe, it could be written off. But there’s the sharks and electrocution riff. The repeated forgetfulness about where’s he’s at and what he’s doing. The lies about what he accomplished. The constant fucking word salad presented as though it’s coherent and meaningful discourse.
Let’s add hard facts. Trump has been convicted in court. He’s declared bankruptcy multiple times. He’s been documented as having lied over 30,000 times. We’re still counting. Even when he’s corrected about lies, he promotes the same those lies again and again. He cannot stop lying, and his base lap them up.
The media paints the GOP with pretty pastels. The book banning is set aside. Censorship, as foisted by GOP-led state governments, is overlooked. The fact that most Americans are pro-choice is punted away as though it little matters.
Climate change? The GOP calls it a hoax and turns away as more fires burn, record heatwaves are set, and the weather turns nastier and more extreme. They dance with insane conspiracy theories about the deep state and want to curtail others’ rights because they’re childless.
The GOP is still carrying on about the last election. Their claims were dispelled in courts. They have no evidence. And yet, it works. It works on those undecided who aren’t taking any time to pay fucking attention to what is happening outside of their career, their sports, their entertainment, their family.
C’mon, man.
The GOP duplicity, with Vance calling for less rhetoric while ignoring the steady spew of violence and hate that comes out of Trump, Bannion, Loomer, and other Republicans, keeps growing. Christ, they’re marching around Trump rallies with NAZI signs and flags, and Confederate signs and flags, and the press is going, well, that’s pretty normal. GOP representatives have called for an end to the separation of church and state, and the press goes, well, that’s one side of the issue.
Like hell it is. That’s not one side of the issue. That’s one of our fucking founding principles.
So, no. I’m going to cut the undecided voter a break because they might not have the time to be as deeply involved in thinking and reading about this election. They need to seriously pay attention. If this edition of the GOP wins in 2024, it will attempt to radically redefine the United States along theocratic, authoritarian lines that favor the wealthy, powerful, and whites.
Just read their playbook. It’s called Project 2025.
As for those who call themselves undecided because they think that Harris hasn’t outlined her policy positions, here’s a link to her issues page. Take time to read them and give them some critical thought and compare them to what Trump and the GOP is offering.
Vote. Blue.
I watch people cross the street and they’re indifferent. All ages and genders. Car coming? So? Hit me or stop. Your call, their actions proclaim.
Yeah, and I’ve been in those days, walking and thinking, I don’t care. Hit me. I’m fine with that today. I think most of us have been at that nadir.
Mood: pithynated
It’s a splashing autumn day. Lofty clouds of the decorative sort keeps the sky a lighter shade of morning. Sunshine stumbles in around the clouds to take us up from the high 50s to the high 70s. Yellows and reds are mixing it up with the trees’ greenery. No oranges in residence among the foliage yet.
Welcome to Wednesday, September 25, 2024. Please stand while we sing Ashlandia’s anthem, which sounds a lot like a repurposed rendition of “O Canada.”
I’m in a news trench, reading about our world and the many ways it thrills and disappoints. Find your own examples, I’m not regurgitating them here.
Autumn and the floofs are getting along like oceans and pirates. It’s a mellow grooming, gazing, ear-twitching still life of them in the back as a cloud interrupts their sunbath. Mild annoyance ruffle their whiskers as wind curses the yard. Papi the ginger blade looks especially affronted by this incursion. A place must be found to rest without wind’s prying fingers. He begins stretches and a hunt but bird noises and leafy sounds must be given attention.
Thinking on how autumn seems to have come around, and The Neurons place a song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark imploding). Green Day came out with “When I Come Around” in 1995. I was still a military member then, unspecting that I was on the cusp of retirement. I was over twenty by then, so I’d done my time. I liked my life there but the Air Force noticed I’d been at Onizuka Air Base in Sunnyvale, California, for four years. Time to be moved. They offered me an Inspector General role in Space Command which I nixed. They then presented Whiteman AFB in Missouri for my next tour of duty. That didn’t appeal so I did the necessary ink and walked.
Well, you know the standard closing about strength, positivity, and leaning. Vote blue, of course, like you’re sane and not out to gouge other’s civil rights to better your own existence because you’re a narrow-minded GOP twat. Yes, my black brew is talking through me. I offer the music now out of Woodstock 94, a scant three decades past.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 