Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Neofloofthic (floofinition)– Belonging to a previous animal and now outmoded. Origins: 1865, Sir John Floofbock.
In Use: “She thought that the dog’s toys were neofloofthic relics of another era when she began taking care of her daughter’s cat for two weeks but on the first day, the cat was attacking everything that the dog used to play with.”
Nan shares Mary Trump’s take on Uncle Donald’s latest grift. I was thinking about D.J.T. and his grifts and thought it wouldn’t be surprising if he put out a set of ‘commemorative Presidential Seal watches’. Sure, it’s illegal to use the the seal, and subject to fine. But with the SCOTUS ruling about Trump’s immunity, I’m sure oddsmakers believe there’s a good chance that Trump will do just that.
Long as it’s making him money.
Walking along Ashlandia’s Hunters Park, I encountered two middle-aged women. As I nodded hello and passed them, I swung back to one. “Hey, I like your shirt.”
Her shirt said, “Kamala Harris for President” in an interesting rainbow offering on black.
“Thanks.” She widely grinned. “I bought it online.”
“Do you remember the site? My wife is interested in buying another Harris shirt.”
The woman pulled out her phone. “Here, I can tell you. Yes, Teepublic.com.”
“Cool, thanks. Have a good one.”
“Go, Kamala,” her companion shouted with a big grin and strong fist bump.
I returned both. “Go, Kamala.”
My wife chastised me for ‘using too much soap’ when I was cleaning the cat’s bowls.
I apologized, having been unaware the restriction existed. Ignorance is not a defense, of course. I await my sentencing.
Mood: Frigruff
Some artists got together and painted us the bluest sky. Brill sunshine was dabbed in o’er the goldenish green trees towering across the backyard. Cats and I were well-thrilled with this autumn display, frolicking in a mature way in the 50 something F air. We’ll plumb the mid 80s F today but autumn is bigfooting its presence on Ashlandia.
This is Friday, September 27, 2024.
I’ve circled at the usual AM stops and found some part of me meditating on What Constitutes A Healthy Breakfast? Trader Joe’s sheet cake was inviting me for a taste but that’s not healthy, is it? Well, it could be. Pumpkin and spices. Probably all artificial. But tasty.
Laboring through the morning news. Hurricane Helene did the wreckage as expected. Still rampaging. NY’s mayor indicted. The noble and dignified Trump hawking watches. They say they found the world’s oldest cheese, too. I thought that was in my fridge. I checked; still there. So that’s another example of fake news, innit?
Maggie Smith passed. 89, which is now considered a youngerish sort of age. Suppose because I’m closer to that yardstick. Beloved is an often overused word, up there with superstar. Beloved seems apt for Maggie Smith.
Alice in Chains is dominating the morning mental music stream (Trademark trademarked) with “Would” from 1992. I check and learn, yes, I used “Would” before as theme music, in September in another year. I have detected a trend of having the same songs come to me in the same months of different years. Serendipity? Random psychosis? Bullshit observation? I don’t know. It’d take more study and I haven’t had enough coffee to pursue it past my fingers bashing a keyboards.
I sneeze several times. My wife isn’t here so I need to tell myself, “Godzilla”.
Which inspires Blue Oyster Cult and their ode to the creature terrorizing Tokyo. It’s been pinned as theme music here too and doesn’t feel synchronized to my day, although nothing else does, either.
Then, clicking and muttering, I’m lead to Stevie Nicks’s new offering, “The Lighthouse”. Nicks said that she’d been on the road, listening to a newscaster talking about Roe v. Wade being overturned. Thinking of what it would mean, she had to write a song.
Nicks sings,
Because everything I fought for
Long ago in a dream, is gone
Someone said
The dream is not over
The dream has just begun
Or
Is it a nightmare
Is it a lasting scar
It is unless you save it
And that’s that
Unless you stand up
And take it back
And take it back
h/t to Genius.com
Yes, this feels like a song for today. Hope you give it an ear.
Be strong and so on as we wade through the days, 39 of them, until November 5, 2024. Coffee still tickles my throat in measured swallows. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 