Emails slide into my inbox. Netflix, Amazon — sorry, Prime — Hulu, et al urge me to watch shows I’ve already seen. ‘Based on my history’, they recommend shows nothing at all like the ones that I’ve watched. In fact, looking at their recommendations, they’re throwing everything against the wall to see what clings to my mind. Netflix urges, ‘We think you’ll love these” and shows me “Paul vs. Tyson”. I have never watched boxing, wrestling, or fighting anywhere, so WTF?
They’re so bogus. Little of what any of them from Apple to Amazon offer reflect my watching patterns. If they did, they’d be zeroing in on darkly comedic/quirky British, Australian, and Scandinavian shows. Encountering these weak, pathetic recommendations jars my brain. They’re pretending to be caring and involved with me and my viewing habits when they clearly lack all insights. In fact, when they do this, a deep glower spreads across my mien. They’re wasting my time and mocking my intelligence. A vow to not watch anything they offer begins to burn deep inside my brain.
Not just streaming services doing this to me but they’re the worse. Amazon recommends ‘Picks just for you’. Sounds so sweet. Like they went about picking flowers and arranging them. “Here, a bouquet pour tu.” They show me pots and pans collections. Frying pans. Kate Spade purses. Like, WTF? I’ve never shopped those on Amazon or anywhere online.
They all must have me confused with another Michael.
I laughed in amazement when I read that Muslim Arabs were endorsing and voting for Trump. Really? Muslim Arabs thought he was the man for them after his 2017 Muslim ban? I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe their choice.
Voter remorse is now spreading among their people as they’ve realized what they’ve done.
Muslims for Trump co-founder Rabiul Chowdhury tells “Dan Abrams Live” the nominations are concerning for his Muslim supporters who expected an “America First” approach rather than one focused on Israel.
“Some of his picks, like Marco Rubio, in our opinion, did not align with his America First and his vision of peace,” Chowdhury explained, telling NewsNation they would rather see Richard Grenell in the Cabinet.
They’re awakening to the fact that Trump conned them. They could have avoided this disappointment if they were paying attention and thinking. But they wanted to punish the Harris and the Democrats, they said.
Yes, I know. The War. Israel. I understand that. But they seriously believed Trump would do something about it? I guess, angry and frustrated, they were blindly hopeful that he would.
I’m sure that this small trickle of people waking up about who they voted into office will soon grow.
November 20, 2024, finds us on a Wednesday. Gray and white clouds plaster the sky. 38 F and rainy out there. High will be four degrees north.
Winds are smacking the trees around. Tall conifers take the worse, swinging back from each punch, drunkenly rebounding. Began yesterday afternoon. By dusk, the wind was crooning around windows and corners. Then came sounds of winds running like tractor-trailers down the Interstate.
8:10 PM, blink, out went the power. People reported a bang. Others saw a large blue flash. Investigating crews found a surrendering tree had taken on a major power line.
My wife and I were in the snug when it happened. We turned off our computers. I moved through the familiar dark house, phone in hand in case I needed a light, to get a flashlight in a cubby by the foyer. Armed with it, I fired up the gas fireplace. We dug out candles and lit them, and several more flashlights, then checked messages and learned the tale of the outage via emergency texts.
Unknowing of how long the outage would be, my wife bathed by candlelit. The bath water was saved in case it got worse and flushing water was needed. Then she dragged out the Trivial Pursuit cards. We spent thirty minutes answering those, then we each armed ourselves with a flashlight and read. Fortunately, the gas fireplace kept us relatively comfy at 68 F.
Texts sent at 8:55 PM informed us the power would be back up within two hours. 10:35 PM, and the house beeped, chirped, and lit up as the power was restored. We learned we were the fortunate; a small section didn’t get their electricity back until this morning. Hope they all endured the night well.
Papi the ginger blade did not like this storm. Comfort couldn’t find him with all the noise. He finally decided outside, in his patio condo, was his safe space, staying there until just after midnight. About that time, the wind reset to a calmer level but rain poured out of the darkness. Papi came in to escape the wet, staying until sixish. Duty as patrol floof called then. Tail up, he bravely marched out.
Locally, I don’t spy damage on my street. Snow resides on pines and firs on the upper ranges. News reports are in that they’d closed the pass for snow on I5 from our southern exit to the California border.
Without revealing their reasoning, The Neurons invested the morning mental music stream (Trademark damp) with “Folsom Prison Blues”. Johnny Cash wrote the song, then recorded and released it n 1955. That was a year before my birth. It’s literally — and I ain’t talkin’ hyperbole here — been around my entire life. And I heard it. Mom had JC albums, so it was on there. Television liked Cash, and he showed up singing the tune on the small screen. Featured in movies, the rockabilly tune was heard on AM radio in cars and houses.
The Neurons may have pulled this up in response to a dream. I had a caper dream. Working with two other guys, we were stealing something but we’d been forced into it. They were setting me up, I found, so worked to subvert their plans. At the end, after all successfully passed and I was leaving, I found that one of the others knew of my plans and used them to save himself, in effect aiding me as he did. Fun dream.
Alright, let’s muster some positive energy. Coffee is in mug, ready to wash down my negativity. Here we go. Cheers
Loveser(floofinition) – Animal slang or floof slang (flang) about an animals who is serious but loving. Origins: Internet circa 2024.
In Use: “The big dog was never seen to play and earned a rep as a loveser, hanging with his people, tolerating other animals, never barking or whining, but frequently wagging his tail.”
In Use: “In the clowder of six kittens, gray furred Penelope was a solemn big-eyed cutie, soon revealing herself as a loveser, preferring a comfortable lap with a few scratches around her chin and ears over kitten games.”
Michael Seidel, writer 