Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
A woeisme fugue is shrouding my mind.
“I give up.” My wife shook her head as she spoke. A heavy sigh followed. She explained that she spoke to her sister and niece yesterday. The two live in Florida. Both are intelligent and vivacious individuals. College educated. Democrats. Trump despisers. Sis is my age. She owns her own business. Daughter works in sales and marketing. Neither were aware that Trump had just passed his tariffs. Nor were they aware that the stock market had been dropping. They weren’t aware of most of the news that had my wife’s head spinning. In fact, her forty-year-old niece had decided that Thursday was the perfect day to invest in the stock market for the first time.
“My sister is a low-information person,” my wife said. “She’s always been like that. She used to be on top of her business dealings but now she’s moved away from those. She just wants to relax and not worry about things.”
I understand how my wife feels. We were shopping in Medford yesterday. Nobody seemed to be doing any prepping buying. In fact, the shoppers seemed like happy, oblivious people.
My wife had noticed this with her coffee group friends. Most seemed serenely oblivious to what Trump was doing. Several were planning their summer vacations.
“Is it just us and our tribe?” I wondered.
Maybe. My beer group members are acutely aware of what’s going on. It significantly depresses the female members. The male members are grim. But all have worried and wondered, what should we do to prepare?
“I don’t think most people know what’s going on,” my wife said. “And I don’t think they care.”
I agreed. “I don’t think they’ll notice until it hits them in the face. Then they’ll think, hey, what happened? Why is the national park closed? Did you see the state of that bathroom? It’s filthy! They’ll wonder why the water and sky is dirtier. They’ll try to buy a new car and will have sticker shock. They’ll try to eat out and discover businesses have closed, and those that are open will cost a lot more than they expected.”
My wife said, “You said one thing wrong.”
“What?”
“‘Then they’ll think.'”
And the band played on.
Sunshine was trying to coax me out of bed. The cat’s complaints were urging me to move faster. “Let me do some things and then I’ll feed you,” I told the cat. He went with me into the bathroom to supervise proceedings. It’s Saturda, April 5, 2025, a day of progressive action in the United States. My wife is jaded about it. “It won’t do much in this area. They’ll give it twenty seconds on the news and then talk for a couple minutes about a new restaurant opening.”
Warm weather for it. 49 F now, thin wedding-veil clouds coyly secret most of the sun’s issue away. But promises have been put forward. Today will be mostly sunny, high in the upper 60s. May even kiss seventy.
“We need to take advantage of this weather,” I say. For those who need a translator, that means I will wash the cars, cut grass, weed, etc. After the warming weather and copious rain, it’s needed. “Supposed to be warm but start raining again tomorrow. Temperatures are going to drop on Monday.” I sound like an expert but I’m just repeating what I read.
My wife replies, “I ordered a new rug for the foyer yesterday.”
I nod. “I know.” We’d measured the space together. The old foyer rug has populated our existence since 1985. It’s served us well. Like us, it’s aged. Its vibrant green and pristine design has faded. Its edges have frayed. Once it was in perfect condition. Chic. Then it was shabby chic. Now it’s just getting shabby.
I relate. I’m grateful that it’s a weekend. Less news comes out on the weekend. But the bridal-veil clouds have thickened. Sunshine has waned.
The cat wants out. I tell him to be safe as I let him into the backyard. Like a child, the orange boy snaps back, “Meow.”
“I know,” I reply, “but I’ve seen you out there. Be careful. Don’t let anything get you.”
He, of course, is very happy with the warm, windless weather. Struting out flying his orange striped cream tail high, he inspires The Neurons with music.
“Stray Cat Strug” by the Stray Cats begins playing in the morning mental music stream. The song stays alive as coffee and breakfast are procured and consumed, etc. I’ve no choice but to post it and chase it from my head.
The cat’s sunshine has faded. He looks forlorn. I know that feeling.
Hope your day works out for you. I’ll do my best and might half succeed. Depends upon how much coffee I drink, I think. And the weather. Cheers
I’ve been using a secret weapon to amuse me the last few weeks. Two, actually. Both are throwbacks for me.
Tim Dowling is an American living in the UK. He writes a column for the Guardian. I find them hilarious. I used to regularly read him. Then The Neurons dropped him out of the rotation. I never noticed.
I regularly read news in the Guardian. I like their coverage of U.S. news. So, while reading an article a few weeks ago, I saw a reference to the latest Tim Dowling column. Clicking on that, I resumed reading him, catching up on his past columns by reading one everyday.
He’s sixty years old. Married, with three sons. They have just moved out. He also has a dog, cat, and tortoise. He plays in a band and deprecates his playing. Being an animal lover and very fond of cats, I enjoy the tales relating to his household animals the most. Today, I read his column from September of 2023.
Tim Dowling: we’re moving bedrooms – before the cat kills me
My other secret vice — Well, it’s not my only vice. I have a large list of secret vices. It depends on whose morality is used to judge me.
But this vice is watching an old British science fiction show called Red Dwarf. I recently re-discovered it playing on a live TV channel on Prime.
I began watching that show in the early 1990s. I was assigned to Onizuka Air Station then in the San Jose-San Francisco Bay Area. KQED introduced me to Red Dwarf during their science fiction fund-raising marathons.
Red Dwarf is an interstellar mining ship. It’s principally manned by Lister, Rimmer, the Cat, and Kryden. Dave Lister is the last human alive. He was in stasis as punishment for having a cat onboard the Red Dwarf. He stayed in stasis for 3,000,000 years while the radiation levels declined to safe levels.
That was needed because Arnold Rimmer had an accident. The accident resulted in a radiation link that killed all the crew members except Dave Lister. Because Lister was in stasis.
Rimmer and Lister were roomates and worked together. They do not get along. But the computer, Holly, brought Rimmer back as a holograph as a companion for Lister so Lister doesn’t go insane.
Lister isn’t happy about Holly’s decision.
The Cat is a direct descendent of the cat behind Lister’s punishment. Cats have evolved into a sort of human cat variation. He’s a vain, vapid, and selfish character who intensely dislikes Rimmer and is often Lister’s ally.
All manner of science fiction action happens to the Red Dwarf crew. Others species are encountered. Time travel happens. The mail catches up with them. Rimmer believes in order and is ambitious but inept. Lister likes to party but is intelligent and lazy. They plot against one another. Nanobots stage a revolt. All males, they are hungry for female interactions.
Yes, it’s silly. Full of all gaps, contradictions, and plot holes. But it’s fun. Watching it returns me for a bit to when I was thirty years younger and the future looked brighter.
You gotta do something to get through these days, right?
Things have been going on that I didn’t notice.
Ford and GM have both announced production increases. Ford focused on its lowest priced vechicles. GM focused on its truck production in Indiana. Both moves are attempts to offset expected losses coming from the Trump tariffs.
The measles outbreak in Texas continues growing. 481 total cases, with 59 new cases over the last three days. Five states now report outbreaks. An outbreak in Mexico is related to the Texas outbreak.
Oil prices have dropped to their lowest in three years. Oil prices are softer because energy companies expect less demand due to economic downturns. Those downturns are associated with less manufacturing production, a decrease in international trade, and a drop in travel to and from the United States.
It can mean some good news for people. Gas prices have dropped and will drop more in the short term. Watching how the mounting problems at national parks, such as closures, no trash pick up, reduced staffing, and congestion caused by those things, will affect travel as the weather warms in the United States.
Several articles which pointed out major problems with PINO Trump’s trade war. All are classic errors. No exit strategy; a poorly defined enemy; no clear terms for victory. These factors sank multiple efforts to change things in decades past. If Trump fails — or when he fails — he’ll blame others. His family’s motto is, “It’s not my fault.”
Despite the great Jobs Report, layoffs spiked by 205% last month. This represents the third-highest monthly total ever recorded.
Floofrimonialism (floofinition) – Form of rule among, over, or by animals based on favoritism. Origins: Max Floofer (Floofconomy and Floofciety, 1920)
In Use: “When it came to the animals, they all recognized that Sharon was in charge, and floofrimonialism soon became evident; the animals paid little attention to what Geoff said, while flooftowing to all of Sharon’s commands.”
In Use: “Sam and Dave practiced floofrimonialism and didn’t allow anyone except their chosen people to pet or touch them.”
Sunshine broke on through, just as the doors urged. Frieda, April 4, 2025 is a windy, sunny, warm spring day. High and thin clouds scrub some blue sheen of the sky. It’s 52 F and heading to the high sixties.
Papi the ginger blade was so happy. At first. Prancing into a sunshine pool, he washed and lounged. Then, wind ruffled his fur and pushed his ears around. The little Butter Butt pressed to come in, pronto.
A shopping day is planned. Our household subjects have veered between Trump’s impact on our personal finances and situation to buying a bidet attachment or something. “Should we get an attachment or a seat?” my wife asks. She’s rethinking herself.
“I’ll research and report back,” I reply.
“I’m not even going to look at my 401K,” she says. She means that. I will discreetly check it for her. Keep the results to myself. Mine has lost about twelve percent of its value. My other stock holdings have dropped ten percent. It’s early, though. I consider divesting all.
Today’s strong jobs report surprised me. But, then again, no. I’ve read of substantial business closings. Layoffs and terminations. Food traffic down in stores. Sales down. I’ve not read of any companies gushing, “Look, we’re hiring! Woo hoo!” Trump’s administration puts out those jobs numbers. He’s a known liar. So are the lackeys populating his regime. I’m sure they looked at the first set of numbers and told one another, “Oh, no, we can’t publish those. He’ll fire us all.” So they doctored the jobs number to look good.
PINO Trump tweeted about it this morning. Sorry, he X’d about it. “GREAT JOB NUMBERS, FAR BETTER THAN EXPECTED. IT’S ALREADY WORKING.”
What does he think is already working? Farmers are being hit, Federal workers have been shelved, tourism has dropped and is expected to drop more. The stock market keeps dropping…well, if you’re not in the Trumphosphere, you know. Projections are not rosy. First quarter reports are going to be interesting.
A friend added comments yesterday to one of my posts. They linked to a Jimi Hendrix song, “Still Raining, Still Dreaming”. Hearing that provoked The Neurons to begin different Jimi Hendrix Experience songs in my head. I ended up with “Stone Free” in the morning mental music stream. The song coincides with my urge to take a trip, see the coast. I’ve been working on my wife for such a trip. Her stars aren’t yet aligned enough. That doesn’t stop me from joining Hendrix to sing, “I got to, got to, got to get away right now.” But I’ll hold on for my other to be ready.
Difficult to find a good video of “Stone Free”. I went with this one, despite its sound glitches. I enjoy the members playing and seeing Hendrix’s fast, meticulous playing.
Coffee has made its morning visit to my body. I’m rockin’ and arollin’. Hope you have an awesome experience today, wherever you are. Cheers
It’s Trump’s morning in America.
“The stock market is down over fourteen hundred points,” my wife greets me.
“Hey girl,” I answer. “Good morning.”
If my wife seems gleeful about the stock market, it’s because she’s angry. Bottom line, she’s in the FAFO camp. Reads ‘The Leopard Ate My Face’ tales daily. Spoons up all those tales about Trump supporters and apologists who are now Trump victims.
Trump said he would do tariffs when he ran for POTUS in 2024. Professional economists have almost all agreed, bad, bad, bad, bad, terrible idea. Trump always thinks he knows better than everyone else. He usually doesn’t. I mean, this is the guy who bankrupted a casino.
Facts don’t matter to Trump. You knew that if you watched his tariff announcement yesterday. He displayed a chart with bogus tariff info. It shows tariffs imposed on U.S. goods. Almost all those supposed tariffs by other countries are inflated by significant amounts.
With almost no surprise, then, worldwide markets dropped after his tariffs announcement.
Some people rationalize what Trump is doing as necessary. They prophesize Trump’s tariffs will bring jobs back to the United States. Factories will spring up like mushrooms after a rain across the nation. And those factories won’t use robotics, as many modern factories do. No, they will employ human, American workers. Even though the U.S. must import many of the raw and finished materials used in modern products, imported materials which will be high-priced due to Trump tariffs, those goods produced in these new factories will be amazingly cheap because they’re made in the U.S.A. There won’t be any profit taking and price gouging, because that’s not how corporations work in the United States. And the workers in those factories will be magnificently compensated for their hourly labor because companies in the United States are known to generously pay hourly employees. Why, it’ll be the greatest economy ever!
If you believe all that, I have an automobile manufacturing plant in Ashlandia to sell you.
Michael Seidel, writer 