Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Trump keeps trying to dodge the truth. The UK won’t let them.
While driving on an errand, I heard a radio DJ — do they still call them that? — talking about boomers. “Boomers hate the word seniors and are out to change it,” she said. “Sorry, boomers, but you can’t. You must own what you are.”
I laughed. I’m a boomer. “Sorry, sugar,” I answered the radio. “I’m a boomer. I don’t need to do anything. I can make up and apply terms and use them as I want. Says so on the net. Just ask Trump. He’s always making things up.” Of course, Trump makes things up in a bad way. I think I do it in a good way.
For the record, I’m not a senior. Nor do I ‘age’. I’m leveling up, as in a video or internet game. The higher your level, the rarer and more special you are. I think this works, as it aligns with some thinking that reality might be a cosmic video game, a simulacrum.
For the record, I’ve at level 69. Mom celebrates level 90 next month and Dad celebrates level 93.
Floofllantis (floofinition) – To brighten a space or existence with an animal’s representation or presence. Origins: Floof Marketing PLC, 1999.
In Use: “During the pandemic, when people were urged to stay home and many businesses were shuttered, the popularity of floofllantis grew, resulting in a large increase in housepets.”
In Use: “Realizing how the Internet could be employed to enhance animals’ situations, Floof Marketing PLC launched the first floofllantis campaign, urging existing housepets to act silly, cute, loving, or interesting to entice their hoomans to share videos on the net.”
I dreamed that my wife and I and several family members were traveling together. Just ending a journey together, we arrived at my house. This was a tiny but crowded place with bare cinder block walls. Included among my family was a sister and one of her daughters, and several of her grandchildren.
I was first into the house. Getting in there, I discovered a full-grown cheetah in our house. My arms were full of grocery bags, limiting what I could do. My dream brain said something like, “Holy shit, there’s a cheetah in the house.” The house was a friggin’ mess, so cluttered with junk that I struggled to walk across the floor. As I did try to walk across the floor, the cheetah gently took hold of my shirt tail in its mouth and tried pulling me in another direction.
My wife and others entered. I warned them, “There’s a cheetah in here.” They didn’t seem to pay attention but I continued, “I think he wants me to feed him. I don’t know if it’s male, to be honest, but I think he’s trying to pull me toward his food.”
That’s what the cheetah did seem to be doing. I talked to it like it was my housepet, explaining that I’d feed him in a second, but I needed to put things down and food his food first. Whenever I’d go toward where I thought the food was, the cheetah would get happy and chirp small, high-pitched mews at me. But if I turned away from its food, it’d would swat at me. Never with true menace, but still, it’s a cheetah.
Sometimes I would swear. Then a second sister, who’d joined without being noticed, would remind me of little ones being present, and I’d apologize. My niece’s husband also joined us, making my place very crowded. All through this, the cheetah paid no attention to anyone except me. Meanwhile, I kept asking the cheetah, “How did you get in here?” The dream ended as I reached for food to give the cheetah.
The cool night air feels like autumn. But a summer sun gets up and flexes. Blue skies clear of cloud debris help. It’s about 60 F now but we’ll cruise into the low to mid 80s F today.
It’s not just the temperature that informs on the warring seasons. Trees are shifting their leaves. The sun’s approach comes through the southeastern windows in the dining room, then leans back toward the east as the sun clears mountains and trees. Yes, it’s Wenzda, September 17, 2025, and autumn is coming.
I spoke with Dad yesterday. He sounded much better. As he probably wouldn’t survive surgery, he’ll need to recover from his fall injuries through rest and time. He told me that they project that will take six to eight months. In the meantime, he can’t put any weight on his left foot due to the pain it causes.
Today’s music comes from pulling threads. First, I was pulling threads on a dream, asking what a cheetah in a dream means. Then I pulled threads on the plot and characters in a novel in progress. Out of all that came No Doubt’s 1995 song, “Just A Girl”. I see exactly why The Neurons pulled the song into the morning mental music stream after entangling with the Writer and Dream Neurons.
In political news, Trump is in Europe. Well, UK. Polls show he’s growing tres unpopular. That, along with his increasing instability, which we’ve repeatedly witness, will cause him to lash out more and pretend more, like he did when releasing another image of himself as a superhero, which is 180 degrees from who he is. TACO will abuse his office of power more, threaten his enemies and allies more, and tell us all how great and wonderful he is, that he’s our favorite president. Deep down, he knows he’s a piece of garbage but doesn’t care because, thanks to being POTUS, he’s growing richer and more powerful. Some think he worries excessively about the Epstein files being released. I speculate that he knows all the soft and hard data on the economy is pointing to an ugly truth, that he was wrong, and he’s going to be proven wrong, and as that happens, even his most staunch supporters will quietly abandon him.
Coffee is dashing through my bod, delivering its caffeine goodness. Hope you make acquiantance with peace and grace today and it turns into a long relationship. Here we go, into the great wide open. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 