Flooftronage

Flooftronage (floofinition) – The support or influence of an animal honored, chosen, or named as a special protector, supporter, or guardian. Origins: 1707, from The Book of Floofs & Other Mysteries.

In Use: “Bogart’s flooftronage was apparent the first day Megan was brought home, approving her with a thorough sniffing, warming the infant with his furry body, attentive to every cry and motion she made, ready to defend her against the world and oversee her upbreaking.”

Mundaz Wandering Political Thoughts

My Inner Cynic cracked their eyes opened and cackled. “Huh.”

“What?” I asked.

“I just thought of something.”

That wasn’t news. The Inner Cynic thinks of something two, three hundred times a day. Yet, here they are, saying it like it was important news.

Honestly, I was annoyed. I’d gone back to an article pointed out by Nan the other day: The Anger Games: Who Voted for Donald Trump in the 2016 Election, and Why. After reading it lightly once, I was reading it again as The Neurons pondered the articles’ points, such as this one.

Our starting point is the hypothesis that prejudice is fueled more by aggressiveness than by submissiveness, and that it is accompanied by the wish for a domineering leader who will punish the “undeserving.” This wish is clearly authoritarian in the original sense, but we give the notion of authoritarianism a fresh spin. In contrast to most of the established theories, we posit that people with authoritarian tendencies follow domineering leaders less for the pleasure of submission than for the pleasure of forcing moral outsiders to submit. Vicarious participation in the domination and punishment of out-groups is a core part of the authoritarian wish to follow a domineering leader. Hence, to activate this wish, leaders must be punitive and intolerant. Authoritarianism is not the wish to follow any and every authority but, rather, the wish to support a strong and determined authority who will “crush evil and take us back to our true path.” Authorities who reject intolerance are anathema, and must be punished themselves.

Yes, I understood that. Trump obviously and clearly sharply embraced the idea. It’s one of his central policy pillars, sharing space with “Love and obey me,” “Don’t trust Democrats,” “Facts are fake news and don’t trust the media,” “Fuck you, I’m getting mine,” and “Violence is peace.”

The inner cynic said, “Well, what if Trump is blustering and threatening those other countries to provoke them back into attacking us?” As The Neurons stewed on this, the Inner Cynic continued, “You keep thinking that Trump hasn’t learned lessons from the history. But that’s on his own. The Heritage Foundation is propping him up and guiding him. They know history. They know how popular George W. Bush became after terrorists attacked the United States on 9/11. His approval ratings shot up overnight. Then almost everyone rolled over to give him (and Dick Cheney) whatever they wanted in the name of patriotism.”

“Yes, and that culminated in those disastrous wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

The Inner Cynic chortled. “Yes, and you remember that. You also remember that you were furious when revelations came out later about how the United States was conned into war. You were mad because you saw it coming and predicted it. Then people responded to the revelations with statements like, ‘they fooled us all.'”

“That’s right. They didn’t fool us all. I wasn’t alone in that. I was following Krugman, Olbermann, and other, even Colin Powell, who was against the war before he was for it. That Bush Administration was using information from the intel source known as curveball because he was always lying, for god’s sake. People were acting like brainless zombies.”

“That’s the point, though. How many Americans will remember that crap? You pointed out that the terrorist attacks were a result of failed American policy where we secretly killed people and manipulated others in secret.”

“Again, that wasn’t me, I just — “

“Tut, tut,” my Inner Cynic interrupted. “Let me finish. The point, to finish, is that you think Trump is doing the same thing without realizing what happened before.”

“Right. Because Trump is pretty damn dim.”

“Yes, but the Heritage Foundation folks aren’t. They’re the ones advising, guiding, and goading him. They’re the ones who put stupid, unprincipled people in charge of various departments, people like Noem, Hegseth, Kennedy, Bessent, Miller, Patel, who will do whatever the fuck Trump orders, regardless of law, logic, and precedence.

“There is a reason why there are no guard rails in 47’s Regime. And there’s a reason for the constant chaos and impulsiveness.

“And there’s a reason for his saber rattling.”

Closing their eyes, the Inner Cynic sat back. “And that’s why Trump doesn’t care about falling approval ratings. That’s why he doesn’t give a shit about the laws, the government shutdown, starvation, or inflation. Why he doesn’t care about accountability. He’s going to keep attacking other groups and nations with limited military force until one of them makes the mistake of attacking us back, giving him a firm reason to unleash the full force of the U.S. Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines. And Congress will approve it because the homeland was attacked, and the MAGAts will roar their approval, and all those other low-informed people who don’t pay attention will roar right along with them.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” I answered.

The Inner Cynic smiled. “We’ll see.”

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

I have been reminded of how privileged I am. How easily I succumb to convenience.

I’m back in my regular drive. Mazda CX-5. Nothing fancy, we’ve had it for ten years. It’s packed 64,000 miles around its waist. The thing about this, though, are the automatic creature comfort features. And the key.

When we were visiting family in the Pittsburgh, PA, region, we trundled around in an older Toyota RAV4. Fine car but nothing special. But it lacked things like a key FOB that let me unlock doors just by pressing a button as I walked up to the car. The FOB permits me to start the Mazda without taking the key out of my pocket.

Man, did I miss that. I ended up putting the RAV4 keys in and out, out and in of pockets multiple times across the day. Oh, the horrors, right? But see, this is a matter of connections. With the FOB, I stick it in my left pants pocket and leave it there. With this RAV4 key, I was constantly putting it into a pocket or setting it down somewhere and then asking myself, where is that fucking key?

Wife and I approach car. It’s cold. About 40 F. Gray, with a light drizzle falling.

ME: “Wait.”

“What?”

“I can’t find the key.”

Wife stands, stares, waiting, not tapping her foot but looking like she’s on the verge.

Pockets are patted and felt, squeezed, then reached into it. “Here it is.”

My wife’s restrained look called me IDIOT so loudly, it hurt my brain.

One time I got out of the car to put gas into it. When I returned, it’s like, OMG, where is that damn key? Pat pockets again and again, dive into them…”Oh, here it is.” Damn it.

It was one of those big, long keys on a clunky handle. The key itself could be swung close to make it ‘more compact’. That was good because otherwise that thing gets caught on clothing. You press a button to flick it out, like a switchblade knife. This all required additional thinking about what I was doing, soaking up Neurons’ limited attention.

Me: “Where’s the key?”

Neurons: “We don’t know.”

Me, looking around and feeling pockets. “No one knows?”

Neurons: “We weren’t pay attention.”

Me: “Here it is.”

The button is clicked. The long key extends. I unlock the door. Put the key back into pocket. Get into car. Go to start it by putting my foot on the brake and pressing a button. The button is missing.

Neurons: “Dude, what are you doing?”

Me: “Trying to start the car.”

“You need the key. You must put it in the ignition and turn it.”

“Oh, yeah. Where’s the key?”

Neurons: “We don’t know.”

Thank tech that I’m back home where I just stick the FOB into my pocket and forget it.

I’m very, very good at forgetting.

Mundaz Theme Music

A thin grey cloud layer is sliding in. Eastern sunshine sings off the dwindling golden leaves hanging on the neighborhood trees. Autumn has a firm grip on Munda, November 3, 2025, in Ashlandia. 50 F, showers are going to visit amid an attempt to reach 62 F.

Sis made stuffed green peppers with the final harvest from her garden. The peppers were smallish, she said. Gave two to Mom with mashed taters. Mom ate one pepper and all of her potatoes, so she was rewarded with a cookie for dessert. Mom has been sharper, and sis, conversing with Mom, reports that Mom barely recalls what happened in the week in which Frank died. Mom acknowledged to several of us that it was a deeper shock than she realized. I think she’s happy to be out of the house where she and Frank spent more than twenty years together between their dating and living arrangements. I know from losses that every look around a corner and usual routine delivers a stab of painful realization about the loss. I’m like Mom so I believe that’s what she was feeling. And that pattern rocks emotions and disrupts focus. Prying her from her home was a good move. I think Mom even is beginning to realize that.

Sis is talking about putting a stair glide in her house for Mom. Sis’s house is a split level. Mom is in the lower level. A stair glide would provide her with more independence. While true, I worry that more independence and movement will also provide Mom with more falling opportunities. Fingers crossed, I’m wrong if the stair glide is installed.

Today’s theme music is “Blue Monday” by New Order. You must address questions about it to The Neurons. I was minding my own business as I went about the biznez of breakfast when The Neurons put it into the morning mental music stream. Here’s the part that was bumping through the MMMS.

How does it feel
To treat me like you do?
When you’ve laid your hands upon me
And told me who you are?

I thought I was mistaken
I thought I heard your words
Tell me, how do I feel?
Tell me now, how do I feel?

Those who came before me
Lived through their vocations
From the past until completion
They’ll turn away no more

h/t to Bing.

Been a full month since the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 began, hasn’t it? Sure, started October 1, 2025, didn’t it? Trump has been too busy golfing and partying to end this shutdown. It’s like he’s channeling the spirit of his old smirking partner, Jeffrey Epstein.

As Donald Trump said about a shutdown before:

I mean, problems start from the top and they have to get solved from the top. And the president’s the leader and he’s got to get everybody in a room and he’s got to lead. And he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t like doing that. That’s not his strength.

Like a stopped clock, Trump is right: the problems of this country start with him. He’s not a leader. It’s not his strength. He can’t even get everybody in a room.

I read about Trump complaining about the NFL’s revised kickoff rules introduced last season.

“I HATE WATCHING THE NFL’S NEW KICK OFF RULE,” Trump wrote.

“IT’S RIDICULOUS — TAKES THE PAGEANTRY AND GLAMOUR AWAY FROM THE GAME, AND DOES NOTHING FOR SAFETY.

“THEY SHOULD CHANGE BACK TO WHAT IT USED TO BE. HOPEFULLY COLLEGE FOOTBALL WILL NEVER MAKE THIS RIDICULOUS CHANGE! IN THE MEANTIME, I’M GETTING READY TO WATCH PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP (ME!) ON 60 MINUTES.”

Well, one, it’s RIDICULOUS HOW HE TYPES IN ALL CAPS. Two, if it’s so offensive, turn it off. As I did you, on 60 Minutes.

Does Trump have a point about the NFL kickoff rules. Well, I bow to his extensive football career.

Donald J. Trump football record by position, including regular and post season, professional, amateur and coaching, by year and results.

(This space intentionally left blank)

It compares favorably with his RIDICULOUS MILITARY SERVICE RECORD, doesn’t it?

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Very impressive.

Gotta go on to other things. Watching for peace and grace’s arrival through the front window. Should be here any minute now. I’ll just have some coffee while I wait. Cheers

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