Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofpunk (floofinition) – Often shortened to flunk, floofpunk is a retrofuturistic discipline of writing that incorporates technology, societies, and stories as imagined and created by animals.
In use: “Floofpunk, or flunk, can incorporate elements of magic and is rooted in animals’ take on how the world might be if animals ruled. It is not, however, merely tales in which animals talk and rule, such as The Lion King, but must include some elements of animals living in societies as humans do.”
Electric Floof Orchestra (EFO) (floofinition) – Floof rock (flock) band from Floofingham who fused a floof pop (flop) with orchestral arrangements and flock overtones. Formed in 1970, they achieved global floofstream popularity by the mid 1970s.
In use: “Electric Floof Orchestra, often called EFO, or El Floofo, recorded multiple albums, having hits such as “Can’t Get it Out of My Fur”, “Floof Magic”, “Floof A Little Love”, and “Don’t Floof Me Down”, in the seventies.”
I’m in the midst of a rebellion this morning. It began when my mind shouted, “No more news! Just back away for a little bit. Please do it. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Carefully, I backed away from my mind, eyeing it as I did, trying to gauge its temperament. “Is everything okay?” An innocuous question, I thought.
Too innocuous. “Is everything okay?” My mind launched into a rant that went in every direction at once. I let it rant, biding my time, until the rant petered out for lack of oxygen.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. No Facebook for a bit.”
“For the day!”
“Fine, fine, and no news? Really? You want to — “
“Stop.” My mind’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to guilt me, dude. I won’t have it.”
“I’m not trying to guilt you.”
My mind scoffed. “Sure. Who do you think you’re talking to? Your asshole? I’m your mind, baby. I know you better than you know me.”
I’ve been in these situations before. Time and space were demanded, needed. I would accommodate my mind. “Okay, then. What sort of theme song should I use today?”
My mind glowered for moments. Dark emotions flit over its face. Suddenly, like sunshine had burst through, he brightened. “Spin Doctors. “Little Miss Miss”, 1992.”
“Really?” I remembered when it came out. I was stationed at Onizuka AFB, then called an Air Station, in Sunnyv —
“Stop.”
“What?”
“No trips down memory lane. I don’t want to do any of that bullshit today. Just play the song and write the post.”
I nodded. “Okay, chum, you got it.”
My mind faked a gag. “Don’t call me chum.”
And that’s how today’s theme music selection was made.
He used to be a believer, but then he’d drifted away. Yet the thoughts were on his mind that God is great and everywhere. The lake’s cool majesty amidst the mountainous green serenity prompted such thoughts every year.
It was an annual tradition (twenty-six years, he realized, although he usually had others with him — his wife, most years, but his daughter (and then her boyfriend and husband) a few times). Still, he took care as he backed the boat trailer into the water. After releasing the boat from the trailer, he tied boat to the dock with a the rope, returned to the truck and pulled the truck up out of the water. Pausing to catch a momentary breath (he was eighty-nine years old, for crying out loud), he gazed into the clearing sky and smiled at the day, and then ordered himself, quit dawdling, and turned briskly back to the lake.
His jaw dropped. The boat was drifting out into the lake. But he’d tied it off. What the heck. Rushing down toward the water, he saw another boater veer in his direction. In a moment, the stranger had wrangled his boat and returned it to him. “Looks like your rope broke,” the woman said. Thanking her, he nodded agreement.
His wife arrived as the savior in the boat pulled away. He’d been expecting his wife for the last hour. Frazzled looking, she explained that she’d had a flat tire. “I was trying to find Cathy’s place, and I wasn’t sure about where I was going, but when I pulled onto the main road, the tire just blew.”
She was in the middle of nowhere (with no bars on her cell), but she was capable, even if she is seventy-five; she set about changing it. Unfortunately, the little tool provided by Subaru was insufficient for her to turn the nuts. Just as she wondered what the heck she was going to do, a man and his son arrived in their Chevy. Within a few minutes, they’d dug out a toolbox, found a wrench and swapped out tires. Thanks was all they’d take in exchange for their work.
A hectic morning, both agreed. It could’ve been worse, but these were minor problems, given the world’s state. Still, as easily as they were resolved, they must have had a guardian angel watching over them that day, and for that, they were thankful.
Floof Lizzy (floofinition) – Irish hard floof rock (flock) band, formed in 1969, and active with different lineups off and on since its formation until the present day.
In use: “Floof Lizzy’s use of twin lead guitars in “The Floofs Are Back in Town Again” made it popular among guitar flock fans.”
Back to life for today’s music.
Reading, hearing, and thinking about many black people’s comments yesterday and this morning, I realize (again, sadly) how often they live in tension and fear.
Yet, so many whites do as well – as witnessed by them recorded on videos calling police on blacks just because they’re black.
Blacks have a foundation for their fears; we’ve seen too many videos of police applying unnecessary force and violence on black people, or white people getting away with violence against black people, because, white…black.
As we watch and protest, counter-protest, or hold our breaths and wait, I thought about people and praying, and stumbled into Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ On A Prayer” (1986). The song is about a couple who have nothing but each other, who are hoping to make it together. As noted many times, the song was written during the Reagan era as trickle-down economics were touted. As we know, trickle-down is a bullshit theory that enables the wealthy to get wealthier and provides a cop-out to others, permitting them to issue tax cuts to the wealthy without remorse. (Yeah, and it certainly worked during the coronaivirus in America, as the wealthier managed to increase their wealth while a huge swath of Americans struggle between buying food or paying rent/house payments.)
Anyway…
Seems like, with high-unemployment, a corrupt Republican administration, continuing police brutality and militarization, protests, looting, riots, and then natural disasters AND the novel coronavirus, many in the United States are living on a prayer.
And that’s why it’s today’s theme music.
It was late November in 2015, just a few days after Thanksgiving. Prompted by a dream, he sat and write. It seemed so outlandish and shocking, he shared it with nobody.
His dream said that Donald Trump would be the President of the United States. At that point, many were laughing at him and his crude, ridiculous bombastic declarations as he demanded President Obama’s birth certificate, and lied. It seemed impossible that he would be POTUS, but the dream whisperer said, “It’s gonna happen.”
In 2020, an epidemic would sweep the world, the dream whisperer said, forcing people to wear masks and stay inside their homes; businesses would shut down. “It’s gonna happen,” the dream whisperer insisted, continuing, that some, driven by the President Trump’s false promises, scoffing remarks, and refusal to heed the advice himself, would disbelieve and refuse to follow the science and medical advisors. The nation’s divisiveness would increase, shocking the citizens and the world.
The final nails would come from escalating violence, the dream whisperer said. As President Trump bullied, so his followers bullied. As he called for violence and to be tough and cruel, so his followers did as he said, acting under the umbrella of being Christians, while demonstrating nothing of traditional Christian principles.
So he saw in 2015, scenes in dreams that shock and dismayed him. Still, he’d written them down, mostly in amusement back then. Surely, it would never be that bad.
But one early June night in 2020, he had another dream. Driven awake, he pulled out the vision from 2015 and reviewed its contents. He’d not be able to believe it; it seemed so stunning and impossible, like a throwback to an earlier era of troubled times in the United States. Hadn’t they evolved past all of those things? Yes, he’d believed they had; that’s why the dream was so difficult to believe. Yet, here they were as a nation…
And now he had a new dream to write, one where he saw where they’d be in 2024. It seemed so different, so impossible because of where they were now —
But that’s exactly how he’d reacted in 2015.
And so, he began to write. History does repeat itself. Sometimes, some of it is good.
At least, that’s what the dream whisperer said.
