Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Posse Floofmitatus (floofinition) – Animals’ right and ability to summon others to their aid in preserving peace against criminal acts and to find, detain, and arrest offenders.
In use: “Before human domination arose, posse floofmatatus was used to by many world regions, with most animals as signatories, but human tendencies and cultural differences disrupted the legal framework, leaving species to mostly fend for themselves.”
If this is Friday, then this must be September 17, 2021. At least I hope so. Otherwise I have one of them wrong. Then I’d need to ponder the whys of screwing up the date and/or missing time. Hate when that happens. Was it a worm hole? Alien abduction? Overfamiliarity with beer or wine?
Sunrise was a pleasant gentle rise of an orange glow. Orange because of the smoke effect. Came at 6:53 AM. We expect sunrise at 7:17 PM. Today’s high will be eighty-ish F. Air quality is Moderate to Unhealthy, fluxing around 97 to 110 so far this AM. A wind can change it all. Rains are forecast for later today — probably won’t come in until night — with more rain and much cooler temperatures — like upper sixties/low seventies — at our house. Can you say Fall?
A mellow song has fluttered into the morning’s mental music stream. Came about while feeding the cats. First I was singing them an actual cartoon theme song. Don’t know if you’re familiar with Underdog. I was singing that song but with lyrics contorted as “Thundercat”, an homage to the black and white streak that Tucker Cat, aka Thundercat, made as he thundered around. You know, “Speedy claws, meows of thunder, fighting all who sleep and slumber. Thundercat, Thundecat.” Once that song was purged, I went on with Steely Dan and “FM (No Static at All)” from 1978. Instead of singing the original lyrics, I sang, “Worry the kibble Mamma, form a breakfast line. Kick off your velvet claws, it’s eating time.” Yeah, makes as much sense as the original lyrics.
Worry the bottle Mamma, it’s grapefruit wine
Kick off your high heel sneakers, it’s party time
The girls don’t seem to care what’s on
As long as they play till dawn
Nothin’ but blues and Elvis
And somebody else’s favorite song
Give her some funked up music, she treats you nice
Feed her some hungry reggae, she’ll love you twice
The girls don’t seem to care tonight
As long as the mood is right
h/t to AZLyrics.com
Time to drink coffee. Remember, stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Let’s be careful out there. (From Hill Street Blues). Here’s the muzak. Cheers
Floofnacular (floofinition) – Animal’s ordinary speech and language which is specific to regions or species.
In use: “Although Max was bilingual, the dog sometimes confused what the cat, Snuffy, meant, due to differences in the floofnacular, but both continued learning and the differences didn’t prevent them from napping together. Nap was the same in both floofnaculars.”
Kuma Flooftra (floofinition) – Ancient book providing animals with guidance on sleeping positions, sexual positions, and general well-being.
In use: “Grace embraced the Kuma Flooftra after the cat showed it to her, testing new sleeping positions and following tips such as eating grass, but the beagle shied away from the sexual positions. After all, she had been ‘fixed’.”
Infloofdelity (floofinition) – 1. A pet’s unfaithfulness to a single person or household.
In use: “Batman was originally Wade’s Corgi but after he started dating Lesley, the dog showed astonishing infloofdelity, jumping onto her lap and settling down with a smug look in Wade’s direction.”
2. A person’s unfaithfulness to one pet.
In use: “Carrie made space on her lap as she did every evening when she sat to read but instead of Jade leaping onto her lap, Crystal showed up, leaving Jade staring daggers at the shocking infloofdelity.”
Floofsteading (floofinition) – The space and adjacent area claimed by an animal as their private zone.
In use: “The cat was always floofsteading on whatever location he thought people wanted to sit — the desk chair in the office, a dining room chair when dinner was ready, the recliner when everyone moved into the family room to watch TV.”
Good morning. Welcome to Saturday, September 11, 2021. Sunrise came at 6:46 AM. Sunset will be at 7:29 PM.
Gorgeous outside right now. Very excited for that. AQI is 34. Code green! Was also that low last night, prompting me to do a long walk, for which my body thanked me. Been so long that we’ve had such clean air to breath. Ah, to be able to open a window and let in fresh, cool air. To look out and be able to see the green mountains and blue sky again. It’s the little details that sustain us.
Temperatures are also cooperating. We expect highs in the low 80s. Couple with the overnight lows in the sixties and the rain remnants from two nights ago, and the ingredients of a delightful fall day come together. It’s a good day to think about who you are and look forward to who you can be and what you can do. Move the needle.
The mental music stream has “Follow Me” by Uncle Kracker (2001) running. I know, odd choice. Compelled by cats, I tell you. They were awaiting the royal feeding. I called out, “Hungry?” “Yes,” they answered. “Follow me for food,” I answered. “Come on, follow me.”
I started walking. They followed. By then, my neurons had linked with the words, “Follow me.” The association was made and the song began.
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get a vax. Drink coffee. That’s what I’m going to do. Here’s the music. Cheers
Floofpremacist (floofinition) – Person or animal who believes animals are inherently superior to other beings and should have control over them as well as greater privileges.
In use: “Being a floofpremacist, the dog refused to accept that mere people could sit on the furniture while he, an animal, was forced to stay on the floor. Thus, whenever given the chance, he asserted his rights and got right up there on the furniture.”
It was two A.M. The bladder mumbled something. Didn’t need to hear exactly. Knowing what he wanted, I ambled through sleep and dark to the voiding station. A precipitation orchestra was tuning up. Plink plink. Plink.
Rain. By the time my bladder had finished his business, a solid downpour was underway. The cats and I — my flooftourage had followed me, of course (what’s he doing, where’s he going?) — slipped to a door to enjoy the rain and fresh air. But the smoke remained, thick as oatmeal, scratching at my eyes and nose. Still, it had rained.
Today is Friday, September 10, 2021, the second of four Fridays in September. We will have five Wednesday and Thursdays in September. A tepid imitation of sunrise took place at 6:45 AM. Last night gave us an an almost normal sunset as the smoke cleared enough for standardized views. Who will know tonight? The smoke comes from all directions. If you want to see the sunset in Ashland, look west — outside or through a window — at 7:29 PM.
The Dutch band, Golden Earring, had a 1982 hit called “Twilight Zone”. The song begins with a man talking. Then he says, “It’s two A.M.” The vocalist then begins singing with that line, “It’s two A.M.” He then goes on, “The fear has gone, I’m sitting here waiting, the gun’s still warm, maybe my connection is tired of taking chances.”
More lyrics (h/t AZLyrics.com):
Yeah there’s a storm on the loose, sirens in my head
Wrapped up in silence, all circuits are dead
Cannot decode, my whole life spins into a frenzy
Help I’m steppin’ into the twilight zone
Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned
My beacon’s been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go, now that I’ve gone too far
Help I’m steppin’ into the twilight zone
Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned
My beacon’s been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go, now that I’ve gone too far
Soon you will come to know
When the bullet hits the bone
Soon you will come to know
When the bullet hits the bone
I’m falling down the spiral, destination unknown
Double-crossed messenger, all alone
Can’t get no connection, can’t get through, where are you
Well the night weighs heavy on his guilty mind
This far from the borderline
When the hitman comes
He knows damn well he has been cheated
It’s all about wondering who you are, what’s going on. Whether you’re losing your connection with reality. What’s going to happen next.
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Enjoy your Friday. Fetch me a coffee, please. Never mind, I’ll get it myself. Here’s the music.
Cheers
I awoke at about half past darkness with a dream in mind. Realized that I was writing in my dream.
I went over what I’d written. Considered rising to capture it. Decided not to. Resumed sleep.
Awoke in the morning. Went through dreams while doing light exercising and stretching. Daily ritual. The cats assumed the position. Stared fixedly with misery. Tucker seized a more active approach. Moved over and sat on my foot. Looked up at me. Eyes big. Waiting. Expectant. Give a little, “Mello,” in a friendly baritone.
Done with exercising, feeding cats was necessary before starvation took them. We went down the hall, they with eager anticipation, me with resignation. Cleaned out bowls — “You never even finished what I fed you last night” — opened a can. Doled out the wet food. Refilled the kibble stations. Cleaned and filled the water stations.
Coffee was brewed. Before it finished, I was back with the dream writing stuff. Headed to the computer. Wrote for an hour. Surprising how fresh and clear it had remained. Got up when my Fitbit reminded me that it was time to move. Remembered my coffee. Now cold. Drank some anyway. My taste buds immediately sent notices that this was unacceptable. I nuked the coffee hot. The taste buds were appalled.
Writing in my head was still happening. Hadn’t eaten yet but the muses were strong. So, despite the stomach’s increasingly vocal demands, I made fresh coffee and returned to the keyboard. Got back into the rhythm.
Half the coffee remains. It’s almost cold. Mug radiates an ant watt of warmth. Taste buds are not overly pleased with the dark fluid’s progress over their realm.
But it all works. Coffee and dreams. At least, today. Time to eat, according to my stomach. Get some real coffee, too, the taste buds request. Something hot and dark, please.
Michael Seidel, writer 