Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Nihfloofism (floofinition) – Viewpoint that existence is senseless and useless without an animal’s companionship. Origins: 1812, Floofman Nihfloofsmus, from the Flooftin.
In Use: “Without recognizing it, nihfloofism creeps into their life as they find a floof friend who becomes their best and most consistent, trusted friend.”
In Use: “Marco soon realized that nihfloofism dominated his mother’s existence, and was slowly overtaking his own life after he rescued a kitten he named Toby.”
Floofogenarian (floofinition) – An older person with an animal or animals. Origins: First known use in 1744.
In Use: “The Railroad District was a serious of very square blocks of houses built in the 1930 filled with floofogenarians who shared their homes with cats and dogs.”
My wife was stewing. “Papi changed his routine today. For some reason, he suddenly wanted outside at 4:22, more than two hours before his usual time. I don’t know what’s going on but there he was, scratching on the door, yipping at me because he couldn’t wake you up.”
Between us, I had been awakened but ignored the floofcas Papi was causing because I didn’t want to get up.
I thought of the reasons why Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt, changed his hours. May have been a bowel movement thing. Papi prefers to use the outdoors as his toilet, frequenting the area by the fence behind the bushes.
But, him being a cat, perhaps he heard noises outside and felt a need to investigate. Conversely, maybe he realized the noises were coming from inside the house and decided that the outside was safer.
Other ideas are possible. Flooflight savings time may have kicked in. From what I understand from floofotologists, floofs are notoriously independent about FST. Each decides when they’ll switch over — or if they won’t switch at all. Often, though, once one floof changes to FST, other housefloofs do the same. After all they don’t want to miss out by falling an hour behind their floofmate, cause food. They’d rather get up an hour early rather than missing out on food.
I can respect that.
Someone must’ve pressed the ‘misty’ button on today’s weather menu. 44 F, cloudy, drizzly, misty, a little sunny, the high will jump to 51, 52 F. Not a bad day, just not particularly inspiring or uplifting, here in Ashlandia.
Fortunately, I experienced uplifting, energizing dreams. Returning from them to here was a rough landing. There, I was supremely happy, eager for the day, embracing the future. Here…everything is knotted with uncertainty, fused with irritation and frustration. I keep telling myself that this too must pass. It presently feels like empty rhetoric.
Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt, is doing fab, busying himself around us, scampering about with tail up, sometimes punctuating the moment with his high pitched meep. That sound gifted him his original name of Meep. My SO ordered a change. Didn’t think Meep conveyed enough gravitas. Now she calls him Butter Butt. Like, that has gravitas?
Today’s song is a product of the news. Joey Molland of Badfinger has joined the gig in the sky. Badfinger was an early rock power guitar group. The Beatles fostered them and the group lent their talents to my teenage years. With Molland’s transition, the original group’s lineage has ended. For their part, The Neurons inserted “Baby Blue” from 1972 into the morning mental music stream. The song was written about a woman who showed up and toured with them for a while, Armstrong. It wasn’t a relationship meant to last, though. I went with a recording that’s a little muddy but it shows the most successful lineup during the glory period when they were young, before things began going to crap for them.
Coffee has made another successful landing in my gullet. Let’s rock and roll. Cheers
Floofbun (floofinition) – Prosifloofic poetry and prose that is about animals or relationships with animals. Origins: Japan, 17th century.
In Use: “One of the earliest recorded floofbuns is ‘The Trail of Shedding Fur’, written in 1784 by an unknown author about their floofs, while a more recent celebrated floofbun is ‘Floof Traveler Floofbun: 1999’ by Ima Katt.”
Puppycat (floofinition) – Example of a anthifloofria to demonstrate that an animal shares disposition or traits associated with different species. Origins: Ancient Fleek, first noted in writings dated in 12 BC.
In Use: “Introducing Max, Carly said, “This is my puppycat. He’s a dog but he thinks and acts like a cat.” As I bent to greet Max, the puppycat sat and stared at me in an uncanny imitation of a cat’s critical, judging gaze.”
The numbers for Ashlandia on this Sunda morning of March 2, 2025, are 43 F and 50 F, and the word is showers. Were this a jigsaw puzzle, there Twouldn’t be any blue sky pieces. Everything shimmers with a sheen planted by showers that began yesterday just before midights and stayed constant until an hour ago.
Today’s music, brought to me by The Neurons, is “The Long Run” by the Eagles. This easy-going rocker was let loose on the public in 1979 and quickly ascended to a rock classic staple. First, it was by a very successful country-rock-pop group. Second, the era was heavy with disco and punk influence, making rock of this nature more infrequent. Third, it has mellow hooks. Its straightforward lyrics makes it easy to sing along with. Then, its lyrics about relationships reflect what a lot of us wonder: who’s going to make it? What’s going to happen? We’ll find out in the long run.
Which brings us to the Great Undoing of 2025. What’s going to happen? Will the U.S. survive as a democratic republic? Will the ship be righted? We’ll find out in the long run.
“Saturday Night Live” captured the essence of the PINO Trusk White House, especially in regards to Elon Reeve Musk’s behavior, the meeting with President Zelensky, and the announcement about a new PINO Trusk program, DOUCHE. It’s funny but also stirs anger because SNL captures and conveys the vast impression left by this set of idiots.
Butter Butt, aka Papi the ginger blade, is here for a visit and my coffee is chillin’, so movin’ on. Hope your day works out to your advantage. Time to rock. Cheers
I thought in depth on this. I retired from the military after twenty years. It was surprisingl easy to say good-bye to it. But I’d been ready to leave it for at least a year. The politics and hypocrisy inherent in the organization disgusted me. Also, leaving wasn’t hard because we rotated every two to four years. Little was permanent, thanks to ‘permanent change of station’ orders. I was deployed to theaters around the world, and the missions changed. While controlling nuclear weapons, war planning, and mitigating the effects of disasters were constant, as were the uniforms, the people were not. We were proficient at ending phases and saying good-bye.
That got me to thinking about how it was really about the people. Leaving IBM after fifteen years was like leaving the military: supremely easy. For the final nine years, I worked from home in southern Oregon. My co-workers were mostly voices on the phone. I’d rarely actually met any of them. My niche was small and I typically dealt with the same ten semi-strangers all week. It was boring, although it could be mentally stimulating, but mostly tedious and empty. Projects would arrive with great fanfare. Then the winnowing would begin. Many projects failed to launch. That was the business.
I left home and family when I was seventeen. Mom’s home was riotous with broken marriages and arguments. When I lived with Dad, he was an absent father. I became adept at being independent.
My wife and I have been together for over fifty years. That’s an ongoing phase. I’ve moved around the nation and around the world. Relatively little remained the same for me. Change was a constant phase.
But we usually had cats. They bonded with me more than my wife, with one exception. These cats became my buddies. At one point, I had six living with me. Another four that belonged to neighbors regularly visited. Now all are gone except one, and he’s getting old.
That’s what phase I guess it’s been hardest to let go of. Each fur friend’s death was so deeply felt that I’m weary of feeling it. My wife said the same and has declared, no more cats. I’m willing to accept that for the moment, but it’s the end of a phase, and a very long good-bye.
Spring continues its bold approach in Ashlandia. Winter will probably bound back in a few days but for now, it’s a beautiful day. 43 F with blue sky and sunshine. At one point in this aging morning, I walked into the kitchen and was met by a fierce shineslam of bright light. Haven’t had that kinda experience in months. The weather ‘they’ tell us we’ll crack 71 F today. But we saw 73 F at my abode’s weather thingy yesterday, so I cautiously hopeful that more the 70s will make it to the show.
This is Friday, February 28, 2025. Yes, the end of the year’s second month has arrived. The third month begins tomorrow. That’s how it used to work. But with PINO Trusk’s shitstorm and the Great Undoing, who knows what it’ll be? Maybe he’ll declare it February 29. Perhaps he’ll get it in his head that if the calendar doesn’t advance, then he’ll never leave office. He’ll just label every day as Trump and then append them with numbers.
No, that’s actually too reasonable and logical for him and his band of broken people.
Today’s song shouldn’t surprise. “Beautiful Day” by U2 came into this world at the turn of the century. Just decades ago, that seems like a far away time. It’s in the morning mental music stream because The Neurons heard me look out the window and say, “Wow, look at that, Papi, it’s a beautiful day.” For the record, Papi the ginger blade, aka Meep and Butter Butt, agreed. Or seemed to. He went out into the sunshine, stretched, and then eyed everything for threats and intrusions.
Hope it’s a beauty where you are, too. No matter what, try to make it a strong day for yourself.
Coffee has now crept into my system, somehow getting in there when I put it in a mug and raised the mug to my lips and tilted the mug back. So here we go, one more time. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 