Although it’s Thursday, November 11, 2023, and fall’s colors claim the land, spring ambiance has won the day. It’s remarkable how much it seems like spring out there. That feeling just boosts my spirits and energy. Gotta love it.
Early afternoon, it’s 60 F outside and the temperature will claw up to 65 F in Ashlandia, where traffic is busy and road construction continues. This weather pleases my cats. Tucker has gone out back into a sunny spot of grass, groomed himself and settled for a nap. Papi wandered in and out a few times, which is his custom regardless of weather, but settled down on a chair cushion in the sun out back and is curled into sleep. Pleasant, even satisfying, to see the two boys out there napping.
Getting a late start. My wife had a problem with one a device this morning. It failed to work for her, so I took it apart and got it going again but killed an hour from the morning. Then she and I discussed genealogy for a while after she accidently discovered a photo and details about her great-great-great grandfather on the net. That stirred my interest again in having my DNA analyzed. I usually avoid it because I know from others how learning about DNA and genealogy becomes a time suck as people learn and pursue info about themselves and their ancestors. I don’t want to invite another time suck into my life, but I also feel like the time has come.
Other than that, and meeting with friends for drinks, reading books, trying to keep up with the news, planning holiday activities, chores, writing, and taking the cars in for maintenance, not much is going on. With so much discouraging news sweeping the world, The Neurons turned on Train with “Calling All Angels” in my morning mental music stream (Trademark blinking). The 2003 song reflects a hopeful vibe for someone who feels like everything is falling apart and came out of the songwriter’s therapy session.
I need a sign to let me know you’re here All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere I need to know that things are gonna look up ‘Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup When there is no place safe And no safe place to put my head When you can feel the world shake From the words that are said
And I’m calling all angels And I’m calling all you angels
I won’t give up if you don’t give up I won’t give up if you don’t give up I won’t give up if you don’t give up I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I need a sign to let me know you’re here ‘Cause my TV set just keeps it all from being clear I want a reason for the way things have to be I need a hand to help build up Some kind of hope inside of me
And I’m calling all angels And I’m calling all you angels
Stay pos and hydrated, sleep well and be strong, and lean forward into a better future. Coffee has been deposited in my gullet and delivered the desired effect. Here’s the music. Cheers
Floofogony(floofinition) – 1. An account of floofs’ origins on Earth. Origins: Poem of 1022 lines by Floofsiod, written about 1026 BCE.
In Use: “Few humans have been granted access to the Floofogony, a document which is precious to animals and kept in the Fortress of Floofitude in an undisclosed place which is said to exist in an area of Earth inaccessible to humans.”
Recent Use: “Although many societies offer greater recognition that animals are not dumb and do have feelings and are capable of more intelligence than previously credited, the idea of a document such as the Floofogony is usually roundly mocked.”
2. Anguish of any sort felt about the loss of an animal or an animal’s situation. Origins: middle-english, first known use in fourteenth century.
In Use: “When their dog raced out of the yard after his bath, immediate floofogony was felt by all the family members even as they scrambled to put on their shoes, get in the car and find her.”
Recent Use: “With the Internet showing more about animals across the spectrum helping one another or asking humans for help, more people experience floofogony as they read stories or watch videos about animals being dumped, abused, or in need of medical intervention after accidents.
A flourish of color and wind heralded Wednesday’s daybreak on November 15, 2023 in Ashlandia, where red-leaved maples are spectacular and plentiful, shimmering with a tree full of leaves like they’re lit from within. After rain dusted us for a few nocturnal hours, it’ll be dry for the day’s remaining hours. 54 F now, we’re reaching for 62 F today under a sky where sun and clouds continue their seasonal skirmish. Sunshine is mostly winning, and the day feels fine under a balmy autumn wind that tears leaves off the trees and carries them on whirling rides.
The 15th of the month was payday for me for most of my military career, a day which we looked forward to when I was a lowly paid airman. In the latter stages of my career, the government announced we’d only be paid once per month going forward to save the gov. money. That forced many people to be more circumspect with how they spent, impelling people who habitually went payday to payday, comfortable in the half-month increments, into planning what and when to spend to make it last.
I slept in late today, staying abed until after nine. Wasn’t a plan; cozy and warm, with Tucker, the black and white long hair floof sharing my pillow, purring like an idling tractor, The Neurons said, “Let’s just stay here.” Didn’t even consult me. Then Tucker raised his head and sneezed across my face, ending the sleep-in with a jolt. Rolling out, feet thumping the floor, I hastened to the bathroom and rinsed off my face, giving particular focus to my mouth. I’m not a germophobe but if I was setting up a dating profile, cat drool across my lips would be listed as a turnoff.
I thanked him for getting me up and then went into the feeding ritual. Papi hurried in for his portion, patiently sitting and watching, only vocalizing his needs after I picked up his bowl to set onto the floor. Then it was like Papi was suddenly starving as a hunger-driven long wail of desire was unleashed. Still, as I set the bowl down, he took a few moments to head bump my arm and hand several times and purr before dropping his head to the bowl and plowing in.
As if now making fun of me because I was late, dashing around, muttering to myself, “Got to step it up a few gears,” The Neurons delivered a 1970 song called “Give Me Just a Little More Time” by Chairmen of the Board to the morning mental music stream (Trademark skipping). The song came out when I was thirteen, and I always enjoyed the drama and urgency the vocalist emoted. Some might label it over the top, but I felt some kinship with the message presented as I trekked the hormone trippy path of understanding sex, love, and other emotions as a teenager. I’m still working onit.
Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has been consumed and is kicking in, giving me a heartbeat and clearing the fog out of my head. Here we go. Cheers
Floofdischronia – (floofinition) Mental condition which causes people to lose time to spending time learning about animals or interacting with animals. Origins: Greece, 1671.
In Use: “Greek doctors responded to a crises of economy by examining how humans and floofs engaged and soon found that animals exerted a hypnotic hold on many people of a certain disposition, causes sch individuals to forget about time or deliberately ignore it to stay with animals, a condition which the labeled floofdischronia.
Recent Use: “The pandemic hitting U.S. shores in 2020 brought a precipitous rise in floofdischronia for several years, even impacting the U.S. economy as people chose to quit working to stay home with their pets.”
Après-petting Cleaning (APC)(floofinition) – The fur cleaning required after a human touching a floof’s fur after the floof has just finished cleaning it. Origins: US, derived from French. First use observed in 1960.
In Use: “Barney had just finished cleaning his fur and was settling in for a nap when Meg came him, saw him, and came over, burying her face in his side’s fur as she covered him with smooches, forcing Barney into a vigorous après-petting cleaning.”
Recent Use: ‘Carla’s Instagram account is a popular place, with many people tuning in to see what her cats are doing, especially when she forces them into après-petting cleaning by touching the cats on their backs while saying, “Doink.”‘
A night and morning of rain with temperatures drifting up and down through the forties made this a happy Monday. A single prop plane is droning through a flat milk gray sky. Sunshine rules somewhere behind those clothes.
It’s November 13, 2023, and per customs, there will be fall weather in autumn in Ashlandia, where the trees foster leaves that still change color and wait to drop for the holidays. Some might be waiting for Black Friday, because Black Friday is ON, everywhere and all the time, now. Stores tell us, “Get ready for Black Friday deals with these pre-Black Friday deals, on now.”
It’ll be 58 F later, they say, but it’s 49 F now. The cats have settled on porch locations and told me, it’s acceptable…barely, but a treat will help them cope.
“Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand (from 2004) is in the morning mental music stream (Trademark existential). The Neurons put it there after I watched one of the Bourne movies with Matt Damon. Someone ordered another to take him out, and a little later, I found “Take Me Out” being sung in my head, where it stayed until…well, it’s actually still there. The lyrics are very simple, although I like some of the wordplay they employ. The song has a nice thumping beat if you’re into that. Their style reminds me some of a harsher version of The Killers in many ways.
Anyway, that’s the song today. Be strong, lean forward, and extend your positivity energy as far as it can go. Don’t worry, more will come. Here’s the music. Cheers
Cogfloofscente(floofinition) – A person who has expert knowledge of an animal or group of animals. Origins: borrowed from Italian with roots in Latin cogfloofōscere. First use observed in 1786.
In use: “Insperable from one another, Naia was a cogfloofscente of Lucky, claiming to know everything the floof’s expression showed and understand every sound the animal made.”
In use: “Familiar with routines, habits, and predilections, Corvette was a cogfloofscente of his family of humans and their close friends, taking advantage of them to get treats, belly rubs, and laps.”
Recent use: “In the first year of COVID sheltering-in-place guidance, many people and their floofs became cogfloofscente of the others, recognizing not just what made the other happy or upset, but also effectively comforting the other.”
Fog dismays me outside the window, blocking the sun and keeping us chill between its icy fingers, shutting me out from even seeing beyond the houses across the street. I know the sun is out there, first from learned science from my early childhood years, but also from a glimmer of light warring with the gray at the spot where the sun should be. Could be aliens coming to get my coffee, I suppose, but I’m keeping my money on the sun.
It’s November 12, 2023, and Sunday. About to go out and start the writing day but enthusiasm cringes in the face of the fog and 37 F temperature. Supposed to warm up to 58 F but first that sun needs to hammer its heat beat over that fog until the latter fades.
Le chats sure don’t like it, with the number one boy, Tucker, immediately returning from outside with a ‘screw-this-noise’ expression. He’s folded his black and white fur back in bed. Papi, always more stubborn and independent — he is an orange boi — tried to prove what a floof of the wild he is but his path always came back to the door, and quickly. In and out four times, he finally admitted, enough, and is not resting on the sofa after those exhausting forays.
If such creatures as these mighty housepets couldn’t withstand the weather, what hope do I, a mere mortal, hold? Well, for one, I have a coat and gloves, garments which they resist. Two, I won’t be out there long, not in the actual outdoors. I’ll hustle the car from the garage to the coffee shop parking lot and then shift my derriere’s load from the car to the building. There will be walks later, but it does have some measure on dependence about what the sun, fog, and temp do.
With fog stealing the sunshine, The Neurons thought it would be fun to play Len and “Steal My Sunshine” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark indestructible). Coming out in 1999, the song was the group’s big hit. I haven’t heard it in a car’s age at least, so The Neurons’ ability to shift it from my mind’s stasis to the active region surprised me.
Len — who are a brother and sister combo — have a lot of fun with words. Take this example.
Thursday, November 9, 2023, has come to have its say in what happens and how it happens with little clear explanation about why it happens. Many people like muddying the clarifications about why things happen because they dislike those explanations. Angers them because they can’t grasp the explanation, so if they can’t understand, why should anyone else? Shut it down; hide it; don’t teach it. Make it a mystery, so they can smugly say, “Nobody knows.”
Down to 34 last night in Ashlandia, where the schools are first rate and the arts and athletics are above average, it’s forty and foggy now as frost covers the bare ground and glazes some grasses. Don’t you worry, though; partly sunny skies will see us through to 57 F by daylights end. The remains of the day will deliver us back into darkness and 37 F.
When I awoke this morning, I opened a window blind. Soft dawn was crawling white through the trees and across the yard. Among the denuded poplar branches, a hummingbird hovered for a few seconds and then zinged away.
The hummingbird’s appearance surprised me. Cold, mid-autumn, winter hustling toward us, I figured hummingbirds would have better places to be.
Meanwhile, Tucker the magnificent (which is the mixed long-haired/short-haired cat’s official title) rose, ate, used the litter box, and went back to bed. Papi, the ginger blade feline floof, went out, declared it too cold, came in, declared himself bored, went back out, declared it too cold, came in, declared himself bored, went out, declared it too cold…get it?
I was outside at midnight last night. Clouds and moon were absent, letting the stars and other celestial bodies take a turn at shiny. Beautiful and serene with clear fresh air, but the black night was hugely cold to my body, driving me into my shelter after just five minutes of standing outside and thinking.
Somewhere in the night, I thought about the GOP – Right Wing – MAGA approach to governing and education. Limitations are the key the their approach. They will not accept anything being taught except what they like and understand as history, which is very, very narrowly defined. Their version of history must not show our nation or white people in a dark light. Our nation is good, because, come on, it’s christian, you know, one god, and all that, as the Founding Fathers so ordered, amIright? In their view, slavery was a good thing: sure people were locked up, traded, and beaten, but they were taught trades and given food and shelter. Surely that’s enough, so don’t dare teach that slaveowners were cruel bastards who often raped slave women and treated slaves worse than animals, unworthy of human rights.
It seems like they take the same approach to anything other than two sexes, male and female, whether it’s in gender or sexual preference. That’s what the bible says, they say, so they must be right.
They only want – no, they only accept – one religion, their version of christianity, and their god, a white, benevolent man who knows everything and is the only deliverer of knowledge, justice, and love. Such a god can’t have ideas about other religions and philosophies, so they can’t be taught because they’re not in their religious book, and their tiny minds can’t brook anything other than what their little black book says, even if they only follow the parts of the little black book that THEY like. Screw the rest of that silly, ancient black book, they decide by action, even if they won’t say it. Like, what’s that whole thing about loving thy brother, turning the other cheek, and that whole thing about bankers and rich men being in the temples and entering ‘the kingdom of heaven?’
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.” But, but, capitalism! We are a christian nation, and can’t have rules and regulations which limit our abilities to exploit others and grow wealthier. We’re Capitalists!
“Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.”
I’m sure wealthy Americans plan to do that after they die, right? Until then, they will donate to charities which support their principles to grow wealthier, as long as it’s tax deductible.
Meanwhile, it’s not the government’s job to take care of anyone else, not in our christian nation. No! That encourages laziness. If they’re lazy, they won’t work for others for low pay so companies and the wealthy can make more money. No, no, no. And if companies pay them too much, then the companies will make less profit, and the shareholders will make less money, and the rich executives won’t be able to collect larger bonuses and buy more beautiful, pretty things for themselves, like mansions, vacation homes, jets, cars, and yachts. So pay for the lower classes must be kept low, for so it’s written in the bible…innit?
It all falls back on education then. Limit what is taught or don’t teach them at all beyond the basics of following instructions. That’s all that’s needed.
All that has me and The Neurons singing Pink Floyd’s mashup from The Wall in the morning mental music stream (Trademark unavoidable). See, the way it goes in The Neurons’ view, the Right Wing dictates and limits what will be taught in school, threatening the school systems and teachers with punishment if they don’t adhere and obey (exhibit A: Florida; B: Texas; C: Wisconsin. Etc.). They want perfect little white children (some blacks might be acceptable, as long as they adhere to the doctrine), all male or female – and nothing else because the bible! (And then they descend into lies about what those ‘other’ so-called sexes do, and how evil they are.) Because, see, they don’t understand. And if they don’t understand, they can’t accept. And if they can’t understand and accept, why should anyone else?
Under the GOP plan, aided by the misnamed “Moms for Liberty” who are all about censorship, which as Matthew Perry imight have said as Chandler Bing on Friends, “Can anything be more anti-liberty than stopping what other people read?”, schools become mills to turn out perfectly ignorant, intolerant, non-thinking little images of their white, bible-thumping masters. And the teachers will be the ones molding these little monsters of tomorrow, so long as the teachers adhere to the doctrine, don’t think, and obey the rules, which they will, or the GOP will beat, intimidate, and incriminate the teachers.
Because anything other than the GOP curriculum is ‘woke’, and that’s communist, socialist, thought control.
See how they turn it on its head? It’s no wonder that the GOP and its christians put its greatest faith in trying to build walls.
Stay positive and woke, be strong, and lean forward for others’ rights and freedoms as well as your own. Coffee is now at hand and warming my innards. Here’s the video.
Michael Seidel, writer 