Category: humor

Teaser

Contrails were etched across the bright blue March morning sky. 

Mark had a couple problems with that. One, this was 1859. He didn’t think he should know about contrails. Didn’t think contrails should exist, for that matter. As far as he knew, they didn’t exist yesterday, when he was cutting his lawn’s grass.

But, hold up. Yesterday, he was walking to town. Like he was doing today. Except, he was thinking about the contrails, byproducts of jet aircraft slicing through the atmosphere. Jet aircraft, commercial and military, with the former being used to travel between airports, enabling people to quickly and easily traverse the country which had taken him a couple years. Jet aircraft, which should not exist in 1859. 

He puckered his lips like he was about to whistle. Should they?

Seeing contrails and thinking about them were the seeds of several potential problems. “Shit,” he loudly uttered. His tongue flicked his lips. Fingers pinched together to smooth down either side of his fat graying mustache. He stamped his big boot once, then considered the mildly worn brown boot, which he knew he’d purchased at an REI. Chances were that REI didn’t now exist. Might have in the past. Or the future.

“Shit. Goddamn it.” Expanding the lungs inside of his huge chest, he bellowed, “Vonnegut.”

Mark looked around like he expected Vonnegut to appear. Nothing — not the wind-swept grasses or the one lone, high bird, or the far, snow-covered mountains — responded to him.

He expelled a sigh and sound like he was blowing the candles out on his last birthday cake. That’d been number sixty-six. Julie baked the cake for him. Such a sweet person. And so fucking smart. Fun being with her.

“Fucking Vonnegut.” Vonnegut was the cause behind the past few episodes like this. Mark figured there was a high likelihood Vonnegut was behind this one as well. 

He looked east. South. West. North. No, he hadn’t been going north. South was also considered and rejected. His orientation was a matter of the coincidences of then and now, and the lay of the land. Mountains north and south. That never changed, though the stuff that occupied the land — buildings, roads, people, and other such bullshit — changed. 

A qualification was appended to his thinking. Depending. Depended on how far Vonnegut took him back in time. Or put him forward. Same thing, different direction. The land changed if he went — if he was tossed, like he was a cat toy or something — into the past or future. He’d experienced each of those once. Once had been more than enough.

His broad shoulders sagged. “Why me?” With that plaintive question beginning an internal dialogue with himself about the matter, he turned and began trudging east.

East would hopefully return him to his own time. That’s how it happened a couple times. But there’d been that once. 

Well, shit. He’d just need to see.

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The Writing Moment

Finished. Done. Over. Completed.

Yes, I’ve completed rev five of the novel in progress. Its current working title is Memories of Why. Speculative historic fiction. Couple cups of science fiction tempered with a pint of fantasy and a few tablespoons of revisionism. 523 pages in Word. 160,000 words. Probably over three hundred large cups of coffee. Began writing it in March of last year. Started with a character — a cherub — and their imprisonment and sugar addiction. Grew from there. Humans are about as involved as Martians. Or the reverse. Azure Iarnum — AI — had a bigger role than Humans or Martians. Dragons played a small role, as did ‘spaceships’.

Next: revise again. I think I’m getting somewhere.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I came across a plague in Ashlandia’s railroad district. The plaque identified the tree beside it as a slippery elm and announced that it had been the tree of the year.

The tree of the year is an annual tradition in our city. Stepping back, I admired its height and thick, expanding branches. Sunlight backlit them against blue sky.

I didn’t have a camera with me — yep, not even a phone — so I don’t have a photo of the plaque nor tree. I ran a search for a photo of it but nada emerged. I need to return to the scene with my phone, I guess.

Forty-seven years had passed since the tree had been honored. It still looked like it could be the tree of the year.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: aggroptimstic

Friday, March 15, 2024, has been blessed by abundant sunshine, praise floof. The cats love it except, today was also blessed by gusting winds. Probably something to do with March in the northern hemisphere, right? Although the temperature was already 50 F, the cats eschewed the outside sunshine for the comfort of the sunshine streaming in through the windows in the wind-free living room. The omniscient weather they think today’s high will crest at 66 F. Yesterday’s high was supposed to be 61 F but my corner saw 66 F, so I’m slithering out on that limb and prophesizing a higher high around our place, and I’m not talking THC, either.

I’m eagerly awaiting the results of the Trump family running the RNC. The new co-chairs, Lara Trump (she with the dead eyes) and Michael Whatley, were personally selected by DJ Trump. The Whatley/Trump RNC declared that they’re dedicated to ‘election integrity’.

I wish they’d be more devoted to ‘reality integrity’. If they paid more attention to reality, they’d know that the fraud that DJ Trump pushes about the stolen election has been shown to be bullshit. Over sixty court cases validate the bullshit verdict. Judges of both parties at several levels found there was no evidence to support Trump’s bullshit. State election officials all found no evidence presented to support the stolen election claim. In fact, if the RNC put more reality underfoot, they would discover that former POTUS Trump is indicted for trying to undermine the official, legal, results that resulted in him being shown the WH door.

But the RNC is leading the TBP now, TBP meaning the Trump Bullshit Party. Little of the ‘Republican’ party is visible under the avalanche of Trump-centric garbage being spewed and supported. Sure, the RNC put out a memo to “Grow the Vote”. They expressed interest in getting more voters who don’t show a propensity to vote Republican.

Then they fired sixty people, including the ones running the Black and Hispanic outreach programs.

Frankly, I’m predicting a wobbly, angst driven 2024 TBP which will end with DJ Trump rejected by voters again. A shower of petulant anger, finger pointing, and angst will rise in the aftermath. Lots of lies will be brought up by DJT. He’ll probably claim he won despite all the evidence that he lost, and that he ran the most beautiful campaign ever.

And the TBP will goose step along with his claims, fueling the confusion and polarization on which the TBP thrives. Time will tell us if I’m right. Maybe I’m hopped up on caffeine and have it totally wrong. Hope not.

Today’s music comes from being out back (with Papi, the ginger wonder cat) on the patio this morning. I was considering the sky, which harbored some clouds in the blue sea over my head. Catching on that I was thinking about the sky, The Neurons began playing “Fall on Me” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). The 1986 R.E.M. song is about things falling from the sky, so I can see why The Neurons chose it.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. I’ll do the same after I suck down more coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Related to Me

Female friends took another female friend clothes shopping. 103 years old, the third friend had declared, “I’m tired of wearing bras. I want a garment to stop me from jiggling but I’m swearing off bras.”

My wife — who never wears a bra at home — exclaimed, “103 and she’s swearing off bras now? Boy, she has a lot more tolerance than me.”

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Tradfloof

Tradfloof (floofinition)– Slang for ‘traditional floof’, a phrase meant to convey households or people that hold to a traditional view of a proper pet for their culture. Also sometimes referred to as a ‘tradpet’. Origins: Western culture, circa 2016, via the World Wide Web.

In Use: “In the United States, a tradfloof is generally considered to be a domesticated cat or dog who shares living space with people.”

In Use: “Sizing up Merrit, Karla concluded that Merrit had a tradfloof, and it was a cat, to judge from the scratches marking Merrit’s right forearm. Karla also thought it probable that the tradfloof had suddenly taken a sudden issue with having its belly rubbed.”

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Pretsome

Pretsome (floofinition) – Description for an animal who is recognized as handsome and pretty. Origins: 2010s, global, Internet.

In Use: “Lois thought her floof, George Benjamin, had pretty markings in his silky fur, even lovely markings, so she wanted to say he was pretty. Though she knew she was being sexist, she thought it more appropriate to call him handsome because he was male. He’s both, she decided, pretty and handsome — pretsome. Now she understood the word.”

In Use: “With her majestic and dignified bearing, Sara Lee presented a pretsome pose for the artist, who quickly worked to capture all these things for the commissioned flooftrait.”

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Steady

Spring is carefully unfolding. Blossoms and blooms gallantly expose themselves even as the hurly gurly weather patterns foster confusion about what we’ll get today. Sunshine is blazing in through my eastern windows. A blue sky is the centerpiece but we have several sides of clouds in the offerings. Some clouds are marshallowy in texture and shape but thin strands like lost clumps of fur up there, too.

It’s Wednesday, midweek, when you’re into it but it’s harder going, and you’re starting to look for the week’s end — unless you’re happy and satisfied with your job, or you’re a shifty working hours that doesn’t make this the midweek for you. Today’s date is March 13, 2024. 39 F now, up a few degrees from dawn’s frozen number, but short of the high the area expects, 50 F. No precipitation is on the radar for the rest of the week. Highs into the upper sixties by the week’s end is expected, followed by bursts into the low seventies when Sunday arrives.

I read about refuggees of many sorts this morning. People are fleeing wars in multiple locations. Droughts, food insecurity, natural disasters and oppressive governments are causing some to upend themselves to find a better place. Then we have US political refugees like Ken Buck and other Republicans leaving their elected positions in Congress and the GOP chaos, and people now registering as Independents as they bug out of the GOP. Finally, there are the refugees from reality, those locked into bubbles of existence that counter fact-based logic and decision making. You know the ones, the flat-Earthers, the deep-state believers, the stolen election carriers, the COVID-19 deniers, and climate change doubters, along with the christians supporting a person who is so un-christian as their leader that our nation’s founders are spinning in their resting places.

With so many refugees in my mind, I wasn’t too surprised when The Neurons brought Rise Against and their 2006 release, “Prayer of the Refugee”, into the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). They sing,

We are the angry and the desperate
The hungry, and the cold
We’re the ones who kept quiet
And always did what we were told

But we’ve been sweating while you slept so calm
In the safety of your home
We’ve been pulling out the nails that hold up
Everything you’ve known

h/t to Sonichits.com

Rise Up’s presentation had the strongest presence but there was also Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’s song, “Refugee”, which is straightforward rock, and Led Zeppelin’s hard rock tune, “Immigrant Song”, which experienced a resurgence of popularity thanks to a Marvel movie. So you get a threefer today.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward and vote. Here’s the coffee, here’s the steeple, open up and see the people. Enjoy the music. Hope one of them catches your fancy. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: flooftastic

3/12/24. Tuesday. Clouds have swept in with their shadowy crays. Stealth rain falls, altering the day’s complexion. When Papi and I went outside eightish-AM, sun was shining on us and the air smelled fresh. We noted, oh, this is nice weather with a strong early spring flavor. Now, though the temperature has pushed itself to 45 F, just five degrees short of the projected high, we’ve gone from spring to sprinter again. The rain and snow help the earth recover locally but it doesn’t sufficiently offset years of drought. We’re still considered abnormally dry. Looking at my yard is depressing. So many of the plants were fiercely damaged during the hot drought years. We investigated zeroscaping during that period but with the heat and wildfire smoke, it didn’t work out, mainly because I wanted to DIM but didn’t wish to endure those conditions to do it.

I watched a video from Jimmy Kimmel’s show. They called the skit “Debate and Switch”. Essentially, agents from the show went into South Carolina and asked Trump supporters questions. What the voters didn’t seem to know is that they would ask about things Trump did but mis-attribute them to President Biden. After the person answered, the interviewer would correct the question and note that it was something that Trump, and not President Biden, said or did.

First, it was hugely remarkable that they didn’t know who said what. Did they really not know, or were they just going along with it? Trump supporters are often accused of living in a right wing bubble and being oblivious to what’s going on. I don’t know how accurate this video is, but it seems damning. Likewise, their unblinking pivots about the two candidates shows how little thought they seem to put into matter. Give it a watch.

I have My Chemical Romance performing “Helena” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks, swear to cat). The Neurons explained because I was thinking about politics. Somewhere in the thought process, “What’s the worse that could be said,” part of a larger scheme of thinking around, “What’s the worse which can happen?” This song has several references to the worst: the worst I could take, the worst I could say, the worst you could take.” That’s why Les Neurons slotted it in there, even though MCR’s song is about a grandmother’s passing and has nothing to do with politics.

Stay positive, be strong, and register and vote. Coffee is being guzzled, thanks. Here’s the music. Hey, the sun is out. Cheers

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Hidenget

Hidenget (floofinition) – Game played by animals, and sometimes by humans and animals. Fluid rules allow many variations, but the basic tenet is that one will hide and then spring out on the other. Origins: unknown, but observed and videotaped in many homes around the world in the 21st century.

In use: “Michael and Papi love playing hidenget in the morning, with the ginger floof racing off and ducking behind something as Michael breaks off chase and hides. Watching each other, they sneak out and then run towards the other’s position, and one will then chase the other around rooms and down halls.”

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