Category: humor

Saturday’s Theme Music

Sunshine! Blue skies. Been wondering when they’d come a-calling again. Beginning to think blue skies and sunshine were ghosting me. I thought we were getting on well but then suddenly, nothing. Honesty, this weather is so fickle.

Back home in the manse. Cats thrilled to see us, demanding that we show how much we missed them. Attention and affection. Treats and food. More attention and affection. More. More.

It’s 54 F outside and feels like a pastoral spring day under development. 6:17 AM saw the sun step into Ashlandia. It’ll be here until 8:01. Weather debates offer us a range of high temps from 67 F to 71 F possible. I’ll take the higher one, thanks.

Came back to news of a death, cousin’s wife. Cousin died two years ago, cancer. Few years younger than me. Nobody has details about her death. Just catching up on more general news, mostly political, and Alphabet’s CEO’s pay of $200M per, local news. Been off the grid basically.

Songwise, Der Neurons plugged “My Generation” by The Who from 1965. I was nine when it was released but I became an enduring Who fan. That line, “People try to put us down,” is pretty apt. We’re boomers and oh how some of the youngsters are pissed with us. Speaks huge tomes about generational attitudes toward one another, doesn’t it? We were being put down as teenagers and put down as oldagers. Well, screw ’em, we say, but with more words. Of course, the most famous line out of the song is, “I hope I die before I get old.” Talkin’ ’bout our cynicism. Let’s not all just f-f-f-fade away.

Stay strong and positive. Hope the sunrise favors you with a satisfying day on each and every one. Here’s the music. Half my coffee is already gone. Good stuff.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

Sometimes when he glances in the mirror, he sees his younger self in there grinning. “Looks like you made it, old man,” the kid says.

He scoffs, “Yeah, despite all your efforts to kill us.”

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The Writing Moment

They were watching a television show. A body landed on the cement behind an FBI agent. The agent was on a cell. The landing body thudded. She flinched and looked back.

His wife said, “That’s not believable. She didn’t even duck.”

“That’s a choice the creative team makes as part of the storytelling. How does the character react to something like that? Are they calm and unfazed or do they freak? That’s part of the show’s tenure and the series’ atmosphere. I make decisions like that all the time when I’m writing, trying to decide how someone reacts and keep them true to the story and character.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Well, it was important to him.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Hearing the pursuit, we ran hard. “In here,” Pretzel shouted on my left. I twisted, planted my foot and made the cut, following him into a small path.

We crowded in panting like the sprinters we’d been. “What is this?” Maylie asked.

“I think it’s a time machine,” C-Jean said.

Don’t know about the rest but I did a mental, oh shit. “Don’t touch anything. We got to get out of here.”

“Oops,” Pharslei said.

The machine vibrated for two seconds. Ping, it said, like we were a done nuked meal.

“Where are we?” Maylie asked.

“Not where,” Pretzel said. “When. Time machine, itz. When are we?”

Sunday, April 23, 2016, it said. “Shit,” someone said.

The numbers blinked. April 20, 1623. Still Sunday. “I’m going to go see,” Pretzel announced.

“No,” I said, “Hold up.” That was the last I saw of him, though, going out that door.

Last I saw of any of them. Machine now said, April 16, 2023.

I left the booth. It vanished behind me. Tepid sunshine washed my face. Mostly I saw cloud layering like stacked grays. Still seemed like Ashlandia’s green deep valley, at least.

The Neurons have filled the morning mental music stream with “Where Have All the Good Times Gone”. Went with the Kinks’ original song from ’65. Fit with my state of mind. Shopping this morning, it seemed like such a dirge. Everyone shopper I eyed semed to be thinking, “I wish I was anywhere else.” Shopping has never been a leisure pursuit for me but it kicked my thinking down a memory path which lodged up against the question, where have all the good times gone? Follow up was, what constituted a good time?

Stay pos. I know, sometimes it’s touch. Feels like the world is on your shoulders, and it’s putting on more weight every second. Coffee helps me. Coffee; it’s what’s for breakfast.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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Today’s Chat

I queried Bing’s AI about catfood this morning. I read Gulp by Mary Roach. In it, she mentioned (that I recall) that catfood doesn’t taste like we think it does, especially to us, but also to cats. I decided to ask Bing’s AI. Didn’t impress me. Here you go.

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Honeyfloof

Honeyfloof – (floofinition) – An especially sweet animal.

In use: “Depite a pugilistic nom de floof, Rocky was a honeyfloof, always making friends, no matter what critter he meant. Except flies. They were his one weakness.”

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

Microsoft updated his computer. He supposed it was a good thing. Needed to repair security holes, misfiring features, and add new stuff.

Took so long, though. Bricked his computer for almost half an hour. He watched as it went through the process, shut down, and then started again.

Nothing worked after he logged in but the task manager said the machine was busy. He rebooted.

Everything came up. Now the experience would really go live. What would be broken, moved, added, relocated?

Updates were usually a trying experience. It was really just more first world blues, though.

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