Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofternal (floofinition) – Relating to, of, belonging to, or characteristic of a person who understands and cares for animals. Origins: 15th Century Floofeval Floofish
In Use: “People’s lives get tangled with floofternal complexities when they decide to share their homes and lives with an animal.”
In Use: “Mycheala had a strong floofternal instinct and was often roped into saving animals, a duty she richly enjoyed and embraced.”
Wenzda is here, Wenzda is here! Yeah, I’m not that excited. I’m down today.
Regardless of my mood, it’s June 11, 2025. 66 F now, 86 F is the expected upper realm, a nice takedown from the 90s where we’ve been living. The high temps will be back, though. This is Ashlandia, and summer is coming.
My normal awakening process is to stir from sleep, reflect on dreams and then move into the realms of current events going on, personal issues and family, plans for the day and week, and so on. I’m not sanguine about any of those aspects of life. I feel like I’m teetering on depression. But, for me, it’s probably part of my regular cycles. My schedule didn’t permit me my luxury of writing, so I’m likely feeling that. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to do what’s wrong, trying to stand up for others and help others, trying to move us as nation, as a species forward. I wasn’t alone. Many others led the way and inspired me. It feels like everything that we did before now is being callously and stupidly clawed away by Trump and the right wing. To paraphrase Ceelo, “Fuck him, and fuck them, too.”
My version of the Statesboro Blues. Papi seemed to have them, too, incessantly talking to me for attention. I played with him with red dot. Got some lackluster results. Searching for an answer, I whipped out a long shoe string. Man, he went nuts over that, attacking and pouncing, racing away and coming back for more. It was a good time for both of us.
For a whim, I turned to the net and asked, “What was the number one song on billboard fifty years ago in the United States?” And this marvelous technological function called AI said told me it was “Me and Bobby McKee”. Now I know some brain cells have abandoned me but I know that wasn’t the song. Fifty years ago would have been 1975. The cited song came out years before. By 1975, the performer, Janis Joplin, was dead. But, of course, the jackass AI, just like so many other jackass search engines, focused on just one piece of the query and spit out a jackass answer:
“Fifty years ago today, March 23, 1971, the number one song on the Billboard Hot 100 was “Me and Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin. The song was written by Kris Kristofferson and originally performed by Roger Miller, but became a hit for Joplin after her death.”
Like, hello, you fucking piece of technology, why are you giving me an answer for another month, day, and year? You trying to gaslight me OR are you just that worthless? All those Google answers, and none answered what I asked. But I THINK that had I asked that five years ago, the right answer would have been giving in .0217 seconds. Not this year, not in the year of the Great Trump Enshittification.
For the record, I asked Microsoft Bing the same question. Here’s the top answer:
The number one song on the Billboard charts fifty years ago was12345:
Seriously, WTF Internet land. You guys have lost your way.
Try it for yourselves, please, kind readers. If you get some sane results, please let me know. I can use a little ray of sanity today.
Dark dreams flavored with bitterness and frustration ruled my night. From that mental morass, The Neurons brought up The Black Crowes with “She Talks to Angels” from 1991.
Nothing to do but push through. Have coffee. Enjoy the cool breezes coming through the windows right now, licking me like a giant dog. Drink more coffee. Write.
Cheers
My name is Michael. It’s supposed to mean ‘he who’s like God’ in Hebrew. I don’t know how I got the name. Mom blamed Dad; Dad blamed Mom.
I’m mixed about it as a name. Overall, it’s a good name but there’s just so many of us out there.
I’ve used different names at different times for different reasons. Just the other day, I used a different name when I was talking to my wife. I was on a DIY project to fix the oven. As a dedicated Budgeteer, I’m not a noted handyman. But man, I sure do try. So, as my wife was going out the door, I told her, “I vow that this oven will be fixed upon your return, or my name’s not Patrick J. Carpenter.” My name is not Patrick J. Carpenter, of course. That’s the humor of it. I hope.
As a stumbling novelist, I often consider adopting a different name. There are many writers out there known as Michael Seidel. Many are successful and popular. Some are German. There’s also a weather man named Mike Seidel. I think he might be retired. Either way, all those other Michael Seidels cast a shadow over this Michael Seidel. I since speculated, maybe I’ll seek publication as Taylor Sands. Except I looked up Taylor Sands, and that’s a porn star.
Back in the think tank, I changed Sands to Rush. Taylor Rush is a successful doctor. Other options were chased, like Taylor Chase, and rejected after research. For instance, there are 90+ profiles for Taylor Chase in LinkedIn. I finally came up with Taylor Booking.
Taylor Booking, novelist. That might work.
Call up all your relatives,
Friends and enemies, too,
Joni Ernst says we’re dying
And there’s nothing we can do.
Fire off the nukes and rifles,
Set off the poison gas,
Joni says we’re dying,
So come on, get off your ass.
Eat what you want,
Drink as you feel,
Forget about taking all those vaccines,
Medicines,
And pills.
Don’t worry about crime and punishment,
What are they going to do?
Joni Ernst says we’re dying.
You know it must be true.
So stop saving for the future,
Or growing all those crops.
Stop making those payments
To banks and other slobs.
Don’t worry about paying taxes,
Nor going to work a job,
Joni Ernst says we’re dying,
Looks like it’s over and done.
First up, PINO TACO is poisoning Americans, followed by American Resistance.
It’s not enough that the TACO Regime is encouraging people to avoid vaccinations, which is helping measles stage a deadly return. Now the inept and ignorant TACO Regime is POISONING OUR FOOD SUPPLY!!! Yes, deadly tomatoes are out there! IT’S ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES!!!
FDA alerts 14 states about deadly tomato recall expansion
My confession: I don’t know if this salmonella outbreak can be attributed to the TACO Regime and the DOGE cuts. A look back through history shows that these outbreaks happen. But PINO TACO would not hesitate to hyperventilate with all caps and exclamations points were a Democrat POTUS. So I’m really just emulating TACO’s style.
Does a post like this help with civil discourse and problem solving? Hell, no. But when the GOTP and TACO Regime stops doing it and get serious, so will I.
Next, American Resistance! This was posted over on Mock Paper Scissors. WP still won’t permit me to properly reblog from them, so here’s my work-around. Summary: Masked gunman are trying to round people up. Without badges and insignia, they could be anybody.
This should give us a little lift to start our day. Make no mistake, if you get the mellow beach bums of San Diego to rise-up, anyone can rise-up.
The thing that worries me is that without badges or other identifying insignia, any crack-pot militia can start playing this game and rounding-up people in white vans and disappearing them, and vigilantes are not exactly known for rules. We need more of this to stop the Gestapo/ICE (and maybe the Proud Boys).
As much as I hate saying this, IF you are white use your white privilege if you see this happening: it’s your Superpower against these fascists/racists. Demand to see warrants signed by a judge, and don’t let them disappear people.
(Hat tip: Scissorhead Purplehead)
Remember to resist this and other un-American behavior on No Kings Day, June 14th.
Summer is pushing more blue sky and sunshine on us. Chastised clouds have slipped the area and the sun reigns supreme. 70 F at 11 AM, we’re anticipating…78 F as our high. Sweet to me.
Papi the butter butt floof loves this warm weather. He came in this morning. We shared a purrful visit, then he stuffed himself on kibble, wet food, treats, and water. Now he’s floofsconced in the vinca. Only his sweet ginger and white face is visible among the green leaves.
Today’s music arrived with a boost from my wife. I was listening to a video which played a few seconds of every Billboard weekly number one hit song in the United States from the beginning of 1960 to the end of 1969. This came to my attention via 1440’s deep dive into the history of rock and roll.
My wife came in as the video advanced through “These Boots Are Made for Walking”, “The Ballad of the Green Berets”, “(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration”, “Good Lovin'”, and “Monday, Monday”.
“What year are you listening to?” she asked.
“Guess,” I replied.
She tried 1970, 1968, and then 1965. “1966,” I said. A little later, Bobbie Gentry sang, “Harper Valley PTA”.
My wife sang along and then said, “I love that song. But the very first record I ever wanted was “Society’s Child” by Janis Ian. I think I was thirteen. I asked for it for Christmas but I didn’t get it.”
I looked it up. “That came out in 1967.”
“How old was I then?”
“Ten.”
Anyway, The Neurons slipped “Society’s Child” into the morning mental music stream when I wasn’t paying attention. My wife thought the song had hit number one; I never told her that it didn’t break the top 10. Of course, bigotry and racism and it’s controversial topic of interracial dating kept it from getting airtime.
I’m at the coffee shop, my fix at hand. There was a line and a hold up. As I waited, the manager came around with my drink, along with the side of ice water which I always request. “Where do you want these, Michael?” she asked.
Laughing, I answered, “I can take them,” but she insisted on delivering them to my table for me.
Sweet service, if you can get it. Cheers
Floofsconce (floofinition) – Term to describe animal sleeping in a safe, protected, and comfortable space. Origins: 1594, western regions of Floofrope.
In Use: “People who share life with floofs are always pleased when their floof can floofsconce somewhere where the people can reliably find them safe and comfortable.
In Use: “For feline floofs, under and behinds bushes outdoors in the summer is where they often floofsconce.”
In Use: “As a puppy, Animal usually dropped and slept wherever he stopped playing, but as an adult, he always floofsconced in Matty’s room, on their bed.”
Stolen from Quora.
“Look,” my wife said. “Did you notice your coffee cup?”
I looked at the coffee cup.
“I cleaned it,” my wife said. “I don’t know what was going on, but you had all these drips going down along the sides. I wondered, why is he leaving his cup like that? Does he think it makes his coffee taste better?”
I smiled. “It was performance art.”
Michael Seidel, writer 