Pecfloofniary
Pecfloofniary (floofinition) – Of or related to the money spent on an animal, or an animal’s worth.
In Use: “After Jared spent money on his floof’s medical needs, many people focused on the situation’s pecfloofniary aspect, but to him, his dog’s companionship was priceless, and he would prostitute himself if it brought in the money for his dog’s medicine, surgery, and x-rays.”
The Facebook Duality
I shared one of my posts to Facebook the other day. I often used to do so, inviting friends and family to ‘see what I’m up to’.
Facebook informed me that it had been blocked as spam. It was the second time in as many months that they labeled one of my posts as spam, claiming something like, I was posting it or sharing it just to get likes.
The nerve.
This happened to be a Floofinition, one of my silly pursuits. Of course I was posting it on Facebook for likes. Why does Facebook think people post on their social media accounts? Likes is one of many reasons for sharing things on Facebook, but they used to encourage me to do just that.
I protested their unilateral condemnation of my post, but my protest is limited in scope to their pre-canned reasons for doing so. And those are flawed and incomplete. It assumes a set of paradigms which frankly just displays how fucking lost thy are. And after I completed that, I thought, I never heard anything back from them about that one last month.
No, you never do. They reach out like some hidden Gods, do their thing, and then watch us like we’re ants running around after their anthill is damaged.
That pissed me off.
The clincher came the next day. It was like, “Michael, here’s a memory of something you posted before! Share it to remind others.” So sweet. So friendly.
And yeah, it was one of my floofinitions. Like the one they condemned as spam and removed for being posted to get likes.
Well, fuck you, Facebook. I’m done with you and your capricious two-faced arrogance. They are already a repository of right-wing memes and misinformation, so they were treading on my last nerve before. I know, they’re quivering back at Meta headquarters, wailing that they’ve alienated me and lost my support. “Oh, boo hoo. We lost Michael. Woe is us.”
That’s okay. It makes me feel better. Just as their community used to do. It’s like they say, the more things change, the more they go to shit.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts
My wife and I were out shopping for new sheets and pillows last weekend. She came to me with a mug and a grin.
“This is you.” She handed me the mug. “I’m buying it for you.”
She’s right. After running it through the dishwasher with a load, this is now my morning coffee cup.
Thanks, sweetheart.
Monday’s Wandering Thoughts
I’m chatting with the barista. He tells me my order will be up soon. I ask him, “Did you ring me up?”
He’s completely confused.
I straighten it out, explaining that I wanted to know if he’d charged me, and walk away, laughing. It used to be — a classic beginning to an explanation about change — that cash registers made a ringing sound when transactions were totaled for payment. How long has it been since I’ve heard a cash register ring? As a result, ‘ring me up’ entered society as a popular expression for paying for purchases.
As an aside, my wife had one of those mechanical, ringing registers in her house. Her father, a grocery store manager, procured it when his store upgraded to an electronic system. The register’s ring reminded him of the little stores where they’d shop in his small town.
He said that he never wanted to forget them.
Trusting
She’s riding her bike. Looks about fifteen years old. She’s in the bike lane. Headphones cover her ears. Her hands are busy with her cell phone.
Yes, she has no hands on her handlebars.
She passes in a flash, steadily pedaling. I’m both admiring and dubious. It’s a busy street and she’s going along a stretch with many business entrances and several intersections.
I admire her confidence but I’m a little dubious about her decision making. Ah, youth.
Monday’s Theme Music
Mood: Bowiedacious
A front has driven in, strewning clouds of different complexities over Ashlandia, giving us variables in lights, shadows, temperatures, and expectations. Sumumn still holds but it’s beginning to look like autmer as trees flirt with new colors in their leaves. Only dropped to the high fifties last night, and today’s high temperature will spank 90 degrees F.
This is Monday, September 23, 2024. You understand that 2024’s ninth month is closing out and there are but 94 days until Kwanzaa, 93 days until Christmas, and 93 days until Hanukkah? There’s also only 43 days until the U.S.’s 2024 elections. Things are getting tight.
Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) inspired today’s musical choice, although coffee contributed. Having indulged in my first hit of black goodness, I saw Tucker came out from eating. Moving slow, his eyes were mostly closed and his tongue was busy going over his whiskes and mouth. Sitting, he commenced to watching.
That’s when The Neurons or somebody caused me to sing, “Tucker. I just fed a kitty named Tucker.” This was done to the tune of “Blue Jean” by David Bowie. Right after that, the 1984 song fired up in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dished). It’s a catchy little Bowie number, jaunty with memorable lines which don’t convey any great depths. How did he do that?
Stay positive, confident, and strong. Lean forward and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been served in the office; here’s the music. Cheers
Near Floof Object (NFO)
Near Floof Object (floofinition) – Any object which orbits or lands within a floof-specified zone. Such Near Floof Objects (NFOs) can be deemed by the floof to be a threat or hazard and needs to be attacked, or potential food which needs to be eaten. Origins: 1981, NAFA (National American Floof Administration) report on NFOs: “Sniff, Eat, Warn”.
In Use: “Some floofs are floofadaisical about Near Floof Objects, allowing something to come as close as four inches before stirring themselves to take action, but Dynamo believed anything in the same house as him was a NFO, and would sniff it, warn it with loud repetitive barks, and try to eat it if its barks didn’t scare it away.”
Floofzantine
Floofzantine (floofinition) 1. A complex animal. Origins: first noted on the Internet in the early twenty-first century.
In Use: “Little Serenity was a floofzantine, one moment a peaceful sweetheart, twisting into yowling destructor without even the benefit of a three-second countdown, making it difficult to engage with her for more than fifteen minutes at a time.”
2. An intricate or complex arrangement for animals.
In Use: “Living with fifteen rescued cats, a floofzantine structure was set up for the cats’ entertainment — which also entertained the homeowner.”
Friday’s Wandering Thoughts
Those of a certain age may recall the saga of New Coke. Once upon a year, Coca Cola changed its soda drink recipe and announced with a blaze of commercials that they’d changed Coke, and wanted you to drink this New Coke. Turns out many had been happy with old Coke, which quickly became framed as ‘Classic Coke’. My wife and I don’t drink soda except for root beer once in a while, so we witnessed the battle of New Coke vs. Classic Coke from the side.
I was thinking of it this morning because of Dawn. Dawn is a dishwashing liquid soap. We use it at our house. I bought a new bottle the other day and saw today that it has a label declaring that it has a “New Clean Smell.”
After smelling it, I wanted the old dirty smell. The new smell has a chemical scent that annoys me. Could be that the hyperbole just irritated me.
If they had said nothing, I’d probably wouldn’t have noticed. But since they called my attention to it, give me the old scent.
We can call it Classic Dawn.
Michael Seidel, writer 