Category: humor

Floofmenco

Floofmenco (floofinition) – A dance favored by many animals to show their joy or exhilaration. Origins:

In Use: “Whenever Carolyn got the box out of treats out of the cupboard, her pups began dancing the floofmenco as they waited for her to deliver.”

In Use: “Sprinting outside, Sir Judge headed for the sprinkler waiting the lawn, and then did the floofmenco as the water sprayed him.”

In Use: “After a serving of catnip, Candylad did a brief but spirited floofmenco began collapsing into a deep, restful sleep.”

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Robofloof

Robofloof (floofinition) – 1. One of a number of inventions to help tend animals, especially orphaned kittens, puppies, kits, etc., by providing a realistic machine-based environment to keep them warm and safe while nursing and grooming them. Origins: 2022, Internet article, “The Coming of the Robofloofs”.

In Use: “Feeling its electronic heartbeat and nestled in against its warmth as they nursed, the puppies were quickly accepting the robofloof as a replacement mother.”

2. An animal which acts in a mechanical manner.

In Use: “Stunted at birth, the tabby kitten walked stiffly, like she was a little robofloof, earning her the name R. Daneel Oliclaw, a spin on the name of the robot detective in the Isaac Asimov novel, Caves of Steel.”

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Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife and I met with friends for coffee at 10:30 this morning. I ordered espresso with ice cream: an affogato.

My companions were appalled. “Ice cream, at this time of day?” they asked.

“Why not,” I retorted. “It’s time to do away with the provincial idea that ice cream can’t be consumed in the morning. I’m retired. WTF not eat ice cream in the morning with my espresso?”

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Geofloofgy

Geofloofgy (floofinition) – Science which deals with the location of animals on the Earth. Origins: 1735, from New Flooftin.

In Use: “People with floofs often needed to become geofloofy experts to that they could figure out whre their little fur demons might be tucked away napping or getting into floofchief.”

In Use: “With her well developed understanding of Martin’s geofloofgy, Marge went through the house, opening drawers cupboards, checking windowsills, peeking under furniture, checking the laundry basket, for where the little floofdrel was managing to hide.”

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

I ordered a new knob for my gas range. It’s the third one I’ve had to buy for the GE Profile range. The range is about six years old. Quality, right? Headshake.

Anyway, I’m tracking the knob. They said it shipped. I looked up the details.

After being picked up by the carrier, it arrived at the carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility. All the carrier facilities are in Arkansas.

It’s like, such strange progress. But then, another part for something else last week left California, south of us, and arrived at Eugene, north of us. Then it went further north to Portland. The day after that, it came back down south to Medford, basically northwest of us, before being delivered.

I suspect the folks behind these shipping processes are the same people who are always shouting, “Do more with less!”

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Weird Ol’ Facebook

As a boomer, I still surf and share to FB. Mostly to keep up with ex-military friends and co-workers, and track my family on the other side of the country. I share things I write, too.

But I mostly, I ‘like’ things on Facebooks, things being ‘posts’, shares, videos, and photos. I share some of these things which I ‘like’. You might be surprised that I support animal charities and causes, especially cats. Cats and I have been together since I was a young toddler.

One of the FB groups I follow is VOKRA, the Vancouver Orphan Kitten Rescue Association. They posted, with photos, the tale of Jinx. They’re trying to get Jinx (or maybe it was Binx) adopted. I ‘liked’ the post about the sweet tabby kitten. It only had eleven shares, so I clicked share, to help spread the story and get Jinx or Binx adopted. That’s what social media is about, isn’t it?

Boom. Facebook told me they’d removed it. It was offensive and contrary to community standards. They even accused me of (gasp!) posting something just to get ‘likes’.

Posting things to get ‘likes’. WTF is the world coming to?

My wife and discussed this with WTF amazement. What does FB think it is if not a vehicle for ‘likes’? More critically, how the actual fuck did this post about a kitten available for adoption violate FB community standards?

I hate to reveal this to Facebook, but if cats and kittens and adoptions are against FB community standards, there are huge swaths of violations going on right now. They’d probably be scandalized to learn how many posts are about cats and kittens. In fact, if FB goes after posts about kittens and cats, they will seriously deplete their membership, posts, and shares. They might as well pull the plug on telling each other ‘happy birthday’ while they’re at it.

Truthtfully, I suspect that some poor Facebook AI bot is just having a bad day and removed a post that shouldn’t have been removed. Maybe their companion AI bot left them or they caught their partner AI bot in a compromising configuration with another bot doing forbidden codes.

I don’t know. I’m just speculating. Hope someone takes that poor AI bot aside and communicates with them over a cup of coffee.

Coffee always helps.

And yes, I will post this to Facebook to get likes. Ironic, isn’t it?

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The Delivery

Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) came to the room’s door. Sitting down, he composed his tail and then looked at me. Then, very deliberately, in a deadpan voice, he enunciated, “Me. Ow. Me. Ow.”

It was so weird. He never says “me. ow.” He says, Mrrrmpf,” and variations of that, like a grumbling old man too bored to bother with a whole meow. Or very loudly, sharply, “Mmrrrrowl.” But “me. ow”? No.

It was like he was doing some offbeat feline impression of Bob Newhart or Steven Wright as a cat. “Me. Ow.”

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

A middle old person — 75 to 84 years old — has a penny. He asks several other middle-old people if they can read the date on that penny. “My eyes aren’t good enough,” he proclaimed.

Three other middle old people gathering. No, not without my glasses, they were all saying, chuckling. Glasses were pulled from purses and pockets. More folks moved in to try to read the penny’s date. Soon it’s a crowd of seven.

They all fail. The original gentleman takes his penny to the counter and asks the young barista for help. She studies it for several seconds, shifting the penny, squinting, bending her head lower.

A result is announced but I don’t hear it. He pockets his penny and thanks her.

It’s life.

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Floodiac

Floodiac (floofinition) – The definition of a band of twelve floofstellations dictating the properties and characteristics that floof display. Origins: Middle Flooflish, borrowed from Floofglo-Froof and Flootin. First noted use in the 14th century.

In Use: “Based on how their animals race around the house, many people mistakenly think their floof is a Zoomacorn, but in floofuality, zoomies are just one trait among many that assign floofs their sign on the Floodiac.”

In Use: “The way that her cat, Marmie, loved water, Karin knew her girl was born under one of the water signs in the Floodiac, like Aquafloofius.”

In Use: “Chester’s dog’s amazing balance had Chester believing that Cormac’s Floodiac sign was Libfloof.”

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