Elizabeth Brooks Said
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
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.”
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.”
Thursday’s Theme Music
Mood: groovey
It’s March 14, 2024, and we’re swimming in blue skies and sunshine. It doesn’t make this a warm day — yet. The furnace is still running, dragging up the house’s internal temperature as the day recovers from its 33 F start in our area. 44 F is what the digital thermometer now reads. We expect its readings to climb over 61 today.
That’s why I like spring. I enjoy the shift from bareness and cold, or the white of snow and ice, to the brisk green sprouting, sunshine, and warmth. Summer is lovely but becomes cruel, overdoing it with heat intensity. Thunderstorms add a troublesome facet in the summer, lancing the hot dry land with lightning and sending fires across the fields and mountains and smoke through the sky. Spring is full of possibilities and growth. It feels like a season to relax.
I skimmed the news and marked things to go back and read in depth. Hopeful signs, suitable for spring, emerges along several trajectories. Nothing to get excited about — yet. They must play out. That’s the most difficult aspect of modern life for me. I’m given so much information to digest. It accumulates and shifts with the slow effort of tectonic plates until some resolutions emerge. Often takes years, though.
I occupy a mellow place this morning. Sensing that — they can be very observant — The Neurons lined the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with Eric Clapton’s acoustic version of “Layla”. The initial rock version came out in 1970. Eric Clapton and his buddy, Duane Allman, playing behind the curtain called Derek and the Dominos. The accoustic version came about 22 years later, 1992. MTV was involved.
There’s a lot of personal behind this song for Clapton. George Harrison was his running buddy. They played for Delaney and Bonnie and Friends on the road. George was married to Pattie Boyd. Clapton fell in love with her. This song helped him express his suppressed feelings. A model, Boyd inspired George to write four songs about her while Clapton wrote three. She divorced Harrison in 1977 and married Clapton in 1979, divorcing him ten years later.
Stay strong, be positive, and lean forward. I’m leaning forward for my coffee cup at the moment, strategically placed right of my computer, but an arm’s length away. That leaves room for my black and white wonder floof, Tucker to get up here and supervise my ‘puter efforts without knocking my coffee over or getting fur into it. I’m very fond of not having fur in my coffee.
Here’s the music. Cheers
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.”
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
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
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.”
The War Dream
War was just becoming a reality in this dream. No details about who although I was alert for militia to and individuals or small groups to come in.
Details are likewise sparse about the location. Along a lazy ocean. Cloud-streak greyish blue sky. Sands and grasses, a desolate place. Nothing familiar.
I was in my forties or fifties. Friends and family were absent. But I belonged to some sort of community. I told them war was going to commence. The majority were doubtful but being pretty certain, I set off north to collect intel because I’d heard some opposition was up that way. I had a feeling they were preparing to come down to our location and cause problems.
I was in flatlands. Staying along a road that ran parallel to the coastline, I walked, taking my time. Others accosted me about who I was and what I was doing. Two of them, a man and a teenage male, joined me. The man carried a small dog. We all had handguns but that was it.
Some opposition was spotted. We hid in scrub grass and watched. Seemed like they were looking for us. I headed toward the water and circled around them. Backtracking down the coastline from the road’s other side, I saw my companions were spotted. A man was aiming a gun at them.
Hurrying, I found another long rifle on the ground sticking out of the grass. Grabbing it, I shot the gun man three times. I then slipped forward and shot another gun man. He had a WW II Nazi helmet on. His skin became ash and fell from his body, leaving a skeleton in clothing and a helmet laying in sand and grass.
Returning to the other two, I urged one to take the rifle because I thought myself a poor shot and believed they’d do better. Continuing north, we encountered others who wanted to join us. By the time we returned to the community where I’d started, fifty men, women, and children had joined me.
We had few weapons, though. From what I’d gathered, I decided I knew where the enemy would come and set up a series of ambushes for them. Someone reported to me that the Army was arriving. I went out and met some of them set up as a watch. Speaking with them, I urged them to move because they were out of position and would be overtaken by the attacking force. They told me that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I discussed it further with them. They threatened me so I snapped and dressed them down. The senior of them said that I needed to talk to the colonel.
I went off and made my case to the colonel about why his forces were placed wrong. He dismissed my concerns and basically claimed that he knew better. Writing him off, I returned to my force. They asked me about the Army. I told them that they weren’t moving but when the enemy came down, they’d eventually realize they were wrong and move.
I saw some enemy soldiers moving along the beach. “Here they come now,” I told the rest. “Don’t shoot until more are here. Try to take them alive if you can but don’t put yourself into danger.”
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 