Floofwriter(floofinition) – Individual who documents or records stories or information about animals by using written words. Origins: Indeterminant but first referenced in print in 1804 in Massachusetts, USA.
In Use: “Once floofs enter their lives, the modern proclivity is for people to become a floofwriter and share tales about their new loves on the net.”
In Use: “An early floofwriter was Beatrix Potter, who created Peter Rabbit in 1902.”
Recent Use: “Seabiscuit is a favorite subject among floofwriters and has been the subject of many books and films due to the small horse’s victories during the American Great Depression.”
The mid-week has crashed in once again. It’s like it’s on a schedule.
Yeah, Wednesday, December 13, 2023, is here in Ashlandia, where the gravity is average. Blustery winds dominate, sending my floofs back into the house complaining about it. They are not fans of wind. It’s 50 F now but we have the potential to achieve a high of 53 F before the weary sun sends us over to the night.
After reading some news, The Neurons are treating me to “Cry Me A River” as covered by Joe Cocker. He turned the soft song into a blues tinged hard rocker. This video showed a classic savagely energetic Cocker performance.
One of the things which pushed Cocker & “Cry Me A River” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dumped) was Donald Trump’s text screaming about one of the cases against him (there are four). Which one? Um, let’s see: yes, charges over whether former President Donald Trump can be prosecuted on charges he plotted to overturn the 2020 election results. Trump claimed he has immunity because he was POTUS. A federal judge ruled the case could go forward. Trump said he would ask the federal appeals court in Washington to reverse that outcome.
What special prosecutor Jack Smith decided is to bypass the appeals court, the usual next step in the process, and have the Supreme Court take it up. From Newsweek: ‘Smith asked if “a former President is absolutely immune from federal prosecution for crimes committed while in office or is constitutionally protected from federal prosecution when he has been impeached but not convicted before the criminal proceedings begin.”‘ Sure, get it done, stop wasting time and money, and answer the question about Trump’s immunity claim in the federal election interference case.
But if you know Trump (and how can you not by now?), his number three favorite tactic in court is delaying. (Numbers one and two is lying and verbally attacking and insulting people.)
From Newsweek:
“Crooked Joe Biden’s henchman, Deranged Jack Smith is so obsessed with interfering in the 2024 Presidential Election with the goal of preventing President Trump from retaking the Oval Office, as the President is poised to do, that Smith is willing to try for a Hail Mary by racing to the Supreme Court and attempting to bypass the appellate process,” a spokesperson for Trump’s campaign said in a statement Monday afternoon.
“There is absolutely no reason to rush this Witch Hunt to trial, except to injure President Trump and his 150 million, at least, supporters.”
Trump doesn’t have 150 million supporters. By his actions, he’s come to be at this point. So, yeah, so cry me a river.
Stay positive, be stable and strong, and lean forward toward a better world. I’ve had coffee and am trying to do all these things as well. Here’s some music to take your mind off things. Hope you enjoy it. Cheer
After a nocturnal thimble of rain, waking up to 41 F was a welcome change from the cold-morning streak that’s been going on in Ashlandia, where the restaurants are mostly above average.
Today it’s Monday — again — December 11, 2023, for the first time. 48 F now, we’re gonna clock 53 F, the weather prophets reassure us. Sunshine flutters between weak wings and strong glows, pushing efforts out around a flotilla of mixed media clouds and shadowed blue skies.
My theme song is “I Am, I Said”, by Neil Diamond. To be fair, I always thought the song was honest but a little over-the-top. As soon as I heard it, waaayyy back when I was a young adult, I understand what he was singing about. But, yes, some of the lines made me wince. It was one of those which invited The Neurons to plug it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark constrained).
My fault, though. I was walking around the house, looking for my phone, exasperated with myself for misplacing it. As I stopped and forced myself to recall the sequence of last using my phone — checking for a text from Mom and my sisters this morning — I remembered, ah, office, ah, black recliner. And, lo, there the black phone was in the black chair, left there when I jumped up to see what the floof monkeys were screeching at each other about in the other room.
“Of course, in the chair,” I mumbled to myself as I picked it up, checked the charge and confirmed, no texts. Just like that, The Neurons had Neil singing, “I am, I said, to no one there, and no one heard at all, not even the chair.” As the song kept going with only a brief respite filled by “Fifty Ways to Feed Your Floofy” (based on Paul Simon’s song), I felt a need to share Neil’s musical reflections with everyone else and power it out of my head. You’re welcome.
Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. I’m working on doing the same and may well succeed if I have enough coffee in me. I have begun. Here’s Neil. Cheers
Misanfloof (floofinition) – Person or animal who avoids the company or society of animals. Origins: Greek, first used in the stated meaning in 1683.
In Use: “She thought he might be a person she wanted to spend her life with until she decided to adopt a puppy and learned that he was a misanfloof.”
In Use: “Karen loved having a pet floof but somehow always managed to adopt one who was a misanfloof who angered whenever any other animal of any sort was around.”
Recent Use: “His latest movie was about a misanfloof who becomes a prophet surrounded by animals after a climate change disaster.”
Metafloofosis(floofinition) – Change of physical appearance, size, or personality and behavior in an animal. Origins: Internet, 2020
In Use: “Orphaned as little ones, the puppy and kitten each easily fit into the palm of a hand, but after metafloofosis, they were magnificent creatures who each easily took up half a bed.”
In Use: “The black rescue cat was renamed from Ebony to Sunny, but stayed hidden for the first three days. Day four delivered a metafloofosis from a scared and wary floof into a sweet and intelligent boi who enjoyed treats, playing, catnip, and conversing with his new people as he sat on their laps.”
Recent Use: “The four rescue kittens metafloofosized from extra spicy gray furballs into purring little sweethearts who easily found new homes.”
Floofpell (floofinition) – Urge or drive forward or on by an animal’s exertion, coercion, or insistence to do something. Origins: from Middle English, derived from Latin. First noted use 15th century.
In Use: “Intimidated by the cat, the dog was floofpelled to surrender the pet bed, even though he outweighed her by fifty pounds.”
In Use: “Many cats seem to learn early how to floofpell people to get up and let them in or out of the house, or to feed them in the middle of the night.”
Recent Use: “Animals often effectively employ ‘doe eyes’, a hopeful, charming gaze, to floofpell people to do things for them.”
Floofbbing (floofinition) – Ignoring someone with you and and giving attention to animals instead. Origins: 2020, United Kingdom.
In Use: “As the pandemic took over 2020, many people forced to stay home became more interested in animals, especially housepets, and floofbbing, which was aready frequently a de facto issue in many homes with pets, began to rise, affecting relationships among people.”
Recent Use: “Reading about floofbbing and its impact on relationships, Michael realized he was also guilty of wriubbing (the i is silent), ignoring someone and giving attention to writing instead. But then, he rationalized, people were also guilty of gaubbing — ignoring others to play games — and reubbing: reading or paying attention to a book instead of another person with them. Hell, there were probably problems with coubbing (computers), chiubbing, too, which would be children, and even trumbbing, ignoring another to focus attention on former POTUS Donald Trump.”
It’s Wednesday, November 29, 2023. If you’re counting the days, November has just one more, and then December steps up to assert her presence.
A hazy shade of winter rules out there, even though it’s technically still autum, with gray cotton-candy clouds smothering sunshine and blue sky. Temperature has climbed to 35 F from the overnight low of 28 F at my house. Still dry, we still have a stagnant air warning. The air quality is moderately down because people are using their fireplaces and much of the smoke stays in the area, affecting breathing, eyes, etc.
My wife made me laugh last night. She frequently does, although the way I put, it sounds like a rare thing. Anyway, the cats had me surrounded, one on the floor beside me to my left, one beside the computer on the desk, paw on mouse to my right. I was mildly complaining about them because I was trying to get something done and they were hampering me. “Look how they look at you,” she said. “They’re like, he’s so dreamy.” LOL
Politics influenced The Neurons and their music choice today. Is that a surprise? My wife was The Neurons’ influencer. Trump and his supporters dismay her. She’s a lifelong feminist and social activist, with a long history of standing up for others and fighting for change. So, after reading some Red State news to see what was going on there, she made comments along the lines of wishing Trump was gone. I later discovered I was humming a song to myself. When I stopped to challenge what it was, I couldn’t quit remember it, to The Neurons’ delight. But this morning, I thought about it again, and bang, “I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better” by The Byrds (1965) cranked up in the morning mental music stream (Trademark ancient).
I initially heard the song from AM radio when it came out when I was nine. Mom usually had music on in the car as we accompanied her when she was shopping and running errands. This being 1965 and later, the cars would’ve been her big white Chevy Impala convertible or her equally huge brown Buick LeSabre. Both had interiors the size of small living rooms, with steering wheels worthy of guiding the Titanic. While I heard it there, though, I learned the song more from my older sister. She had the album, Mr. Tambourine Man. I sharply remember its faded album cover, worn from being slid around. Her little record player was only good for 45s, so she had to ask Mom for permission to playher 33s on the big Magnavox console stereo in the living room, or take her albums to a friend’s house to play them. She played it often enough around me that I later played a bit of it on guitar when I began trying that instrument. Of course, Tom Petty did the song in 1989 on one of his albums, reviving memories of the original.
The song is a quite mellow folk-pop tune. The line in it behind the childhood connection and Trump and his hateful, authoritarian stances is, “And I’ll probably feel a whole lot better when you’re gone.” She and I agree that we will feel better when Trump is gone. Given his diet and overweight appearance, stress from campaigning for POTUS while screaming at people till he turns purple, all while enduring four trials, coupled with his denial about his health, she and I wouldn’t be surprised if a stroke or heart attack felled him within the next few months.
Stay pos, be strong, lean forward. Coffee is delighting my taste buds even as I write. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s November 28, 2023, a Tuesday. Only seventeen hundred billion shopping days until Black Friday/Cyber Monday/Last Chance Tuesday and Special Deals Wednesdays ads, commercials, mailers, and emails are gone. Then what will we do?
The furnace is busy this morning in Ashlandia, where summers are hot and spring is above average. Faintly gray and softly weak clouds malinger in the blue sky. Awakening temperature was 28 F outside. Inside was a chilly 62 F but at least I was inside and could turn on the fireplace and furnace to warm the house. I count that as a win. We are working our way up through the forties, with expectations that we’ll level off in the mid-fifties.
The floof masters have decided all will be better served by staying in during these cold hours. I appreciate that, as we also have the stagnant air advisory going on, and my nose is feeling it a bit. I worry what it does to the cats. My preference would be that they’re more permanent house cats, going out to nap in the backyard when the air is clear, the sun is bright, and the temperatures are comfortable. But the floofbeasts are obstinate little buggers; it’s one of their main strengths.
Today’s theme music was not a gift from The Neurons. Nor was it dream inspired, or triggered by some conversation. No, I have “Mrs Robinson” by Simon & Garfunkel rounding through the morning mental music stream (Trademark inept). This was inspired by Jill Dennison’s blog about the song. She featured it as her song choice this morning, and tells the story about how the song developed and ended up in the movie, The Graduate. I found an interesting recording of S&G playing it in Central Park, NY, in 1981.
Stay strong, be positive, and keep leaning forward. Hot coffee is being freshly consumed. Here’s the video. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 