Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Ad Floof (floofinition) – An animal assembly created without previous planning. Origins: Flooftin roots, with the use as given first noted in 1879.
In Use: “The ad floof convened every day whenever someone got in the kitchen to get something to eat and fur beasts wandered in to see what’s cooking.”
In Use: “Carrie left the house for a walk only to discover an ad floof of deer, dog, squirrel, and cat plotting in the front yard.”
I was deep into my DIY project. New breakfast bar lights. My wife came running in. “I need to take a bath and get cleaned up. The rapture is tomorrow!” As my eyebrows climbed, she enthused more deeply about how it’s on the Internet that the rapture would take place on September 23, 2025. It’s on the net, so it must be true.
“So don’t be surprised if you can’t find me,” she finished.
I nodded. “Yes, I know I’m going to be part of the left behind.” I’d long resigned myself to that. Don’t know if resigned was the right word. I think the world might be a better place with less people. Better if God plucked them out and took them elsewhere rather than having disease, starvation, pestilence, war, and violence take them away.
“Maybe you’ll be allowed to visit. Came up to the holy gates and talk to me.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see.”
This morning, she asked, “Hey, what happened to the rapture?” She then confided, “I had a plan. I was going to hide and leave a pile of clothes on the floor so that you’d think I was taken in the rapture.”
“What happened?”
She grinned. “I forgot.”
Guess the joke was on her.
Another still chill morning embraces Ashlandia. Sunda, September 21, 2025. Awakening at 7:07 AM, I stare at the time and the light, noting how much morning light we’ve already shed as we edge forward and autumn gets ready to pounce on us. 66 F, 76 F is the day’s expected high, with muddled clouds squatting on us.
My wife is angry with her phone today. Not a phone savvy person. It makes noises at her and she barks, “What,” and picks it up with a malevolent gaze. It wouldn’t surprise me if she throws it down. She and phones are not friends. She plays a video of the “We Don’t Care Club” which has us laughing. Here’s a sample.
Sis shared photos of Mom in her new room. Looks warm, full of light, but cozy. I think Mom will be happy there for a while. We hope being on one level will reduce her fall risk. We’re all at least mollified for a while that she should move into assisted living.
Trump’s continued attacks on the United States has me infuriated. More Americans disapprove of his actions. A gap is growing between MAGA and non-MAGA Republicans. MAGA think Trump will deliver them to the land of milk and honey. Polls show that the wealthy, with the financial padding and income to pay more for goods, are increasingly happy with Trump’s policies. Not a surprise. Trump is exercising leverage and power through the Federal structure. The latest is his H1B 100K plan. That’s sure to gouge the U.S. healthcare system, technology development, higher education, and the economy. Trump and the GOP powers will be happy. As the fallout trickles down to the MAGAs, they’ll get upset but they’ll reliably blame Obama, Biden, and Democrats in general. Then Trump will attack another ship or place, kill a few more in the name of peace, and MAGA attention will wander away. Meanwhile, Trump makes himself richer at all others’ expense.
Meanwhile, my wife and I were just discussing someone’s bizarre explanation about how an earthquake shows that God was upset with Charlie Kirk’s death. Next, we might start hearing that Kirk actually rose after three days.
Today’s song emerges from Papi and I doing late night stargazing. Just considering the stars last night, I wondered about those far-off gems. They seem so docile out here but to consider them as explosive places, places with gravity that can suck me in, crush me like a can under a garbage truck, trips the mind into deep wonder. That brought up the line, “Someday you will find me caught beneath a landslide in a champagne supernova in the sky.” And here we are, with the song still playing in my morning mental music stream.
May peace and grace find you, and do it soon, damn it. Off I go, into the mildly cloudy day. Cheers
Jill Dennison has done it again. She’s collected some memes that definitely need to be shared with more folks. Some made me swear, some made me cry, and some were rewarded with heavy sighs. Sometimes, I did all of that at once. Here a few to whet your interest. They show, with these simple words and images, how far we’ve been twisted by Trump’s alternate reality in the United States. Head to Jill’s site to read ’em all. Cheers
A spider set up behind my toiletries. They were a large one of the daddy long-legs variety, often also called a cellar spider.
Sighing, I advised the spider, “That’s not a good place for webbing. I’m always picking this stuff up and moving it around. I think you need to go.” I gently prodded the webbing a few times.
Dropping to the countertop, the spider strode with dignity across the counter, then slipped in between the drawer and the cabinet, disappearing. I admired them. They knew where they were going with amazing surety, and they went unhurried, unruffled.
I wish I had as much poise as they displayed.
From Diana Ravitch’s Blog, “Stephen Colbert Responds to Kimmel Affair with Hilarious Video“. I think we owe it to ourselves to laugh and mock Trump’s cancel culture.
Trump’s BFF, J. Epstein, would have probably enjoyed it.
Muted sunshine and faded skies greet Ashlandia. New chills float through. It’s Fridaz, September 9, 2025. 68 F, rain’s short shadow hovers the mountains. 86 F will be the high but a sense that it’ll be a cool 86 pervades.
Speaking personally, slumber and I were good friends last night. Residual abdominal pain haunts me. My gallbladder matter tracks in a worsening trend. Each cough and flex ushers in uncomfortable spasms. My gut makes noise like a pen full of feeding hogs. I look forward to my surgery in November. Until then, like others, all I can do is endure and work around the issues.
Political news casts no happy sunshine. Trump and his conservative army of dunces remain bent on Making America Poor and Stupid. Oh, the top 1% will be the richest in the world. On paper, we’ll compare pretty good. Into the trenches of life, most will live the lives of Les Miserables. Hate and stupidity is an ugly brew but it addicts many.
Reading on of Peter Sage’s post this week left me with more dispirited headshaking. Peter writes about politics, often addressing it from the southern Oregon point of view. Peter writes,
“Pence, along with Reagan, both Bush presidents, Dole, McCain, and Romney, are the old establishment, the America that isn’t great, the one that paid unnecessary respect to the wrong people. The old GOP leaders accepted laws and norms. That defined “conservatism.” Trump is different. Trump is a rebel. He smashes those laws and norms because they were tacitly part of the oppression. The old order didn’t protect and reward normal White guys and their wives, good Christians.
“Trump is stomping on the symbols and policies of the old order. Stop wind and solar projects. Erase monuments to civil rights. Fire Black leaders in government, the military, and the universities. Cancel medical research grants. Question vaccinations. Stop the slow-motion, checks-and-balances process-dominated government. The establishment respected the wrong people: foreigners and immigrants. It respected diversity, and “diversity” is just part of the groupthink that benefits everyone except people like my correspondent.”
Many of us understand that Trump has used people like Peter Sage’s correspondent as political pawns. They think he’s going to make life better for them. He won’t. We will instead all be interred in a dark existence of poverty and illness. All those regulations which kept the essentials safe for the Joe and Karen average citizen will be swept away in the name of trade and commerce. This will benefit the wealthiest, but not the commoners. And with Trump’s direction, the commoners will be largest, fastest growing segment.
Today’s music is by Hall & Oates. My wife and I went to have our eyes checked. We did this at Costco. Not wanting to be late, my wife guided us there twenty minutes early. Shopping was done in six minutes, leaving time to waste. We did this by drifting through the book, snack, and clothing regions. Quickly bored, I drifted, and when I turned back to my wife, she was gone. That prompted The Neurons to reboot the 1973 Hall & Oates ballad, “She’s Gone”. A short while later, I heard her call out, “Cah, cah.” That’s how we get one another’s attention. So she wasn’t gone. But The Neurons were so amused by this whole turn that they’ve kept the song going in my morning mental music stream.
Time to get up and get out. Hope peace and grace finds you and keeps you standing.
While driving on an errand, I heard a radio DJ — do they still call them that? — talking about boomers. “Boomers hate the word seniors and are out to change it,” she said. “Sorry, boomers, but you can’t. You must own what you are.”
I laughed. I’m a boomer. “Sorry, sugar,” I answered the radio. “I’m a boomer. I don’t need to do anything. I can make up and apply terms and use them as I want. Says so on the net. Just ask Trump. He’s always making things up.” Of course, Trump makes things up in a bad way. I think I do it in a good way.
For the record, I’m not a senior. Nor do I ‘age’. I’m leveling up, as in a video or internet game. The higher your level, the rarer and more special you are. I think this works, as it aligns with some thinking that reality might be a cosmic video game, a simulacrum.
For the record, I’ve at level 69. Mom celebrates level 90 next month and Dad celebrates level 93.
Floofllantis (floofinition) – To brighten a space or existence with an animal’s representation or presence. Origins: Floof Marketing PLC, 1999.
In Use: “During the pandemic, when people were urged to stay home and many businesses were shuttered, the popularity of floofllantis grew, resulting in a large increase in housepets.”
In Use: “Realizing how the Internet could be employed to enhance animals’ situations, Floof Marketing PLC launched the first floofllantis campaign, urging existing housepets to act silly, cute, loving, or interesting to entice their hoomans to share videos on the net.”
AF (Artificial Flooftelligence) (floofinition) 1. Machines or toys made to emulate or duplicate animal behavior or sounds. Origins:
In Use: “Some companies and people think that AF (Artificial Flooftelligence) is the way to go, giving people the impression that they have a fur friend with little barking and meowing mechanical critters, but true floof lovers recognize the soulessness of these mechanical devices.”
2. Attributing greater smarts to an animal than they actually have. Origins: Internet circa 2017.
In Use: “People who live with pets often claim their furry sweetie is the smartest ever, ascribing the critters with artificial flooftelligence like the animals are Stephen Hawkings in animal guise.”
Michael Seidel, writer 