Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was out for a walk. A beautiful day embraced me with warm air, an immensely hot sun, and a consisten breeze that worked on softening the heat’s edge. Moderate success was enjoyed.
On the corner was a park. Within it, a gaggle of geese milled and ate. Not far from them, a flock of cyclists enjoyed a picnic break by a sycamore tree. Forty feet out, a quad of deer ate and digested in an Oak’s shade.
Saturda in the park in Ashlandia.
Papi and I weren’t synced this morning. At some ridiculously early hour, he banged on the pet door. I let him in. He thundered through the house in a burst of spring energy. I stumbled back to bed.
Minutes later, he thumped to come back in. The pet door was on because of smoke. Controlled burning was the smoke source. Controlled burning is a lot like vaccinations. There’s some immediate reaction but benefits to doing it are established.
I took the pet door off and let Papi back in. He returned within minutes, banging to come back in. I talked to the floof about it. Showed him the door was off and the pet door was open. Reminded him how it worked. He galloped away as I was speaking.
So went Saturda’s dawn stage on May 10, 2025, for me in Ashlandia. A cooling trend has been embraced. Dropping our high to 79 F today. It’s 71 F and sunny now. Visibility for a long way and more. Clouds are negotiating with the blue skies and sunshine. I’m unfamiliar with their negotiating skills, so I don’t know how it’ll turn out.
Anyway, after that, I hung in bed for a while, revisiting a dream. Papi kept coming back to see if I was going to provide him fresh food and affection. While I finally acfloofesced to his antics, a song started playing in the morning mental music stream.
“Bang on the Drum All Day” is by Todd Rundgren. Came out in 1983. It’s a lively and happy song about the urge not to work. Don’t know if you’ve ever had that urge. It had a strong grip on me today. Probably because my sleep was floofrupted.
More stories about Trump’s United States are emerging. How ’bout those Newark airport radar failures? That’s some reassuring shit. Fits right in with the trend of increasing aircraft accidents. Many more accidents than in last year. So air travel was safer under President Biden. To channel my inner Trump’s voice, “Air travel is a LOT WORSE with TRUMP as President!!! This could be the GREATEST year for DEADLY plane crashes than ANY TIME in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD!!!” An ongoing shortage of air traffic controllers doesn’t alleviate MY worries about air travel in ‘Merica.
But, PINO Trump’s Regime is on it! Yes, the team that fired people and then rehired them because they found out they needed them is going to hire more air traffic controllers. Gonna supercharge the system, they claim. This is being brought to you by the same regime with Defense Secretary Hegseth giving away secrets on unsecured systems. The same gang who declares NOBODY IS ABOVE THE LAW while they elevate PINO Trump to a position ABOVE THE LAW. Same folks who think empty ports are great because then we’ll lose less money! Same people destroying the national parks system created through decades of work by people from both parties. Yes, tattoo me as cynical, but I don’t think that Trump Regime is up to fixing the air travel problems.
Coffee has engaged The Neurons. We now return to our normal programming. Hope it all goes well for you today, tomorrow, and so on. Here we go again. Cheers
Trump Regime Logic
“The canary in our mine has died,” the foreman reported.
“We’re not going to replace him,” the mine owner replied. “That bird was fraud, waste, and abuse. Never did anything but sit there in a cage. Useless. We’ll save hundreds of pennies by cutting that position.”
The next day, the foreman reported, “Three miners have died.”
“Good!” the mine owner enthused. “Look how much we’re saving on personnel costs. Keep up the good work.”
“All of the third shift are dead,” the foreman reported the next day. “There’s no mining going on today.”
The mine owner clapped his hand and cackled in glee. “That’s great news.”
The foreman stared at him. “How do you figure? Nothing’s being mined. Production is down.”
“Exactly,” the owner replied. “That’ll reduce supplies. With lower supplies, we can charge much more money per ton. In fact, go ahead and lay off everyone else. We’ll shut the mine down and save a fortune in overhead while we sign new deals.”
“Are you sure?” the foreman asked.
“Yes. We’ll be making so much money, you won’t believe it.” The owner’s orange face glowed with excitement. “Trust me, I’m a very stable genius. I know what I’m doing.”
Our cat sitter surprised us with her report on Papi.
Papi is our male orange cat. When I describe him, I use words like sweet but cautious. Wary.
The cat sitter said, “He’s such a sweet boy.”
Yep. We agree.
“He was always there waiting for me or showed up as soon as I called him,” the cat sitter said.
What? Papi shows up for me but often ignores my wife. We always thought Papi was distrustful of women.
“And he always wanted me to pet him and talk to me and purr, the sitter said.
Papi’s behavior was completely contrary to my wife’s experiences with him. Even though she bribes him with treats.
I noticed the cat sitter used a different sound when dealing with Papi. We use a kissing sound. She employed, “Psp, psp, psp.”
So I tried that on Papi.
The change was electric. He whirled around and hurried to me, tail up.
My wife’s eyes widened. She issued, “Psp, psp, psp.”
Papi turned and looked at her. “He usually ignores me,” my wife said.
We talked it over and agreed, that must have been the sound people used around him when he was young. Who knows, of course. We do know that the result is amazing. He’s a much friendlier and relaxed floof with sound employed.
Details matter. As always, the problem is in figuring them out.
Been here once or twice.
Floofpidity (floofinition) – 1. The quality of making unintelligent decisions or acts regarding animals. Origins: Worldwideweb, 1999.
In Use: “Realizing he’d forgotten his drink, Brett set his plate of sandwiches down on the coffee table in an act of supreme floofpidity, and rushed back to the kitchen, creating an opportunity for the Puppy to gobble up Brett’s lunch.”
2. A dumb idea or decision by an animal.
In Use: “Demonstrating grade A floofpidity, a dog attacked a child, only to be counter attacked and chased off by Tara the cat.”
It’s as I feared: future NAZIs developed time travel.
There is evidence:
Yes, they found a sword with a swastika. This isn’t the first time a swastika was found in the past. The cover story is that the swastika meant ‘good fortune’ before Hitler adopted it as his murderous regime’s emblem. I think NAZIs going back in time spread a tale that the swastika meant ‘good fortune’ to trick others into using it. Then the NAZIs held secret meetings to spread their hatred, prejudices, sexism, and racism. In fact, going out on a limb, I’ll wager that in some distant far, far, far, far future, we’ll learn that Adolf Hitler and Trump are related. Further, they’re both related to Darth Vader.
But Darth Vader isn’t real, cynics will protest. That’s because that’s what they want you to believe. Vader is real. He just resides in a galaxy far, far, far, far away.
As does Hitler, awaiting his time to return. If you recall, his body was burnd and buried. It was never seen by anyone but Hitler’s staff.
Remember, you read it here first.
May 4, 2025, broke as a Sunda. Rain falling off in the night, blue sky and clouds mix it up in a friendly competition. Sunshine comes and goes with the clouds’ permission. The weather ‘they’ is hyping a high of 65 F, part of a warming trend for the week.
Dreams delivered today’s song. The dreams didn’t include the song. Disturbing as a loud animal roar in a coal-black night, the dreams had me scribbling details for well over an hour. Part of that was the phrase, “I’ve been thinking.” More usually followed. Now, though, The Neurons picked up the phrase, found where it belonged in a song, and rolled it for me. The result in the morning mental music stream was 1990’s song by Londonbeat, “I’ve Been Thinking About You”.
I’ve also been thinking about Mom. Her house is a mess without electricity. Day 5. She was convinced yesterday to go to my sister’s house and stay the night. Mom’s live-in boyfriend stayed at his daughter’s house. Taking care of her has been increasingly difficult for him. Her drugs and illnesses dull her mind and make her moody. She snaps at him. That’s worn thin. With her mobility lessening, he’s forced to carry her. She’s lost weight and doesn’t weigh more than a few birds these days. Still, weight is weight. Repetitive bending, lifting, and twisting is wearing out his 95-year-old body. Both have refused to leave her house and move into assisted living. But with her energy diminishing, his strength dropping, her senses dulling, and his eyesight and hearing worsening, will this be the straw that changes their mind?
We don’t know. More than anything, they’re independent and stubborn. I see so much of her in myself in these matters. Intellectually, I understand. Emotionally, it’s a far more complicated path.
My coffee is half gone. The cat has completed a few laps around the inside of the house. Now he’s gone to find sunshine. I want to do the same but I’ve planned a full agenda for myself. Who knows if I’ll stay with it.
I hope the best for you and your day, and us and our days. Deep breath; here we go. Cheers
Floofnamor (floofinition) 1. An animal’s love or fascination for something or someone. Origins: 14th century Middle Floofish.
In Use: “From early on, Olive was floofnamored for all things liquid but especially a running tap, batting the water with her paw and lapping it up with her long, pink tongue.”
2. A human’s strong or excessive infatuation with an animal.
In Use: “Before she was walking, Rachel grew floofnamored with the dogs, who willingly stayed beside her as protector, friend, and surrogate parent while the infant grabbed their noses, ears, and fur, and cooed at them.”
Floofcrastinator (floofinition) – Someone who puts off doing things because of an animal. Origins: From Flooftin floof (animal), crastinus (“of tomorrow”), from cras (“tomorrow”). First noted us 1920, United States.
In Use: “Sherry had every intention of picking up her list and getting things done around the house, but Temper found her while she was sitting on the sofa and fell asleep against her looking so adorable, Sherry felt like the Universe was telling her to be a floofcrastinator. It turned out to be a great nap, too.”
In Use: “Ella was normally an orderly and organized person who immediately did things but as soon as she adopted a rescue dog, she became a floofcrastinator, at least until she could re-prioritize to spend time with Penny while still getting everything else done.”
Michael Seidel, writer 