We were high-school classmates. Graduated in 1974. I haven’t seen him since 1979, when I was home from the military. He was a good friend for the times, at the time. But we have all changed, haven’t we?
I dreamed I encountered Keith at a store. Don’t know what kind of store. We were both the young people we were in high school. Someone else was with him, hanging back in the shadows, behind him. I don’t know who they were. Keith told me he was running for office. I was very surprised. Keith, reserved, a little shy, with a sharp mind and a dry sense of humor, didn’t seem destined for politics. I asked why he was doing that. He gave me a detailed response about problems he’d had with several local businesses. He’d felt cheated but everything the businesses had done were legal, so he was running for office so he could change things. As he gave his response, he showed me his phone, where there were records and newspaper and media articles about the businesses and Keith’s issues. I said something about him using his phone as evidence. He replied, “Good lord, no. I have too much porn on it to ever show anyone my phone.”
Sort of funny how we use the word charge and how its meanings has shifted.
We used to say things like, “Then he charged at me,” or, “That animal charged me.”
More often for a while, we heard charge in, “He was charged with the crime of soliciting,” or “He was charged with drunk driving.”
Later, charging things via credit cards were in vogue, such as, “I’m going to charge it for now, and then I’ll pay it off later.”
Now we say, “I didn’t charge my phone and now it’s almost dead. I have to find a charger.” Imagine hearing that forty years ago, if you’ve been alive that long. What were you charging in 1985?
Of course, imagine back in 1970 if someone asked you, “Do you have a laptop?” You’d think they were crazy, asking such a question.
My laptop computer informed me of its battery status.
Battery fully charged 100% Fully smart charged
I thought, WTF? Isn’t that just three ways of saying the same thing?
The Neurons pursued that a little. I suppose someone somewhere, reading that their battery was fully charged might wonder, “Does that mean 100%?” And another might wonder, but if it’s fully charged and 100%, is it also fully ‘smart’ charged.
Admittedly, I don’t even know what ‘smart charged’ is. Probably means something to someone, but not me. 100% charged is good enough for my math.
Dizzy Donny Trump — Donny T, I called him — Donny T, he like that — Donny T and I used to golf together.Like, all the time. He was so impressed with my game. He told me many times, “Your swing is the best swing I’ve ever seen. Your swing is so beautiful. It’s the greatest swing I’ve ever seen and I’ve golfed many times with many many famous golfers, professional golfers, even. None of them swing as well as you.”
Beside my swing and my drive, my putting skills stunned into stupefied admiration. “My god,” he said after I sank a thirty-foot putt. “Do you ever miss?” That’s what stopped us from playing more. I was always beating him, and he finally told me, “You know what? I can’t take it any more. I’m not playing you anymore. That’s it. You’re just too good.”
I know what he means. I am that good. We used to talk about it a lot when we were flying around together. I used to fly him all over the place, lot of times cause he was meeting with his friend, Jeffrey. Dizzy T told me that I was the greatest pilot to ever fly him. I replied, “And can you believe it? I never even took a flying lesson. I signed up for them but once they started teaching, I kept correcting them because these experts didn’t know how nearly as much as I knew about flying. Once I showed them I could take off and land, they just gave me my pilot’s license.”
Trump was wide-eyed with envy. “I wish I was like that,” he said. “I would fly myself. I also am a remarkable pilot. I never took a lesson, either. I could just do it. Military pilots I fly with always tell me, you should have been a fighter pilot. You’re amazing. I know they’re right but I was too busy with other things, like winning the Nobel Peace Prize.”
I nodded. “I know. Same here.”
I haven’t seen Trump in years. He won’t even take my calls. Claims he doesn’t know me. Doesn’t remember me. That’s because his wife once told him that she wished that she’d married me instead of him. But that’s another story.
Don’t believe me? I don’t believe it. I don’t get it. Why not? I sound just like Trump. And as you know, he tells it like it is. He never lies. And neither do I.
Sunset was turning the day into a purple cloud darkness. I was getting into a large, shiny black SUV. My wife was with me, and some others, but they’re unknown. As the mechanics of starting the vehicle and guiding it out of a parking lot to a road was finished, I realized that something was on the vehicle’s front end. That something progressed fast from ‘something’ to a full-grown cougar. With that registering, I stopped the car and told the rest what I saw, then stepped out of the vehicle to cautiously approach the animal. Alive, it clung to the front with its claws. I told it, “Shoo.” To my amazement, the cougar departed its space, trotting away from me, amusing, mysterious, bewildering.
Returning to the vehicle, I drove for some time. Arriving somewhere during daytime, my wife and I left the vehicle to shop in some little stores. Not particularly interested in shopping, I found a cushioned bench where I sat. Feeling drowsy, I laid down to nap. I awoke after some unknown time because a small stripped tabby cat was curled up against me and purring in my ear. Fully awake, I put and scratched the sweet, loving animal. It trotted off, tail high, after a short time.
My wife came and I told her what happened. She was marginally interested, annoying me. We went out and found ourselves on the top tier of a large sports arena. Some football game was underway. I gathered this was a college or university. Skirting the game, my wife and I went down to register for classes. When I walked into the administration building, a large cougar leaped into my arms and held onto me. I was so astonished and a little wary but the animal wasn’t threatening. After some seconds of holding the cougar as it held me, a female administrator came by and told the animal to leave me alone, which it did, trotting off down a hall, disappearing through an open door.
After talking about classes, my wife and I, accompanied by a female friend, went out to walk some trails that crossed the campus. These took us into some small, rocky mountains. The day grew hot under a bright sun. My wife decided to sit and rest. I went on a bit. Looking back, I saw that she’d fallen asleep so I laid down to nap. I took off my pants, leaving me in a shirt and underwear, but covered myself with a light blanket. The friend came up. She teased and flirted with me, suggesting she wanted to join me. While I rejected her, I also wanted her, and found the entire encounter intensely erotic.
When black Frida comes, it’ll be chilly, with limited, diluted sunshine in Ashlandia. This is November 28, 2025. Just a few more daz and the eleventh month of 2025 will be in the books. Meanwhile, it’s 43 F and a high of 55 F is hoped. Rain? WTH knows?
A little tomfloofery for your day is in the link. Click and enjoy this interaction between two species.
Today’s music was derived from looking out the window. I was visiting the back scene with Papi, gathering some sunshine against my face and gazing on the leaves on the ground. Dead and dying leaves passed through my thoughts. Instantly Les Neurons began a song in my morning mental music stream about dying leaves and dirty ground. The words were there along with pieces of melody and fragments of sound. What was missing were the title, performer, and the rest of the song. As it didn’t come to me, I took to technology to recover the rest. The answers: “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” by The White Stripes. I thought it a bit cruel of The Neurons to do that to me, trying to me think and remember when I hadn’t even had my coffee yet. Sometimes, I swear, I don’t know what gets into The Neurons.
We had a delightful Friendsgiving, meeting a few new people and visiting with a dozen and a half friends. The food was its usual delicious, the standard for these outings. Standard and straightforward T Day offerings but with organic stuff, vegan offerings, and gluten-free choices.
We chatted briefly about politics. “We ain’t buying it,” was chatted up. We also discussed “A House of Dynamite”, a movie about potential nuclear way now playing on Netflix. One wonders how the Dizzy Donny Regime would respond to detection of an incoming ICBM, given that Donny cut the head off the senior military ranks, replacing them with people more politically reliable to Donny but less experienced. Some had even retired at lesser ranks and were returned to service to take up new positions. Not reassuring.
Hope you had a decent Thirstda. Now out and onward. Cheers
The coffee shop will be closed on Thanksgiving Day. That’s the bottom line to this. To me, great. Be with family or friends or whatever works in your sphere.
No, my problem is in their poster announcing their closure. They say they’re closed Thanksgiving Day.
On November 26.
Umm, hello? That’s today. Tomorrow, Thursday, Thanksgiving, is November 27.
Being the anal fellow I am, The Neurons forced me to mention it to the staff. And yeah, as I told The Neurons, the staff knew. But they were okay, because they were emphasizing that they were closed on Thanksgiving, regardless of the date. Nobody else had mentioned the error, if it was noticed.
It’s okay. Last year, Thanksgiving was on the 28th. Next year, it should be on the 26th, and then the signs will be okay. The Neurons aren’t happy about it, but then again, they’re rarely happy.
Apflooftude(floofinition) – A natural ability to understand animals. Origins: First noted in the 17th century in an instruction pamphlet titled A Treatise on Travel with Animals, published in France, author unknown.
In Use: “Just when people begin priding themselves on their apfllooftude, the furry floofy floofballs demonstrate bewildering behavior that defies people’s grasp about what’s going on.”
Hello World. We’ve stepped into another Wenzda. This is November 26, 2025. Sunshine is warming Ashlandia. The clouds have stepped out. Fog has eased off. It’s 48 F with pretentions of reaching the mid 60s. The winter edge has filed away, and it feels like a pleasant autumn day out there.
The Neurons are offering a melody by The Offspring in the morning mental music stream. “The Kids Aren’t Alright” entered the stream as I scanned news, shook my head, and wondered, “What the hell is going on?” That plays right into the song’s lyrics.
What the hell is going on? The cruelest dream, reality
The song was written in response to one of the band members seeing first hand how the ‘American Dream’ failed his home town. From Wikipedia.org:
Dexter Holland wrote the song after visiting his home town, Garden Grove, California, and discovering many of his old acquaintances had faced serious problems. Holland stated: “The neighborhood looks like Happy Days, but it’s really Twin Peaks,” while guitarist Noodles said that the song subverted the idea that “you grow up hoping you and your friends have a bright future.”
How many of us have seen something like this transpire? You meet these little nephews, nieces, neighbor kids, etc., and think, “Gosh, what a bright and talented young person. So intelligent and precocious.” Parents rave about how great the child is. Then, a few years later, you hear about the child’s growing problems. Some of the problems are derived from school, some from family, even parents. And you think, “What happened?” in wistful wondering tones. Kind of like many do with this country, particularly under the Trump Regime. What happened? WTF is happening? Especially to the cratering of norms, institutions, and structures under Dizzy Donny’s guidance, and the twisted priorities he pursues to glorify and enrich himself. Dozy Donny is such a broken toy.
Call out and reminder, We Ain’t Buying It this weekend. Annie presents a solid reminder of the whereins and whyfors for us. It’s about money, power, responsibility, and living with choices. Check out Annie’s post, if you will.
Big Business is a substantial target as we enter a Big Business Weekend. The coalition behind “We Ain’t Buying It” began with Black organizations that started boycotting Target when it dropped its DEI policy to appease Trump’s White Nationalist agenda. That boycott continues.
The opposition now includes many other supportive groups. As explained below, the emphasis is on Target, Home Depot, and Amazon,and the boycott is for the weekend that begins on Thanksgiving Day, moves to Black Friday, and concludes with CyberMonday.
You can read all the details in Indivisible’s description. As they say, it’s simple. It’s also a building block for the economic measures that will be necessary in the near future.
~snip~
On to coffee! The first sip is with the nose. Since grace and peace haven’t deigned to be here, I’ll just carry on widout ’em. Onward, into the world. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 