Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
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.
~snip~
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
It’s all about the power of the purse.
This comes from Xraymike79. But Nan deserves credit for sharing it at her site, Nan’s Notebook. Please give it a click and read. Cheers
Some samples from the net showing reactions to Dizzy Donny’s regime and their hypocrisy and latest failures.
Tone deaf and ignorant, screaming like a lost and bewildered toddler. That’s Trump.
More FAFO for your consideration.
Honesty. Integrity. Principles. Intelligence. Senator Kelly has all four. Cadet Bonespurs and his regime have none of them.
An effective and creative protest.
Jill Dennison has again brought us a luscious pre-Thanksgiving offering to humor and politics. I didn’t want to share them but The Neurons felt they were so compelling…anyway, here are my favorites. Hope you go by her site to see the rest.
And the link to the rest…
And a bonus offering for your time…
“My name is Brenda,” I said, with a touch of happy humor.
My current coffee haunt is RoCo. The local Food Co-Op owns RoCo. Members of the co-op, we get a dividend back from the co-op at the year’s end. And guess what? All you need to do is give the RoCo barista your name and number. That’s what I was doing.
“Is Brenda your wife, Michael?” Kat asked.
“Yes.” I released a small scoff. “The funny thing is, she doesn’t go by Brenda. She uses a name that she made up a long time ago, so it always makes us laugh when we reveal our account name.”
Kat grinned through the entire tale. “I like that.”
It’s the small things which give us spirit, innit?
They tell us that it’s foggy out there. I’m looking out the windows and all I see are blue skies and sunshine to beat the band. It’s 32 F degrees, ’bout the same as yestidaz temperature at this time but it doesn’t feel nearly so cold on account of the plentiful sunshine headin’ our way. That’s how it is today, Satyrda, November 22, 2025, in Ashlandia of southern Oregon, or SO, as we call it. BTW, the high temp for SO will be in the low 60s. Maybe.
Brekkie has been done up and served but while I was doing it, I regarded my wife’s early Friendsgiving Day preparations. They reminded me that Thanksgiving is this coming Thirstda in ‘Merica. That kind of thinking led to The Neurons offering of the song called “Alice’s Restaurant”. Other than that refrain and the song’s object being about a visit to Alice one Thanksgiving and how it came to change Arlo Guthrie’s life as told via the tale of a massacree, there’s not much about Alice’s Restaurant in the lyrics. I listened to them all this morning, smiling in memory of hearing it other times, chuckling at the turn of phrases and events. A good way to waste time while sipping a fresh coffee, and a fine antidote to the trumplusional world we’re facing on this Satyrda.
I read today about how Trump denied what he said he said. Typical Dizzy Don, using terms he doesn’t understand, throwing them about, shouting about killing others, and then pretending that he’d not said all of that, and that his toadies hadn’t repeated much of it.
“These are people that, in my opinion, broke the law,” Trump said. “Now what happens to them, I can’t tell you. But they broke the law. That is a terrible statement. I can say that if I ever said that and there were a Democrat as president, all hell would have broken loose.”
I don’t think much of Lame Donny’s opinion. Too many of his opinions are built on thoughts with less substance than air vapor. Of course, those Democrats didn’t break any law, but as a person who regularly breaks laws and has been convicted of doing so, Dozy Donny wouldn’t know what the law is if it bit him in the ass. Remember, this burning match of intelligence is the one who wasn’t sure if he was supposed to obey the Constitution.
By the time Dumb Donny answered that question, he’d been sworn into office twice. An adult American, supposedly a graduate of accredited school systems, Dim Donny couldn’t answer a question which most high schoolers would get right.
My eyes are rolling and my head is shaking as I think and type that.
Anyway…
Though it’s sunny and clear, peace and grace are nowhere to be seen. Hope they show, hope they show. Back to the coffee and on into the day we go. Cheers
Mom and sis are coping and adjusting, per usual. Mom is an interesting case. When she’s doing well, she’s happy on her own. When she’s doing poorly, she gets crabby and wants visitors. But her crabbiness repels people, so they stay away. Not a good dynamic.
So many things must be tended for Mom. The emptying and cleaning of her house, of course, and then putting it on the market. Those are expected, straightforward, but work. The matters causing the most headaches and frustrations are these modern matters. Changing phone plans because Mom’s phone was on Frank’s plan. Canceling her internet and cable. Those things were done online, through passwords and account numbers and usernames and things like that. Mom has it written down but it’s all been changed so many times because they changed systems or the passwords expired, or it didn’t work for God knows why, as Mom would say.
Then there are the prescription drugs. Sam’s Club is Mom’s pharmacy. Frank was her delivery system. Now sis is her delivery system, but sis doesn’t have the time to make regular runs like Frank did. These things can be delivered but the co-pay must be paid for. Does Mom have a credit card on file? Yes, she does, she says, no, you don’t, the pharmacy replies. Back and forth they go, driving sis insane.
It all makes me think. Mom is but twenty years older than me, and the way my health is trending…LOL. I think, I must be better prepared. Sure, passwords are written down and secured but they must be found by whoever is taking care of me at that point.
Maybe it’ll be AI or a bot assisting me by that point. A Medibot. Watching AI and bots in action at this stage, though, I’m not reassured. Maybe, maybe, they’ll have it worked out in twenty years.
Time will tell. Always does, doesn’t it?
Michael Seidel, writer 