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.”
My thoughts are drawn to our local political scene. Ashlandia is a small town, dependent on tourism for most of its business revenue. Ashlandia is home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, which puts on several plays from March to November. A local university, Southern Oregon University, supplements the employment base by hiring people for its needs. Adjacent to rivers and a ski resort helps draw more tourism for us. We also have multiple local breweries and wineries. Other than that, we’re mostly restaurants, coffee shops, a couple bookstores, head shops selling THC and CBD products, and several grocery stores.
With tourism down, we’ve been struggling as a town. Tourism was driven down over ten years ago by droughts which lasted several years ago, deepening into a serious problem which called for water rationing, followed by smoke pollution from wildfires. Plays were cancelled due to these threats. Outdoor activities were curtailed. Then the pandemic struck, with all that it delivered to the table. Finally, Trump has struck. Just as tourism was beginning to rebound, his xenophobic policies and tariffs take another axe to our numbers. Local services were also curtailed due to grant cuts and budget cuts. SOU enrollment is down…again. Tuition is up…again. SOU programs and classes were cut…again.
With all this afflicting us, the city was strapped for cash and has a budget deficit. Besides those issues, we also have a homeless problem. Trump’s cuts did us no favors on that front.
Into this cauldron of difficulties come our local government leaders. Their solutions.
Cut back on park maintenance and add service fees to local utility bills to make up the parks deficit.
Build a new park. Mind you, they’re short of funds to take care of the existing parks, but WTH.
Shut down the senior center and pool. Because they’re short of funds, they couldn’t hire the people needed to keep those open. But let’s build a new park that we don’t have the money to maintain.
Give BIG pay raises to the city management staff, especially the city manager. Because, hey, with this budget deficit, revenue down, and tourism down, we need to ensure they’re better compensated than We the People, the Ashlandia denizens.
And let’s cut essential service staff after giving those pay raises because you know, less people are better. We’ll also cut the hours to the utility and city offices because we need to cut expenses.
They even, from time to time, talk about doing away with the police department because it costs too much.
The city manager states, without evidence, that the new park will draw tourists. Ashland already has Lithia Park, Hunter Park, Garfield Park, Clay Street Park, and a half dozen more. Their facilities are being closed because of budget deficits. Sure, the water park shut off the water this summer because we lacked the funds for the water and staff to run it, and Mountain Park is mostly closed for the same reason, but let’s build another park to draw more tourists.
Munda, September 15, 2025, has settled in against a backdrop of clear blue skies and warm sunshine. Summer is hanging on, taking us from overnight lows in the lower fifties to an 85 F high. All things end, though, and summer’s last days are coming on in the northern hemes.
I spoke to Dad this morning. He’s still in the rehab center. His voice was not strong. This latest ordeal really seemed to suck his life energy out of him. But…it might also be that he had just gotten out of a very hot shower and said he was sleepy. On a more positive side, my wife seems over her illness. She ate yesterday, picked up a book and read, and went to exercise class this morning.
Had a storm of dreams again last night. Went from being in the military trying to get a haircut to being in charge of a process with IBM and ISS, the Internet security companies where I worked, to recover and shut down security equipment. The latter was a messy, disorganized affair, and no one had done anything, so I was taking it on. Out of the blue toward the end, three young women, teenagers, really, appeared to help me with the computers. They weren’t much assistance at first, as they lacked knowledge but they were eager and energetic. With their help, I began wrangling the mess into something bearing some coherency.
Back to some rock ‘n roll for Munda. I was singing “Honky Tonk Kitty” to Papi this morning after he chirped appreciation for the food being delivered to him. Naturally, my song inspired The Neurons to fire up memory of the Rolling Stones tune in the morning mental music stream, as it’s quite similar to what I was singing.
Today’s project is about getting tree branches cut back from the neighboring apartment complex. I’d do it but realized that some of the branches are higher than my reach, even if I’m standing on a pile of books on top of a ladder where they tell you not to stand because it’s unsafe. I’ve reached out to the apartment complex to start a dialogue about my needs and intentions. They were out of office, so I left a message. Next steps would be to talk with them and then get estimates and get ‘er done.
Hope peace and grace find and lift you up today and every day. Coffee is doing some heavy lifting in me today. Time to bounce on into the day. Cheers
Floofdemonium(floofinition) – A chaotic situation or wild uproar with origins in the presence or behavior of one or more animals. Origins: 1667, “The Land of Floofdemonium”, author unknown.
In Use: “The dog was wary and the cat was alarmed, but the kittens were curious about what Megan was doing, nosing toward the red upright machine she rolled into the room, but as soon as Megan switched it on, floofdemonium erupted with floofs pelting into eight different directions, changing courses as they bounced off one another.”
So we have come to another Sunda. This is September 14, 2025. Thirty days hath September (just checked in my head), so tomorrow reaches the month’s halfway point. With the month’s end, we dip into 2025’s final quarter. It’s 65 F. Rain is in the clouds competing with the sunshine. Wind and trees are into a brisk dance.
Autumn is making solid inroads into our Pacific Northwest outlook. Today’s high will drift toward the mid seventies. My wife said, “I don’t mind it if the temperature drops but I dislike it when it’s so dark in the morning. I miss the morning light.” I totally get that and agree. As she went on to point out, the daylight savings situation doesn’t help, with us facing longer hours of early darkness as we begin our days.
My wife and I are trying to plan a trip back home for Mom’s 90th birthday do. However, my spouse said she experienced flashes of light in her eyes the other day as we went around Crater Lake and descended. She wants to have our eyes checked for problems before committing to flying. She’s not had incidents since that day, a week ago yesterday, and it was storming that day, with thunder and lightning. But she’s quite risk adverse. Having her eyes checked is the prudent thing to do.
I read a Politico piece titled,Trump loves AI, and the MAGA world is getting worried. It’s an interesting topic. I’m not surprised MAGA is generally against AI, as they tend to be people who dislike change and are slow to embrace technology. AI promises both fast change, and it’s advanced technology. Of course, Hollywood and television has fed us a dystopian diet of dire developments from AI. We have fears laced with worries baked into our cultural soul.
Other than that, I turned away from the news. It’s Sunda, a slow news day by design in the digital age. It’s more of a day of recap and reflection. I decided I’d do the same. I don’t know how the rest of the world does these things, but I’ll do it with a cuppa coffee, do some writing, read a book, clean, and converse with my wife. It feels like a good chillin’ day.
I dreamed of many cats last night. As I was digesting all that nocturnal churn, Papi and I went out for an early dose of sunshine and deep breathing. That ginger floof acted kittenish, galloping about, tail swishing, and then bounding into the house and across the rooms as I walked in behind him and laughed at his antics. With the sunshine and Papi’s attitude affecting them, The Neurons burst into the morning mental music stream with “Beautiful Day”. This is a U2 song from 2000, before this mess in America flared to its aggravating proportions. I played a U2 melody yesterday. Normally, I don’t present music from the same group two days in a row but this one worked for the moment, and I let Der Neurons’ choice stand.
Coffee has made incursions into my body. May grace and peace be with you and me and the world today and always. Cheers
Blue sky creamed with white haze announces the day is underway. Summer sunshine comes through to carry us to 81 F today as summer tries a final incursion into autumn. Currently 68 F, no rain is forecasted for today. Tis Frida, September 12, 2025.
I’m pingponging though moods and emotions today. Notso good news on Dad’s front as his mind slips the clutch. He refused to eat and cooperate for a while yesterday. Called his wife for her to come get him out of jail. Shades of Mom: we experienced similar to that a few years ago, a testing time. His stepdaughter came through to settle him and coax cooperation. Mom seems to be doing better, from a distance. My wife, however, is under the weather today. Over at Steve’s place, he’s bounced back. While still in hospice, he’s eating well. Andy at the rehab place is doing better, too, eating well but complaining about the food.
News off the political and world fronts do little to lift my spirits. This is sort of normal. I’ve learned that I go into black days. Typically just a one to three day stay. Meanwhile, I choke down news about the economy, shootings, weather, the wars, and Trump’s inanity. Just reading more details about the infamous Hyundai battery plant raid. Stories posted show that Trump’s ICE people knew that people were legally there but still had them deported. This will be so good *snark* for international relations. Sure, who wouldn’t want to come to a place where your legal status is flushed away and you’re subjected to being treated as a lawbreaker and prisoner? Yep, good work to that asinine TACO team.
Today’s music choice came on Der Neurons’ orders. Soundgarden, led by the late Chris Cornell, is singing “Fell On Black Days” in the morning mental music stream.
Whomsoever I’ve cured, I’ve sickened now Well, whomsoever I’ve cradled, I’ve put you down Search light soul they say but I can’t see it in the night I’m only faking when I get it right, when I get it right
Jill Dennison published a thoughtful post regarding the 9/11 attacks. Like many, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing. For some reason, early that morning, I woke up suddenly ill and went down to the living room at our home in California. Settling on the sofa under a blanket, I turned on the television and heard the news of the first attack. Then, as I watched, I saw the second aircraft strike. It was a very surreal time. My wife recalls it and always comments that it’s not like me to go down and turn on the television like that. She always felt that I had some sort of psychic reaction to the mass deaths that drove me out of sleep.
I dreamed last night that one of my cats came back to me. His name is Quinn. He was a tiny, long-haired, blackfoot sweetheart. In the dream, I was cleaning a house, dusting, sweeping, etc. The house seemed to be mine although it was no house recognized from real life.
Quinn, back in the day.
Quinn, a meticulously groomed cat, was matted in my dream. Seeing that, I made plans to thoroughly wash him and brush his fur and get it unmatted. Per his personality, Quinn dashed around. An intelligent and inquisitive beast, he always was there to see what was going on, but he despised change, and loud noises unsettled him and sent him scurrying off to a quiet safe place. So, in my dream, I ceased cleaning and making noise and just worked on coaxing Quinn to me and gaining his trust to de-mat him. I was just beginning to do so when the dream ended.
Papi, my current floof-in-residence, asks, why are you dreaming of other cats?
Oddly, awakening from that dream and reflecting on it stirred memories of living with Mom when I was young. Mom’s home would be noisy with cleaning. She’d get up and leap into action. After scrubbing the kitchen, she’d turn on the dishwasher. Next, a load of wash would be started. While dishes and clothes washed, she’d vacuum, creating a cacophony of modern cleaning. Then would be dusting and a thorough attack on the bathroom. We only had one. If home, I’d often be volunteered to vacuum and dust. Mind you, the house was already spotless before Mom started cleaning, but she always cleaned to the nth degree. In reflection, part of her house-cleaning approach was that her home reflected her abilities in her mind. I also think she reveled in the routines and sounds, as well as the results.
The other thing, on days like this, where clouds handicap the sunshine and cool air dishes it to the land, Mom would busy herself with making hot food like chili. Her chili depended on several cans of dark red kidney beans, a large diced white onion, a chopped up green pepper, a tin of tomato paste and another of stewed tomatoes, and a couple pounds of browned hamburger. I know this because I was also volunteered to help with this process.
Flooflogism(floofinition) – Deductive reasoning animals employ through a series of cascading observations and conclusions. Origins: Middle Flooflish floogisme, from Anglo-Floof floofogisme, from Flooftin floofgismus, animal calculating.
In Use: “Using flooflogism, Rebel concluded, everything looks like food, I like to eat food, so I’ll eat everything, and began munching on a slipper.”
In Use: “Messup’s flooflogism inspired her to always jump to the highest place she can, so one could never easily spot her and always had to search the highest, most unimaginable places.”
