Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was deep into a writing day at the coffee shop when I happened to look up. Across the room was a young girl—maybe six. In her hand was a huge chocolate croissant. I swear the pastry was as large as her head. She kept attacking it with her tiny mouth, trying again and again to make inroads into the dough.
As I smiled to myself and glanced around, I noticed others doing the same. We all seemed to feel it: the quiet pleasure of witnessing a sweet moment—a sweetie going after a sweet.
With Trump involved, so many ways to contemplate this news evolves.
Will they be gold plated battleships?
With Trump trying to turn back time and erase history, how many masts and sails will the Trump class of ships have?
Will the Trump class of battleships be as successful as Trump Steaks, Trump Air, Trump Institute, and Trump University?
Which will be finished first: a Trump class battleship, the Trump ballroom, a Trump cellphone delivery, Trump’s next impeachment trial, Trump Ocean Resort Baja Mexico, or Trump’s funeral?
Is the Trump class of ships as real as Trump’s ACA replacement plan?
Are Trump’s promises and assurances about this new class of ships named after him any more significant than his promises to reduce inflation on day 1?
Does Dozy Donny’s statements about this new class of ships carry the same weight as his promise that “Mexico will pay for the wall?”
Dizzy Donny is referring to it as the ‘Golden Fleet’. Is it possible he’s thinking of ‘the golden shower’, like the one he had in Russia?
“The U.S. Navy will lead the design of these ships along with me, because I’m a very aesthetic person,” Trump said.
Yes, sure. Just look at what he’s done to the White House’s East Wing, Oval Office, and Rose Garden. They’re sooooo aesthetic.
Not.
“Hello, you old geezer.”
That was my opening to Dad when I phoned him today. My opening was part of a routine we’ve been doing for five decades, except I used to refer to him as ‘old man’. In a previous call, I’d explained to him that he’d graduated from being an old man to being an old geezer.
Dad responded as expected. “Boy,” the nonagenarian said. “I can still kick your butt.”
I laughed. “Sure, if I hold your cane for you and keep your oxygen on hand.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Lots of laughter and teasing followed. It was a good conversation.
34 F today in Ashlandia as winter takes over. My sister told me she likes it when it gets that warm in winter. LOL. It’s Munda, December 22, 2025. Cloudy but they’re light, torn cloud shards. No rain is expected. Fog might crown some parts of town, according to reports, but it’s clear outside my windows. Today’s high might stretch to 50 F.
Our solstice dinner went well, thanks. We picked up frozen garlic Naan to go with our chosen soups. My wife went with cream of mushroom, which she declared with a mild shrug, “It’s okay.” I had a spicy and satisfying vegan chili. Naan went well with it. We complemented the meal with raw carrots, celery, and radishes.
Mom texted me that she’s very busy trying to get cards out to all her great- and grandchildren but she also had an upset stomach. There’s been no talk of war between her and sis, knock wood. Sis’s grandson turned seven so there was a party where the theme was six and seven. The children apparently found that hysterically funny.
I was speaking with a friend I ran into yesterday. Quickly talking about politics, he mentioned how the Trump Regime was causing so much pain to several family members in different areas of the nation. One of them was a MAGA sister who is shocked by her premium increases. I think he said she lives in Arizona but don’t hold me to that. A nephew he mentioned is a liberal and a farmer who was really bleak about next year. I mentioned in response that Trump is the King of pain. That inspired The Neurons to project “King of Pain” by The Police in the afternoon mental music stream. It carried over to the morning mental music stream.
We’re off to do the Food & Friends deliveries. Swish some coffee down my throat first. If peace and grace show up here, I’ll give them a drink and tell them to go see you, yeah? Here we go. Cheers
Floofteel (floofinition) – An animal who exhibits high class, or aristocratic mannerisms and behavior. Origins: 1603, Flooflish derived from Flench, itself originating with Old Flooftin, floof, meaning a furry creature. Traced to ‘gentle floof’ which grew into its current form, floofteel.
In Use: “A long-haired floofteel, Cora received guests visiting her owner, JaMykael, like she was a queen meeting subjects there to pay homage.”
Satyrda, December 20, 2025 finds us under a blue sky marbled with fine white clouds. Sunshine licks the land with lavish light. Not much warmth, though, as we find ourselves floating through the low to mid-thirties right now. Highs in the low to mid-fifties have been cast.
The storms up north in Oregon and Washington abated for the moment but a parade of storms are forecast for them, all part of the atmospheric river. Send energy their way that the disaster doesn’t deepen and become even more tragic for them.
The December calm continues for Mom and sis. Each are privately giving credit to me in their texts along the lines of, “I don’t know what you said to her, but she’s being much nicer to me.” I only suggested that both of them are trying their best, both are frustrated, and please, find some patience and sympathy for the other. Although they initially snapped at the advice — “I am being patient, it’s her!” — I think they went off and thought about it. Or maybe it was just serendipity that I gave that advice but other things intervened to change their moods. Who knows? I’m just accepting the fragile peace with hope that it grows, deepens, and develops into something more sustained.
I read of Trump’s asinine suggestion for his Trump Games. Another distraction from the shallow thinker. Upon reading of it, I wondered if someone joked to him about it with The Hunger Games in mind and he jumped on it as a great idea, “The greatest, most beautiful, most patriotic games EVER!!!” Christ, I hope no one mentions Running Man to him.
In Trump’s honor, The Neurons suggested the 1980 song “Games People Play” by The Alan Parsons Project for the morning mental music stream.
Where do we go from here now that all of the children are growin’ up?
And how do we spend our lives if there’s no one to lend us
I don’t want to live here no more
I don’t want to stay
Ain’t gonna spend the rest of my life
Quietly fading away
Games people play
You take take it or you leave it
Things that they say, honor bright
If I promise you the moon and the stars
Would you believe it
Games people play in the middle of the night
~snip~
h/t to sonichits.com
I’m personally impressed with the song choice The Neurons made. Trump does all his game playing at night, diddling on Truth Social, ranting and raving, promising money to people to curry their support. Then he betrays them faster than an eyeblink.
By the way, going back to the Trump Games, did he mention building a new stadium for it yet? Bet that’s bubbling in his tiny noggin. Yes, he has said he wants an NFL stadium renamed in hizzoner. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t instead have something torn down to have a giant stadium constructed in his name. Donors would pay for it, of course *cough cough gag gag*. And it would be “THE BIGGEST AND MOST BEAUTIFUL STATIUM IN HISTORY!!!” Probably have Trump’s name in gold everywhere, along with his portrait. Likely built with ‘illegal immigrant’ labor. He’ll give them a deal. “Build my stadium for room and board and I’ll reward you with U.S. citizenship.”
But as we know, it’ll all be lies and broken promises in the end.
Coffee has appeared in my cup and is making the traditional way to my innards. Hope peace and grace slip out from their spider holes and show up in our lives sometime soon. Till then, peace out. Cheers
The holiday party season has kicked off. One day already this week. Tonight is the second. Then there are parties, outings, brunches, and get togethers on Satyrda, Sunda, Twozda, and Thirstda. My spouse is quite popular. That’s a lot of socializing for one like me, who, my wife tells me, is a virtual recluse. Thank dawg for the breaks.
Getting ready was easier this year. Weight loss has given me a broader range of clothing choices. Hurrah for that. Most important part of this was that I didn’t need to iron anything. Hurrah for that!
Also, my wife still giggles whenever she encounters me in underwear with a shirt and socks but sans pants. Come on, girl, it’s been more than fifty years. Do you really still find it that humorous?
Guess it’s one of those eyes of the beholder things.
And it’s more sleight of hand in Trump’s MAGAland.
Trump announced with great fanfare that he’s gifting the troops a 1776 bonus. Tax clear.
Yes, this is another absolute scam. Money was already appropriated for military housing. Trump deviously redirected some of it and called it a win. Like moving the goalposts, innit? All to bribe the military’s approval of him because he’s that shallow, weak, and desperate for approval.
Did you hear? Trump believes himself to know more about grass than anyone because he owns a lot of golf courses.
Trump added, “I have a lot of golf courses all over the place. I know more about grass than any human being, I think, anywhere in the world.”
~snip~
*cough cough gag gag laugh* Sure he does.
Trump also complained that lawn mowers are complicated and probably need a high IQ to operate.
Trump said, “Farming equipment has gotten too expensive. They put these environmental excesses on the equipment, which don’t do a damn thing except make it complicated, make it impractical, and frankly, you really have to be, in many cases, you need about 185 IQ to turn on a lawnmower.”
As I’ve noticed many ‘brown-skinned’ people, the kind that that Trump routinely disparages, operating lawnmowers during the last decade, does this mean that they have high IQs?
I think Trump’s opinion about needing a high IQ to turn on a lawnmower makes us realize what a true idiot he is. I wonder, too: did Trump ever try turning on a lawnmower?
Maybe that’s how Trump hurt his hand. He tried turning on a lawnmower but wasn’t smart enough.
Finally…
Happy holidays!
Promises
Compromises
Dreams
And schemes
Guidance
And directions
Beginnings
And endings
Are the things we seek and give
Looking
and feeling
Stumbling toward our best
To be
And live
Falling down
Getting up
Sipping coffee
And drinks
Sleeping
Waking
Trying it all
again
Michael Seidel, writer 