Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Chablin (floofinition) – A ‘chaos goblin’, slang for a high-energy animal who cause unending mischief in unexpected ways and place. Origins: Internet, first noted in the United States, 2024.
In Use: “Mario seemed like a quiet cat when Stan adopted him, but Mario quickly revealed he was a chablin, galloping around, knocking eggs and plants off, but winning reprieves with his sweet, deep purrs.”
I was prescribed post-surgery meds and went to the drug store to pick them up.
Walking through the drugstore parking lot to buy them, I saw a small yellow car. Circling closer, I confirmed, 1964 Dodge Valiant, just like my stepfather drove. Might have been a different year but it was the same model and color.
I remembered him bringing it home although I don’t recall what he drove before that. I rarely rode in it. This was ‘his car’, something to commute to work and go off to bet. George was a gambler and went to the horse races five or six days a week, trying for a big score. He won big twice. Once was a $25,000 Daily Double payout, providing the down payment on a newly built brick ranch in Penn Hills.
Later, he won enough to buy a new 1976 Chevy Camaro. Like his Valiant, this was pale yellow, three-speed on the column and a black and white checked interior. Sis hated that car.
All of us disliked driving with George. Tending to drive about five miles an hour below the speed limit, he also liked to get into the faster lanes but not go faster. This terrified us as other drivers pulled up, slowed down and then sped past with blaring horns. Mom would often snap, “My God, get out of this lane.” George wouldn’t budge, though, sailing on without regard to others’ opinions.
The yellow Dodge in the drugstore parking lot had tiny tires and petite chrome bumpers, appearing small and fragile among the huge SUVs and a couple of ‘compact’ Toyotas and Hondas. All the modern vehicles were white, black, gray, or silver. Nowhere was another yellow car.
Seeing it still brought a smile as I walked on, reflecting, what a different world. And yet, back in the 1960s, that Valiant would have shown up as so much different than the preceding decades.
Who knows what our 2026 cars will look like compared to the cars of 2086.
I always like headlines like this:
I thought, wow, they’re including the Broncos when they say ‘all’? Man, that is deep.
I expect to see headlines soon like ‘All of the planets (including Earth) in order according to their distance from the sun.’
‘All four seasons (including winter) ranked by temperature.’
Or, how about, ‘All five oceans (including the Pacific) in square miles.’
Going back to the NFL headline, I wonder, why call out the Broncos out of 32 teams? Strange, no?
Stranger still how much I spend thinking about things like this.
My surgery has been over for hours. After catching up on sleep, I’m ravenous because I haven’t had food since ten last night. With a diet limited to cold soft foods, I’m eating sorbet and thinking about what I can eat.
My wife begins reading an article aloud. “Women are having problems creating intimate relationships with men because of men’s addiction to porn.” One part is about a woman asking men if they watch porn. They deny it until she shares what kind of porn she likes.
The story swerves into men spending hours in the bathroom. The writer mocks the idea that they’re having long bowel movements and mentions they probably wouldn’t be in there that long without their phones.
“They’re watching porn on their phones?” I ask.
My wife nods.
“I don’t get that. What in the world would you be able to see on that little screen?”
“I know.” My wife points at our television. “We have that big screen. I watch carefully and feel like I still miss a lot.”
“Yes, and people watch sports on their phones, too. I don’t get that. During football games, they’re always blowing up scenes to show, is the knee down? Was his toe out of bounds?”
“How do people see these things on phone screen?” my wife responds.
“Exactly.”
My wife puts her feet up and closes her eyes. It’s been a long day for her. She had to go in with me and stay for the entire surgery, then drive me home.
I finish my sorbet and wonder what to eat next that’s cold and soft and fantasize about a hot bowl of chile.
Stepping into the coffee shop, I immediately scan for a table and chair to sit and write.
It’s late morning and busy. Aha, though — two tables are there for —
“Hey, Michael.”
I’m being accosted from across the room. The speaker is a barista. Having shouted out my name, they’ve busy multi-tasking.
Spotting Kat first, I begin, “Hey, Ka — “
I see Natalie.
I don’t know which called out.
So I finish, “Talie.”
Chuckling to myself about this, I dumped my gear at a table and head to the counter. Kat is manning the register and Natalie is busy preparing my coffee. I hear Natalie say, “Curling,” before she turns away.
Kat asks, “Let me ask you, Michael. Are you watching the Olympics?”
“Only the curling,” I reply.
Natalie roars with laughter as Kat’s mouth drops open.
“No way,” Kat finally says.
“Yes, way,” I answer. “By the way. When I came in, I heard one of you say hello to me. I didn’t know who it was, so I called you Katalie.”
The two bend over with laughter. “We ARE Katalie,” Kat shouts. Whipping toward each other, she and Natalie exchange high fives.
I pay and take my coffee. The writing day has an auspicious beginning.
We attended a musical show in Talent last Sunday. The woman beside me started chatting during intermission. Eventually, she asked, “Where do you live?”
“Ashland. And you?”
“Ashland. I moved here in 1976. When did you move to Ashland?”
“Over twenty years ago.”
“Really? A town this size, I meet many people but I don’t recall seeing you before.”
I smiled. “Well, we’re southies. We live on the southern end.”
“Southies.” She laughed. “I like that. Yes, I’m on the northwestern end of town.”
The show resumed. I wondered where she did her grocery shopping. Ashland is unofficially divided into the center, north, and south. North Ashland doesn’t have a grocery store. The south is the town’s newest area and offers five stores. A small Safeway is the only store in the center.
Townies who have lived here a while seem to go to Medford for their shopping needs, especially WinCo. From conversations, it seems like the southern stores — Market of Choice, Shop N Kart, Albertson’s, BiMart, and Grocery Outlet — haven’t been there ‘that long’. In fact, old timers often regale us with what ‘used to be there’ and how they loved those previous places.
I didn’t get a chance to ask my new friend where she shopped, but I’ll be sure to take it up with her, next time I run into her.
The lens that I roll and find
In the dumping ground
Of my mind
Moving from cat
To food
Life and Mom
Conversations
Time
I search for a point
Feet on bridge
As Neurons
Sing
Telling me often
Let it be
Jamming with tunes
Coming up and in
I circle
Slipping on words
And sounds
Picking apart
Pieces of lint
Once again, the Loop of Inanity swirled through my life. If you’re not aware of it, the Loop of Inanity is part of the Cycle of Enshittification.
Cory Doctorow coined enshittification for us. Miriam-Webster expanded on its meaning:
“Enshittification is an informal word used to criticize the degradation in the quality and experience of online platforms over time, due to an increase in advertisements, costs, or features. It can also refer more generally to any state of deterioration, especially in politics or society. Similar forms include enshittify and enshittified.”
As part of enshittification’s decay process, many companies will invoke the Loop of Inanity. The Loop of Inanity is recurring cycle in which an organization or system produces contradictory or self-defeating actions because its processes operate without shared awareness, accountability, or context.
In example: American Family Insurance provided my home and car insurance for several decades until a few years ago. A letter was received that they were no longer insuring homes in my area, southern Oregon. Oh, and since they weren’t insuring my home, I was no longer ‘bundled’. Therefore, my car insurance rates were increasing.
In response, I shopped for new home and auto insurance and canceled my policies with American Family Insurance.
Yet, here was a piece of mail from American Family Insurance asking for my business. Urging me to BUNDLE AND SAVE, they also assured me that I WAS PRE-APPROVED FOR THEIR INSURANCE.
Bite me, I said, tearing up the mail and tossing it.
American Family Insurance would have to be the last insurance company in the world before I’ll give them my business, because I don’t like how they gave me the business.
It’s all part of the enshittification of modern life.
Michael Seidel, writer 