The Noxsoma Chronicles [0062]
11-21-2025 … Day 23642 (TGI Friday)
Four days – No Meat – this isn’t an endorsement – don’t expect me to jump up and down telling you “I feel GRREAT!” Like Tony the Tiger. GRRRR. I feel “normal.” Pretty much like I did when I was eating meat. So we will do meat today and tomorrow. Maybe Sunday and have another few days off.
Your boy is beat [as in tired]. I asked AI to write up my nightly blog in my unique IDGAF style. I give it an E for “effort” but I ended up kicking it to the recycle bin. Too many unmisspelled words.
I was gunna write this piece how on the week after my Century the anti-everything fuzz – the government calls them “The Ministry of Love” – cornered my ass at the “Centenarians Only Coffee Shop.” We think it’s funny to call the place “Cocks.” Never gets old. The youngin’s that work there – all in their sixties don’t get it. I think they’re all virgins. Retired gamers and cosplayers or something that was popular and then it wasn’t and all they know how to do is pour coffee and make cute little flowers in stuff in the suds. Not one of them ever even had an Only Fans channel. They claim to have never heard of it. They’re good kids though. Efficient. Every time they bring an order to the table they take a picture of it and upload it somewhere. That’s how the AI compensates them. I guess they get some purchasing power air-dropped to their devices. They seem happy. Guess it’s a dopamine rush when they hear the little dings. [ha-ha-ha-ha-ha]
It’s ironic because this Cock Cafe [ha-ha-ha-ha-ha] takes cash. Well, it takes everything, even bodily fluids – you know how some of them old farts are – always dripping their liquid gold all over everyplace.
Gross!
Anyway these two lil dweebs from the Ministry of Love wander into the cafe. You can always spot them in their Hello Kitty uniforms, glittery faces and light-up jewelry. Way too much pink. More pink than the Pink Panther but not as funny.
They look over in my direction. I don’t notice, I am trying to get the safety top off of the turbinado sugar bottle so I can get those last few grains of brown sweetness into my tea.
I hear my name. Sort of. I barely recognize it through the squeaky high-pitched Munchkin tones. It sounds like a tape recorder being rewound. This generation was entirely educated by the Machine, which is what we have come to call it. Everything Artificial Intelligence. They have been trained to speak very rapidly and to have efficient & effective conversations. When they speak amongst themselves it sounds like a pattern of beeps squeaks and buzzes, especially to my hundred year old ears.
It’s something that I had noticed over the decades. Every generation began speaking faster and faster. Entire paragraphs are condensed into a series of the kinds of sounds I used to try to make when I took my car to the mechanic.
Anyway – Hello Kitty number one identified itself [did I mention that gender had been outlawed thirty years ago? There was a “grace period” to accommodate the confused and of course anyone over a certain age who defiantly held on to their “gender assignments” were “grandpersoned” in. But we have to keep our gender identifications visible at all times “for our own protection” because gender mis-identification is a class three misdemeanor, which is the same as, for example, spitting in public. Although, drooling in public is excusable.]
The government is just waiting for us lufties to die, but we’re holding out. Our demo is getting bigger too.
Where was I? – Oh yeah. Hello Kitty number one flashed its badge. I mean literally “flashed” this iridescent disco-ball toy at me and said that they must question me “under caution.”
Confused, dazed and blinded by the light of what they called credentials, I just nodded. I had learned 70 years ago not to talk to the law. [I used to binge-watch Dragnet marathons when we got the bootleg cable box at the gig. [Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!]
Hello Kitty number two produced a screen, like literally out of nowhere! You know like Bugs-Bunny used to produce a big-ass hammer out of his fur, like magic. And it wasn’t even a “real” screen. It was one of those Minority Report screens. You just move your fingers and “poof” Big Screen TV!
On the screen there’s a pair dirty, grimy, blue jeans with genuine acid burns in them. I can remember when it happened. A car battery “popped.” It didn’t explode but it spattered on my jeans. [I was wearing them at the time.] These little square holes appeared. It took me a week to make the connection.
So the Hello Kitty squad was displaying this image of ‘custom jeans’ and there’s a quote.
“Ripped jeans like wisdom must be earned. No short cuts.”
Kitty number one squeaked – that this image was deemed to be offensive, hurtful, dangerous and possibly contagious – and they were going to “process” me into the “system.”
“What for?” I asked, speaking very slowly in what’s kind-of called “old-speek”[drives the kids crazy.]
According to … beep-beep-ding-dang-dong … Kitty brings up an “ordinance” … “uploading such material to the CMSS [Common Mental Safe Space] is an offense.”
“Offending is an offense?” I ask.
The Kitty’s looked puzzled.
“You got the wrong ‘guy’…” I grit my teeth … “officers” -- holding back a tsunami of sarcasm. And then I unfolded my torn and tattered gender-identity paperwork, which I dug out of my leather analogue wallet, which I pulled out of the side pocket of my baggy, 50-year-old analogue cargo pants, and held it before their confused and impossibly cute faces, just to prove that indeed – I was a guy!
The agents of the Ministry of Love are usually very reluctant to interact with “oldsters.” Anyone over age 90 is usually not worth their time, or the fine. We are cranky, grouchy, drippy, funky, mumbly, grumpy, & mean. Some are unstable. Or pretend to be. We have lived too long to take any shit from carnival prizes with disco-ball badges trying to earn brownie points. It’s like a Roman Centurion walks up to a Neanderthal Dude and says “someone’s offended by this cave painting you drew a million years ago!
Yeah – so I was gonna write this piece about that time long ago, in the future. But, I don’t really feel up to it.
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Today’s Score (11-21-2025)
BC … 30
Rum… 16
Ody….. 2
This Month So Far (11-21-25)
BC …… 2233
Rum ……575
Ody……. 650
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