Category Archives: humor

Things I Know For Certain

I think a lot of thoroughly thoughtful thuggish thoughts that build and build and build up an idea, and then turn around and knock it all down.  Let me demonstrate by knocking down that title right off the bat.  Rene DesCartes in the early 1600’s said, “Cogito Ergo Sum”, and he thereby totally disrupted the world as we knew it.  Didn’t get that?  Let me translate.  He said, “Je pense, donc je suis.”  Still didn’t help?  Okay, here’s the English, “I think, therefore I am.”  In other words, the one thing that I know for sure is that I am thinking this particular thought at this particular time.  If I am thinking, and I know I am, I must be here and I must be real.  So there is one thing I know for certain.  But do I know anything else for certain?  Uh-oh.  How do I know anything?  I have to rely on my senses.  And my senses lie to me all the time.  I am partially color blind, so I don’t see the world the same way you do.  I don’t see things in black and white, like Great Grandma Hinckley did in her 90’s, but the colors look different to my eyes than they do to yours and I will never know what things look like to you.  Forget politicians and all other people who tell lies, my own eyes lie to me constantly.  So can I know anything for sure?  Of course not.  All I have are firm beliefs based on imperfect senses and best guesses at what is true.  So what I am actually talking about is a list of potential essay ideas that I am merely asserting as true based on my imperfect goofy thinking of thoughtful thuggish thoughts.

Idea #1 that I think is certainly possibly maybe true; My brain was taught and I was raised to adulthood by the movies I saw when I was young.  I want to talk about this at length in another post.  The video is by a guy who was a kid in the 80’s, and he has some really awesome movies to offer as a way to delineate his rise to adulthood.

My list includes the movies of my boyhood seen in the Belmond Theater and on our old black and white Motorola TV.  My list of movies that raised me includes Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, and The Wizard of Oz.

Idea #2; Animals are people too.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I mean, as a writer for young adults, I know for a fact that animals are relevant as characters.  They have a point of view, feelings, reactions, and complex lives that people rarely pay attention to.  I have to write about this some time in the future too.

Idea #3; The worst things that happen to us in our lives, are also the best things that happen.  Wow!  What a difficult essay topic.  But I not only think it, I can prove it… at least to myself.  But can I write about it?  Time will tell.

Idea #4; Silly thoughts and serious thoughts are two sides of the same coin.  And this will be particularly difficult to think about if thoughts are literally coins.  That would mean that my head is full of metal, and I know several people who would read that sentence and shout, “I knew it all along!”  Fortunately they are all too sensible to read this far in one of my blog posts.

So, at 600 words I still have lots more to say.  But people with metal in their heads often talk way too much, so my concluding sentence will be simply; “I promise to shut up for now.”

Leave a comment

Filed under foolishness, goofy thoughts, humor, Paffooney, philosophy, strange and wonderful ideas about life, writing, writing humor

The Haunted Toy Store… Canto 17

Canto 17 – The Balcony Scene

Rogelio found himself looking up at the second-floor balcony of the Zuniga Inn.

“So, you wanna climb up there?” he asked Steven.

“I have now done it countless times in more than a century of practicing this moment over and over again.”

“So, I won’t die if we fall headfirst on our stupid head?”

“You can’t actually die in this reality unless another living human kills you here.”

“And that’s what we’re gonna do to Yesenia when we get up there?”  Rogelio felt a bit panicky over having no control over his own body.

“Not here.  Not now.  I told you I would give you the reasons for why we have to kill her.  But those reasons don’t apply to this moment.”

Steven took control of Rogelio’s arms and legs.  He began to shinny up one of the columns that supported the balcony on the second floor.  Then like a monkey he swung his legs up over the edge of the balcony railing.  It was all solid wood, but Rogelio still felt as if it could fall apart at any moment and they would plummet headfirst to the ground.  But he found himself standing on both legs outside the first room on the second floor. 

“What if the balcony door is locked?” Rogelio asked.

“It’s not.  These balcony doors don’t even have locks.”

He reached over and slowly, silently pulled open the balcony door.  Quietly, he entered the room.  It was a simple, sparsely furnished room in a Spanish inn.  The bed was occupied by two skeletons, a large, blue male one and a smaller pink one that looked like it could be Imelda’s mother.

“Don’t say anything with your mouth.  You’ll wake them,” said Steven.

“Are they both asleep?” Rogelio asked nervously in his head only.

Then the male snored loudly enough to remove all doubt.  The female moaned at the noise, but merely poked her husband and rolled over.

Steven quietly moved them out of the room and closed the door after them.

“So, I was supposed to expect you to sneak into Momma and Poppa’s room?” said Yesenia/Imelda on the next balcony.

Steven grinned sheepishly.  Rogelio noticed that the moonlight made the ghost nightgown she was wearing more visible, but you could still see through it to Yesenia’s beautiful naked body underneath.

“Why don’t you try this room instead?”

The two balcony railings were separated by only about three feet of empty space.  Getting up on the railing, it was easy for Steven/Rogelio to step across the gap.

“Gringo, I am surprised that you actually did this.  I thought it was just talking.”

“I was talking… to a pretty girl whom I may have fallen in love with at first sight.”  Steven was laying it on thick, but Rogelio also knew he was deeply in love with Imelda.

Imelda blushed using Yesenia’s face.

“Come into my room where Momma won’t hear you.  If she finds out, she will make Poppa kill you.”

Steven let Imelda take him by the hand and pull him into the bedroom.

“Is what I think is about to happen really going to happen?” Rogelio asked Steven.

“It depends on what you mean by really happen?” he answered by thought alone.

“Have you ever made love to a woman?”

“Only one time in my whole life, but I have relived it more times than I can count on all the fingers in Dallas.”

“And you are going to relive it again now?”

“Yeah… so?”

“In my body?  And Imelda in Yesenia’s body?”

“And you are a virgin… huh?”

Then Rogelio saw Imelda pulling them toward the bed.  And he began to remember how beautiful Yesenia was in real life.  He was about to become a man in the world of the ghosts and skeletons.

                                                *****

“You will come to my quinceañera, Steven?”

“I will.  And we will run away together?”

“I will go anywhere with you.  I love you, Steven.”

At that moment, a loud banging at the door frightened them both.

“Imelda!  LET ME IN!  I will kill him!”

“It is my padre!  He will kill us both!  Get out now!”

 Steven scrambled out of the bed and grabbed at his clothing.  The ghost materials all slipped through his fingers except for his floppy cowboy hat.  He was out over the balcony rail in mere moments.  Completely naked… with a hat on his head.

Several splinters pierced his hands, forearms, and thighs as he shinnied down the support column. “You come back here, gringo!  You will marry my daughter now, or you will die a horrible death!” 

The angry shadow loomed over the street, huge and terrible.  It shook a black skeletal fist at Rogelio and Steven as they ran down the street naked, not wearing even ghost clothing.  Rogelio’s heart hammered hard enough for two people as they barefooted their way down the dirt street.

Leave a comment

Filed under ghost stories, horror writing, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

The Writing Imperative

I am a writer because I write.

I write because I have to.

I have to because somebody has to control the words.

People are made of words.  Their identity, their inner self, their reason for existence… all made of words.  The very thoughts in their heads are… words.

If I want to control the words I am made of, then I must be the writer who writes his own story.

I don’t want anyone else to write the words that essentially become me.  Do you?

Purple words

Of course, authors create characters.  Even autobiographers create characters.  Carl Sandburg could no more make his words into Lincoln than a bird can make its tweets into a cat.   Sandburg can, however, help us to understand Lincoln as Carl Sandburg understands the words that are Lincoln.

Lincoln probably did not have the words for “bikini girls” in his head when he wrote those words in the second quote.  But somebody thought that the picture would help us understand the words.  By all accounts, Lincoln was not a particularly happy man leading a particularly happy life.  But he showed us the meaning of his words when he stood firm against the strong winds of harsh words and bad ideas in a terrible time.  And he was as happy about it as he made up his mind to be.

Miltie223408

I, too, have not lived a particularly happy life.  But I was always the “teacher with a sense of humor” in the classroom, and students loved me for it.  Funny people are often not happy people.  But they make themselves out of funny words because laughter heals pain, and jokes are effective medicine.  And so I choose to write comedy novels.  Novels that are funny even though they are about hard things like freezing to death, losing loved ones, being humiliated, being molested, and fear of death.  Magical purple words can bring light to any darkness.  I am the words I choose to write in my own story.  The words not only reveal me, they make me who I am.  And it is up to me to write those words.  Other people might wish to do it for me.  But they really can’t.  The words are for me alone to write.

Green words

And so it is imperative that I write my words in the form of my novels, my essays, and this goofy blog post.  I am writing myself to life, even if no one ever reads my writing.

Leave a comment

Filed under humor, Paffooney, wordplay, writing, writing humor

What Internet Memes Mean to Me…Me

10154342_745155808848749_2368041229679376879_n

Internet memes apply to me.  It says it in the name.  In fact, it says it twice.  “Me+me = meme”.

This one is uncanny.  I revere Mark Twain.  Apparently I walk in his shoes enough that I am imitating everything he did except becoming wealthy and famous.

And maybe I am not as good of a writer as he was.   Maybe.  But I am heck at living an unhappy life and going bankrupt in the process.

And this is not the only meme that uncannily defines my life.

1f4b4afd84c3f75115f753f61905b5b2_i-see-stupid-people-but-they-memes-of-stupid-people_625-351

68affa057fe8d59feace77c38f90e95a_-toy-story-meme-meme-people-are-stupid-meme_600-327

They put  a stupid, orange-faced man in charge of the government because they wanted to tell Mickey, “F*** You!  You are not better than me just because you are smarter than me.  We are going to burn it all down to get revenge for your superiority!”  And they are laughing and enjoying it now as the flames get hotter, even though their houses are on fire too.  But stupid people aren’t really winning the game.  There are evil people lurking in the background waiting to exploit and make money.  They are winning.  They hate Mickey too.

Of course, I never said anything about being better than them.  Mickey is smart, but humble.  I suffer from the wildfires anyway.

11138605_10152881532411902_40591848680516963_n

But if you know where to find it, there is helpful wisdom in memes.  Short, pithy wisdom, but wisdom never the less.

11150183_10152893584511902_5927142603737313513_n

The “Me”” of the memes can be hurtful at times, saying things out of anger or fear.  But he can also be uplifting, making hearts sing and soar.  There is magic and power in words… if they are the right words, delivered in the right way.

11221839_624786464324578_3234944849462904854_n

Sometimes people need be appreciated and built up rather than torn down.  Some groups have been hurting more than others.  Having been a teacher, I know this is particularly true.  Teachers need to hear thank yous.

11169857_10152897761776902_8384505514884538753_n

And I find memes to be a useful way to gain that temporary feel-good nugget of wisdom.  I think it is probably a chicken nugget of wisdom.  You know, bite-sized pieces of white meat protein to fortify you against the cold and the darkness.   And it is important to turn away from the angry and the fearful memes.  Going positive instead of negative is a bit of an antidote to the illnesses that infect social media.  And I know Facebook is evil, but we are sorta stuck with it, so we might as well use it for good as it uses us and our data for evil.

29598138_2038236676439322_2720958846244179034_n

So, I have shared several memes with you today because that is me…me.  I do stuff like that. And you can’t tell me I am doing it wrong.

Leave a comment

Filed under humor, memes

What the Heck is this Blog About?

I read a lot of other people’s blogs for a lot of reasons.  As an old writing teacher and retired Grammar Nazi, I love to see where writers are on the talent spectrum.  I have read everything from the philosophy of Camus and Kant to the beginning writing of ESL kids who are illiterate in two languages.  I view it like a vast flower garden of varied posies where even the weeds can be considered beautiful.  And like rare species of flower, I notice that many of the best blossoms out there in the blogosphere are consistent with their coloring and patterns.  In other words, they have a theme.

Fox logic

So, do I have an over-all theme for my blog?  It isn’t purely poetical like some of the poetry blogs I like to read.  I really only write comically bad poetry.  It has photos in it, but it isn’t anything like some of the photography blogs I follow.  They actually know how to photograph stuff and make it look perfect and pretty.  It is not strictly an art blog.  I do a lot of drawing and cartooning and inflict it upon you in this blog.  But I am not a professional artist and can’t hold a candle to some of the painters and artists I follow and sometimes even post about.  I enjoy calling Trump President Pumpkinhead, but I can’t say that my blog is a political humor blog, or that I am even passable as a humorous political commentator.

One thing that I can definitely say is that I was once a teacher.  I was one of those organizers and explainers who stand in front of diverse groups of kids five days a week for six shows a day and try to make them understand a little something.  Something wise.  Something wonderful.  Something new.  Look at the video above if you haven’t already watched it.  Not only does it give you a sense of the power of holding the big pencil, it teaches you something you probably didn’t realize before with so much more than mere words.

20150807_135323

But can I say this is an education blog?  No.  It is far too silly and pointless to be that.  If you want a real education blog, you have to look for someone like Diane Ravitch’s blog.  Education is a more serious and sober topic than Mickey.

By the way, were you worried about the poor bunny in that first cartoon getting eaten by the fox and the bear?  Well, maybe this point from that conversation can put your mind at ease.

Fox logic 2

Mickey is tricky and gets good mileage out of his cartoons.

You may have gotten the idea that I like Bobby McFerrin by this point in my post.  It is true.  Pure genius and raw creative talent fascinate me.  Is that the end point of my journey to an answer about what the heck this blog is about?  Perhaps.  As good an answer as any.  But I think the question is still open for debate.  It is the journey from thought through many thoughts to theme that make it all fun.  And I don’t anticipate that journey actually ending anytime soon.

 

 

 

 

5 Comments

Filed under humor, insight, inspiration, music, Paffooney, self portrait, strange and wonderful ideas about life, word games, wordplay, writing, writing teacher

Monster Pictures

Here are images from the Monster Movie collection I keep as an obsessive-compulsive hoarding disorder style of thing.  I thought I would present them as a collage since I am lazy today and want to save words for my novel project.

167348_190880590939220_6251512_n

960_524670364212734_223822798_n

226057_453740237979377_1270660972_n

189587_170301396466248_1579942367_n

184462_552840874745281_698695631_n

11046769_677154265743847_8999863992032130836_n

The scary thing is that people like me obsess about such nonsense, and collect so many silly, fantastic pictures of stuff and nonsense.

2 Comments

Filed under artwork, collage, collecting, humor, monsters, science fiction, Uncategorized

Like Pulling Teeth from a Chicken

This is an old re-purposed post from 2016 to kill some time so that this blog doesn’t kill me.

superchick2

Life is hard here in the Kingdom of Paffoon where you labor hard at a labor of love and try to give birth to something eternal that ends up going nowhere… stacks of old writing litter my closets, and the prospects of being published grow dimmer and dimmer.  My book Snow Babies has a contract with a publisher, but, apparently they are not going to be able to publish it after all.  I am at the very least going to have to find another publisher for the rest of my books, both finished manuscripts and works in progress.

Blue and Mike in color (435x640)

I do intend to follow through and get published, though.  I can no longer teach, but I feel a powerful force pushing me towards the sheer precipice of authordom.  One way or another I am going to make it over the edge and plummet to the bottom of that cliff.  I am compelled by the need to tell stories, and I have a captive audience every school day no longer.

I used to tell my classes that doing impossible things was like trying to pull chicken teeth with pliers.  You know, impossible things like getting a book published or teaching a mostly Spanish-speaking student how to read in English…  every-day-sort-of impossible things.

“But, Mr. B, chickens don’t have teeth,” some bright-eyed student would say after realizing that “chicken” was the English word for “pollo”.

“Exactly!” I would say.  “That’s what makes it so challenging!”

And now I must put on my chicken-catching socks, find my tooth-pulling pliers, and get ready to make more novels happen.  After a brief bout of consternation and depression, I actually feel a bit better about the whole fiasco.  There are other publishers, and publishers seem to like my writing, even if they can’t publish it.  And I have waited two years to get Snow Babies published, all apparently for nothing.  It is time to stop wasting time.  And maybe to stop repeating repetitions too.

I would like to here note that I now have 21 books published, all but one of which is self-published on Amazon and fully under my control. My other book, the award-winning novel from I-Universe, Catch a Falling Star, continues to be little-purchased and less read, though I discovered they pay all my royalties to my wife’s bank account. That was unexpected. Chicken teeth where they can’t be reached by me.

Leave a comment

Filed under humor, novel plans, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney, publishing, self pity, writing, writing humor

Hogfather (a Book Review)

20160414_210029

I finished reading the book Hogfather, by Terry Pratchett,  while sitting in the waiting room as the dentist worked on the wires of my son’s braces in a nearby dentist’s chamber of horrors.  The receptionist and secretary probably thought I was insane for incessantly chortling and making those other rude snorty noises you make when you don’t want to interrupt others with laughing, but can’t help it.  What better way to wait in the cold chambers of dental anxiety than to read a funny, funny book about an assassin named Mr. Teatime who meant to slay the Hogfather, Terry Pratchett’s version of Santa Claus, by stealing children’s teeth from the tooth fairy and using them to control young minds and make them stop believing in the Hogfather, that giver of gifts on the sacred and festive Hogswatch Eve?

Naamloos-11-1024x436

This story has an unusual hero.  Death, that skeletal reaper of souls and talker in ALL CAPITOL LETTERS.  Oh, and not just Death.  His granddaughter Susan is along for the adventure.  So Death puts on the red suit to make people believe in the Hogfather again while Susan tracks down the perpetrators of the tooth fairy plot.

Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels are full of bizarre but highly developed characters who not only make you laugh, but make you think.  The books can be fairly thick and full of complex ideas, and yet, the pages melt away as you read.  And the people who can hear you laughing about the book will think you are absolutely crazy.

Leave a comment

Filed under book reports, book review, humor

Mr. Bean

Rowan Atkinson is a genius comedian, and the character of Mr. Bean is the greatest work he has done, the best proof of his genius.  As someone who works at humor and tries to get it right, I have to analyze and carefully study the work of the master.  How does he do it?  What does it all mean?  And what can I learn from it?

a1b

Atkinson not only created the character, he co-wrote the entire television series and controls every aspect of the performance as the central character.  Mr. Bean is the bumbling every-man, going through horrific troubles because of the cascade effect of simple little errors.  We laugh at him because we have all been there.  Tasting the hot sauce leads to a meltdown that causes chaos and disaster for the entire store.  Overcoming fear of heights makes him the center of attention for the entire pool-house when can’t overcome the urge to use the diving board, and yet, can’t make himself jump off.  We have all lived the nightmare of being trapped naked in the hotel hallway, locked out of our room, just when the hallway becomes crowded.

There is a certain charm to Mr. Bean.  He is a childlike character, blissfully unaware of how much he doesn’t know about the complex society around him.  He has a teddy bear that sleeps with him and comforts him.  He lays out his supplies for the big exam, and he’s thought of practically everything he will possibly need, but basic physics fails him and makes the pencils keep rolling out of place.

Rowan Atkinson is a master of the art form because he has such tremendous control of his rubberized goofy face and manic body.  He can drive his goofy little yellow car from a sofa mounted on top.  He can change clothes while driving.  Just watching him shave with an electric razor is a total hoot.

1379883_546824888720851_2133355741_n

It is mostly physical comedy, almost slapstick, and yet it is not the broad unfeeling poke-in-the-eye you get with the Three Stooges.  Most of the real damage is done to himself, though pompous and deserving people are often near enough to get a helping of it smack in the face.  A lot of it is practically pantomime, with hardly any real dialogue.  Much of it, like the sword fight with the bumblebee using a butter knife, is simply silly.

a3b

The movie, Mr. Bean’s Holiday, extends the character by making him actually interact with other characters, though in his own inimitable Mr. Bean way.  The limited dialogue thing is amplified by the fact that he is traveling in France and does not speak French.  Still, he interacts with the boy he accidentally kidnaps, the girl who wants to be a movie star whom he helps in her quest by an accident at the Cannes Film Festival, and the movie director whom he almost kills but ends up saving his career with a hit home movie.

Mr. Bean makes the ridiculous an art form by helping us to laugh at ourselves as we are beset by all the little troubles of life that Bean magically floats through.

So, now I have told you why I love Rowan Atkinson as a comedian.  He is a comedic genius.  Of course, you knew that already, right?

Leave a comment

Filed under artists I admire, comedians, humor, review of television, sharing from YouTube

Mickian Artistical Nonsense

The word for it is Paffooney.  I know that is not a real word.  It is a Mickian word.  Kinda like the word “Mickian”.  It is entirely made up gibberish, made up by Mickey, and used to mean an artwork made by the hand of Mickey.  So I can’t really explain it.  I have to show you what it basically is.

20150807_135157

This is a Paffooney.  It is inspired by the incredibly unbelievable time in Mickey’s life when they let Mickey be a teacher in Texas.  It has no other relationship to reality.  Chinese girls in Texas generally do not have manga eyes and blue hair, and while Hispanic girls have been known to eat pencils, they never bring their own notebook paper to class.  They always borrow.  So there is the basic formula.  Colored-pencil nonsense drawn by Mickey and attached somehow to a story.

20150807_135244

This Paffooney has a self-explanatory story embedded in it.  It is obvious this is the story of an average family car trip in Texas.  Notice how they demonstrate the Texas State highway motto of, “Drive friendly”.

20150104_205916

And this Paffooney is a Mickian recurring nightmare about a duck with teeth.  Silly Mickey, ducks don’t have teeth in real life!

20150910_122142

And moose bowling is a Paffooney that needs no explanation… or does it?  Well, never mind.  I have forgotten what it is for anyway.

20160606_092042

And this oil-painting Paffooney speaks volumes about a philosophy of life.  See the pilot giving the viewer a thumbs up? And that isn’t a parachute on his back.  They didn’t have parachutes in World War I.  It is a message pouch with German war plans in it.  I even painted it with a bratwurst sandwich inside for the pilot’s lunch.  Don’t I do great detail work?  But he will have to eat it quickly before he reaches the ground.

20150807_135323

And this is me teaching an ESL class.  When you teach English to non-English speakers in Texas, you get to hold the big pencil.  And it helps to be a big white rabbit.

20170630_210851

And this is a science fiction Paffooney, although the science is questionable.  Don’t doubt that the flower-people of the planet Cornucopia are real, though.  And Mai Ling, the psionic space ninja really can elongate her arm to get maximum thrust into her left-handed karate chops.

Stupid Boy

And we end for today with the Paffooney of a stupid boy.  He’s not really me.  Not really.  And I don’t even know who gave him the black eye.  So it can’t be me.  So maybe he is not so stupid.  You can’t say that about somebody you don’t know and is not even you.

So, now do you know what a Paffooney is?  No?  Me neither.  But if you Google images with the words “Beyer Paffooney” you can see a lot more of them.  Nobody else uses that word but little ol’ me.

Leave a comment

Filed under artwork, cartoons, colored pencil, humor, Paffooney, strange and wonderful ideas about life