
I have never been an attention-seeker. In the Elysian Fields of modern society, I have never really been the honeybee. I have always been the flower. I had a reputation in high school for being the quiet nerd who ends up surprising you immensely in speech class, at the science fair, or at the art show. I was the one they all turned to when everybody in the conversation had already had their chance to strut and pontificate and say dumb things, and they were finally ready to get the solution to the problem being discussed, or the best suggestion on where to begin to find it.

When I became the teacher of the class instead of the student, I had to make major changes. I had to go from being patient, quiet, and shy to being the fearless presenter, forceful, sharp as an imparter of knowledge, and able to be easily understood, even by the kids whom you couldn’t legally call stupid, but were less than smart, and not in a pleasant Forrest Gump sort of way.
Shyness is only ever overcome by determination and practice. The standard advice given is to picture your audience naked so that you are not intimidated by them. But if your audience is seventh graders, you have to be extra careful about that. They are metaphorically naked all the time, ready at a moment’s notice to explode out of any metaphorical clothing they have learned to wear to cover the things that they wish to keep to themselves about themselves. And while you want them to open up and talk to you, you don’t want the emotional nakedness of having them sobbing in front of the entire class, or throwing things at you in the throes of a mega-tantrum over their love-life and the resulting soap operas of betrayal and revenge. And you definitely don’t want any literal nakedness in your classroom. (Please put your sweat pants back on, Keesha. Those shorts are not within the limits of the dress code.) Calling attention to yourself and what you have to say, because you are being paid to do so, is a critical, yet tricky thing to do. You want them looking at you, and actually thinking about what you are saying (preferably without imagining you naked, which they will do at any sort of unintentional slip or accidental prompting.) The ones who ignore you are a problem that has to be remedied individually and can eat up the majority of your teaching time.

I trained myself to be fairly good at commanding the attention of the room.
But now that I am retired, things have changed. I can still command attention in the room, which I proved to myself by being a successful substitute teacher last year. But I no longer have a captive audience that I can speak to five days a week in a classroom. Now my audience is whoever happens to see this blog and is intrigued enough by the title and pictures to read my words.
Now that I am retired and only speaking to the world at large through writing, I am ignored more than ever before. Being ignored is, perhaps, the only thing I do anymore. It is the new definition of Mickey. Mickey means, “He who must be ignored. Not partially, but wholly… and with malice.”
I put my blog posts on Facebook and Twitter where I know for a fact that there are people who know me and would read them and like them if they knew that they were there. But the malevolent algorithms on those social media sites guarantee that none of my dozens of cousins, old school friends, and former students will see them. Only the single ladies from Kazakhstan and members of the Butchers Union of Cleveland see my posts. Why is this? I do not know. Facebook and Twitter ignore me when I ask.
My books, though liked by everybody who has actually read and responded to them, are lost in a vast ocean of self-published books, most of which are not very good and give a black eye to self-published authors in general. I recently got another call from I-Universe/Penguin Books publishers about Catch a Falling Star, the one book I still have with them. They are concerned that my book, which is on their Editor’s Choice list, is not performing as well as their marketing people think it should. But to promote it, I would have to pay four hundred dollars towards the marketing campaign, even though they are already subsidizing it by fifty percent. They tell me they believe in my book. But apparently not enough to pay for 100% of the promotion.
I have decided to invest in a review service that will cost me about twenty dollars a month. But my confidence is not high. The last time I paid somebody to review a book, they reviewed a book with the same title as mine from a different author. That service still owes me money.

But the only reason it is a problem that I am being thoroughly ignored these days is that an author needs to be read to fulfill his purpose in life. Maybe pictures of pretty girls in this post will help. But, even if they don’t, well, I had their attention once upon a time. And since my purpose as a teacher is already fulfilled, perhaps that will be enough for one lifetime.




























Thinkology – an Introduction
We each only know one thing for sure. I am here. I am aware. I know that I, at least, exist, even though everything around me could be a complete lie… even a lie I tell myself.
You will have to forgive me if I give you a second introduction. Or, rather, an intro-Duck-shun. You see, the opposite of Thinkology is Daffology.
I don’t THINK, therefore I am Daffy.,
So, even though practicers of Thinkology like me often overthink everything, the important thing is that we do think. If you don’t think, if you are a Daffologist, then you will probably vote Republican on issues that make your rich Congressman richer but will leave you poorer. And Daffologists believe in UFOs just because the guy with the hair, Giorgio A. Tsoukalos, says they were the ones who resurrected Christ.
A Thinkologist like me will believe in UFOs, and I do, based on numerous statements by whistle-blowers, photographic evidence, credible reports by credible witnesses, and personal encounters. but will never be able to say with any confidence that UFOs are real. (Although they are, but I can’t prove it, so I can’t say it without the caveat that maybe the entire American government is engaged in a misinformation campaign to make me believe something is true that really isn’t so they can somehow do their secret evil deeds to my detriment without me actually knowing it.)
When a Daffologist learns that he has been duped, he jumps up and down, swings his fists, says the worst swear words and profanities he knows, and dissolves in incoherent rage. Likely also stomping with his webbed Duck feet.
When a Thikologist learns that he has been tricked, he may utter his favorite swear words and profanities (because it helps the thinking engines to blow the soot out of them), and then rethinks what happened in the hopes that next time he will be less gullible and will have learned something important about protecting himself from falsehoods.
So, I am saying, to be a good Thinkologist… doubt everything.
If you are determined to be a Daffologist instead, then, by all means, accept everything Tucker Carlson says without reservation. Better the Republican People-Eaters feast on your children rather than mine… WAIT A MINUTE! I can’t think that either. Nobody’s children should be preyed upon for reasons of greed, Capitalist manias, or tasty meat! I need to work on identifying what is actually evil, and find a way to curtail it.
Now you know what I think Thinkology is all about… I think… subject to further experiment and evidence… and so, once again I am giving you fair warning about what I am probably going to post about in upcoming essays.
“Ah, if I only had a brain,” said the Scarecrow. “Then I could do some Thinkology about witches.”
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