Category Archives: Paffooney

AeroQuest 3… Canto 73

Canto 73 – Star Nomads – (The Silver Thread)

Tron and Maggie needed the Megadeath and her crew to bolster the defense forces of Outpost.  So, it was simply a matter of finding a ship they could spare to send Artran to safety with Ged on whatever planet the hunter now inhabited.

“I can’t afford to send a single Pinwheel or White Sword out of system.  We lost too many to defend our planet already.  And we have to assume this base is no longer a secret to Grand Admiral Tang.”  Tron glared at his difficult wife.

“This is our only son we are talking about,” argued Maggie.  “He is a cargo worth protecting.  That’s why we are bothering to send him to Ged Aero in the first place.”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance, sir,” offered Bill the Postman (secretly Scarpigo Snarcs).  “Your wife is going to win this argument, or I don’t know anything about wives.”

“Have you been married before?” asked Tron, fixing the clown with a laser-eyed look from both his artificial eye and his natural one.

“Of course not!  I told you I knew all about wives didn’t I?”

“So, what’s your worthless advice, then?”

“I am disguised as a competent member of the Imperial Scout Service.  So, I can take him to his destination without being fired upon in any X-boat that is delivering mail.”

“How is that secure enough for my precious boy?” asked Maggie.

“Well, I will be delivering the Imperial mail.  You know the Imperial Space Navy does not shoot down its own mail service, even on the frontier.”

“He has a good point, Maggie,” said an exasperated Tron.

“What about Star Dogs?  They do attack Scout ships of all kinds.”

“That’s true, dogs does chase postmen,” offered Quintillius Blorghoffer (secretly Cinco Snarcs disguised as a Scout Service Postman), “But me brudder an’ I is two of de bestest secret-type agent-men going, an’ our X-boat is secretly armed with a meson cannon, don’t ya know.  Ain’t that right, Pontoffel Poggs?”

Zero Snarcs (disguised as the above-mentioned Poggs the Postman) vigorously shook his head.

“He says you don’t?” asked Maggie angrily.

“Oh, he don’t know no better.  He shakes his head like that when he means ta say yes.  He’s just too stupid to talk.”

“Okay, I have my doubts now, too,” said Tron.

“Please, sir,” said Tiki Astro, “I am fully programmed to problem-solve and defend Artran.  Who better to send along with him as he travels in secret than I?”

Tron looked at the artificial child.  With his new skin covering his metalloid body, he was completely indistinguishable from a real child.  He would indeed be the perfect travelling companion to keep Artran safe.

“Yes.  That settles it.  Artran goes in the X-boat with the three idiots to be with Ged Aero in relative safety.”

Maggie sighed and nodded agreement.

Happy Jack sighed and then hugged his artificial son goodbye.

The three idiot postmen and the two children boarded the balloon-shaped X-boat and immediately took off from Outpost.

Once they reached the orbital jump point, Bill the Postman turned to Pontoffel Poggs (which was actually Scarpigo Snarcs turning to Zero Snarcs) and said, “Okay, boy, spin the directional dial and then spin the distance dial.”

Poggs (who was actually Snarcs) spun both dials like he was playing Intergalactic Wheel of Fortune.

“It says we are jumping a hundred and twelve parsecs into the middle of unknown space,” warned Blorghoffer (who was also secretly Snarcs).

“That’s perfect!” said Bill (secretly… well, you know).  He then smashed the jump button and folded space to a distance that would normally destroy an X-boat.

After an undeterminable amount of time they exited jump space into a black void.  But at it’s center glittered a multitude of artificial lights from a construct seemingly sewn together with steel beams and made from junk spaceship fuselages, broken satellites, abandoned space stations, and unidentifiable metal things from unknown space.

“Ah, I didn’t actually think that would work,” said Bill.

“Where are we?” asked Artran and Tiki at almost the same moment.

“This, my boys, is Nomad.  This is the home of the Star Nomads.”

“An’ I always thinked that Star Nomads be Myths,” said Blorghoffer.

“Just because something is a myth doesn’t mean it’s not true,” said Bill.

Poggs vigorously nodded his stupid head.

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Filed under aliens, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney, science fiction

Character Portraits in a New Novel

I am past the 50,000 word mark. It is almost finished. Here I wish to show you the main characters of the novel through illustrations I have created over the years..

Milt Morgan is one of the four main narrators of the novel.

He is a fifteen-year-old Belle City High School freshman in 1976. He is the most imaginative of the Norwall Pirates softball team and liars’ club.

He tells his portion of the story in the form of journal entries.

Anita Jones and her boyfriend the Superchicken (Edward Campbell)

Anita Jones is the most central of the four narrators in that she is the cousin of Icarus Jones, the character at the center of the whole plot.

She is a fifteen-year-old freshman girl who has had a steady boyfriend since the spring of 1975. She tells her part of the story by writing letters about Icarus and the things happening in the little town of Norwall in the summer of 1976. She is writing to her cousin Dot who is much more interested at the start about Anita’s boyfriend Eddie than she is about cousin Icky.

Brent Clarke is the high school freshman athlete and leader of the Norwall Pirates. He is interested in becoming a policeman or detective, and as one of the four narrators, he tells his part of the story through his investigator’s notes which he takes religiously on practically everything.

He feels responsible for all the Pirates, especially Icarus when he comes under attack during the adventure in the summer of the Bicentennial year.

The fourth narrator is Sherry Cobble who has a twin sister named Shelly and is dedicated to being a nudist. In fact, she very much wants to convince all the Pirates to be comfortable with their own naked bodies. Realizing that dream, though, is complicated.

Especially because it’s Bible Belt Iowa and her nudist family is looked at as being the somewhat crazy hippie-type kind of people that are barely tolerated by the law.

She writes about it all in her Lovely Nudist’s Diary where she can write about her naturist beliefs, successes and failures, and her boyfriend, Brent.

Icarus Jones is the central character of The Boy… Forever. He tries to kill himself early in the year of 1976 and finds out by jumping off the MacArthur Bridge in St. Louis that he cannot die naturally. And worse is in store. Beyond the fact that he is an immortal, he is being pursued by an undead Chinese wizard who is a dragon in human form.

Fiona Long, usually called Fi, convinced her stepfather to move to Norwall, following Icarus as he moves to Norwall from St. Louis. She tells everyone in her freshman class that Fi is really short for Firefang, and she is a red dragon in human form.

She becomes friends with the Pirates. She learns to trust and like Anita and Sherry. And she is mightily attracted to Brent who is actually Sherry’s boyfriend.

Fi’s stepfather, Tien Long, is the villain. He is in reality a Chinese Celestial Dragon in human form. He also needs Icarus’s blood to continue to live his long, nearly-immortal life.

It is almost done, this novel. And as you can probably tell from the character pictures, this is not the first novel about the Norwall Pirates. So, it is a pirate novel with dragons and immortals in it. It has been fun to write. And soon it will be complete.

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Filed under characters, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

Living in the Spider Kingdom

Life seems to be getting harder and harder. And I realize that a big part of that perception is the fact that my health is deteriorating quickly. This is a humor blog, but it has been getting more and more serious and more and more grim as the grim reaper becomes more and more a central character in my own personal story.

My perception of reality, however, is best explained by a passage in a novel that spoke to me in college. It comes from the novel, the Bildungsroman by Thomas Mann called Der Zauberberg, in English, The Magic Mountain. In the scene, Hans Castorp is possibly freezing to death, and he hallucinates a pastoral mountainside scene where children are happily playing in the sunshine. Possibly Heaven? But maybe not. As he goes into a stone building and finds a passage down into the ground, he sees wrinkled, ugly, horrible hags gathered around a child’s corpse, eating it. And this vision explains the duality at the center of the meaning of life.

For every good thing, there is an equal and opposite bad thing that balances it our. There is no understanding what perfection and goodness mean without knowing profanity and evil. Just as you can’t understand hot without cold nor light without darkness. And you don’t get to overturn the way it is. You try your hardest to stay on the heads side of the coin knowing that half the time life falls to tails.

So, what good does it do me to think about and write about things like this? Well, it makes for me a sort of philosophical gyroscope that spins and dances and helps me keep my balance in the stormy sea of daily life. I deal with hard things with humor and a sense of literary irony. I make complex metaphors that help me throw a rope around the things that hurt me.

We are living now in the Spider Kingdom. Hard times are here again. The corrupt and corpulent corporate spiders are spinning the many webs we are trapped in. As metaphorical as it is, we wouldn’t have the government we currently have and be suffering the way we are if that weren’t true.

But no bad thing nor no good thing lasts forever. The wheel goes round and round. The top of the wheel reaches the bottom just as often as the bottom returns to the top. So, it will all pass if we can only hold out long enough.

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Filed under commentary, empathy, feeling sorry for myself, humor, metaphor, Paffooney, philosophy

What Dreams Will Reveal

Dorin, Me, My Wife, the Princess, and Henry

I respond to dreaming in ways that make sense in my stupid head, though the responses probably seem crazy to others.

The picture above was painted in oils in the early 1990’s before I met my wife. It was in response to a Bambi dream that seemed to be about my family as a family of deer. This was not about my family from childhood. It was, at the time, about my family in the future. Somehow I got it right. Two boys and a girl. Together for 25 years next month.

This picture is called, “The Boy Who Saw the Colors”,

Some pictures are dream images that can only be interpreted metaphorically. This one is about me being creative and artistical… or autistical as the case may be. It is also about being a synesthete with pronounced synesthesia.

This dream was a dream about being a Native American during a thunderstorm. It is called “the Magic-Man’s Daughter” because the Dakota Sioux tribe held the belief that dreams about lightning reveal you as a Shaman or Magic Man. Wakȟáŋ Tȟáŋka is the Lakotah word for “the Great Mystery”. That was a dream that sent me to the library to look things up.

I have dreams with clowns in them that are not nightmares. Here the clown known as Mr. Disney is encouraging me to sing sad songs.

I wrote and entire novel about that whopper of a dream.

This dream had me trapped in a tomb with a Mummy who wouldn’t stay in his nice warm sarcophagus.

It is not uncommon to dream about death and mortality. More than once I have dreamed about my own death. None of them have yet proved prophetic, but you never know.

I dreamed about my eldest son 14 years before he was born.

I think dreams can be prophetic because they are not bound by our perceptions of time in the physical universe. You can look ahead in a dream to that which has not yet happened. You can also look backwards into the past beyond the boundary of your own birth. I often think some of my most vivid dreams are about peering into past lives and a very different me.

I know I sound crazy when I talk about my dreams. But they are a significant source for my artwork and creative endeavors. And dreams have a logic that doesn’t work by the rules of the world we know. Rather, it is a world of wonder.

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Filed under artwork, drawing, dreaming, dreams, humor, Paffooney, strange and wonderful ideas about life

The End Shall Come…

As a novelist in poor health, every time I start a new story, already worked out in my head or not, it becomes a race to finish. My time is limited because I simply cannot last for very much longer. My body is failing, and each step on the path of life hurts and is hard to take. Like Icarus above, I am flying dangerously high and possibly too near the Sun. The novel The Boy… Forever, in which Icarus Jones is the key character, is swiftly coming to a close. The villain has already died the first time, and the hero is approaching the orb of the Sun. I am hoping to have it published within a month of right now, and hopefully long enough before my own rendezvous with the Son comes to pass.

This will be book number fourteen that I have published. It is already four novels more than I had realistically believed I could publish before six incurable diseases and the prospect of cancer, heart attack, and stroke that I have lived with since 2000 all does me in.

Ironically, this book that I am racing to finish before I die is about characters who are immortal, or make themselves immortal by consuming the essence of other immortals. And, of course, it is also another Pirate novel, feature the Norwall, Iowa 4H softball team and liars’ club that has a part in most of my other novels whether they are set in the 70’s, 80’s, or 90’s.

Brent Clarke is the leader of the Norwall Pirates.
Anita Jones, Icarus’s cousin, is one of the novel’s four narrators.

The novel is currently 49,685 words in 160 formatted pages. It will be finished by about 52,000 words. I hope to have it complete by the middle of next week.

Further I figure to start another novel project immediately afterwards. Who knows how many more I can achieve before the end shall come.

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Filed under humor, illness, novel, novel plans, novel writing, Paffooney

Peanut Gallery… Re-purposed Art

One thing that I, as an artist of limited ability, appreciate about the digital age, is that I can get lots of mileage out of old works of art, and even new works of art, by cutting and pasting, photo-shopping, and re-using elements of the drawings done once… but turned into many by digital means.

Brent Clarke, farm boy and the farm.
Valerie, Denny, and Tommy at Christmas time during the blizzard.
Snow Babies in the snow,,,
Gyro the Nebulon and Billy on the rocket sled
Brekka and Menolly as unofficial members of the Mickey Mouse Club.
A self-portrait of me in the 1960’s.
Imaginary ESL students… well, they didn’t look like this in real life.
The imagination can range farther afield when digital magic allows the artist to take the ballgame to any sort of arena.

And the process can take you home again, no matter how far away and how long ago home has become.

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Filed under artwork, illustrations, imagination, Paffooney

Impeaching the Pumpkinhead

He is now impeached. It may be just like the climate crisis, too little too late. But he had to be impeached. It is obvious to anyone who objectively looks at the facts that he is a criminal with no morals and he is destroying the power of the presidency when we are going to need it most.

I have lost all respect for the so-called Republicans who now defend him and enable his criminal behavior. Mark Meadows, Jim Jordan, Doug Collins, and Louie Gohmert are nothing but screamers, hollering distracting conspiracy nonsense and pro-Russian talking points. Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham are hypocritical partisan badgers, doing nothing but protecting their corrupt ways. All reason and all moral standards were thrown out long ago.

Sensible, moral Republicans like Bob Dole and John McCain are long gone. Republicans who used to have scruples and smarts like John Cornyn and Chuck Grassley, each of whom I have voted for in the past, now have some kind of moral brain-damage.

We need good Republicans in government. They balance out some of the loony liberalism that Democrats often fall into. Right now former Republican opinion leaders like Steve Schmidt and Rick Wilson are looking to help Democrats defeat the pumpkinhead president. I think that is a very good thing. And even though I disagree with most of what those gentlemen believe, they are good and decent political leaders of the kind we need more of to balance the wagons of democracy.

These are just stupid political opinions from a hack humorist who has sworn off making comedy out of politics. These are also things that voters, especially Republicans, need to hear.

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Filed under angry rant, Paffooney, politics

Fleeing Fatal Flu

December so far has not been kind. When my family came home from their Thanksgiving trip to Florida, the two boys had the flu. And, of course, they gave it to me. I have been seriously ill for the better part of three weeks. Having diabetes and being unable to afford insulin, I guess I am lucky to even be alive at this point. But I was unable to do any substituting in December. So, no extra money comes in during January. I will be paying for it for a while.

But one bright spot in the whole sickness story was that my daughter had reached semester test week without getting the bug and without missing school. Ah, but the Christmas flu fairies had a different outcome in mind. Monday, by the end of the day, she was bright green in the face and suffering. She was beside herself with worry about testing. She forced herself to go to school the next morning and take her first period exam. She got her exam done, and made a perfect score of 100 on it. But then she had to come home and go directly to the doctor. Yep, the flu. And probably gotten from classmates who also are missing tests about now. Wednesday and Thursday was misery and vomiting and fevers. She will live through it, but not with smiles on her bright green face. The school is understanding about her missing the tests, and it will be made up.

So, I have to take care of her with caution. If it is a different flu than I recently had, the Florida flu, I could get sick again. And this time it could easily be a fatal flu. I am not afraid. I have battled flu so many times that it no longer scares me. I know what to do. And I will get through it.

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Filed under angry rant, autobiography, feeling sorry for myself, health, illness, Paffooney

AeroQuest 3… Canto 72

Canto 72: When the Ocean Rises Up (the Blood-Red Thread)

As the Leaping Shadowcat pulled into orbit around the third planet of the Red Giant called FarStar 181 and its white dwarf companion Littlebit 181, we were playing a fierce game of Antarean Canasta while watching local television to get a clue or two about what was happening in the star system.  The planet Farwind was a center of trade, culture, and travel along the Galtorrian Imperial Rim.

“I have a run of five showing,” I said to Sinbadh, Ham, and Duke Ferrari.  “It will cost you each a thousand credits to find out if I can complete it.”  I was winning the hand again and glorying in it.  I regularly made killings in card games because I could keep track of all the cards and the odds in my head.

“Something just isn’t right here,” moaned Ham Aero.  “I’ve never seen a nerdy guy like you win so often at a game of chance.”

“Oi seconds the observation, Doctor Marou,” said Sinbadh.  “Ye play a cutthroat game ye do.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Sinbadh.  I may not be a capable pirate like you, but I earn my respect in more than one way.”

“Aye, ‘tis true,” sighed Sinbadh.  “I can’t afford to call yer jolly bluff, Doc.  I folds.”

“Me too,” said Duke Ferrari stroking his handlebar moustache with a nervous finger as he tossed his hand down.  “I don’t know how you are cheating, Dr. Marou, but I must say, you are good at it!”

“Well,” said Ham with grim determination, “I may lose all my savings, but I have to know if it’s a bluff or not.”

Ham threw the last of his credit chips onto the game board.

“I was hoping somebody would,” I said.  I laid down the six and seven of clovers to make a run of seven.  “I guess I win.”

“Nobody is that good at cards,” Ham said, shaking his blond head sadly.

The holo-news was describing a recent political rally in the government center of Farwind.  People there were upset about the despotic rule of the Galtorr Imperium.  The taxes paid to old Emperor Slythinus were bad enough, but the local sector head, Emperor Mong of the planet Mingo, was placing burden after burden on the people, and on top of that, demanded that they yield up their buried dead to Centralis Controllis, the Master Computer of Mingo Sector.

“I guess I’m going to have to go down there and make an official appearance,” said Duke Ferrari.  His face was long and worried.  “The political situation here is still degenerating.”

“Word has come,” said the talking head from the holo-news, “That Sector Duke Han Ferrari has returned to us and is in orbit even as we speak.”

Ferrari was aghast.  “How did they know that?”

The warning sirens from the auto-sensors came on at that same moment.  A system defense boat was fast approaching from the upper atmosphere of the planet.

“Oh, God help us,” said Ham, overturning the game board and scattering my earnings everywhere.  “We have got such trouble!”

We all followed Ham from the lounge area to the bridge.  The screens were showing a large system defense ship bristling like a porcupine with defensive weaponry.

“It’s definitely a government ship!” said Duke Ferrari.  “If we let them arrest me without resistance, it’s possible they will let the rest of you go free.”

“That clunky thing cannot out-fly me,” swore Ham, “If you want me to run…”

“No,” said the Duke.  “Let’s hail them.”

The captain of the defense boat was quickly called up and on screen.

“You are here for me, I take it,” the Duke said to the on-screen captain.

“Yessir!”  The captain of the other ship saluted crisply.  “By the command of the people of Farwind, we humbly request that you let us escort you to Farwind Downport.”

“Escort us?”

“Yes, your highness.  The people of Farwind have just completed a coup of the government.  We want a democracy like you tried to institute on Coventry, and we want you to lead us!”

The Duke’s surprise was enormous.  “The people decided this?”

“Yessir!  There’s only one little problem for you to deal with first.  The governors of the Imperium have fortified themselves inside the undersea dome at Farwind Center.  It’s a well-guarded and very secure facility.  The people want you to lead the assault.”

“Good god, man,” moaned Ferrari, a hand dragging across the left side of his face where he’d just slapped himself.  “I’m no military leader.  Is this mission even possible?”

“We hope so, sir.  It’s the will of the people.”

Ferrari looked at all of us aboard the Shadowcat.  “I can’t ask any of you to sacrifice yourselves on this fool’s mission.  We will be killed and it will all be for nothing.”

Ham grinned.  He was handsome when he smiled.  “If Goofy were here right now, he’d say what are we waiting for?”

“You… you mean, you want to come with me?”

“We live for adventure!  Don’t we, guys?”

“Well, er… woof, that is,” said Sinbadh.

“No, I surely don’t,” I said.

“See,” said Ham, “it’s settled!  When do we attack?  And why do you call yourself Shirley Doant, professor?”

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Filed under aliens, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney, science fiction

Evaluating the Moment

After running a second free-book promotion on Snow Babies, things look as bleak as ever for my publishing goals. It started well. Seven books ordered on the first day tied the best I had ever done on a give-away. But the second day saw a new record set with only one additional order. The three days after that… nothing. I can’t even give my books away for free. If you are reading this today and want to help, click on the link above. You understand e-books. You would be helping me out even if you never read it.

But, I have no illusions. My book is good enough to make a splash if people read it, but nobody will for a variety of reasons. People who knew me growing up in Iowa would be happy to read and support me if the message could get through. But my contact with them is limited by Facebook and its algorithms. Facebook will connect any political post to those on my friends-list who will argue with me and call me a socialist libtard cuck, but even family members don’t get notified of any post that is even remotely like an ad for one of my books. I try to post that kind of thing on friends’ pages, or direct message them, and Facebook steps in to call me a spammer. It is entirely a matter of me trying to advertise without paying any ad money to the greedy bahstidds of Facebook’s data-collection empire. (And yes, I know I misspelled the word about illegitimate birthings.)

My book ads fell on mostly deaf ears (or, rather, blind eyes) on Twitter as well. The #WritingCommunity is supportive, but they are all writers like me, dedicated to getting their own books read and loved. I know that many of them see a free-book ad like mine and think, “Ah, one more hack novelist’s hack novel that takes forever to read, and if I read it, they will never read mine in return.” I know they generally think this because I have slogged through some poorly written Indie novels and left a positive review, and got not even a thank you in return. Of course, nobody there actually knows anybody else. And, like me, they can’t afford to spend money on other people’s books. Although, like me also, they do now and again find books they can’t resist and spend money they can’t afford on those. Those authors won’t read my books either though. (Except for Ted. Ted Bun reads and loves my books as often as I read and love his.)

I will continue to slog through. I will continue to write and read what others wrote. I will continue to labor at this marketing-waste-of-time-formality thing. And I will continue to be depressed about the results. Besides, how else am I to proceed? Great writers are supposed to die alone in poverty and addiction, with no friends and no money. How can I pass up a reward like that?

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