Category Archives: Paffooney

Human Beans Explained by a Bean-Head

Mickey was a bean-headed child, so he is the perfect person to nattate this essay.

Children don’t always hear and understand perfectly what grown-up people tell them. So it was with me and the term “human bean.” My parents were repeatedly saying that I was a “human being” like all other “human beings.” But I, of course. insisted on hearing that I was a “human bean.”

It made perfect sense to me. Mom was always saying to me at every meal, “Michael, eat your beans. Before you can leave the table you must clean your plate. So, eat ALL of your beans.”

Great Grandma always told me, “You are what you eat.”

And I believed her. That meant that more than fifty percent of me was made entirely of beans.

But Great Grandma told me that beans were protein and you needed protein to build muscles. And you also needed protein for your brain to think with.

So, I was a human bean.

And as a budding artist, I noticed things. I had visual proof.

.People like me who were bean-heads tended to be smarter people than those whose heads were flat-on top or flat in the back. It made sense. A bean-shaped head had more room in the back for brains. And that meant that bean-headed Mr. Greenjeans was actually smarter than round-headed Captain Kangaroo. And some bean-headed people were really good at basketball. John Havlicek and Wilt Chamberlin were better basketball players than the New York Knicks had, probably because they were smarter. with their bean brains.

And as a child with a bean-shaped body, I had proof that I wasn’t just “full of beans” as Great Grandma said, I was MADE of beans. That meant the fat parts of my bean-body were actually pure muscle.

One day I was out in a pasture at Uncle Larry’s farm flying my box kite, the one I made myself with only a little help from my dad.

As I was flying it high enough to be seen from far away, two girls I knew from school and lived nearby came up to me to admire my kite as it flew.

Coraline Bigsby was a couple months older than me and a grade ahead of me in school. Alicia Stewart was a couple months younger than me and in my second-grade class.

“Wow,” said Alicia. “I have never seen a kite like that fly so high. How did you get it up there?”

I was probably blushing as I answered, since I secretly had a crush on her, the prettiest girl in our school. “I know the magic secrets to get it to fly like that.”

“Could you let us try?” Coraline asked. She was blonder and plumper than Alicia, but still generally a nice girl.

I handed Coraline the kite string. Almost instantly the wind died down and the kite floated gently down to the pasture grass.

The two girls both were instantly sorry that they had been the cause of my kite coming down. But no matter which one held the kite and which one held the string, they couldn’t get it up in the air again.

“Okay, Mike, what’s the magic secret to getting it to fly?” said Coraline, frustrated.

I, of course, with my great bean-brain, decided it was the perfect time to tell an evil lie. “This kite will only go up if you reduce wind resistance by taking off all your clothes.”

“My parents would kill me, if I did that,” said Coraline. “It is a bad thing to do.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Alicia, “But I’m way too shy to take my clothes off in front of a boy.”

“You didn’t do that to get it up the first time, Mike. You’re lying to us.” Coraline was getting mad.

“Yes, I did. You two weren’t here then. I put my clothes back on before you got here.”

“There isn’t any reason to do it that way anyway. What’s the advantage of being naked?” Coraline growled.

“Your clothes block the wind that’s needed to make the box kite fly. That’s what’s different about box kites.”

“Why don’t you show us, Michael. That will prove you are telling the truth,” said Alicia.

My eight-year-old bean brain began to panic. I was putting my own foot into the evil trap I tried to set. Okay, maybe not precisely my foot. I had to let them uncover my lie, or I had to uncover everything else.

Coraline was glaring at me. Alicia was smiling.

Well, you made your own horrible situation come to pass, Mickey. What are you going to do?

When I first took them all off and put back on my shoes, Coraline covered her eyes and Alicia blushed, but smiled as she watched everything I did. I was worried what they would say when I couldn’t get the kite back up in the breeze. But it almost immediately caught the wind and went up even higher than before. They were both happy to hold the string for a short time. But when I asked them if they would use my magic method to get it back up, they both declined. They were perfectly happy to stand next to me while I flew the kite in my bean-body birthday suit. They giggled a lot and looked at me more than they looked at the kite. But they were both happy with how that day went.

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Filed under autobiography, humor, lying, Mickey, Paffooney

Human Beans

People are not really vegetables… even though I have seen IQ scores as a teacher that might say otherwise. But I often use the pun of calling them Human Beans.

Your basic human bean.

Western style beans

Of course, being a Texan means having a healthy appreciation for beans as a staple food. Cowboys used to live off of beans and beef jerky, and if Louis L’Amour is to be believed, they even made tea from mesquite beans. That makes your average cowboy made up of over 50 per cent beans. Of course the rest of him is mostly gas caused by the beans in his diet, whether it comes out as a fart or as a Texas tall tale… And yes, I admit it, I get a lot of my writing ideas from eating beans.

A Boston baked bean

We must also be aware that Texas has no corner on the beans market. We all know Boston baked beans by reputation. They, like the ever-hapless Cubs, had a habit of never winning the World Series. And now, in the last two decades, it has actually been difficult for the other teams to keep them from winning it all. But we shouldn’t mix up beans with baseball metaphors. Baseball is like life. Full of long and boring parts punctuated by intense moments of hitting, scoring, committing errors, and player versus player individual drama. And concession stand food! Beans, however, can taste good in chili draped over the ballpark hot dogs which cost more than a restaurant meal at most reasonable restaurants. And I promise you, you will never hit a home run over the fence by hitting it with a bean.

A Mexican style re-fried bean

And I wish to point out that this last human bean is not a racist cartoon. Beans are not part of the human race. They only have legs in cartoons and would come in last even when racing a snail. And all beans are created equal in the sight of God. Kidney beans, butter beans, navy beans, string beans… all beans are just beans, no matter what the color of their skin is, and no matter how they add flavor to a casserole. All beans are just in it to live life the best they can, and if that’s not enough… they can be planted as seeds to raise the next generation of human beans.

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Filed under cartoons, foolishness, humor, metaphor, Paffooney

What Makes You Think You Can Draw, Mickey?

Drawing is a matter of life-long practice and a honing of skills. Honing? I like that word. A hone is a fine-grained whetstone for sharpening knives or cutting edges. It can also mean sharpening the details, clarifying and making more accutate the process you are performing.

So, what’s wrong with this picture?

Well, the unicorn who posed for it had round glasses and didn’t stick his tongue out while posing.

Honing is needed.

And this one… if they were actually all playing the notes we see being played here, it would be cacophony. Why didn’t you get the sound right.in this drawing, Mickey?

And these duck eyes aren’t realistic because mallards are usually much angrier when they are looking at you in real life. Where’s the red blood vessels around the edges of the eye-whites that real ducks don’t even have?

And this evil smile is not supported by necessary details. Where’s the MAGA hat? And why does his left hand not contain the severed pigtails of the girl who sits in front of him in Science Class?

And this picture? Is this supposed to be Cupid? The tip of his arrow is not dripping with love-potion. And if you look closely, you can see the wrinkles in the paper it’s drawn on. Honing is needed, Mickey!

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Role-Playing Game Art

Here I am back to doing D&D and Traveller on Saturdays. All of the art in this post was once used in conjunction with RPGs played with former students, and my own kids. I was always the game master in the past, and I used drawings and illustrations to help the imaginary adventures come to life.

Zoran-Viktor was a Mirin Ice Wizard from the Talislanta D&D campaign. The player of this character was Victor, a gifted dancer and actor from the school’s theater department.
The Lawgiver was a powerful Non-Player Character in both D&D and Talislanta. The character design came from a metal figure I painted myself.
Zoric was a Talislantan Thaumaturge, the player character of a weird kid who told x-rated jokes better than any other high-school boy I ever met.

Harun the Charmer was only ever used as a player-character once. The boy whose character it was provided the face I modeled it after. He was an absolutely arresting boy that had such a winning personality that people fell in love with him almost instantly.

He spent way more time helping another teacher grade papers than he did playing Talislanta games with goofy old Mr. B.

And I promise, only one of the facts presented here about Harun is a lie, in attempt to protect this young gentleman’s identity. We unfortunately lost him back in the 1990’s.

Crane the Sorcerer was an NPC trapped inside his own crystal ball by his own
evil familiar well before my kids met him in the D&D adventure.
Viktor, the Snow Wizard of Ice Keep, was the father of Zoran Viktor. Victor loved playing Talislanta.
Swordpoint Castle

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Filed under artwork, characters, Dungeons and Dragons, humor, Paffooney

Mickey Plays with Pictures and Paint

Once I was finally able to scan pictures again, I did some scanning of old pictures that only got the camera treatment before on my blog.

But why stop a drawing at just the pen and ink, when there is potential for so much more?

So, I took the Microsoft generic paint program and my generic photo editor to not only this pen and ink of the Jungle Princess, but a few other pictures as well.

,,,

,,,

This is what she looks like after being attacked with color by my arthritic old hands. (There was a day when I could have handled intricate details more cleverly, but that was many, many days ago.

Anyway, I have added new dimensions to Leopard Girrrl with color.

Now I need to add more complications to the basic story of the picture.

”’

Here is an older pen and ink.

This is Dorin Dobbs, one of the dueling plotlines’ protagonists from the novel Catch a Falling Star.

But, of course, Dorin is a more complex character than this old black and white.

So, color needs to be added.

,,,

I had this one actually already painted in…

But in order to use it in this project, I needed to enlarge it to make it fit into the other picture.

Making this unlikely pair work together in a story is one of the challenges of doing surrealist stories. They have to be grounded in realism, but also bring jarringly different things together. Like the Jungle Princess going on an adventure with Norwall’s Lying King.

But, putting these two together is still not enough. Let’s try some other things.

The Jungle Princess together with Tomboy Dilsey Murphy is an unusual pairing.

Or what about the blue faun from Laughing Blue?

Or even Annette Funicello?

Ridiculous, I know. But don’t they look like satin sofa paintings?

And how surreal is that?

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Filed under artwork, coloring, drawing, goofiness, humor, Paffooney, surrealism

How to Totally Waste Your Free Time

Yes, editing a book is like giving scissors to a monkey. Things are going to be cut. The cuts will be totally random. And then you need to paste if all back together yourself and try to make sense of it all again while cussing the damned monkey under your breath so that the monkey doesn’t hear it… unless on this project you are your own monkey.

I have now spent about five years taking my first published novel, the crappiest thing I ever wrote, published by the worst piratical publisher ever to board the sailing ship of my writer’s imagination, and expand it by rewriting and adding story elements that I never reached in the original.

It has been a terrible, blood-boiling effort to turn nonsense, corny jokes, numerous real science fiction ideas, and an overly-excited imagination into a coherent story that is intentionally a cross between Frank Herbert’s Dune and Douglas Adama’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

One of the main flaws of the book is the typical imitation-Dune problem of way too many characters to keep track of. Not just characters… too many planets, alien creatures, robots, alien cultures, star-born weirdnesses, and plot curlicues. My solution to this; add in lots of illustrations (I had originally sold the idea to the publishing pirates with illustrations included… which they cut down to five… and then eliminated completely,) and create an extensive set of appendixes that allow confused readers to look up the weird names and nouns that confronted them on every page.

The plot is overly complex and Dune-like specifically because of how it came to be. I was playing a space-based role-playing game called Traveller with three to eight middle school and high school students who were mostly former students of mine in the 1980’s. They created the player characters who become the lead characters in the book. Both the Aero Brothers, Trav Dalgoda, Tron Blastarrr, and many others were created by the boys. They then went on adventures that began in my imagination, but then took their many twists and turns through where the players wanted to go, what they wanted to build, buy, or steal, and what they chose to do about their many life-and-death encounters.

Book 4 is the manuscript, now finished, that I am editing and will soon publish.

I have reached the fun part of the story where critical things begin to happen that make life-and-death changes to the lives of the most important characters.

The end of the original story will occur in the next book of the series. Book 5 has about fifty percent of its content already written. I will have to write and paste in the extended content for the other fifty percent.

It will end up being not the worst novel I have ever written. It will be the worst five novels. Unless the monkey with the scissors works a miracle or two.

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

Hidden Kingdom… Chapter 2 Complete

Here is the link to the complete Chapter 1https://catchafallingstarbook.net/2018/11/24/hidden-kingdom-chapter-1-complete/

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Filed under comic strips, fairies, Hidden Kingdom, humor, Paffooney

The Necromancer’s Apprentice… Canto 6

The Cage

They put one of those magic-absorbing collars around my neck and tied a leash to it.  Then they gave the leash over to the quiet boy in the blue jerkin while the mouse-boy and the gnarled old sorcerer tied my hands behind my back.

“So, can we learn sex magic by using this captive?” said the rather loud and obnoxious mouse-boy.

“Shut up, Mickey,” said the sorcerer.  “There’s no such thing as sex magic.”

Of course, the sorcerer was wrong about that.  I had learned necromantic sex magic from the necromancer.  He had taught me the life-force-sucking kiss spell from the goblins he let me suck dry to practice.  He also taught me the full-body magic transfer.  If the sorcerer knew that, it must’ve been the reason he lied to the mouse-boy.

The quiet boy led me by the leash, but only very carefully, not trying to jerk me forward or make the leash hurt me.  He had golden hair and the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen on a Sylph boy.  His blue jerkin had a sign sewn to the front that read, “Never kick the apprentice if the master is near.”  He wasn’t wearing pants under the jerkin, only a white loin cover that he apparently had tucked in carefully.  I admired his firm, round buttocks.  But, of course, I wasn’t about to tell him that.

They took me into the castle in the willow tree.  And my mouth surely dropped open at the sight.  It was beautiful. 

The iron gate was built into the roots of the tree with gatehouse towers carved directly out of the willow wood.  But, no… not carved… shaped by magic, as I sensed with my magic tingle.

The inner court was all carved wood, as the willow was practically hollow all the way up to where the limbs branched away into the darkness above.  The numerous stairs, landings, walkways, and castle-room facades were all lit by fairy candles which were both small, and exceedingly bright.

“This is our home, Derfentwinkle,” said the quiet boy.

He knew my name?  And that was how the sorcerer took my power over Kack, the Demon Head, away from me.  I resolved to learn their names next.  I knew the mouse-boy was Mickey.

“It’s nothing like the mudhole where I live,” I said.  “What is your name, quiet boy?”

“Don’t tell her, Bob.  She doesn’t need to know it.”

“Shut up, Mickey.  My name is Bob.  As the wererat just told you.”  He smiled at me, and a thrill went down my spine.

The sorcerer led us all up a winding stair that led to an audience chamber.  There was a big, burly Sylph sitting on the throne, but he was no mere warrior-king.  The pentagram on his chest glittered with magical energy.  I got a powerful tingle from it.  He was definitely a wizard… and definitely the boss here.  Why was he sitting on the throne of Wotan, the deceased Erlking?

The sorcerer then pulled me in front of him.

“This girl is Derfentwinkle, the necromancer’s apprentice.  It turns out that her master is old Bluebottom, my former classmate, better known to you as Kronomarke, waster of time and slayer of the Good Knight Pollinard.”

“She was driving the bone-walker?”

“Yes, with the help of a severed demon head to use as a repository of her master’s magic.”

“And why haven’t you killed her yet, Eli?”

The question chilled me to the bone.  The wizard’s guards stepped forward, lowering their halberds.

“Because I chose not to.  She’s my captive.  I choose to keep her for whatever usefulness she might have.  She knows little magic and is not a danger to us.”

“I hope you are right about that, Eli Tragedy.  Your very name means you can be disastrously wrong.”

“She’s really quite plain-looking, ugly even…” remarked a fat, bug-like Pixie courtier.

I glared at him until he turned his stupid bug eyes towards his fat ladybug wife.

“Very well, then.  But keep her safely in the cage you built to hold the harpy Sir Launcelot captured during the last siege.”

Up to that point, I had believed I could escape any time I really wanted to.  But a cage built to hold a harpy?  I would never escape that with lockpicking skills.  And what if the harpy was still inside? 

My mind was made up, however.  If they weren’t going to kill me immediately, then I didn’t intend to escape.

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Filed under fairies, humor, magic, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

Why My Kids Are Always Embarrassed

Yes, I admit it. I am a goofy old coot and an embarrassment to my children.

That’s my role in life now. Eye rolls abound when I am around.

There are several reasons why, which I intend to list here in detail in order to embarrass my children further. But it basically boils down to the fact that I am a writer, and though I write mostly fiction, another way of saying I lie a lot, a real writer tends to reveal more of the naked truth about himself than a child can stand.

Who wants to see their father naked? Especially when he is old… wrinkled, spotty, and mostly fish-belly white.

Speaking of nakedness, one of the things that my children are most embarrassed about is the fact that I know a lot about nudists and naturists, in fact, I know many real nudists, and I have been nude in at least one social situation with other naked nudists. And, even worse, I admit it in writing where my children and their friends can see it. Of course, none of them read this blog anymore for that reason.

I have written novels where there are nudist characters based on some of the real nudists I have known. The novels with nudist characters in them so far are, Recipes for Gingerbread Children, The Baby Werewolf, Superchicken, The Boy… Forever, and A Field Guide to Fauns. And these novels might not embarrass them so much if they read them to discover that the novels have something to say that really isn’t about their father being a crazy naked coot. But they won’t read them because I am embarrassing to them.

And there is the verified fact that I am something of a conspiracy theorist. I firmly believe that the actor/theater owner William Shakespeare only offered his name to the real writer of Shakespeare’s plays and poetry, the 17th Earl of Oxford, Edward DeVere. There is actual evidence that is so, though it was a secret that DeVere took to his pauper’s grave after spending away his entire family estates and fortune. A pauper’s grave that no interested scholar can find the location of to this very day, although maybe he’s buried in the same place of honor as the actor/theater owner, as there are cryptic clues to that as well.

I also believe that Dwight Eisenhower met with alien civilizations in the 1950s and the Roswell Incident was a real crash of more than one spacecraft from other star systems. There exist real deathbed confessions that confirm those details, and the government has been covering up the facts for decades.

The conspiracy-theory skills I have as a crazy, embarrassing coot have resulted in books like Catch a Falling Star, Stardusters and Space Lizards, and the Bicycle-Wheel Genius.

And lastly, I was a school teacher in middle schools and high schools for thirty-one years, which means I can create kid-characters in fiction that are very realistic and have a good-but-comic quality that make readers generally like my stories.

So, my children are probably right to be seriously embarrassed by my very existence. Of course, I, like all old coots registered with the Crazy, Embarrassing Coots of America, the CECA, am totally immune to being embarrassed by the embarrassment of my children.

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Filed under aliens, angry rant, autobiography, conspiracy theory, humor, kids, novel writing, nudes, Paffooney, strange and wonderful ideas about life, William Shakespeare

Having My Say

Anti-Claus? Creepy Claus? //Saint Mickelaus?

No one listens to me anyway.

So, I might as well have my say.

The world will someday go away.

Maybe only me that day,

But possibly everybody else should pray.

But rhyming is just goofy play,

And this is not a poem, okay?

If I am trying hard to get stuff done before the end of life, I have made some headway in 2021, I have published Twenty-One books in my lifetime all published with three different legitimate publishers and one criminal publisher. Oh, and all currently available on Amazon. Of the soon-to-bees listed above, I have published Cissy Moonskipper’s Travels along with an unlisted novella, Horatio T. Dogg, Super Slueth. AeroQuest 4 : The Amazing Aero Brothers is finished and undergoing final edits. And I have added a working rough draft of The Necromancer’s Apprentice, a satire I hope won’t be sued by Disney Corporation.

I now own a third of the farm you see in the foreground of this picture. The farm on the far side of the road is Uncle Harry’s farm that was sold when Uncle Harry passed away long ago.

In a sense, I have already had my say in the books I have written. The themes are my fundamental thinking, the horrid insults flung at me in my internal monologue by my inner critic, the rough nuggets of supposed wisdom that I have not only cut my writer’s teeth on. but, in some cases, chewed on relentlessly for decades until it comes out again as sweet as honey. Or, sometimes, as sour as the bile and vomit created by extended illness. Whatever its quality, the writings I will leave behind me are my fair say in an attempt to help the world evolve.

There is still a considerable record of having had my say in middle school and high school English classes. That say, that attempt to influence the future, has already been written in the memories of students that sat through my classes. They endured a lot, put up with a lot of mistakes by me, but also, hopefully learned some real lessons.

Here’s the current gist of what I have to say;

We are in a time when the environment is out of control and getting worse. It will probably kill us all, including all other life on Earth. But we are creative enough and smart enough to invent our way out of that problem. If only the stupid people and the greedy-evil people will let us.

We are also in a time when there is a definite threat that our leaders are going to embrace the easy and profitable path of being a Fascist. We have to hope there is enough empathy and morality left amongst our people to avoid this and find a fairer way for all.

And that is not all I have left to say. But it will do for now.

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Filed under artwork, autobiography, humor, insight, inspiration, novel plans, novel writing, Paffooney