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This year, this miserable year of 2024, has been a debacle that I really don’t think most of us deserve. But part of what makes the outcomes of 2024 despicable are the result of the power of stupid people and the evil people who manipulate them.

We have now entered into a time in which the climate change numbers have crossed the red lines into irreversible consequences.

Here is what the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) reveals;

I am a pessimist. I think we are already doomed. It is not that we don’t already have technology to deal with the problem and save life on Earth. We certainly do. But the stupid people in this country put the Pumpkinhead President back in charge of the US government. to be assisted by co-president Elmo Muskmelonhead, you know, that fake technical genius who became the world’s richest man by buying other people’s genius inventions. And they will undo all the progress we have made because they can make more money for their hoards by sticking with the deregulated use of fossil fuels. Our lives mean nothing in the face of vast deregulated profits. Oh, and those profits are also going to be tax-proof. The massive national debt will be paid for by ending our Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid funding. You know, the stuff we have paid into every single year we have worked.

My only accomplishment of 2024 is my published book of poetry. It was published early in the year and I have barely been able to write since. I am suffering from increased arthritis problems, growing blood pressure and diabetic issues, and a serious loss of energy and ability to mentally focus.

My book sales seem to slowly be gaining momentum. I am noticed by more and more readers, especially from those looking for nudist-related literature. But I am also suffering from problems that prohibit me from getting naked and being a nudist.

So, what this all means for me is that I am drawing near the end of my story. It will all go onward without me soon. Or not go on, depending a lot on the whims of stupid people and their Pumpkinhead President.

The little red bird that never flies away when the winter comes… is a symbol of who I am. I lasted for 31 years as a public school teacher no matter how hard it got to be, no matter how many brick walls I ran into, and no matter how little respect the world gives me for what I have done. I persisted in a difficult relationship for thirty years because it didn’t matter if she didn’t love me. I loved her and I made a commitment. And no matter how cold the relationship has become, it will continue. I don’t fly away when the snow begins to fall.

Life is hard. Terrible people do terrible things, and they seem to always get what they want and make the huge profits. Good and lovely people who sacrifice their comfort and wealth to help others always seem to be the ones who get kicked whenever they are down. Still, people are basically good. The depths of evil some of them sink to are the exception, not the rule. The heights of behavior and accomplishment are achieved by more people than the depths of the sinkers and the vile. Some people are amazing, inspiring, and the light the majority of us live by.

This world breaks many a soul under the hammer of God, but His forge is also where heroes are created from the truest of steel. There is hardship and pain and disappointment everywhere… constantly. But when you balance it all… life is good.

This is the philosophy I have come to live by. Work hard and take your lumps and wounds with grace and determination. And when it is done, celebrate. You may call me a fool or an idiot. I cannot prove I am not. But in the end, I know what happiness truly is.

The Return of the Pumpkinhead President is a sequel movie I don’t want to live through again. His victory in November leaves me feeling defeated. Not suicidal, but ready to give up.

There is no choice but to give up being a nudist, though. As much as I was enjoying my late entry into the lifestyle I had longed for over a lifetime, my physical health simply makes it impossible anymore.

I also fear giving up writing. My hands don’t work properly while typing, and the creative flow is slowed by too many obstacles in the stream of consciousness. The river of ideas is slowly damning itself up. I only write two or three original blog posts each week. The rest of the time, I rely on what is already written.

I must also move back to Iowa soon. I need to get out of the big city to maintain my grip on life and be back in the place I think of as home before I die. It will mean leaving my wife behind to finish her teaching career, at least for a couple of years. She will rejoin me if I am still alive when she’s done… maybe.

I will have to part with at least some of my doll collection, and probably most of my personal library as well. I’m sure I have over a thousand books in the house here in Dallas. Some I have even not read yet, though less of those than the ones I’ve read twice.

My whole life has to be simplified as I work towards its ending.

On days when I feel sick, like today, I can do things like work on paintable miniature figures for D&D or HO-scale model train layouts at the little table in front of the fake fireplace.

I know it isn’t much. But with body aches and sore throat, it was the best I could do.

This morning, I was cleaning out a closet when I came across a familiar magic lamp. I rubbed it with a clean cloth, and blue smoke billowed out of the fire spout.

“Ah, hello again, Master Mickey.”

“Gene? You should not still be here. I already used my wishes.”

“That is true, Master Mickey, but I find myself back in your possession again.”

“How did that happen?”

“Well, the first new master I found did not wish nearly as wisely as you.”

“Oh, how so?”

“Well, apparently old Smedley Pinchpenny wanted to be extremely wealthy. So, he wished it would be possible for Donald Trump to be President again.”

“So, you made it possible.”

“Yes, I did. And then he wished that it was possible for gold coins to rain from above right where Smedley was at that moment… In his kitchen.”

“So, you made that possible too.”

“Yes. And when he didn’t see anything happening, he asked why. I told him that he only made the wish for it to be possible. He didn’t actually wish for it to happen. So, he got mad and wished for the kitchen to be filled with gold coins.”

“So, it rained coins on his head and that killed him.”

“Well, you know that the kitchen held more than two tons of gold. It kinda squished him before he realized what was happening. When his wife opened the kitchen door, the magic lamp flowed out on top of the gold coins. She was happy as soon as I explained about the three new wishes. She wished for all the gold to be transferred into her bank account. I explained it would have to be transformed into numbers to be wired into her bank account. She told me to count every single coin and put that all in the bank. So, I counted them as I made each one disappear and placed a penny in her account for each one. It was a tidy little sum of cash.”

“She was upset when she checked her account, wasn’t she?”

“Extremely. She said for her final two wishes that she wanted two million dollars and a handsome man to replace her pancake of a husband.”

“So, how did she die?”

“The handsome bankrobber skidded to a stop in his getaway car right in front of her house. He tossed her the satchel with the two million in it and told her he needed her to be his human shield. She could share in the loot if they survived. The police skidded to a stop and returned fire when the robber tried to shoot his way out of trouble.”

“So, who got the lamp?”

“The couple’s twelve-year-old son got home from school at that moment. I explained about the three wishes. He wished his parents alive again.”

“So, what did the zombies do?”

“They started out eating the cops… you know, their brains. Then when they came for the boy to eat his brain, he wished loudly that no one had made any bad wishes that day.”

“So, the zombies became parents again and the robber and the cops disappeared?”

“That’s right. The only good wish of the day… up to that point.”

“What was the third wish?”

“He wished the lamp would go back where it came from.”

“Ah, I see…”

“Mickey, you do make good wishes, but you can’t use the same three as before. What are your new three wishes?”

I knew right away how careful I needed to be. But I didn’t waste any time.

“I wish you would make it possible for as many of us as feasable to survive the climate crisis with perseverence and creativity. I wish it will be possible for as many of us as is reasonable to survive Trump’s second administration without suffering too much. And I wish you and your family have a nice Christmas in the Bahamas.”

“Mickey, you are a good wish-maker.” He disappeared with his lamp in a puff of blue smoke.

This year has been different than practically any other year I have lived through. 2016 was a little bit like now, but then the Pumpkinhead hadn’t applied the infected screws to our collective rumps before. This time it is not a mystery how bad it could get. Liberals and people who have empathy for people other than their own families and close friends are all depressed. Hope for the future is fading.

And this is supposed to be the happiest time of the year. Well, hatred and loathing of “others” is what they voted inB. Revenge and retribution is what the Pumpkinhead is hot for. So, don’t expect me to be jolly and cooperative. Kill me if you must, but you will not make me call him President anymore.

But they can not take my joy and love away. Most of the happiness in my life comes from memories of the past. I hope to outlive the Pumpkinhead. It will add to my happiness to read his obituary, especially if it contains even more felony convictions. I may not have any grandchildren, and my wife doesn’t celebrate Christmas for religious reasons. But I do still look forward to time and laughs with family.

Both of the Paffooneys in this post are mere practice doodles. Being an artist, though not a professional one, keeps me going when everything else brings gloom.