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The Cowboy Code

When I was a boy playing cowboys and Indians with cap pistols and rubber tomahawks, we all knew that cowboys had a code.  The guy in the white hat always shoots straight.  He knows right from wrong.  He only shoots the bad guy.  He even shoots the gun out of the bad guy’s hand if he can.  Westerns are about right and wrong, good and bad, and the unyieldingly good knights of plains.

And boys believe what they see on TV and in the movie theaters.  People who make television shows never lie, do they?  In fact, Wyatt Earp was based on a real guy who really lived and really shot the bad guys at the gosh-darn real OK Corral.

Daniel Boone was a real guy too.  He faced the opening up of new lands full of deadly dangers.  And when Fess Parker played him in 1964, wearing Davy Crockett’s coonskin hat, he walked the earth like a guardian angel, making everyone safe by the end of the episode.  He even knew which Indians were good and which were bad.  Mingo was always on Daniel’s side.  And when they spoke to each other about the dangers they faced, it was never about killing the people they feared.  It was about doing what is was right, about helping the community at Boonesboro to survive.  Being encouraging… looking forward to a more settled future created by following the cowboy frontier code.

So, I am left wondering what ever happened to the cowboy code?  I listen to Republican presidential candidates talking about dipping bullets in pig’s blood to kill Muslims, and building walls against Mexican immigrants, and why our right to carry assault rifles is sacred, and I wonder what happened.  Didn’t they experience the same education from the television versions of the Great American Mythology?  Didn’t they learn the code too?

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I am old enough now to know that cap guns are not real guns and you cannot solve problems by shooting somebody.  But that was never the point of the cowboy code.  We need straight-shooters again in our lives, not to shoot people, but to tell the unvarnished truth.  We need wise people who can tell who are the good Indians and who are the bad   We need them to shoot the weapons out of the bad guys’ hands.  And I know that’s asking for leaders to be larger than life and be more perfect than a man can actually be.  But Daniel Boone was a real man.  Myths and legends start with a fundamental truth.

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Symbolism in the Book of Life, Love, and Laughter

In poetry, some things can stand for other things.

This is called Symbolism.

In Mickey’s Book of Life, Love, and Laughter, certain silly symbols are commonly found.

Cardinals are the little red songbirds that never fly away when the winter comes.

A cardinal symbolizes courage, fortitude, and profound persistence.

When Mickey sees a cardinal, he stupidly thinks it’s a good omen.

Cardinals deliver the will and favor of God Himself.

This is why Catholic Cardinals can become Pope.

Fauns are creatures of Greek Myth, naked young boys or girls,

With horns of a goat and tails of a deer, living in the forest.

In Mickey’s stupid head, they symbolize sensuality and oneness with nature.

Fauns are what Mickey is trying to be when

He takes off his clothes and claims to be a nudist.

The ship with pink sails is a symbol too.

It is a symbol of Mickey’s imagination,

Especially the imagination that shows up in Mickey’s dreams.

It sometimes appears as a 1957 pink and white Mercury,

My dad’s car until it was destroyed in the Belmond tornado of 1966.

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Picturing From Today

Today’s picture is a potential Sci-Fi character for a Cissy Moonskipper story.

For fashion’s sake, I had to try another space suit. Of course, we have still forgotten the glove on the hand. This kid is in for a bit of severe frostbite if he goes out the airlock like this.

As I had drawn the character nude before applying the background and costume, I decided to put him into a skinny-dipping situation (in a more progressive town than Dallas.)

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Goooooaaaaaaal!

Being an ESL teacher (teacher of English as a Second Language) in Texas means a lot of exposure to kids who are nutty about soccer.  I didn’t get to teach more than one football player in my time as a high school teacher.  But soccer?  Who can count?  Both boys and girls.  But don’t panic.  This will not be a post about the joys of soccer.  Or even Shakira’s amazing soccer videos where she dances and sings with very few clothes on.  Whew!  You dodged a bullet to the brain there.

This post is about achieving goals.

Cool School Blueclass Miss Mcoverstudents in colorMiss Morgan oneDonner n SilkieGarriss n Torchy  The recycled Paffoonies are all about my novel Magical Miss Morgan.  It is my teacher-novel.  After finishing a 31-year career of teaching and loving it and loving kids…  I still needed a purpose in my life.  In the Alan Watts and Carl Sagan videos I am going to site here, they both say that the only purpose human beings really ever have is the one the individual person chooses for himself (or herself).  I chose to take all the things I learned as a teacher and boil them down into a stew of wisdom, humor, fairies, and silly words.  The novel, then, represents the purpose I chose.  And that is probably the reason why, when I finished the final edit last night, I was absolutely certain that this is the best novel I have ever written.  I will submit the silly thing to the Chanticleer Book Reviews & Media YA novel contest as soon as I can scrape together the entrance fee.  This is a better book than even Snow Babies.  I foolishly believe I can win this time around.  But the contest is hardly important.  That is just a tool in the quest to build my book into a successful piece of work… to get others to complete the process and actually read the book.  It will be published, even if I have to do it all myself and pay the money, as well as the blood, sweat, and tears.  I have already scored the goal.  It only remains to be seen if it ever gets posted on the scoreboard.

Here are the inspirational videos I wanted to share as well.  One is from Alan Watts… if you have never heard of him, you seriously need to look him up.  The other is from Carl Sagan.  I offer both of these in the knowledge that most of you who bother to read any part of this will ignore them, but with the reminder that all the best treasure in life is found after some serious digging.  My shovel is dinged-up royally, and my hands are covered in dirt.  (Dang! Only 451 words today!)

The Sagan video is number 3 on the list this link gives you.

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Child of the Sunshine

I decided to draw a picture that might help my friends and family understand a little bit why I like being a nudist. This is a picture of what it feels like to be clothed only in sunshine. The freedom is a very real thing. I have pictured it here not with a picture of myself, but of a sunshiny boy that represents me before the age of ten, before the sexual assault I endured in secret which plunged my psyche into darkness.

I finished both of these pictures, created from the same original doodles, on my new computer tablet with a digital drawing app. The second one has Sunshine Boy in an ISU t-shirt because that is where I learned to overcome the trauma from the assault. Ultimately I overcame my fear of being nude.

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Tablet Progress

I now have a much bigger and more useful touchscreen canvas to draw on. It has made picture-making even easier for this old coot with arthritic hands and encroaching color blindness. I am no longer despairing about not being able to draw. I drew the picture of the space boy using the tablet, my electronic stylus, my fingers, and a photo/art-editing program called AI Mirror. (Not the same as Dall-E in that it operates from the picture I draw, not the description I write. I don’t believe I am plagiarizing anyone’s original artwork in that this not-really AI program does not interpret my artwork by reproducing someone else’s art. Instead, it interprets and realigns my art using what it knows from photos and a generalized anime filter.)

This is how I use it. I draw a figure to the best of my current ability. My hands shake and my arthritic joints seize up and crackle. I can guide the stylus better than this picture above, but not all the time. I can also refine and redo the details.

I can continue to refine things to a point like you see above, I tighten things up, zoom in, and work on smaller details. Eyes get a lot of attention, especially after I discovered it was the anime filter in the editing program that was making some of my creations cross-eyed.

The AI Mirror program is a sort of Photoshop editor that can merge my drawing with photo-quality costumes, backgrounds, and props. It leaves me with a picture I can actually feel proud of.

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I am Jazzed. I Now Own an Android Tablet

I have been getting tired of the tiny screen on my phone where I have been relentlessly drawing like my drawing talent is about to run out… because it is. I finished setting it up today, but I haven’t finished anything else on it. So, today I give you drawings I did on that Lilliputian screen.

This is the first figure drawn on the new Android Tablet.

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Comic Book Heroes – A is for Aquaman

Today’s Paffooney is a tribute to a childhood hero, Aquaman.   I drew the picture from a comic book inspiration source coming from DC Comics in the 1960’s.  Aquaman is a B-level superhero with not nearly so many fans as the big three, Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman.   He was, however, my second favorite after Spiderman.  He was more important to me than the Avengers.  And this was strange, because I only had the chance to read the sacred comic books in the old barbershop in uptown Rowan.  I only remember about two different issues that I was able to read during the long wait for a haircut.  (Haircuts on Saturday took forever, because all the bald and crew-cut farmers would take forever getting their hair cut.  And they hardly had any hair!   I think the barber cut each hair individually.)

Aquaman and Aqualad would journey together in an incredible undersea world of sea monsters, giant fish, scuba divers, villains like Black Manta, and Mera, a real hot underwater babe.  Topo the octopus could play comic relief by playing musical instruments or getting drunk on old lost kegs of pirate rum.  I became a part of the adventure.  I’m not sure whether I imagined myself more as Aquaman himself, or Aqualad.  Aqualand was dressed all in red and blue, my favorite colors.  I liked his blue swim-trunks.  I myself could never wear swim trunks without a fatal case of embarrassment over my knobby knees and hairy legs.    I admired Aqualad’s smooth and muscled boy-legs, though not without some shame and embarrassment.  Some suggest that the relationship between Aquaman and Aqualad was a homo-erotic thing just like Batman and Robin.   But, hey… NO IT WASN’T!  It was a hero and sidekick that mirrored the complex relationship between a father and son.  My father and I could never talk at any deeper level than Aquaman talked to Aqualad.   Yet my father had super-powers for solving my problems and helping me do things and make things.  Yes, I think I loved Aquaman because he reminded me of my own father in his quiet competence.

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And I had a Captain Action Aquaman costume, a Christmas present and wonderful treasure.  I played with it so much that only the broken trident, mask, and swim fins remain.  The rest was all broken and unraveled and disintegrated from being played with.  The Aquaman in my Captain Action collection has replacement parts in it to make it more complete.  Yes, I spent time and money putting that toy back together so that I might play with it yet again.

So why is the super-powered King of the Sea so important to me?  After all, his super powers are to breathe underwater and telepathically talk to fish.  I think, reading back over this stupid little essay, that the most important theme is the father-son thing.    I never owned a single Aquaman comic book as a kid, but I watched him on Saturday morning TV.  He was one of the Superfriends.  And my father had been in the Navy on Aircraft Carriers.  Yes, Aquaman is my favorite because Aquaman is secretly my father.

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Robert Frost, the Poetry of Simple Things

Arriving in 1874, Robert was born more Frost than snow,

And yet he made a genius poem of watching snow in fields, you know.

The thing about him and his work, you see,

Is the quiet observation, the detail, the sensibility.

He could look at stone walls badly in need of mending,

And see two neighbors, working together, and sharing a satisfactory ending.

And when two roads in a yellow wood he surmises,

The one less traveled leads to four Pulitzer Prizes.

This is a poet you need to meet before you are dead.

Everyone thrives with a little Frost bestowed on their head.

*Note*

This is a poem about a poet written in couplets, pairs of rhyming lines, the poor man’s building blocks of poetry. Please notice that this poem, written by a pretty terrible poet (hey, at least I’m pretty) is about one of the greatest poets that ever lived. Back in 1969, though Frost was recently no longer living, I had to memorize and recite Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken,” I was one of only three seventh graders who did it correctly. Later, as a teacher, I would make speech classes memorize and recite it too, though they only had to get one stanza correct to pass it. Putting yourself in that poem by reading it aloud is a mystical experience that transforms you forever into a more aware and awakened human being.

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Teach, Because You Have To!

Teach me now, oh wise one…

…Because I have to know…

…Where the wide world comes from…

…And where it must surely go.

…Teach us now, oh foolish ones…

What proofs of reason can you show?

Teach them now, old ones…

…With white hair on your heads…

…Teach them now what they must know…

…Before we all are dead!

We all must share our knowledge…

…What little of whatever we know…

…And all of us must become teachers…

Before our last chances all go!

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