I am seriously working on adding videos of me using a dry-erase board to teach goofy stuff that I like to teach.
I am really looking forward to that. People listen to stuff better than they read stuff. It just means I have to learn how to use technology more than I did in the classroom.
Filed under announcement, goofy thoughts, teaching
The idea for this post is to illustrate with covers from my own collection of books and comics.
Robert E. Howard, for those of you who like the stories but never look for the name of the author, is the young Texan who created Conan the Barbarian. I say “young” because, although he was born in 1906, he died in 1936 at the age of 30. And this young man created not only the iconic hero of the epic sword and sorcery genre of fiction, but basically founded the genre itself. He definitely laid down the basics of it as a pattern for all others to follow. Including the players of the sword and sorcery Dungeons and Dragons game.
For D & D players the primary influence of all this is the Conan method of problem-solving. “If you are confronted with a complex problem, a life and death problem, whack it with a sword until the problem is solved.” This is the source of fascination for players with the fighter character; the warrior, the paladin, the knight, or the barbarian. Superior physical prowess gives the individual control over so much more than he or she could ever be in control of in real life. (And stop making that face while reading this. Girls do play Dungeons and Dragons too. I’ve seen it happen in school and with my own daughter.)
And for the story-teller, also known as the game master or dungeon master, this can be a very good thing. The sense of power extremely high strength and endurance scores provide get the character strongly addicted to the hack and slash style of play, allowing you to teach all kinds of timely morals to the story about the need to use your brain and your creativity once in a while as well.
Conan was a brute and a slayer. But he is perceived as a good guy because he was also capable of standing up for the little guy, righting wrongs and protecting others from powerful evils. Conan had empathy, if not love, for others, and exhibited truly magnificent levels of the power to sacrifice self for the good of others and the general well-being of the weak. As game master, all you need to do is add a vulnerable character to the party that needs some protecting in the fantasy game world. It helps if that character has a good sense of humor, useful knowledge to offer, or cuteness to offer in return for the protection. But even that is not required. D & D players learn to wield power in ways that benefit others. The Spiderman thing, you know; “With great power comes great responsibility.” It is a lesson about life that many non-D & D players also really need to learn in their youth.
The Robert E. Howard way does not always work out so well for wizards. Conan hated magic and wizards. He whacked wizards even harder than he did other bad guys. But that is generally assumed to apply to evil wizards. Conan sometimes appreciated having a wizard on his side.
But the basic conclusion is this; there is a brutal, barbarian way to handle problems in real life as well as in Dungeons and Dragons life. And it would be much better for everyone if people learned the right way and the wrong way to use it in the game world before the choice has to be made in the real world.
I was not able to resolve my Tweedle battles without blood loss. Today I needed to post something that didn’t take too long to do. So here are pictures from favorite cartoon shows that I watched on Saturday mornings when I was twelve.
![01DinoBoyMarooned_thumb[3]](https://catchafallingstarbook.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/01dinoboymarooned_thumb3.jpg?w=500)
Filed under Uncategorized
So, Tweedle Dumb, being me, is getting rooked. The pool demolition being done by Tweedle Dim is going to get started finally, three weeks late, but it is going to cost me more than planned. That is because Tweedle Dumber, the city pool inspector, added new wrinkles to the requirements that he didn’t tell Tweedle Dim about until Dim filed for the building permit. Added work on plumbing and electricity that was actually already done when I was trying to repair the pool has to be inspected and signed off on by a professional in each of the two areas. The decking has to be completely removed and the pool wall collapsed by 12 inches. All of that is different than other cities in the area require, and they didn’t inform Tweedle Dim until today. So I will have to dig up a gold mine or rob a bank by this afternoon. At least this Tweedle beetle puddle paddle battle is not being fought in a bottle… yet.
Filed under angry rant, Uncategorized
Canto Sixty-Three – Harmony’s Response Team Assembly Area
Almost as soon as the crash woke Harmony Castille’s team of warriors, the old girl was immediately busy with setting up a response team in the area of the crash hole opened up by the collision between space cruiser and dome.
“Studpopper, you take point like I taught you. You are a good boy and you know how to do the job effectively if you just remember what I taught you.”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Harmony, ma’am. I won’t forget what you taught me not to forget in the heat of battle against an enemy that wants to eat me. I shall certainly remember what you taught me because you are such a good teacher, Miss Harmony, ma’am.”
“Studpopper?”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Harmony, ma’am?”
“You are remembering the rule about addressing your leaders respectfully. You are doing that really well, like a good boy. But you’ve forgotten how to take the point, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Harmony, ma’am.”
“You sneak quietly into that hole in the wall and look for the enemy. When you spot them, you signal us, and we set an ambush for them.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, ma’am, Miss Harmony…”
“And, Studpopper?”
“Yes, ma’am…?
“If you forget again the enemy will kill you. And if they don’t… I will.”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Harmony ma’am!” Studpopper saluted smartly just the way the old church lady had taught him. “You are such a good teacher, ma’am!”
The beautiful Harmony Castile chuckled to herself as the soldier tiptoed quietly into the breach in the wall of the bio dome. Mere moments later, Studpopper’s hand was signaling that someone was coming.
Silently Harmony signaled Shalar and her other men into position for an ambush.
Senator Tedhkruhz and his remaining elite Galtorrian Guard came marching through the hole, confident in their invincibility. He pulled his men up short and the gloating smirk evaporated from his face. The artificial lights of the bio dome glinted off the barrels of six Telleron skortch pistols.
“What have we here?” the evil lizard-man Senator croaked.
“You would be this evil lizard Senator Toadface we have heard so much about, wouldn’t you?” Harmony’s smile was the cold, calculating smile of the experienced Sunday school teacher who knew for certain she had the young sinner right where she wanted him.
“Senator Tedhkruhz, if you please, Miss Monkeylady.”
“I’m sure I said Senator Toadface. Did I not pronounce it correctly?”
“I am here to make certain that life on this planet ends with its preordained conclusion.”
“Over my dead body, Toadface.”
“I am certain that is precisely what I had planned,” he said as he stepped back and his lizard-men raised their slug-throwers to fire. “Shoot now, men!” he roared.
There was an electric blaze of skortch-pistol fire, a few random gun-thing noises, and then a whole lot of sparking and fizzing as skortched lizard-men turned into powder and foul smelling gasses released by their disintegration.
“Did we get them all?” Shalar asked as the gas and smoke began to clear.
“I don’t see any remaining lizard-guys.” Harmony nodded at her men, satisfied.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, ma’am, Miss Harmony, ma’am,” Studpopper offered from his position on point, “But I saw the Senator slip out again through the hole in the wall.
“So he escaped after all?” Shalar asked.
“Dang it all to heck!” Harmony swore with language that pushed the limit of how brutally an Iowa church lady could ethically swear.
Filed under aliens, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney, satire, science fiction
I am caught in an endless loop of waiting for other people to fulfill their promises. Page Publishing hasn’t done anything with my novel even though I finished paying for it months ago. They made me undo all the mistakes their proofreader made on my novel, mostly changing “Ms.” back to “Miss”, and after five editing exchanges, they still don’t have my final draft ready.
I am still waiting on my lawyer for the next step in a Chapter 13 bankruptcy. That has been a month. I know that has been my own fault because I got sick while doing endless financial paperwork and got delayed myself.
Even the pool demolition guy keeps putting off the work the city is insisting needs to be done already. He said he would be here first thing this morning. It is 10:30 now, and no pool demolition guy, or phone call to explain the delay. I have only talked to an answering machine. At least I haven’t paid him any money yet.
So today’s post is a quickly done complaint. Not particularly funny or well-written. Just exhausted and tired of waiting on people.
Filed under Uncategorized
Yes, you are about to read more Mickian nonsense about an agnostical atheist who believes angels are real. Heck, I not only believe in angels, I am one.
The word itself comes from Biblical Greek where angelos was the word for messenger. And because the pre-twelfth century translators of the Bible looked at the “el” part and thought of the Hebrew word that meant “God”, they used angel to mean a messenger from God.
Now, I am not being a sacrilegious atheist when I claim to be an angel. That is mainly because I am not technically an atheist. I do believe that a spiritual creative essence informs the universe, but I am actually an agnostic because that means I actually don’t know anything “A” for “not” and “gnostic” for “a know-er of stuff”. I am a teleological idiot because I actually don’t know anything about anything. But I do have the ability to look at evidence, weigh it, and reach a logical conclusion about what is most probably true, and I firmly believe in that only until more evidence comes along. I believe that particular thinking process is what is known as science (at least until better evidence comes along). So, scientifically considering the issue, I stupidly believe I am an angel. I bring possible knowledge from God.
Grandma Beyer used to have a picture like this in sepia tones on her bedroom wall in Mason City. I studied that guardian angel picture for hours as a child.
Thinking about stuff hard enough gives you insight, at least if you don’t over-heat your brain with hard thinking and catch your hair on fire. A lot of stuff has been happening that I have been thinking hard about. Here are some examples.
So, as an angel, here is what I believe God is saying;
“As human beings, we all need to learn to love one another more. Love is the only answer that cures hate.” – God (No, really, he said this to me!)
Seriously. We need to take the weather anomalies as a sign that the time for climate change denial is long over. We need to work together with all people on the planet to lovingly change those things we do that have caused the crisis. We need to lovingly make peace with North Korea. Fighting them will only lead to the Biblical ending of the story coming to pass. I have an anomalous agnostical faith that there is a lot of truth in the Christian Bible. (The spell checker doesn’t like “agnostical” either.) Loving other people besides ourselves and the people who know and love us is the only possible solution to the problems before us.
Of course, I am saying all this angelic crappola tongue-in-cheek because I am, after all, a humorist, and I agnostically don’t know anything at all. But that doesn’t mean I don’t mean what I say.
My family Dungeons and Dragons game has always been enhanced by my vast collection of miniature figures that I have collected and even painted over the course of almost forty years. But I am always ready to collect more. I even still have a large number of unpainted minis to finish. But Walmart recently started selling collectible metal minis in box sets for $5 apiece. So, that has brought Harry Potter to the Cardboard Castle.
Here you see Dumbledore leading Harry, Hermoine, and Ron to the front castle gate.
These metal miniatures are a little larger than the usual scale, so Ron doesn’t quite fit through the tower door on his right. And I don’t have character game statistics on these particular wizards, but that won’t take me long.
Dumbledore meets a swordgirl I painted over a quarter of a century ago.
Harry and friends meet a couple of happy wererats that arrived at the castle before them.
The gang gets to check out some of the unique scenery and meet some of the resident monsters.
Big Jumbo the elephant has volunteered to guard the castle gate if everyone goes inside for a big feast.
Ditty and the Gladiator kill a dragon to make dragon burgers for the feast.
So this week’s D & D post is about metal miniatures. It shows you how bad this old man has gotten when it comes to playing with his toys.
Filed under Dungeons and Dragons, goofiness, humor, photo paffoonies, playing with toys
A new day dawns. It leaves me wondering. Who am I today? Who will I be tomorrow?
The opportunity to have any sort of control over who and what I am is coming to a close. I don’t really know how much longer I have before pain and illness dissolve me into nothingness. But death is not the end of existence. I may be forgotten totally by the day after next Thursday, but my existence will still have become a permanent fact. Yes, I am one of those dopey-derfy-think-too-much types known as an existentialist.
I am feeling ill again. Any time that happens may be the last time. But that doesn’t worry me.
The important thing is that the dance continues. It doesn’t matter who the dancers are, or who supplies the music.
We can be clowns if we choose to be.
We can safely be fools if we really can’t help it.
An awful lot of awful things go into who and what we are. Those things make us full of awe. They make us awesome. Aw, shucks. What an awful thing to say.
But what is all this stuff and nonsense really about today?
It’s just Mickey being Mickey… Mickey for another day.
It’s not really poetry. It certainly isn’t wisdom. It’s a little bit funny, and only mildly depressing… for a change.
It’s just Mickey being Mickey. And a partially Paffooney gallery.
…To fill some space today.
And wonder about tomorrow.
And just be Mickey a little bit more.
Catch a Falling Star 
The Man in the Mirror
Every now and again we have to stop what we are doing for a moment and examine ourselves. If we are writers, we tend to do it every fifteen minutes or so. You have to expose the soul to the light of day for a moment and take a look with eyes wide open, prepared to see the worst… but also open to seeing beauty where you may not have seen it before.
So what do I see when I look in the mirror? More darkening age spots, more patches of psoriasis with increasingly red and irritated potential infections. Drooping eyes that have lost their sparkle and now darken with blue melancholy. I see a man falling down. Falling slowly, but falling never-the-less. It happens to everybody with age. I can no longer do the job I loved for 31 years. I am no longer the goofy Reluctant Rabbit with the big pencil in the front of the classroom, telling stories and making learning happen.
Once I was a big deal to little people. Once I created magical experiences involving books and great authors, poems and great poets… and I taught little people how to write and master big words. I mattered like a big frog in a small pond, able to make the biggest splash in that particular pond. I was the froggiest. But I haven’t drawn myself as a frog yet.
Of course, I was never as big as that other Michael. He made a really big splash in a really big pond. He was a really big frog.
He and I have a lot in common. Not far off in age. We got married about the same time. Both had three kids, two boys and a girl. Both were associated with Jehovah’s Witnesses at one point. Both of us never really grew up. He had Peter Pan Syndrome, and I stayed in school my whole working life.
And everybody has a dark side, in counterpoint to their better angels. I’m not entirely sure what my dark side entails. Being a grouch? A diabetic? A closet nudist? But I have one. I trot it out to make fun of it constantly.
But as I was feeling sorry for myself, being forced by the city to remove the pool, becoming a bankrupt poor guy thanks to Bank of America, and generally in such ill health that I feel like I am wearing a lead suit all the time, I stumbled across one of those life-affirming moments. A former student asked me on Facebook to post a picture of myself so he could see how I was doing. I posted this picture.
Yep, the man in the mirror is definitely me. I got loads of complements and howdys from former students, former colleagues, a former grade school classmate, and my Aunt Wilma. I heard from people I care about and they reaffirmed that they still care about me, even though some of them I haven’t seen in more years than I am willing to admit. Sometimes you have to look in the mirror to see what needs to be changed. Sometimes you just need to see the precious few things that were always good and haven’t changed. It is a process worth the effort.
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Filed under battling depression, commentary, empathy, feeling sorry for myself, grumpiness, humor, insight, inspiration, Paffooney, rabbit people, strange and wonderful ideas about life
Tagged as humor, Michael Beyer, Michael Jackson, rumination, self=examination