Doctor Who

(All images in this post are borrowed from BBC, BBC America, Bowties are cool on FacebookThe Third Doctor on FacebookDoctor Who Worldwide, and Doctor Who and the Tardis fan page)

2nd DoctorThe first picture in this post is my Paffooney for the day, a picture I drew myself in pen and ink and colored pencil.  I felt it was about time that I wrote a post on Dr. Who.   And that is a pun in more than one way.    The Doctor?  Doctor Who?  Back up in time four sentences… or is that three?   I felt it was about TIME that I wrote about the Doctor.  You see, now that I am retired, I have become more than ever a time-traveler.  Really.  I mean it.  We are ALL time-travelers.  We normally go from the present into the future, traveling in one perceived direction.  But yesterday I spoke to the ghost of a teacher who taught me in 1965 and 1966.  Through the magic of memory we can revisit the past.  Through the magic of dreams we can alter what happened and how we perceived it.734086_396433387124140_1955610552_n

The first Doctor to me was John Pertwee, actually the Third Doctor.  He was on PBS Channel 9 out of Des Moines.  We watched him on Friday night, mostly my father and I, but sometimes my sisters too.  As I went to college, Tom Baker took over as the Doctor, and we watched every episode we could.  11203255_617034485107481_8543128443324658026_nPBS went all the way back to William Hartnell and Patrick Troughton and I watched those too.  I was devastated when Baker left in the 1980’s, but then was completely renewed as a fan when they chose Peter Davison to play the new Doctor.  I was completely devastated when they canceled the series.  When it came back in 2005, I could share it with my sons… though only the eldest showed any interest at all.  My younger sister still watches Doctor Who and she watches with her kids.  There is an element of this thing that runs in families.487189_253636828070464_1251421010_n

This goofy Time Lord from Gallifrey has been gallivanting through time  back and forth since 1963.  He picks up young, pretty girls, and sometimes guys, and takes them with him, totally endangering their lives and even getting them killed.  He fights malignant talking trash cans called Daleks, some dude who can also completely change out a new body called The Master, and all sorts of bizarre monsters from space and time  993039_369698143130998_890258559_n 10644907_10152529567361837_8509993788113192276_nThe stories are always complex, loaded with comedy and occasionally science fiction, and the actor doing the juggling act of the title role has so far always been a totally unique and totally eccentric individual.  The Doctor continues on now, for more than 50 years, and he keeps connecting the past to the future to the present and rewrites entire lifetimes of galaxies in the process.

I love Doctor Who, and will probably be watching it whenever I can right up to the time when I myself ultimately run out of time.  I am quirky just like he is.  I travel through time too.   And I identify with him in ways I can’t even begin to describe.  So, Who am I?  Yes, I think I am.

1374136_396480837119395_1016451659_n 1545650_10152605359781837_496428342419337454_n movie-wallpapers-dr-who-wallpaper-wallpaper-33328 999113_390923494341796_1601427548_n

4 Comments

Filed under autobiography, Dr. Who, humor

Conversations With the Ghost of Miss M…

DSCN5148Beneath the old cottonwood tree there once stood a one-room school house.  My mother went to school there as a girl, a short walk from home along the Iowa country road.  Misty mornings on a road between cornfields and soybean fields can often conjure up ghosts.

I took this morning walk with the dog while I was visiting my old Iowegian home, and I was writing my fictional story Magical Miss Morgan in my head, not yet having had time to sit down and write.  I was reflecting on times long past and a school long gone, though Miss Morgan’s story is really about my own teaching experience.  Miss Morgan is in many ways me.  But I am not a female teacher.  I am a goofy old man.  So, why am I writing the main character as a female?

Well, the ghosts from the old school house heard that and decided to send an answer.

Miss Mennenga was my third grade and fourth grade teacher from the Rowan school.  The building I attended her classes in has been gone for thirty years.  Miss M herself has long since passed to the other side.  So when she appeared at the corner…  Yes, I know… I have said countless times that I don’t believe in ghosts, but she had the same flower-patterned dress, the glasses, the large, magnified brown eyes that could look into your soul and see all your secrets, yet love you enough to not tell them to anyone else.  Suddenly, I knew where the character of Miss Morgan had actually come from.  I also realized why I was drawn to teaching in the first place.  Teachers teach you more than just long division, lessons about the circulatory systems of frogs, and the Battle of Gettysburg…  They shape your soul.

“You remember getting in trouble for doing jokes in class when you were supposed to be studying your spelling words?”

“Yes, Miss M, but I didn’t make any noise.. they were pantomime jokes that I stole from watching Red Skelton on TV.”

“But you pulled your heart out of your chest and made it beat in your hand.  You had to know that was going to make the boys smirk and the girls giggle.”

“I did.  But making them happy was part of the reason God put me there.”

“But not during spelling.  I was trying to teach math to fourth graders.  You interrupted.”

“You made that point.  I still remember vividly.  You let me read the story to the class out loud afterwords.  You said I needed to use my talent for entertaining to help others learn, not distract them from learning.”

“I was very proud of the way you learned that lesson.”

“I tried very hard as a teacher to never miss a teachable moment like that.  It was part of the reason that God put you there.”

“And I did love to hear you read aloud to the class.  You were always such an expressive reader, Michael.  Do you remember what book it was?”

“It was Ribsy, by Beverly Cleary.   How could I have forgotten that until now?  You made me love reading out loud so much that I always did it in my own classes, at every opportunity.”

I remembered the smile above all else as the lingering image faded from my view through the eyes of memory.  She had a warm and loving smile.  I can only hope my goofy grin didn’t scare too many kids throughout my career.

10931430_1392374101067123_2624334665191497015_n I needed a post for 1000 Voices that was about reconnecting with someone.  I could’ve used any number of real life examples from everything that has happened to me since poor health forced me to retire from teaching  I could’ve written any number of things that would not make me feel all sad and goopy about retiring and would not make me cry at my keyboard again like I am doing now… like I did all through that silly novel I wrote… even during the funny parts.  But I had to choose this.  A debt had to be paid.  I love you, Miss M… and I had to pay it forward.

11 Comments

Filed under 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion, humor, photo paffoonies

A Silly Side-Note and Picture Paffooney

pink n blue22

I was trying to figure out a way to cheat today and post something that didn’t take a lot of time and effort, but appealed to an audience looking for humor, art, poop jokes, cute kids, or inspiration, or whatever the heck else people make the mistake of looking at my blog for.  I came up with this amalgam.  Amalgam is a good word.  It means different things all mashed up together to make something new.  You will note I took several old things I have already done and mushed them together into a single bizarre Paffooney picture of mostly pink and blue.  I promise that I will work harder tomorrow to do whatever it is that I actually do… and for today… well, it isn’t totally bad.  I usually do very similar stuff, but with way more words.

Here is a close-up of the prose-poem in case you don’t want to make the effort it takes to click on the picture and blow it up a bit;

pink n blue212

Leave a comment

Filed under humor, kids, Paffooney

This and That

tedcruzOkay, I know I claim to be a conspiracy theorist when it comes to aliens and 9-11… I am… totally loony and tinfoil-hat-wearing… can’t let those men in black read my mind, right?   But those crazy ideas are based on facts that I have uncovered and investigations into the obvious and admitted manipulations of those facts that have come out over time… from credible whistle-blowers and witnesses.  What is going on in Texas right now is not that, and not my fault.  I don’t adhere to any Alex-Jones-2nd-Amendment-FEMA-death-camps sort of conspiracy theories.  President Obama is NOT planning an attack on Texas with these routine military exercises involving Green Berets and Navy Seals.  The crap thinking that motivated Governor Greg Abbott to activate the Texas National Guard to oversee the military exercises is stupid-headed paranoid Republican propaganda.  I am trying to make humor here out of scary Texas political poop, but this is too wacko to even joke about.

20150501_195234To totally change the topic and talk about something else, I may have inadvertently changed one of my collections that feed my hoarding disorder mental illness…  I was very poetically snapping pictures of the sunrise when I walked the dog every morning and calling that “collecting sunrises”.  But I started taking other dog-walking photos, like cloud shots and moon shots and sunset shots.   Uh-oh!   More time lost to collecting things pointlessly… or is that how art happens?  the artist finding certain observations to be spiritually and creatively fulfilling… and tries to share that fulfillment?  Or when you consider the Avengers Coke cans… is it clinically a concern?

20150501_195602 20150502_125726

Okay, let’s switch again…   Friday night my daughter, the Princess, was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society.  This happened at her middle school, Dan F. Long, home of the Falcons.

20150501_185544

They had this wonderful candle-lighting ceremony filled with wonderful things.  I experienced several of what Ralph Waldo Emerson calls “spots of time” in which there is a transcendent moment that carries you far beyond the daily dose of mundane.  The first one was when the Falcon orchestra, complete with cellos and violins, was playing a waltz.  The principal was in the hallway with his young daughter to greet the parents and friends attending the ceremony.  The two of them, the extremely competent and hard-nosed black principal and his pretty little black daughter began to waltz together, not even thinking that some of us seated in the cafetorium might see them do it.  I couldn’t help but think, “while Baltimore burns…  if only we had more of this!”  And more wonderful things followed.  The NJHS faculty sponsor was a teacher I subbed for a decade ago.  She is a determined and bubbly little woman who impressed me once upon a time with her detailed planning and sharp methods.  This little woman could throw big bad trouble-making boys around the room (metaphorically of course) to get her point across and make lessons happen.  I saw her in action.  She was tough and ambitious in spite of being small and always smiling.  And the Princess was inducted with a candle ceremony (a potential disaster waiting to happen in a middle school setting) in which she was in the middle of three rows on the stairs… and no one set anyone else’s hair on fire.  And we’re talking seventh-grade nerd-boys standing with a lighted candle behind seventh-grade girls with long hair!

20150503_093632

And finally I wanted to share with you the progress I have made on cardboard castles.  I have made all of this so far with my own two arthritic claws using Ritz Cracker boxes, Honey Nut Cheerios boxes, tape, scissors, and glue.  I have only glued fingers together once and managed not to accidentally cut off any necessary part of my body (fingernails don’t actually count, do they?).  Why am I doing nutty stuff like this?  Well, I’m retired.  What am I supposed to do?  Sensible real-world stuff?  Get real.

5 Comments

Filed under autobiography, humor, photo paffoonies

Welcome to Animal Town

Animal Town

This is Wildcat Street in AnimalTown.  It is a cartoon setting where some of my stranger dreamy-time cartoon stories take place.  One of my magical tomes is a self-created cartoon dreamworld where the plot is my life story told through the cartoon interpretations of my dreams.  AnimalTown is only one of the many settings from that long and graphically goofy tale.  There is also ClownTown, the Pirates’ Nest, Monster Mansion, Toon City, Crumpwell’s Wild West Ranch, and the Toonworld Space Port, along with other weird and wacky corners of my imagination’s geography.  I am thinking of expanding my blog to include web cartoons in story form… and if I do, I have a few wowser-oonie stories to share set here in AnimalTown.  It is a place run mostly by the prominent Moosewinkle family, headed by Mayor Moosewinkle, Judge Roy Moosewinkle, and prominent and incompetent attorney Woolbinkle J. Moosewinkle.  (There is obviously no connection what-so-ever with the cartoons I watched as a kid.  Surely those could not affect my dreams.)  The various stores and businesses in downtown AnimalTown all have to try to stay in business with stiff competition from Walrusmart, which is rumored to be secretly controlled by pirates.

mANDYHere is AnimalTown resident and sometime teenage know-it-all, Mandy Panda the panda-girl with panda-child Henry Panda, they are both immigrants from the distant Pandalore Islands where they originally spoke the Pandalog language.

I actually teach here in AnimalTown (in my dreams, I mean), and I do it in my rabbit incarnation, Mr. Reluctant Rabbit.

Mr. R Rabbit

So here is a classroom scene with me doing my wonderful teaching with my gigantic magical pencil.  (I sometimes refer to the magical pencil as Larry… but everybody knows only crazy people name their pencils.)

Teacher

So, let us see what happens when a crazy person dreams cartoon dreams and draws them down to blog on his blog with repetitive repetition of the same tired jokes and jolly paffoonery.

2 Comments

Filed under cartoons, humor, Paffooney

Hydra Hair

No, this isn’t a post about the Avengers… but that’s a cool idea.  I just haven’t seen the new movie yet.  I will… so be patient.  You probably don’t really need a lot of comic-book fan-boy love right now anyway…  That is such a nerd-need, and you are not a nerd… at least, I haven’t been corrected about nerd-things on my blog, which leads me to conclude there are no nerds reading my squishy-goofy-gallywumpas.  This post is about my daughter, the Princess.

PrincessSpecifically, this is a post about the Princess’ hair.  You see, the Princess was unfortunate enough to be exactly between two opposite extremes of hair-genes.  She inherited her mother’s thick, dark wire-hair, but the wild-hair, mind-of-its-own crazy go-every-direction hair she got from me.  She inherits the worst hair-features from both of us.  So how do you to tame your hair in the mornings when you have thick, unruly hair  that not only refuses to be tamed, but will willingly grab the brush out of your hand and throw it across the room?  Well, you apparently borrow your brother’s comb without permission and give the hair 500 rat-nest-dislodging yanks and then lose the comb so that your brother is mad at you for the rest of the day… I mean, the rest of the week… er, the month, the year… maybe the rest of the Princess’ life.

This morning;

Me;  “Please don’t eat your brother’s comb when you are finished doing that.  Put it back on the sink in the bathroom before we go to school.”  (This is a helpful dad-statement used every morning when I watch her battling the hair at the breakfast table, but inevitably the comb is missing the next time brother Henry looks for it.  She must eat it when my back is turned to go start the car.)

Princess;  “I will, Dad…  Geez….  But I can’t believe all the hair I have now on my pants and shirt.  How can I lose this much hair every day and not be bald?”

“Princess, you are really, really good at growing hair.”

“Oh, I know it.  In fact, I’m pretty sure when I pull out one hair, three grow back to take its place.”

“Wow!  That’s like mythological, or something.  Do you wake up in the night to find little Hercules-type guys climbing up on your pillow trying to cut your hair with swords?”

“Yeah, it keeps me awake at night.  But you know in Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson Books, the hydra has to be turned to stone or be burned with fire to defeat it.”  (I cannot, of course, argue this point as she has read all of the books and is an irrefutable expert on the subject of Rick Riordan’s mythology.)

“Oh, mercy!  You mean the little Hercules-guys are climbing on your pillow with torches?”

“Yes, but I got a bunch of little Minotaur-guys to fight them off, so my hair hasn’t been burned.”

“Well, that’s good…  but what about all the little cow patties they leave in your blankets?”

“Dad, hair problems are hard.   You can’t expect to have it all easy, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

Leave a comment

Filed under autobiography, humor, Paffooney

Being Iowegian

I was born in the 1950’s in Mason City, Iowa… the town that produced Meredith Wilson, the creator of the Broadway Musical, The Music Man.  Yes, River City in The Music Man is Mason City.  So I was born into a unique Midwestern farm-town heritage where swindlers came to town and saved the day with music and an eleventh-hour change of heart.  I was born into the land of Chmielewski Fun Time on the black-and-white TV, Lawrence Welk champagne accordion music, and the Beer-Barrel Polka, courtesy of loads and loads of German ancestry.  I am that unique crossbreed of Scandahoovian and sqare-headed Deutschmann  known by the only slightly racist term of Iowegian.

Corn Country!

943363_457313854350548_485543538_n388135_298275616878726_103835066322783_936339_2005428082_nLand of Long Winter and the ice-storm breezin’ down the plains.

And if you ask an Iowegian if he loves Iowa, he will answer, “You bet!”

And if you ask a northern Iowegian the same thing, he will say “You betcha!”

Iowans talk funny, don’t you know…

There are still corner stores and farm supply stores, though they have gone to brand names now, like Casey’s, BP, and Tractor Supply Co.  You can still find HyVee and Safeway grocery stores.  There are still a precious few family farms that haven’t been swallowed whole by big corporations and agri-businesses.  If you go to the county fairs, you will still find kids showing the cattle or pigs that they raised for 4-H projects, and if you go into the barns after the auction, they are still producing tearful kids hugging and kissing that calf that won a red ribbon and now has to be sold… and they will never see poor Barney or Moo-berry again…

1399024_220039334824422_480122723_o 1450109_688917614523503_5237770938249269421_n 10418988_688917684523496_8272199480536313576_n 10350345_10152788940611349_2865049925004654610_n 10563018_688909541190977_6371844517698833981_n DSCN7127It is the land of the lonely gravel road… the back-street cattle pen… the Saturday night tornado (nearly every Saturday in Spring)…  The VFW and the Lion’s Club Fish Fry at Lake Cornelia….And it is a place where most everything reeks of the past and old ghosts and times long gone, soon to never be remembered because there’s no longer anybody around who is old enough to tell the stories that grandparents and aunts and uncles used to tell.  I not only miss it desperately, but I feel deeply saddened by the loss.  Would I like to go home again?

“You betcha!!!”

10 Comments

Filed under humor, nostalgia, photo paffoonies

Family Issues

DSCN4680There comes a time when you simply have to put things on the line to protect your family from the predations of the world at large.  I am in a struggle now over health insurance.  Health insurance companies never complain about receiving premium payments, but you have to go to war at times over claims where you try to activate the services you paid the premiums for.  I am having trouble now even though the previous insurance had no problem with paying their part for the very same services I am arguing for now.  The new insurance will not accept without a fight.  So now my Paffooney picture portrays Daddy going to war instead of Poppa coming home.  I will think hard about what is funny in this situation.  I mean to come back with a lampoon of these pirates.  That’s how you kill a whale, right?  Lampoon it with a really sharp lampoon… or was that HARpoon?  Whatever… more really bad puns to come later when I have gathered my wits and sharpened my harpoons.

5 Comments

Filed under oil painting, Paffooney, satire

Chicken Soup Days Once Again

Texas has been rainy-er than usual this spring.  The sky has been constantly dripping… the grass is green…and the worst kinds of pollen have been thicker in the air than most kinds of soup.  I already have breathing problems and COPD, so the soupy air is potentially fatal, but allergies on top of it have made my whole family miserable.  Middle son missed school today with bad sinus congestion.  I am laid out with headaches, back-aches… even my dang aches have aches attached to them.  The dog is unwell.  God help us, we need a miracle.

Free advertising for Campbell's

Free advertising for Campbell’s

Well, there’s always that miracle food…  Great Grandma Hinckley always firmly believed that the only food for a sick kid was Chicken Noodle Soup.  I used to hate it as a kid because I only ever ate it when I was sick and had to stay in bed… couldn’t watch cartoons, couldn’t play… all day with aching head and runny nose, eating Chicken Noodle Soup.  It even had to be the capitalized kind, or it just wouldn’t do.  Chicken Noodle Soup made me sick of being sick.

As I grew up into a sickly adult (Great Grandma’s dedication to certain medicinal foods, cod liver oil, Vick’s Vapo Rub, and all remedies of the nasty and smelly sort never completely cured me of anything beyond the enjoyment of being sick), I routinely returned to the old remedies that  Great Grandma taught me.

So, today, I cooked Chicken Noodle Soup for my son, along with a healthy dose of anti-histamines.   I didn’t have a second can for myself, so I did the next best thing.  Cambell’s French Onion Soup.

campbells-french-onion-soup-67719

I got ahold of a can of that from the back of the cupboard where the fossilized lima beans and canned vegetables all lurk menacingly with expiration dates on them that rival the ages of my three kids.   French Onion soup has a unique stench to it that actually relaxes inflamed airways and nasal passages.  It helps me breathe.  So, I have come to rely on soup in the way that makes Great Grandma smile now, wherever she is (and I guarantee you it is not the hot place… Old Nick could never stand up to Great Grandma’s willpower and righteous indignation).  I have grown to like the taste of these medicinal soups… at the very least because they do make me feel better.  So, colds and flu, you better look out!   I have eaten soup and I defy you… and if that doesn’t scare you, then I will tell Great Grandma Hinckley on you.

2 Comments

Filed under autobiography, humor

Why I Wear a Tinfoil Hat

You know by now if you have read what I’ve written, or been around me when people make the mistake of letting me talk about what I want to talk about, that I am a kook.  Yes, I believe things that you have been told that only crazy people believe.Davalon ad  Why would you want to read any more of that nonsense now?  Because it is true and it will impact our future.

I came into a wealth of secret knowledge when I wrote and published my first good novel, Catch a Falling Star.  Of course, like most of the things you research on the internet, ninety-nine per cent of everything is big, black rubber hoo-haw lies.  I researched a lot of things that I have always been fascinated by, but specifically I investigated UFO phenomenon.  I already followed author Stanton Friedman and knew who Bob Lazar was before starting my research, but I wanted to dig deeper and find the truth.  My novel, after all, is about close encounters of the third, fourth, and fifth kinds… including an invisible invasion of Earth from outer space.  I wanted to portray such events as alien contact and alien abduction as realistically as possible.  But then I found stuff like the Disclosure Project headed by Doctor Steven Greer.  Did you know he has been collecting eye-witness and whistle-blower information in written and video form since the 1990’s and presenting it to members of congress?  There is an immense database of information about contact with UFO’s and the government’s response to it that can be cross-referenced and even corroborates itself.  There come a point at which eye-witness testimony, even loony-sounding testimony, has to be accepted when there is a preponderance of evidence.

The thing that makes the case most strongly for me is the provable amount of cover-up and misdirection that the government has applied to this body of knowledge.  They are still doing it.  NASA footage and photographic records are open to the public and available online.  Lots of people have examined the wealth of evidence very closely and have found things that the government apparently overlooked.  There are also an even more impressive number of identified re-touched and faked photos of the Moon and Mars and especially the Earth from space.  Things have been removed so that we the people will not see.  Some nut-cases even believe we never actually went to the moon.  Some of the moon footage and photos are provably fake.  (But you can also spot the landing sites of the Apollo missions on the surface of the moon with some of the very good telescopes available now… The proof of our moon landings is there.  The stuff was redacted and faked for different reasons… a different cover-up.)

So, why does this matter?  Maybe we are better off being protected from this secret knowledge.  We are too fragile to take it.  There will be riots in the street and the economy will crash.  We are safer being ignorant of all of this.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…no!

It’s time we were given the straight poop (because everybody hates crooked poop… at least they should.)  Our world is dying from pollution and global warming, yet the alien technology can provide clean, free energy.  Rich people are exploiting the poor and the middle class and so much suffering occurs that doesn’t have to happen if we embrace the potential for taking our place in a galactic community that apparently already exists and that we are excluded from solely on the basis of how dangerous our own ignorance makes us.

4 Comments

Filed under aliens, humor, Paffooney