Monkey-head Musings

chimpater1

I am not what you would call political.  I have some friends that I care about who are very conservative.  And when I say conservative, I mean Obama-is-Hitler-and-illegals- are-taking-over-our-country-and-keep-your-government-hands-off-my-medicare-sort of conservatives.  The loony, Fox News-watching, crazy sorts of conservatives.  How could I be from Iowa and not know lots of those types?  They would probably be really offended by this post if they actually bothered to read it.   But no worries, most of them don’t read in complete sentences.  I also have some more sensible, care-about-poor-people-and-worry-about-education-and-try-to-save-the planet sorts of people who used to be called moderates, but now are looked upon as loony liberals.  I think I side more with them.  I have to admit though, a Facebook commenter recently upset me by accusing me of misrepresenting the facts when I commented that Texas has privately operated for-profit prisons (I saw one up close when I lived in Cotulla) and that they have taken money away from education (my district by itself had State money reduced by a million dollars in order to help Emperor Perry balance the Texas budget without touching his billion dollar rainy day fund).  I am not usually one to fuss up the facts.  That’s more of a conservative thing.  I know it is pointless to argue on Facebook about politics.  I definitely don’t need to get upset about people who, no matter what evidence or reason you give them, will never change their mind.  But I have discovered that politics do affect me.  Take the health care issue.  I have six incurable diseases and am a cancer survivor since 1983.  If healthcare reform had resulted in socialized medicine, government paid-for healthcare, that would benefit me the most.  As it is, the Affordable Care Act (perjoratively known as Obamacare) helps me by insuring that I won’t pay insurance premiums for a lifetime and then die from a life-time maximum payout instituted by the insurance companies.  Banker and Insurance Representative are actually two new names for pirate.  They are in the business of collecting premiums and refusing to pay claims.  They don’t need to be de-regulated so they can make more money and deny me health care more easily.  They need more regulation, not less.  But conservatives in Texas want Obamacare repealed.  Senator Ted (Monkey-face) Cruz even shut the government down to try to destroy Obamacare.  Texas conservatives refuse to take government money to help them make the Affordable Care Act work.  They resist the administration of a program that provides insurance via Medicaid (a Bush program) to people who can’t otherwise afford it.  They don’t realize that it would actually benefit everyone (except the insurance companies) to have poor people be able to do something besides go to the emergency room and let taxpayers pay for it.  Conservatives would actually vote against their own best economic interests to support the conservative party line.  So here is the absolute worst thing about all these Monkey-head Musings, conservatives, some of whom I care a lot about, are not helping themselves.  They are riding the bicycle over the cliff at the fastest pace their legs can manage, and no matter how much I yell and point at the cliff, they keep on peddling.  And there is a tether on my ankle tied to the backs of quite a large number of bicycles.

Math Monkey

 

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

A Poem Is…

When you try to create a poem,

You find out that it is…

A cry of rage…

From your very soul…

Or a deep-bellied laugh…

From your very soul…

Or an untamable sadness and tears…

From your very soul…

And you cannot help but put it into words…

From your very soul.

Poem Is

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

A Poem Is…

When you try to create a poem,

You find out that it is…

A cry of rage…

From your very soul…

Or a deep-bellied laugh…

From your very soul…

Or an untamable sadness and tears…

From your very soul…

And you cannot help but put it into words…

From your very soul.

Poem Is

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Dr. Evil Invades Mickey’s Library!

Earlier I alluded to the plan of the super scary villain, Dr. Evil with the removable brain.  He was planning on invading Mickey’s library with malice aforethought… er, anger about all the books in there… or something.  Anyway, today he attacked.  He showed up with several of his evil minions.

Evil1

He brought some of the most evil minions I could afford on a teacher’s salary.  Ming the Merciless is his most evil adviser, a real whiz with the evil plans, even though I suspect he really doesn’t like looking at the Doctor’s exposed removable brain so much.

Evil2

So, once convinced, Dr. Evil put on his Dr. Normal-Guy mask.  It was a disguise he often used, and was successful while wearing it, because he could sneak past his enemies while they were laughing and rolling on the ground.  The laughter often started inexplicably after an enemy would ask what nationality a name like “Normal-Guy” really was.

Evil3

Besides fooling the foolish Action Hero guys, Dr. Evil relied on a secret weapon.  GRAMMAR NAZIS!!!  He would use them to relentlessly correct the spelling of the Action Hero guys until they cried like little babies.

Evil4

Will the Grammar Nazis prevail over the Action Heroes?  Would they take over Mickey’s wonderful library?  Would they notice how many times the villains misspelled the word “removable”?

Stay tuned next time… Same Bat Station!   Same Bat Channel!  For the next thrilling episode of Doctor Evil Attacks Mickey’s Library!!!!!

4 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Native Americans Invade My Artwork

I don’t know if you’ve seen enough of my colored-pencil Paffooneys to tell this, but for an old white guy, I draw a lot of Native Americans and am rather deeply in love with American Indian images.  You may have seen this dream painting I posted before.

Magicman

The girl in the painting is a combination of this warrior’s daughter and myself.  I was naked in the dream and a female, facing this huge ghost-stag.  The dream came while I was reading Hanta Yo by Ruth Beebe Hill.  Maybe that book was the beginning of my Native American obsession.  Who knows?  I am a crazy dreamer.  But that wonderful book turned me on to the rich spiritual life that the Dakota people lived.  I identified with it so completely that I dreamed myself into their culture.  I was also struck by the manner in which a Native American culture handles education.  The grandfather is in charge of the boy’s learning.  He teaches by story-telling.  Here you see the grandfather in Sky Lodge teaching his grandson.  The girls would learn very different things from their mothers and grandmothers.

Skye lodge

I am also entranced by the life of the people expressed in dance and ritual.  Dance has deeper meaning than we white guys normally assign to it.  Dances could be magical.  Of course, the notion of a “rain dance” is the result of too much simplification in movie scripts and ignorant popular white culture.  Dance could connect you to the Earth, the Sky, and the Spirit World.  That’s what this most recent Paffooney shows.

Pueblo Bonito

So, you can see, I don’t really understand the concept of moderation when it comes to my obsessions in the world of colored pencil art.  Hanta Yo!  Clear the Way!  In a sacred manner I come!

child of fire

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

A Night in the Pyramid

Ancient mysteries fascinate me.  I love the aspects of History that are ultimately unknowable and possibly horrific (depending entirely on your point of view).  I am filled with wonder about Egyptian beliefs about the purposes and powers of pyramids.  Did they function as resurrection machines for pharaohs?  Were they pathways to the stars?  Why were the royal chambers completely empty?  How old are they really?  These and so many other questions are there to think about.  And you can only answer them by using your imagination.  It is the stuff of stories that keeps me going… keeps me dreaming…

A Night in the Pyramid

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Google Paffooney Explained

goopafoo

 

I really don’t know if anyone anywhere has actually tried this, but if you like my art at all I can cure you of that if you follow this procedure;  Go to Google.  Do a picture search on the word “Paffooney”.  Nobody does Paffoonies but me.  You will get a gallery of my art, a few random portraits of women named Valerie Clarke, and aliens.  Most of it will be my stuff.

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

The Dark Side

Francois

The thing about depression is that it really is not very funny.  That’s what makes it difficult for someone like me who relies on humor and wit to deal with every problem that attacks in life.   Sometimes you have to stand toe to toe with the devil and look him square in the eye.

Robin Williams’ death is one of those things that can send you on a downward spiral into depression and darkness.  Whenever someone loses the battle, you are reminded how hard it is to pull yourself out of the old black oubliette, the dark hole that is depression.  I had to take some time this weekend to mourn and be alone.  No one else can really do anything to help, other than to be there and be willing to listen.  People think you have to say something to help someone with depression, but, in truth, talking makes it worse.  If you tell the person you know what they are going through, or you know how hard it is, they might become violently upset.  Nothing is more personal or individual than suffering depression.

Fools

Now, I know some skeptical sorts of know-it-alls out there are going to immediately think, “What the hell makes this guy a so-called expert?”  And they are probably right to question it.  But here is what you probably didn’t know.    Of the five members of my immediate family, two of them have been hospitalized for depression a total of four times.  One incident involved self-inflicted injury.  We reacted quicker than is financially sensible the next three times.  Two members of my family suffer from bi-polar disorder, though only one of those has been diagnosed by a doctor, and only one of those was ever hospitalized.  We don’t get many visitors in our home any more.  My wife is rightly embarrassed by all the holes that have been punched through the plaster of the walls.  I have been thrown down the stairs once.  I have had to hide all the knives in the house three times.  One of my children had to dodge a knife that was thrown at them.  We have called the police on at least one occasion, and been called in by child protective services once.  Through it all, I have been the one faced with talking down the sufferer.  You look them in the eyes and see their pupils dilate, and sometimes the eye-twitch, and you know, “uh-oh, it’s time for the hurting again.”  There is nothing I can say.  There is nothing I can really do.  I just have to stay there (you can’t leave the sufferer alone for obvious reasons).  I have to keep the sufferer safe, and hopefully calm, and wait it out.   And I have to be ready to listen.  No jokes are allowed.  If you haven’t stopped reading this yet because it is too hard and ugly to consider, I can offer a little bit of light and hope.  I have gotten so good at doing this, that when a girl in one of my classes had a suicidal bi-polar meltdown, I was the one who knew what to do.  (All those hours spent with psychologists and therapists count for something.)  The principals and the counselors helped to keep her safe, but I’m the one who allowed her to vent and have her say, who took the time to listen and assure her that she really was being heard.  I’m also the one who got the thank-you and the apology for having to listen to how much she hated me and hated the school when she was at the bottom of the dark hole.  I never asked for any of this, but I have come away with a rare set of skills.  For now my children are safe and happy, and for now my worries seem to have come to a close… well, a temporary reprieve.  These problems never go away.  You get to keep them for a life time.   But they are not 24/7.

Hilda

 

So, you would think, with my ability to help others, I might not be totally without resources when battling my own depression.   You would, of course, be wrong.  You cannot beat back the darkness by yourself.  Long hours of staying in bed and hating your life do not help.  They are easy, but they do not help.  So, I have to take to the keyboard and write.  I fight back with words on paper.  And more than that, I have to write for others to read, even if I have written personal things that really aren’t other people’s business and will probably be used against me if I ever try to do something totally stupid like run for public office.  And from being a wordless wonder suffering in the bedroom yesterday, I have transformed myself into an eight-hundred-plus word fountain today.   To get through life I have to sing and dance and tell jokes and write and play harmonica and write and spend time with my kids and write and write some more.  Those things help when even the depression medication has no effect…  when your favorite movie comedian loses his own battle.

 

 

3 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

The Action Team Defends Mickey’s Library

Today it was rumored that the sinister Dr. Evil planned on invading the Mickian Library to threaten the books… just because he could.  He’s been known to channel super villains like the evil Emperor Ming of Mongo.  (Nobody scarier than that because Playing Mantis toy company couldn’t license DC or Marvel either one)

Dr.Evil

 

 

So, once we learned of the plot, we called on the Captain Action League to defend the library and rescue the books.

DSCN5220

 

Hopefully the plans of the evil doctor with the removable brain have been thwarted.

4 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

The Butterfly

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was but a child, a butterfly landed on my hand.  I wanted to capture it.  But I knew, if I closed my hand fast enough to snatch it out of the air as it tried to escape, I would utterly smash it.  The important thing, the most important thing still until this very day, is that I let it fly away.  I did not crush the butterfly.

(Not exactly a poem, but not prose either…)

DSCN4709

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized