Lazy Thursday…
Today while attempting to thumbnail and sketch next week’s webcomic… I got board.
The students were being loud today in study hall and I was too tired to be creative so I did a quick sketch of Venom… and I am still too tired to be creative, so this sketch is all you get today.
Best of SpaceBooger
Since I will be on my honeymoon for the next week I present the “Best of SpaceBooger” to help you fill your Booger blogging addiction.
The best of SpaceBooger: Short Stories and Such:
SpaceBooger Memes:
Best of the SpaceBooger Web Comic:
Best of SpaceBooger Posts:
- Robots apparently do not make good friends
- Mr. T like to take Pictures
- Ask The Head (The Head from the All New Atom comic series)
- Final Crisis: Here Come The Haters!
Wikipedia 1, Encyclopedia Britannica 0
While looking up research for a graduate paper, I was searching the net for some information and found some interesting links.
At work I am constantly being given a hard time for using Wikipedia and even linking/referring my students to it.
Well fellow colleagues, I present a list of Errors in the Encyclopedia Britannica.
I know since this list is on Wikipedia everyone who already despises that site will still claim that since it is on Wikipedia and anyone can edit it then it can not be 100% accurate. Not only has Wikipedia listed the errors in the Encyclopedia Britannica, it has been found to be as accurate as Encyclopedia Britannica. Proof 1, Proof 2.
I still don’t recommend using Wikipedia as your only resource, but for finding random information and the quick answers to nagging questions it is the best resource. I honestly feel that since the invention of Wikipedia I have read/learned more from the instant gratification of having such a large resource at my finger tips.
9-11 Revisited - “Hero No More”
When I was younger, I remember seeing this older gentleman who lived on the street in my town. He was always wearing the same dirty clothes and drinking out of a bottle who’s label was always hidden in a paper bag. He always smiled at me with his yellow teeth showing through his nappy beard as if to say “Hi”, yet I never said anything in reply. Usually I am very friendly and talk to everyone, but for some reason I only seemed to notice him when I would walk past. As soon as I would walk past he was “out of sight - out of mind”. That’s when a crazy thought floated into my mind:
- What if superheroes really do exist?
- Do we even need them anymore?
- Maybe that old guy is Superman?
Ok, now your thinking I’m crazy, but think about it for a minute…Hear me out. Why would we need Superman in this modern world? Who needs to be:
- “Faster than a Speeding Bullet” when we have bullet trains, and can easily catch a flight from point “A” to point “B” for a reasonable price?
- “Leap Tall Buildings in a Single Bound” when strength and athletic achievements can be gained by chemically enhancing our bodies instead of hard work and training?
- “Stronger than a Locomotive”, most kids probably don’t even know what a locomotive is. Why do we need to be that strong, when we have machines and inventions to give the weakest man super-strength?
- “Fighting for Truth, Justice, and the American Way” is unrealistic. Most of us are to self-centered and selfish to understand what Superman really stood for; we found it boring and too “Goody-Goody”. Nobody could be that good, and not have some kind of dark side.
If you think about all those points mentioned above, it’s very easy to see why Superman would be unshaven, dirty, drinking from a paper bag, and homeless - most of us act like we don’t need him anymore.
When Superman first appeared our country was not exactly perfect, depression and world wars were being battled everyday. The people of that time worked harder for luxuries that we today find small, trivial, and expected. Few had machines to help with the tiring tasks that they faced every day. Only the well off could enjoy the then expensive commercial air travel. Most important was that the people back then knew evil; they saw things like segregation, war, and the holocaust - the principals of America on its own were strong and uplifting.
Today the country that created the Superman is the same that has cast him off as a “not cool” and unnecessary. As I think back to that old gentleman, I never made it over to speak with him that night, nor have I seen him there since then. But, he did make me think; maybe he was a hero of some war long forgotten by society, once praised as a hero of America, but lost in a society in which those old ideals no longer exist.
Dedicated to a real hero of both war and life, my grandfather: Bill McAtee
(Remixed from something I originally wrote on May 6, 2002)
“Looking Into the Darkness”
“Looking Into the Darkness at All of the Sounds” by Fred Johnson
I remember seeing the snow covered sidewalk, my breath forming a cloud, and the lil silver-gray diner that frosty morning. That was all I saw.
Was that really all I saw that morning or is it all that I remember seeing?
Was there more to see that I missed, or did I just not file it as important in my brain?
Looking back at this morning I can see more now than I did when I participated, yet I see nothing at all. I now can picture that the sidewalk was not snow covered; instead it had been cleared at one time, but now melted into a watery slush only to freeze again creating a rough icy layer that made its own distinct crunching sound. My footsteps were not the only I can hear, different shoes, weight, and body types were all working as different instruments in this orchestra of ice this morning.
The sounds paint such a beautiful picture clear as day, but all I see is the still darkness. There was more to hear other than my own thoughts. I think back and can feel the cold dry air slicing though my skin like millions of small paper cuts. I remember the lack of feeling in my toes along with my thoughts only concentrating on how I felt annoyed with the fact that I had to pause my busy day to meet.
The smells also seem stronger now creating images for me in this darkness. The street smelled normal, comfortable, the dirt and grime stinking up the air in this city was my norm, and it consumed me. The smell from the steam of fresh coffee only now tickles my nose as the sweet smell of pancakes with hot maple syrup turned the tickle into desire. I only wish I would have let that inviting smell influence my thoughts as they do now, maybe then I could have smelled the fear at the table and the stench of my own selfishness.
I remember sitting down anticipating my own early escape, as I now stare into the darkness my senses create a more detailed replica of the meeting that frosty morning.
I should have smelled the fear emanating from every pore on his baldhead instead the smell of money that monopolized my thoughts. I should have noticed the shimmering sweat on his brow crying out for my attention like sad tears. Then: I only heard my watch ticking away into my busy business day nodding to every word he said, reflecting now I notice that I should have heard his plea and opened my heart. I could feel my own heart beating in my chest faster and faster, worried that I may loose another dollar with every wasting second. In the darkness looking back, I can only now feel him reaching out for a helping hand, feel his pain grabbing me to share his burden.
My senses now are heightened as I think about this morning, yet I still can not hear his words, for then I was focused elsewhere, not on him or his needs but instead on my own. He spoke of about his wife, debt, and not caring about life. The words stand out now, but then they were all I heard, filtered out by my thoughts of money and richer friends.
Now my heart hurts, no more business meetings, no more money to block my emotions, too bad its now too late.
I remember flashing him a smile while giving him an even flashier excuse for my early departure. My thoughts were then consumed with planning out my day and figuring out what I needed as I passed by the window where I was just seated.
Now thinking back I can feel a cold shiver as the steel barrel was raised. A click can be heard before the bang. The glass makes a slight noise as it cracks hidden in a moment by the shattering sound it makes. Concentrating in the darkness I can hear the air being ripped apart while feeling the temperature drop slightly. The sound originally ignored by my selfish inner voices is so much more distinct.
The ripping of flesh, the cracking of bone, the oozing of gray matter, the smell of blood, the smell of death, the shattering of glass, the sound of bone again followed by flesh, and then flesh again followed by complete darkness
Its funny on how your senses seem to work better after you die. The sights, sounds, smells, tastes, feelings both kinds of feelings are enhanced when you have no reason to concentrate on yourself.
Was it worth my life to get hit by the same bullet that traveled through the head of my friend?
Or am I going about this all-wrong, maybe my senses were more considerate than I allowed myself to be. If I could have just been less concerned with myself and a little more compassionate to my friends needs instead of my own, he would not have raised the gun to his own head.
“Being Deemed Crazy “
“Being Deemed Crazy is a Blessing” by Fred Johnson
Sometimes being deemed crazy is a blessing. Its not being locked up in my new windowless home that bothers me, its the fact that no one else knowsor will ever know.
When I was younger I used dream about fighting evil and cleansing the scum from behind the ears of the earth. It was all fun and games; I would have never thought that the true evil would be an accumulation, or a ring, of dirt remaining after the initial cleansing.
The laws were created hoping that they would be enforced and the scum would finally be removed. It seemed as if the laws were viewed through different glasses, some filled with various types of booze. The interpretation of the law by different men slowly brought anarchyand Anarchy never rinsed the scum from the tub, instead it spread.
Where do I fit into this? What role does my so-called insanity play? I was the only one who was brave enough to bath in the filth once the floodgates opened. Once submerged things started to look differently.
I used to have a family. I used to have a job. I used to be happyeven in the real world that exists outside of my mind and padded room.
Back then evil was present, not too noticeable like dust, everywhere but easily overlooked. I worked a good job for good money; I was selling poisons to the youth while encouraging the enticing propaganda that furthered the cause. I did always wash my hands after handling the money, who knew where those bill have been, imagine the germs they carry money is filthy.
I worked hard selling sins for the same people who betrayed me. I originally thought that the poison I peddled improved people and their lives; instead it left them buried six feet deep in dirt. This whole time I thought that just the money was covered in filth, until the day I removed the red hood and looked in the mirror. My face covered in bacteria and germs, so thick was this grime I no longer recognized myself no more family, no longer a small time crook and all I could do was laugh at my own smile.
Dont worry this all relates to my current mental stability your not the crazy one are you?
Back to the rules, the rules that supposedly cleansed the world, here lies the problem. The laws brought order and peace, but after cleaning anything the rag or whatever was used to clean needs to be disposed of properly. Instead the trash bag of filth was misplaced and forgotten about.
Around this bag a cesspool formed as its plastic started to decay. This cesspool many call society was going about things all wrong. Mugging, murder, rape, and other forms of violence were not meant to be prosperous, no financial gain just fun. Too many of these criminals, the so-called scum of the earth, committed crimes to survive; they saw it as a necessity. Never once did they ever stop and smell the bloodied rosaries. Never once did they feel the pleasure of juggling a pair of kidneys. The entertainment value of fresh organs is underrated; it sure beats the party tricks of your average clown. Why just kidnap, where is the creativity, where is the fun. Instead just send ol mom and dad some fresh all-natural Bobs Intestines Home Style Sausage, I sure hope they read the ingredients.
Now dont try to tell me that I’m sick, youre the one still listening to me.
The whole city was being overrun by filth, not just in the streets but also in the government. The city was a paradise it didnt need cleaned, but there are always the nay sayers who thought that it needed an enema thats when he showed up, our own personal Mr. Clean.
Who would guess someone dressed as a flying rodent would try to mop this city clean. I mean I was born from this filth, it took my family and with his help it eventually etched a permanent smile on my face. They say Im insane. They say I have issues. They lock me up but let him run around freely.
It wont be long until I am released from my padded home. The city better watch out because I will be back and dirty as ever, and Im not wiping my feet at the door. No one will stop me, like the old saying goes: Laugh and the world laughs with you. It will be a GAS, everyone will laugh themselves to death. Even he will find the humor in it all when he dies like everyone else with a smile on his face.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
joker
“Call Me Clark”
[Prolog]
It,s a beautiful bright spring day and a new baby boy is brought into this world. For this boy the sun may have been shining, but he never seemed to escape the darkness of the shadows. His sixteen-year-old mother never had the chance to see her newly born baby, or hear the first time he called out for “Mommy”. Complications of the premature birth took the life of his mother and left him in an incubator, which would happen to be the best home he would ever have. “Where is dad you say?” He wasn’t there that day. Claimed the boy wasn’t his and all responsibility he neglected. Even after blood tests the boy was still rejected. The state demanded that with his father the boy must live.
[End Prolog]
Ten years of age on fingers was easy to count,
but empty beer cans and roaches didn’t fit so he never knew the amount.
Isolated in a one-room apartment next to others the same,
too dirty to live in, sat this boy who never knew his proper name.
The lady next door whom he liked a bunch,
taught him to read and gave him crackers to munch.
Education to his father
was seen as a waste and a bother.
Dad drank all day only taking breaks to smoke. Not like you or I,
he no longer could tell the difference whether or not his dad was high.
This little boy had a horrible life,
scared of his drunken father who yelled while holding a knife.
An escape was what he needed,
the heroes in comic books he whole-heartedly greeted.
Every day a trip to the corner store he took,
to sit and read the newest comic book.
Men who were good and saved the day,
filled his imagination in every way.
He new that life should not be this bad,
and people like him shouldn’t be so sad.
In his mind a difference he would make,
a costume and persona he would have to take.
It would be blue with a big giant cape,
and a “S” made out of masking tape.
Everyday, this shirt, he would wear
no matter what time of year.
One chilly fall day something happened in his favorite store,
while he was reading a comic book and sitting on the floor.
A loud “bang” he heard,
so up he stood.
By the counter laid the owner a nice old man,
from whose head a warm river of red ran.
Over the body stood a man hidden in a mask
not noticing the boy but instead, focusing on his task.
In his pockets he placed the cash
then left the store in a mad dash.
Outside the police were already there,
so the robber grabbed an old lady by the hair.
The man yelled that if they didn’t let him go the lady would die.
The lil boy wanted to save the day, and desperately wished he could fly.
Instead he ran faster than ever,
grabbing the robber by the bottom of his sweater.
The little boy startled the robber and the lady fell to the ground.
That’s when the unnamed boy heard the “bang” sound.
Many more shots from a distance were fired.
The boy laid on the ground it was getting dark, and he was real tired.
The old lady carefully held him in her arms crying.
He had no idea that he was dying.
A smile he wore like a mask, happy because he had saved the day.
Then the lady asked, “May I know the name of the HERO who saved me today?”
Everything around the little boy was starting to get dark
as he said,
“Don’t tell anyone my secret, but you can call me Clark!”
“HERO NO MORE?”
“HERO NO MORE?” by Fred Johnson
I’m going back to my roots, comic books.
Ok, laugh all you want but I enjoyed comic books and found myself lost in the adventures every week. Notice the word “enjoyed”, with all the hype surrounding the new Spider-man movie, I found myself wondering what happened to my relaxing and refreshing escape from reality found in comic books. Well the answer is that I grew up. What a weak excuse if you think about it because my smile and eyes were just as large as any of the small children who sat in the theater this weekend, age didn’t seem to matter. You can’t imagine the rush I felt hours after the movie. I used to get this kind of rush all the time by reading comic books, again I wonder what happened?
While walking to the pool, where I go almost every night for swim practice, I remember seeing this older gentleman who lives on the street wearing the same dirty clothes and drinking out of a bottle hidden in a paper bag. He smiles at me with his yellow teeth showing through his nappy beard as if to say “Hi”, yet I never said anything in reply. Well usually I am very friendly and talk to everyone. For some reason I only seemed to notice him when I walk past, and as soon as I’m gone he is “out of sight - out of mind”. That’s when a crazy thought floated into my mind: What if superheroes really did exist? Do we even need them anymore? Maybe that old guy is Superman.
Ok now your thinking I’m crazy, but think about it for a minute…Hear me out. Why would we need Superman in this modern world? Who needs to be “Faster than a Speeding Bullet” when we have bullet trains, and can easily catch a flight from point “A” to point “B” for a reasonable price? Today who needs to “Leap Tall Buildings in a Single Bound” when strength and athletic achievements can be gained by chemically enhancing our bodies instead of hard work and training? Who needs to be “Stronger than a Locomotive”, most kids probably don’t even know what a locomotive is. Why do we need to be that strong, when we have machines and inventions to give the weakest man super-strength? Lastly (especially before 9-11-01) “Fighting for Truth, Justice, and the American Way” is unrealistic. Most of us are to self-centered and selfish to understand what Superman really stood for; we found it boring and too “Goody-Goody”. Nobody could be that good, and not have some kind of dark side.
If you think about all those points mentioned above, it’s very easy to see why Superman would be unshaven, dirty, drinking from a paper bag, and homeless - we don’t need him anymore. When Superman first appeared our country was not exactly perfect, depression and world wars these were being battled everyday. The people of that time worked harder for luxuries that we find small, trivial, and expected. Few had machines to help with the tiring tasks that they faced every day. Only the well off could enjoy the then expensive commercial air travel. Most important was that the people back then knew evil; they saw things like segregation, war, and the holocaust - the principals of America on its own were strong and uplifting.
Today the country that created the Superman is the same that has cast him off as a “not cool” and unnecessary. As I think back to that old gentleman, I never made it over to speak with him that night, nor have I seen him there since then. But, he did make me think; maybe he was a hero of some war long forgotten by society, once praised as a hero of America, but lost in a society in which those old ideals no longer exist.
We miss you Superman!
(originally written in early 2001)
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