Hold on, It Could Be a Bumpy Ride

Hello Troops,
Its the start of my 29th school year at Central School right here near beautiful downtown Pleasant Grove, home of the Hart's Gas Station's Big Chill! Much has changed since that first bell rang in August of 1983 but the basics remain the same. There are teachers, there are students and there are the brick enclosures that keep us in company. Every day we have this transfer of knowledge from us old timers to the millions of younglings who will inherit the best and the worst of who we are, what we've learned and what we've done to and for the planet.

At 8:45 A.M. I walked out into bright sunlight wearing my fluorescent orange crossing guard's vest (my pumpkin suit). The front of the school was already crowded with students all decked out in their new clothes and shoes. They looked at me. Some wondered who I was and why I was wearing that funny looking vest. Others knew I was a teacher and stepped back to give me a wide berth. A few managed a cautious smile. I said "Good morning!" Some responded, while others couldn't be bothered.

I took my place at the point where 100 East intersects 400 North. It's my special spot. My shoes and that section of concrete have been the best of friends every school day morning for over ten years. I know that road intimately. I've witnessed the effects of time and weather on the telephone pole I use for shade on bright warm mornings. I've seen nearly two full cycles of children cross my street. I introduced myself to them as Kindergartners and met them every morning at that spot until they graduated from the 6th grade and moved on to Junior High. When I'm gone I expect they'll put up a memorial obelisk to my honor just like the ones erected for the Egyptian Pharaohs. It will stand right on my spot near the crosswalk. Hieroglyphs describing my sidewalk exploits and achievements will adorn its four sides. It will be one of the wonders of Pleasant Grove.

I'm excited for another year. I'm grateful for the chance I have to work at the Space Education Center. I'm privileged to get to work with the finest kids in Utah.

Why not make this school year the best ever? Let's work hard in our classes, both as teachers and students? There will be bumps along the road and frustration over homework, there always is, so expect the good and the bad and plan accordingly. Just remember, you are in school to learn so put away the iphone, fasten your seat belt and tune in. It's your future we are talking about.

Now, its time to exercise the imagination.....

Mr. W.


Where would the world be without sarcasm? It is one of evolution's masterpieces, the brain's way of releasing pressure without exploding.

The recipe for a perfect home.

And what will we find when this happens to us? What will we find when we
reach the Boundary between the universe of our physics and that which lies beyond?

What has happened to us? I'm sure you've noticed how every car produced in the world today looks alike. Where is the imagination of design?

And finally, a secret gathering of time travellers.
The location will remain a secret.

Waiting at the Luneville Station, and Other Things.

Hello Troops,
I'm waiting for my train at Wonderland's Luneville Station. I'm in Luneville on assignment from the Imaginarium to inspect the Luneville Inspiration Packaging Works (LIPW). The LIPW produces the mental packaging used to wrap basic Inspirations.

Inspirational packaging is different for each person. This individuality helps every Receiver believe their new Inspiration is completely unique to them.

Hackford Memes is a technician at the Ministry of Inspirations. Today he is working on a new Inspiration in the Ministry's Laboratory at the Imaginarium. Hackford is responsible for the Inspiration that resulted in several items used in your home today. Mind you, not all his Inspirations are keepers (as illustrated above), but his track record is very good.

The Imaginarium's Ministry of Inspirations issues Inspirations hoping the Receivers will act on them to make the world a better place. Sadly some Inspirations, no matter how cleverly packaged, fail to motivate the Receiver to action. Unused Inspirations are return to the Ministry, reshelved and held until another candidate appears with the abilities to act on the gift.

And now, a few items from the Imaginarium....

Get yours while supplies last! Invisibility Cloaks are a must for the start of the school year. I own one and wouldn't go anywhere without it.

A Transparent Tardis

Let's use our imaginations and change this to a mirrored Tardis. Wouldn't a mirrored Tardis be perfect for every store's clothing department. The Dr. Who fans would go bananas and buy, buy and buy (and we all know that Dr. Who fans are more intelligent than your average Joe. With more intelligence comes a higher income, and a higher income means more spending power, and more spending power means more sales, and more sales means increased profits, and increased profits mean you get rich. All because you put a mirrored Tardis in your store!)

One day, a great speaker you shall be. Backwards, you get things.

A special new beverage from 'Workers of the World Unite!' Soft Drink Works in North Korea, brewed just for people with Socialist inclinations. All Leninades come with a paper cup. You get to drink half the bottle. The other half must be poured into the cup and given to someone who doesn't have the money to buy a Leninade for themselves.

All Leninade machines are equipped with surveillance cameras to ensure that you voluntarily share your drink equally with your less fortunate Comrades. Drinking an entire Leninade yourself results in public humiliations followed by the words "Capitalist" and "Bourgeoisie" stamped on your identification cards.

A word on weather tolerance worldwide.

An Oxygen Atom's dream.

The Daily Prophet advertises Miss Umbridge's latest book by saying, "Get your copy now at Flourish and Blotts, they are flying off the shelves!" This is deceptive. They are 'flying off the shelves' because of a spell Dolores cast on each copy, not because of brisk sales.

The question is, "Are you unique and different enough to be considered irreplaceable?" If not, work on it.

It's all in how things are packaged and presented, isn't it? Wendy's comes to mind. They advertise their french fries are salted with sea salt instead of regular salt. Improved taste is what they claim. In reality, this new advertising campaign is designed to make you, the average American, think sea salt is more 'nutritious' than that common mucky salt you've used for years at home. The sea salt makes you feel better about Jumbo sizing your fries.

One customer said recently, "I used to eat a regular fry with my combo. Now I jumbo size it. The more fries I eat the better because we all know that life on Earth crawled out of the sea. Right?"

Youngsters, if you want that cool tattoo, come to the Sorry Mom Tattoo Parlor where we specialize in giving lectures as good as your mom's before we start the work. This saves her the trouble and saves you the day long lecture. We start by hesitating to give you the tattoo, then relent if you persist. Next, we insist the tattoo go somewhere hidden under your clothes, then relent if you persist. Finally, we will refuse to give you the tattoo if the picture or language is questionable, then relent if you persist.

You won't find these services anywhere else.



You'll find a marshmallow and stick next to all fire extinguishers in Wonderland. It gives you something to do while you wait for the fireman to arrive.



This Inspiration from the Imaginarium's Ministry of Inspirations actually took hold, took root and became something of a local hang out. Each booth has a computer logged on to Facebook. Each booth has a web camera so you can Skype yourself eating to everyone you know. If you dribble or spill, the video footage can be instantly uploaded to YouTube with a couple clicks of the mouse. You just might become the next YouTube sensation!



Are you Republican? Are you Democrat? Perhaps a member of the Tea Party? Might I suggest that voting alone may not be enough to solve our country's fiscal problems. In the end, the folks in Washington tend to do just what they want, regardless of what the 'simple folks back home who don't know all the facts' say. Find ways to get involved. Become vocal. Ask tough questions. Demand accountability. If we all do our part, the slaughter house might not have to be 'the end game'.

The Teacher's Meet and the Super Overnight

Just us waiting for the Meeting to start. Most just wanted to get back to their schools.
Others were patient, knowing donuts and gallons of Diet Coke waited for them in the
mingling and 'get to know you' sessions afterwords

Earlier today (Friday) all Alpine District Employees met at UVU for a good ole time revival! There was plenty of hand clapping, testifying, back slapping, horn tooten and song singing. It was the old time religion. Souls were saved from summer's slothfulness. Regretfully no healings were witnessed, but there are nine months to go.

I felt sorry for the hundred or so high school students assigned to greet us along the sidewalks leading to the revival. They were under orders to clap for the hour or so it took all of us to get off our buses and into the meeting. Many were kind enough to shout positive platitudes. I thought it strange, considering we are the ones hired to shackle their bodies and minds to the state core curriculum for the next nine months. It reminded me of Tudor England, when it was customary for the person having his or her head cut off to pay the executioner a few pieces of silver to ensure a clean, sharp swing of the blade.

I thought it best not to return their smiles. Instead I mustered my best condescending teacher face to remind them of who they were really cheering for. That sobered several of them, casting a dark gloom over our entrance until I was well out of sight.

Central's teachers, along with the troubled staffs from a few other schools, were assigned the nose bleed section of the venue, far out of the camera's gaze, . Our gum chewing, unshaven faces, cussing and untucked shirts were noticed by those closest to us. Their stares were met with excellently aimed spit balls. There is no saving us. We climbed the mountain. We saw the promised land, and then decided to have a sit down and nap.

Mrs. Abigail Timms receiving forgiveness for spending her entire summer doing nothing classroom related,no inservice classes, no extra reading, and no university courses. She even bypassed her grade level's correlation bonus days. "The Summer's idleness be GONE FROM YOU!" the administrator shouted.
She fell backwards, felt the call, and ran around the congregation four times shouting, "The fire is in my heart!" while waving a white handkerchief high over her head as a sign of surrender and rebirth. Many "Hallelujahs" followed.

It's getting late here at the Space Center. We are in the middle of our last Super Overnight Camp of the Summer Season. The halls are darkened and layed out for awesome away teams. Emily and her staff have things in control, giving me the chance to lay down in the Magellan and rest my eyes for a moment before putting the campers to bed.

The Space Education Center Opens Tomorrow for the School Year Season

Children forming a Que to get on a bus for Wonderland and the Space Center.
There is order now. That will change and chaos expected once the announcement is made that all available missions for opening day are reserved. Wonderland's shop keepers are boarding their windows in case of rioting. The Constables carry stink bombs and super soakers if the situation on the streets gets out of hand.
"This is Wonderland, not London," the Chief Constable said. "There will be peace."

Hello Troops,
Word is spreading that the Space Center is opening tomorrow for the 2011/12 school year season. The Wonderland Transport Authority made preparations for the opening, anticipating an increase in ridership. All standby trains and buses will be drafted into service. The Underground Service will open earlier with the first trains leaving the World of Here and Now for Wonderland at 3:00 A.M. The Imaginarium, Wonderland's largest industry, announced all vacations and requests for personal leave will be discouraged for a fortnight.

"We need all hands on deck," bellowed the Head of Personnel during a staff meeting held earlier today. "No vacations or personal leave allowed....." He paused for a moment to think through his next statement. He cleared his throat, looked at his assistant over labor affairs, and continued. "And I'll be very very sceptical of anyone calling in sick. With the Space Center back in full operation, the world's children will again be accessing their higher level brain functions. Imaginings will be exiting our portals at a phenomenal rate."

His assistant shook her head knowing her boss couldn't restrict employee sick days. She knew it was his way to sometimes speak before thinking. She also knew she would be busy putting out fires once the Imagineering Union caught wind of her Director's directives.

With few seats available on public transport, children and Imaginarium employees are finding creative ways to get to the Space Center.



Maureen Trudy Eddy found one of Wonderland's old entrances, not used since the end of the last world war. This entrance will take her from the World of Here and Now directly to the northern most end of There and Back Again Lane. There are many such entrances to Wonderland, all built during the war to help children escape the horrors of a world gone mad and find refuge in a happier place.



Jordan Spun set off for the Imaginarium by dog sled several weeks ago from the far north . The Siberian Poodles are bred to withstand Wonderland's cold and unfriendly Poles. Antoinette is the lead poodle. She keeps the other dogs in line with a bark and cold stare if necessary.




Fiona Maglebee McPhey is properly dressed for the opening but may be delayed due to a puncture on her bicycle. She is rather upset and wonders why her Mummy or Poppy are not present to address the problem.

"Mummy and Poppy are always right here when I need them," Fiona said between sobs when it became apparent she lacked the skill to repair the puncture without soiling her new dress with extra frills.




Peter Bowls Buffin is a stubborn child. He missed his train and was last seen hitchhiking along the W1, Wonderland's main highway joining the World of Here and Now to the Central Station. He has a seat on the Magellan's 7:45 A.M. Wednesday mission. It is an appointment he made himself without his parent's permission or knowledge.

We have an update on Peter Bowls Buffin. He was picked up a cousin who also happens to have a ticket on the same mission. They are currently fueling and resupplying at a truck stop. Peter called his mother and told her where he was and not to worry. Peter's mother agreed to let him continue. He will be grounded for two weeks when he returns. Peter says the punishment is deserved but he couldn't let his ticket go to someone else.

"No kid is that generous with a Space Center ticket," he told the waitress at the truck stop cafe where the pair were eating their supper.

"I never been," the waitress said.

"You've not been to the Space Center?" Peter was surprised. He thought every kid had a chance to go to the Center at least once before their imaginations petrified.

"Not Never," the waitress emphasised her statement by tapping Peter on his head with a spoon. She paused to see if Peter caught her meaning. Peter shrugged his shoulders and returned to his grilled cheese and soup. She frowned, wondering if Peter was rude or just born thick headed. "You could help a girl out by giving up your ticket. I'd be ever so grateful." The waitress smiled and tickled Peter on the chin.

"Do I look stupid to you? Push Off!" Peter voice startled the old couple in the booth beside theirs.

The waitress slapped the bill on the table, replaced her order tablet in her apron and walked in a huff. Peter returned to his supper. His cousin commented how lucky they were to already have their food.

Mr. Lawrence Liverpool, the Director of Legal Affairs for the Imagineer's Union, is on his way to the Imaginarium. The union president called him about the Director of Personnel's earlier comment regarding employees and the company's sick time policy. In his briefcase is a copy of the union's contract. The parts covering sick days are highlighted in yellow. Mr. Liverpool is not happy. He and his wife are expected at the Wilbur's home at 6:00P.M. for dinner and a few hands of bridge. This unwanted, unwarranted and unwelcomed disruption to his schedule will cause Wonderland's most punctual couple to be twelve minutes late to their dinner party . Mr. Liverpool is not happy and is considering using street language in his meeting with the Director.
Do you have your tickets to a Space Center Mission reserved?

I'll see all of you soon.

Mr. W.

The Troubadours Wll Soon Gather.

I stand atop the castle wall. Behind me peasants mix and mingle in commerce. Before me, the Lord's fields lay under a patchwork quilt of greens, yellows and browns, partitioned by tan ribbons of road, carrying carts and peasants to and from the castle. The gray stone is warm to my touch. The sun effortlessly climbs through the ocean blue towards it rendezvous with noon.

I strain my eyes to the horizon looking for our troubadours. I'm anxious for their arrival. In three day's time we perform again, a fact which weighs heavily on my mind, yet here I stand alone - except for the company of our good carpenters who labored a fortnight repairing our stages.

The summer season was kind to us. Our travels took us to welcoming towns and villages. Our performances filled every bench, leaving many to stand. The gold and silver kept our fires bright and bellies full while thunderous applause warmed our hearts.




Soon the Troubadours will return to join in company as we prepare for Autumn's coming performances. It is the calling of a Troubadour, to tell tales and sing songs of what has been, what is now and what shall be to those who will listen. It is a good life.

I'm of a mind to keep the stone walls company for a short while yet until the bells call all to Mass.

And now, More from the Imaginarium......



The Russian Czar Nicolas II, King George of England and Louis XVI of France all forgot something. The working class is overwhelmingly large and patience with the governing elite is nearing an end. Heads roll in such uneasy times.

In America our revolutions come through the ballot box and our wallets. It is time to get involved, regardless of party or ideology. So our advice to Washington is....






Look at what people can create with imagination, education and hard work.......



Mr Bean would be on my short list of fictional characters I'd like as a friend, providing he was real of course. Never a dull moment with the man who dropped from the sky on a dark London evening.

Young Brits in training for next year's London Olympics.
Idiots one and all.


Google.uk

OK, I'm done with the riots. Time to move on.

Here you go, a simpler scanner.

A Home for the Shadows. How the Story Ends.

Hello Troops,
I wrote the Voyager mission "Shadows" several years ago. It has been a favorite of many, especially those who enjoy a good scare. Today, an update on Shadows and an answer to the question; What happened next?

The Voyager crew successfully downloaded the extensive holographic program seconds before the Borg cube reached them. The Voyager's nacelles took two hits from the Borg before the captain and crew managed to coax their salvaged Transwarp core to life. Space ignited around the Starship as it disappeared into a quickly dissipating white cloud of supercharged particles. The Borg cube was not prepared and lost them in the hyperspace jump.

The Voyager reached Earth with several tons of Dilithium Ore. Earth was on a high state of alert. Mad Dog and the Orion Pirates were on the move. Earth was in their cross hairs. The latest reconnaissance suggested a full scale attack was likely in one, perhaps two weeks. Our sources on Alph Centarui reported the resupply of the pirate fleet was nearly complete.

The Voyager crew was extensively debriefed. Command agreed with the Voyager Captain's decision to download the entire holographic civilization found on the alien planet. The program was downloaded from the Voyager's computer to Starfleet Command's mainframe computer located deep underground in the Rocky Mountains of North America. Command's best programmers were assigned to examine the holographic code to find the reason the holograms were 'stopping' (freezing) and make repairs if possible.

Mad Dog attacked as expected. Because of the Voyager's successful mission to find and acquire 4 tons of Grade 4 dilithium, the United Earth Fleet successfully defended the planet over a six month period involving several space battles around Earth. Mad Dog escaped and peace was restored.

Three years later, Starfleet Command kept their word to the Voyager's captain and completed the repair of the holographic community's programming. A new home in New Zealand was found for the program to run without interference. A large antimatter generator powered by dilithium was built for the project.

On February 15, 2314 the community's program was reactivated with great fanfare. Dignitaries from across the Federation attended. At 11:59 A.M. the green valley lay empty except for patches of forest with thick waving grasses and several dozen holographic projectors mounted on towers rising hundreds of feet into the air - all evenly spread over the valley. At 12:00 Noon the program was launched and the holographic projectors initiated.

The valley transformed moments later. A holographic city appeared with tall gleaming buildings inhabited by hundreds of thousands of people / holograms. Each computer generated hologram was patterned after someone who lived thousands of years ago on a planet on the opposite side of the Milky Way. The hundreds watching from the grandstands applauded. This drew the attention of several holographic children playing around a tree in a field outside the city - closest to the humans. One of them stopped and curiously walked toward them. He stopped to pick a holographic flower growing in midst of the valley's grasses.

"Amazing," said one of the spectators. "It's so real. Did you notice how that flower blended in with the native grasses?"

"This was the most complex holographic program we've ever seen," replied one of the programmers who worked to restore the alien code. "Look at the boy's face. Look at the complex colors. Notice how his hair blows naturally in the wind. The programming was amazing,"

"How did you restore the code if it was that advanced?" The Voyager's Captain asked.

Several people gathered closer to the programmer to hear his answer. "We found a self diagnostic sub routine in the holographic code that helped debug the program. That's the only way we could have pulled this off."


The Voyager's Captain, the one who risked his ship and crew to download the program so those long dead could tell the story of who they were and how they lived, walked toward the advancing hologram. He stopped and waited for the boy to close the gap between them. The young hologram, the image of a boy who died in a devastating war fought several millennium ago, stopped two feet in front of him.


The boy smiled and presented the alien flower to the Captain in greeting. The captain reached out and the boy let go. The projection fell through the captain's hand to the ground. The boy laughed. He was programmed to understand the difference between solid and light. He held out his hand. The Captain hesitated. The boy waited patiently.

"He wants you to take his hand," the programmer prodded the Captain.

"But there's nothing to hold on to," the captain questioned.

"Your form captures the sunlight, doesn't it?" the boy asked. The captain thought for a moment and understood what the boy meant. He nodded and reached out to take hold of the artificial light. The image of the boy's hand tingled against his palm and fingers, and together they walked toward the gleaming city in the alien sun.

"Everyone, come watch us work and play," the boy said to the gathering. "We have much to show and tell you."

Friday. Friday. And Still its Friday

Hello Troops,
People entering our school immediately reach for something to steady their balance. The floors glimmer as if supporting a highly reflective layer of ice. Our custodians spent days waxing and polishing our floors. They did an excellent job.

Central School is the best, there is no room for debate or argument. I pity those of you not privileged to spend your elementary years in a school with outstanding teachers, a caring and gifted administrator, a beautiful campus and THE SPACE CENTER :)

I want to publicly thank Emily Paxman, Bracken Funk and Jon Parker for giving up two hours of their time last night working with me on the design and layout of the Voyager's new simulator controls. Sweet is the word some might use to describe them. Sick may be another. Groovy also comes to mind. It all depends on what side of the generational track you come from. Perhaps a homogenized expression would be suitable - Groovily Sweet and monumentally Sick!
Yes?

And now, time to celebrate human imagination. I present today's findings in the Imaginarium.

The perfect gift for the lady in your life. M and M's in a Kit Kat Corral.

Brilliant. This is the mark of true inspiration.

And Winnie the Pooh says, "It was well worth it. Yes it was."

There are days my head spins at people's gullibility regarding the perception of Truth. Truth is more precious than gold and diamonds. Never stop questioning. Take no one's word for it.

Always seek 'truth'.
Never give up, even when disappointed.
And rejoice when it is found.

Watch Out London. The Police have back up.

Just something to celebrate the up coming start of the school year.

Mr. W.