Adventures in Tintown Part 4 of Tin
Pretty long ways from home, thinks Clifton Mahoney, now to the east of Chapel Vile on The Trunk instead of west. Maroonville, some call it. Others: Redtown, a generic nickname, also referring to one of the 2 encompassing sims of Red Marsh, not to be confused with Red Mars which currently doesn’t exist. Anyway, it all centers around this namesake cafe that Mr. Mahoney waits in, biding his time before an ace that also denotes a whole pack, bringing us back to Sarah and her gum, which, although it can be made to pop by those with talent in that area, I don’t think qualifies as an actual weapon. Maybe it’s code for gun, maybe not. We’ll catch up with her soon enough. Back to Clifton…
Wonder where Sep is? he ponders. Said she had something important to tell me.
It’s really strange. At the same time the other day I had Baker Bloch teleport into Maroonville through Red Marsh, I had another window open for a map to a now nonexistent clothing shop in the sim of *White* Marsh that Wheeler planned to then visit. Just coincidence — same *exact* time. I think of the red and white queens of Alice’s adventures in “Through the Looking-Glass,” opposite and complementary pieces of chess. That’s where I also found Leni, dancing up a storm in her 68 iterations, more than I’ve ever found before and perhaps the full pack. Hmm.*
Then there’s Whispers Family Photo Mall also found by accident. I miss the guy.
*and this is not the 1st time I’ve had a map sync involving the Red Marsh sim. See here:
00360503: the birth of Santman
“Now this is what’s so fascinating to me,” spoke Baker Bloch, taking over his father’s talk show business. Just until he mends from that broken hip. Should be off the crutches in another day or 3. “So let’s review: you moved from behind the camera to in front because Ricky Cargo got shot in the head with a real bunch of lead — no death here!” he shouts toward the audience, which got a roar. “And so you played in ‘I Love Lucifer’, for 6 years as the male lead — didn’t say lead!” More laughs. “Then you quit that show after they moved the location from the city to the country (Sandman nods here with a soft “um hum”), then you decided to get that age operation to better exploit your chances in the then lucrative child acting business.”
“More money, uh huh. After you subtract all the cost of living stuff, the houses, the pools and cars and, let’s see, women I suppose. Women of the night.” He laughs a bit here and the audience too. They’re still with him. They’ve bought into this whole story. Baker Bloch almost has as much talent in the build up as his father. But still he hopes he gets well soon and returns.
“Let’s see, the next job is then little Richie Pettry in the ‘Dick van Duck Comedy Special’. Aired on CBS for 3 years.”
“Four. Counting the Christmas season. Ran for 6 episodes actually.”
“And I believe that’s the first Christmas season in television history.”
“Television *comedy* history. There was always Bing Cosby.”
“Right, forgot,” exclaims Baker Bloch. “But that started the whole Santa thing. Tell me about that — I know we’re getting off-topic again but the story is fascinating. We’ll return to the child acting soon.”
“Well, that was part of it. At Christmas a child needs, what? A Santa. To sit on his lap, tell him what he or she wants for Christmas.” He gestures placing an imaginary child on his knee during this.
“We all know that *now*. But back then — brand new! You invented the holidays, Sandman. Have you ever thought about that?”
“Well… I can’t take credit for St. Patrick.” Laughs from the audience. He stares out at them lovingly, knows they’ve footed the bills for his many yachts and mansions down through the years.
“Okay,” says Bloch. “Let me cut to the chase — Tommy’s telling me we need to go to a commercial break.”
“I sat on his lap,” says Sandman, getting the core of it. “I… told him… I wanted a duck for Christmas.” Chuckles from the audience, most of them not even paid studio laughers by this point. “I wanted to *be* a Duck (dramatic pause). So he ate me.” Stares even wider eyed at the audience, who have lost it. Everyone knows the story. It made broadcast history.
(to be continued)
And so, only weighed down by the sand he had to tote along to make it all work, Santman’s career took off, at first rather slow and bumpy but then speeding up as more sand was dropped, symbol of a heavy past — poor as piss-ants they were in the day. Killer of children and babies alike no more. He had achieved Heaven on Earth. And the money certainly wasn’t bad either. Bought his first town over in Montana or Kentucky back in ’68, just before the Robolution that kind of snuffed deals like that out for a while, another type of death. But he personally made it through without having to change into a mechanoid. He figured all those other assimilations gave him some kind of immunity virus.
First he took over New Years Day — easy one. Then he set his eyes on Thanksgiving — about ’96 for that assimilation. Then Valentines Day. Then… Halloween. That was tougher. Had to fend off a lot of upset ghouls and goblins for that one. Then St. Patricks Day. The snakes the snakes. But he made it through with his patented snake popper, as he marketed it later, becomes a saint himself, a replacement one. Good.
Only one really significant holiday stood in his way after that. 4th of Juli, America itself. The Battle of Christmas vs. America begins.
Oh, he thinks in the moment, reviewing his past glory. Forgot about Easter! Dang Peter Rabbit, dang Donnie Darko. Yes America’s transformation into a full holiday state will have to be delayed until he figures that all out. Christmas vs. Easter instead. Red-green vs. blue-yellow, echoes of the Trojan-Durexian Wars creeping in. Perhaps this is even an extension.
(to be continued)
I was under pressure to finish this tonight. An expansion of “Adventures in Tintown Part 4 of Tin” into 4a (original 4), 4b, and 4c. Combined you can create 3 diptychs (4ab 4bc 4ca) and one triptych which goes around in a big circle (4abc or, if you will, 4abcabcabc…). Much analysis could be done but soo sleepy.
appropriated from https://www.cidergallery.com/wad-blog/2022/7/5/meet-the-artist-folklore
Meet Barry DeBoy! His collage piece “Does this look square to you?” is in his current show, “Adventures in Tintown, Parts 1 through Tin”. When originally approached about the show, he already had the idea to do something that would work with tin and lead and other base metals, but in a way to make it fun and different from other portrayals.*
His 2017 gallery show in Omaha in Oklahoma was where he had discovered that he could pursue art as a career.
“I would describe myself and my art as goofy and something I don’t take too seriously, although art is super important to me and I am constantly making stuff. It’s both tin or lead and gold or, say, platinum at the same time. You dig?”
We do indeed, Barry. Keep on creating your stress-free and humorous art, you daffy alchemist!
* note: Barry’s simple 2 part collage here (notice the disembodied nutcracker head) was later incorporated into a larger triptych of the series, becoming part of part 4c instead of standing alone at 7, which was replaced by the painting “Sassquatch” (picture not shown).
triptych interpretation 01 of 02
Hucka D.: I will forgive you for Amagon. The three lights. Wheeler.
Baker B.: Thank you, Hucka. So you are ready to begin?
Hucka D.: Yes.
Hucka D.: Tinytown changed to Tintown. The missing Y is spotted by a boy in 4b. This is 4a.
Baker B. (clarifying): The boy at the largest of 3 such altered Tinytown signs. The one whose head is slightly cut off in the editing process as he looks down.
Hucka D.: Yes. The blade in the background? You didn’t get to that yet. Has Shelley regained her head?
Baker B.: Dunno, Hucka D. I would assume so. Since I have her active in another window opened up right now.
Hucka D.: What’s she doing?
Baker B. (checking): She’s in the middle of Extraordinary.
Hucka D.: Ahh, appropriate. Have you figured out what she is?
Baker B. (thinking back to 4a and the altered sign): Gold?
Hucka D.: Gold and silver. And platinum. There’s something else coming up.
Baker B. (after a pause; he’s looking in Extraordinary): Okay.
Hucka D.: Are the 3 lights there?
Baker B.: Yes.
Hucka D.: Can you close the window? (Baker B. closes the window) Back to 4a (pause). Obviously Spider has returned. He’s inside the collages now. For real. He’s alive (inside of them).
Baker B.: Yes. Fascinating.
Hucka D.: So that’s one thing predicted in these photos. Can I say these photos are all taken from Tinytown or thereabouts, on the outskirts of Mortons Gap?
Baker B.: I think you just did.
Hucka D.: Kentucky, the actual one, the real one. Not Mortons Gully in Our Second Lyfe. That’s just a 1:1 match from the Oracle.
Baker B.: Good to say (again).
Hucka D.: Not much there otherwise. Sissy’s is closed. Shame. She just wanted to fit in.
Baker B.: Or, alternately, she just wanted to be included.
Hucka D.: Put a picture up of what we’re talking about.
Hucka D.: Another simple collage — 2 part. Like all of them are. Until we reach the triptych which goes round and round… and round.
Baker B.: This is (in) Mortons Gap again, just to clarify.
Hucka D.: Right. (he pauses to look down at his hands; just yellow pollen covered balls, like at the beginning; he had regressed that far) Back to Tinytown which was changed or altered to Tintown. The narrow woman is interesting: one eyed, like Leela.
Baker B.: We call her Eyela.
Hucka D.: Right. She was set up as well (by the powers that bee). That led from the original altered photo, a simple 2-n-1, with the Y dropped out of Tinytown, into the triptych. The triptych was the goal all along. Another altered sign, I’ll note, in the dark backdrop behind her — less obvious; could be missed.
Baker B.: Yes.
Hucka D.: And the bat boy… but we’ll get to him in part 2. Or part 3.
(to be continued)
triptych interpretation 02 of 02
Hucka D.: In 4b, like we said before, the boy at the tree with the Tintown sign looks down at the missing letter, the missing Y that makes it Tinytown, which it is. I should also say that Tinytown no longer exists, another victim of the pandemic. Like Sissy’s most likely.
Baker B.: Good. Mortons Gap is emptying of meaning.
Hucka D.: I think you want to bring up the 2 PLACEs.
Baker B.: I think that’s taken care of in the text of the photo-novel before, Hucka D.
Hucka D.: 2 PLACEs at once (Hucka D. presses). This is another pointer leading to the triptych. It all leads there.
Baker B.: Okay, good.
Hucka D.: 4b, then. The people with the narrow woman from 4a, most likely her family, have their faces covered by white ovals. To their right we have a ring of ghosts, also with oval white faces or heads. You made the association, thus the triptych continues to the right and not the left at first. You insert the smallest Tintown sign in the darkness behind the ghosts and the whited out face people (in 4a), a mother and her child perhaps. Maybe the narrow girl is the same woman’s daughter.
Baker B.: One of the faces is round and not ovoid. Can you comment on that?
Hucka D.: This is the middle of another simple 2 part collage that you prepared in anticipation of the triptych, although you didn’t know it at the time. The middle head becomes round, and with two oranges eyes, it appears. That’s about all I can say about it for now.
Baker B.: Thank you. Then moving on, we shift from Mortons Gap Kentucky to Tin Town Missouri, from a batch of old photos by, let me see, Russell Lee, who is famous for such things.
Hucka D.: Pie Town, New Mexico, I note in the article. Pietmond.
Baker B.: Right. Blast from the past.
Hucka D.: Lets move to 4c, the last panel which will bring us back to the first.
Hucka D.: Selves, you’ll notice, in the collage, not Self. There is more that one Self. There are 3 in this collage, according to size. The second is 61/100ths the size of the first. The third and last is 61/100ths the size of the second. Although these 3 come in 5 bodies, there are only 3 heads, matching the 3 Selves. Two have been cut off. You sure that Shelley is okay? She’s very important.
Baker B.: I know — extraordinary. She’s okay.
Hucka D.: What are these Selves, then? You find them in Tin Town MO which originally was named Gold. Ronnie Self the rockabilly wannabe star who didn’t quite get there. But he lends his name to the Triptych. He too is part of this (process).
Baker B. (after a pause): The ratios seem important. If we assume a steady reduction, the first is 100, then the second is 61, then the 3rd would be 37.21 almost exactly (checks). No: *exactly*.
Hucka D.: Extraordinary.
Baker B.: Then the simple 2-n-1 collage Barry Deboy holds in the last post before you showed up for our interpretation, Hucka D. (Mortons Gap sign/ “Does this look square to you?”), is the last element inserted here, cutting off 2 of the 5 heads…
Hucka D.: But adding 2 of its own heads (nutcrackers on sign). One obviously truncated (pause). You sure?…
Baker B. (guessing what the bee-man was going to say): Yeah, she’s all right. Anything else?
Hucka D.: I was going to ask you the same thing. Oh — Bat Boy. Zebrasil. Very important. Only the ZE remains (in 4c). Flying toward the First, the largest Self, the most immediate. You.
Baker B.: Thank you, Hucka D. And we’ll work on…
Hucka D.: … Amagon, yes.
“Baker Bloch’s soo gullible,” spoke Hucka Doobie to our right, certainly *not* an insect in this situation. Instead: a full fledged woman, complete with all the working parts. “He thinks I’ve reverted. Why would I want to be a bee again? I gave that up ages ago, along with the attached masculinity. And I’ve been faking the transformation back for months, maybe years.”
“Yeah,” chipped in Barry Deboy, famous artist of the Yellowmoon peninsula with his latest series, “Adventures in Tintown”, being a much talked about hit and spectacle. Imaginary defunct tiny town on the outskirts of Mortons Gap, residents say, marveling and shaking their collective heads at the inventiveness. What will that genius come up with next? “He thinks I’m scared of the Ant Castle up here,” Barry continues. “Why… Ant’s one of my best friends (!).” He turns to his right. “Aren’t you Ant?”
Ant didn’t remember or recognize the fellow but he acknowledged the close friendship anyway. That’s the problem with running a business the size of a small banana republic. Lots of friends — hard to keep up with. He’ll take the guy’s word. “Sure, chum,” he said, hoping to catch his actual name later.
“And I guess he thinks you live over in Fearzom on that smaller mountain to the southeast. Good one, Ant.”
But Ant *did* live there. He didn’t live here, in the skybox above the location of his old castle. Back ran the castle and its grounds now, rebuilt from the ground up after the fire explosion of ’83. Ant actually didn’t live in Our Second Lyfe at all. He’s too busy with his business, with his many friends. Real Life we’re talking about here. In Our Second Lyfe he was just an ant, nothing less nothing more. An oversized one, true. And he invented the Bell telephone. Oops, there’s a ring now. The Devil probably, since we were speaking about it.
“Gotta take this.” Ant was hoping it was a call leading him back to the Real World. Exoskeleton costume starting to weigh him down. He answers with his free hand, Tom Collins in the other. Barry’s rock’n a Russian Roulette, and I believe Hucka Doobie holds some ginger ale. She’s not against imbibing but not on the job. And this definitely was work. Acting. With these Bozos. She wonders again if Barry is borderline autistic, so bad he was at it. She’s about convinced. The topo maps did it for her. But he makes up for it in other areas, she thinks (see: last paragraph).
Ant sets down his drink and moves away from the others after hearing the voice. Devil indeed.
“Iiii… didn’t expect to hear *back* from you so soon, he he.”
“Comedian, yeah. Always. Soo… (he lowered his voice even more) have you made a decision about the girl? Will she be able to keep, you know… her *head*?”
Hucka Doobie knew what the call was about but she prepared to feign ignorance. Barry just wanted to get back to his collages. More fame, more adulation! It was like a drug to him.
They were dating, by the way. Barry and Hucka. Baker Bloch had no clue about that as well.
(to be continued)
Shelley’s head appeared directly below where Barry DeBoy should have been fishing on the pier. But it appears he’s wised up, dispensed with his pole, and headed back to the studio, realizing the futility of the act (once more). Ant may even be his best friend again, at least in his mind. And of course there’s Hucka. How much woman is she? Enough to roar?
“Find anything in that holler down there?”
“Oh, a book. And a cave full of crystals. The book reminded me of Hucka.”
“Hucka? How do you know…?”
“I know a lot,” answered Shelley Struthers to recently husbanded boyfriend Arthur Kill, who sometimes steps out of character to play Lemont Sanford up in or toward Real Life. And now there’s a 3rd Life to deal with. On Our Second Lyfe’s computer if you know how to log in. And we do.
Arthur looked over, nodding. “The umbrella eyes, yes.” Library in her eyes, he knew. She doesn’t need the physical stuff any longer. All in the head.
“How ’bout you? Find anything? Up here?”
“Lemme think about that.”
“Just a lot of monuments and tombs,” he finally answered her after fleshing in his own local backstory a bit. “One statue seemed to not have a head, but then I realized the angel on top just had her head down and the bun in her hair appeared like a, er, untopped neck.” He picked this particular monument to talk about for a reason.
They just needed a little bit of time away from each other to contemplate by themselves, why they’re here in the first place. Heterocera. Home of the *Head* Line, the Heart Line. Shelley’s old home on the former — apt. still there, actually, at the triple point in Hooktip, even if she never is. That was a long time ago for her, her Firesign period with its silly puns and innuendos. She hadn’t moved on. Just absorbed… assimilated. ‘Nother one.
“Real Linden water down there, I found out.”
“Fascinating.” He found himself arching an eyebrow even. Making him think of another fake head removal, another “long long ago.” Soo many memories now. Encounter with “God.”
Now Arthur finds a similar meditation pillow on which to sit. Shining 01, he thinks. Is he a Shining 02?
He must be. They are one beneath it all, after all (he believed). Soulmates. Counterparts. Two paths meet and unite. If not in the moment — separate for a bit again. She’s over exploring the witch house. She’d found something. A witch. An old hag with real long hair wearing a gimmicky orange and black Halloween costume, although she said that’s just part of her schtick.
“Do you understand… the pages?” she asked before Shelley could ask about the same — jumping ahead of her. Unusual for Shelley. Could this be? Nah, couldn’t.
Shelley looked at them flying about above the table and a little beyond on all sides. Almost in danger of hitting her face but she kept steady, not blinking. She instinctively knew this wouldn’t hurt her. Ahh, she recalls Jem in her eyes, checking the blog again, making sure she’s up to speed. Jem had this power. Edward Daigle asked her to shut it down so he could be *safe*. She’ll not make that error between her legs here. Conception. “Arkansaw?” she tried with some assurance. She stared over at the eyes. Umbrella too, she recognized. This was her.
Arthur walked into the room, having finished his own exploration once more. The pages fell like cards out of the air, fluttering down to the ground and on the table before her — them. The witch was gone. The witch had never been here. Physically. She picked up a piece, studying. It contained a picture of a prism, white light leading in, colored out. 2 parts, 2 1/2s. She looked at Arthur. He remained refracted, unable to unite the various selves as whole. She — different now. She had seen herself in the future. Sitting here. Dealing with these cards, the life she’s led. It all led to here. Purity, happiness… maybe. God at least.
She saw shadows of a pained face on Arthur’s face, amplifying the shock that was already there. Yes, he saw pages/paper flying in the air of their own accord, then the spell was broken. The Ouija planchette beneath them had also ceased moving.
Stopped on Z; she knew where to head next. All the way back to the beginning which would then become the new end.
She received clarification in another witch house near the Head Line in Hooktip, her old stopping grounds. PCH Forest — many a day she could be found roaming these woods for magical trinkets, practicing magical spells. This is where, for example, she came up with a mate named George, a future husband she declared to him after he physically manifested before her, not quite mature but getting there. A boy 13 to 10 to 13 to 10 over and over (as it turned out), always gaining 6 inches to reach the upper extreme, always with horns or antlers by that time. On sunnier days he could even glimpse 18.
Anyway, the new, proper board’s planchette further indicated or emphasized the importance of the 5 point star to add to the already highlighted ending/beginning Z, obvious reference to her cat Mysti, long long left behind but still the best of friends, we assume. She even named herself that after the cat in one of her incarnations (switching the i and the y), an homage to the past in more ways than one.
Yes, she recalls that. Quite close to here, in a retro town defunct for several years now. Took up all or almost all of Myron, a couple of sims directly west of Hooktip. Arthur was also there in a way. Except she called him Septimius. Septimius Felton, a name which has resurface recently. Darn full moon, darn wandering feet on a full moon. She ended up beside him, which now was a her. But it was still Arthur in a way, in a manner. Too hard to explain to him, though. Must keep that a big secret still — the trip to Red Marsh and Maroonville, sometimes called Redtown because of the overarching sim. Santa was born there, some say — legend goes. Santman.
She also found a book with a golden butterfly on the front, mirroring the name of the property: Golden Hours. Inside she read about herself.
(to be continued)
“Yeah I’m looking right at him. Back to fishing on the pier. He’s forgotten again.”
Big, new development happening now. Can’t talk too much about it yet. Safe to say the Lebettu Castle is going away. Found a parcel that’s twice as big (8192) I can rent for less than 400 lindens more, or about 4/3rds the cost of the former. And I own the top of a mountain (!). Emerald green it is. Put another castle on it already, but a second option is the Temple of TILE. Then down in the valley below, on the western edge: the return of Sunklands Institute with its Perch Restaurant and Table Room, etc. Some ground galleries will also appear, and maybe a couple of others in the sky. More very soon!