The persistent Tin Man was not to be dissuaded. He decided that if he could assist with those that cut down trees, then he could at least assist those who ensure that trees are not destroyed by fire. He made a call to the headquarters of the international Association of Firefighters in Washington D.C. Once again, he was immediately transferred to someone in the public relations office. Our Tin Man indicates that he wanted to contribute money and his considerable talent to this association. The P.R. staff member said he would send a contribution form to the Tin Man and asked for his email address.
Our bewildered Tin Man indicated that he did not have an email address. He was far, far removed from Vandehei’s world of Internet Niche-ing (with the acquisition of relevant information being essential). Could the form be sent by physical mail. This approach met with reluctant approval. The Tin Man then spoke of his background as someone who cut down trees with an axe. After a few moments of muffled laughter, the Association employee suggested that the Tin Man might be of greatest assistance by donating his axe to one of the many firefighter museums in the United States—since fires are often fought by cutting down trees in specific “control lanes” to block the spread of fires.
The Tin Man hung up the telephone. His vision of philanthropy was shattered. He was about to throw his heart-shape award into the trash can but decided instead to put it back into his apartment closet. The despondent Tin Man turned on his TV, which was still tuned to the forest channel. He grabs a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and some chips from the cupboard, and settles back into his Barcalounger for an afternoon of axe throwing and tree toppling. Welcome back to the Passive-ists shard.
Shattering of the Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion
What about the Tin Man’s companions? The Scarecrow decided to do something important with his brain. He went to a community college in Oz and obtained an Associate of Arts Degree with a major in political science, along with a teaching certificate. A job awaited our Scarecrow at a local high school. The administrators of this school were desperate regarding a shortage of teachers and readily hired the Scarecrow. He began t
Our Scarecrow had manufactured his own version of reality. The connections to be made with the actual world in which he lived were shattered. As a very “smart” being, the Scarecrow did a clever job of picking up a bit of “real” history and bending it to his own perspectives and values. There was speculation that he was suffering from some cortical damage (perhaps too much time in the poppy fields). A neurological exam was required. Nothing was found to be wrong. Eventually, after several years of teaching, and multiple complaints from parents, the Scarecrow was asked to leave the teaching profession. He now sits at home and occasionally works on his own unique written history of Oz.
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