Ask Dayton 101 – Daytonetics 101
First of I would like to send my congratulations on making the 100 marks of Ask Dayton and now for the 101st Ask Dayton question for you.
If Dayton Ward was a college subject, what would be the curriculum for Dayton Ward?
I really, really need to reevaluate how I spend my Sunday mornings.
You know, higher education in America is pretty damned expensive, and I think we all can agree that the very thought of someone even considering the investment of both time and money toward a course where I am the central topic is fucking scary. Can you just imagine the conversations with parents when the kid tries to explain that?
“Yeah, the entire syllabus is devoted to his personal history, his books, his obsessions with vodka, bacon, porn, and Batman, and all of the resulting psychoses which plagued him throughout his life. Also, he can be pretty damned funny when he actually puts some effort into it. No, this is way better than taking a software development or business management class. This is something I’ll actually be able to use after I graduate.”
Fuck you, kid. Go join the military or Walmart.
But, for the sake of argument, let’s delve into this a bit, shall we?
I suppose any decent course about Yours Truly would have to include an examination of my life story, and how as an infant I was rocketed from my dying home world in a ship built by my parents, and how I suffered a horrific crash upon my arrival on Earth that necessitated my body being augmented with cybernetic enhancements. All of this happened after I successfully fled the tyrannical rule of an alien race bent on annihilating all traces of humanity from the universe, but then it all went to shit one day when I was bitten by a radioactive spider while at day care. My foster parents nearly went broke keeping me in diapers which could contain the radioactive web sap shooting out of my ass. I mean, all of that would just be Chapter 1 in the course textbook, Daytonetics: An Imprecise Examination of the Man and His Engorged and Ultimately Destructive Sense of Self-Worth.
The class also would almost certainly involve an in-depth review and critical analysis of my past works, but to get the full effect we’d have to look at the entire bibliography, wouldn’t we? The course would have to journey beyond things like pithy Star Trek novels and take a truly deep dive at some of my lesser-known literary efforts. We’re talking about things like the stories I wrote for a children’s writing course I took several years ago, or the absolutely putrid scribblings which are the first tales I wrote in school. Lucky for me, none of that shit exists anymore, in any format. All copies have been destroyed and all witnesses have been silenced.
What else is there? I suppose we could dig up some of my old fan fiction, or the stuff I used to write for Trek-themed newsletters. Some of that has never seen the light of day, and is buried in a pressurized vault beneath the surface of an unnamed ocean. More easily obtainable are the stories I wrote under a host of pen names for a handful of publications, including one or two of the “adult entertainment” variety. Hey, don’t laugh: that was some of the easiest money I’ve ever made. Why’d I do it? To see if I could do it and get paid. It was harder than I thought it’d be, but everything just slid right into place.
(See what I did there?)
As for any legacy I may leave behind that future scholars might find worthy of study, we probably shouldn’t leave out a comprehensive evaluation of my service to humanity. There has to be a least a chapter or two’s worth of material devoted to all the times I saved Earth from extra-dimensional demons, viral outbreaks, and the horrific Star Trek/My Little Pony/Devil In Miss Jones crossover Kevin Dilmore nearly pitched one night in a fit of drunken misadventure.
And I suppose no assessment is complete and able to call itself a balanced critique without mentioning the lasting impact I’ve had on the peoples of the world, thanks to the atrocities I have inflicted upon the printed page, such as the various cities and countries where I’m no longer welcome. My crimes against the written word are viewed with such contempt by a number of sovereign nations that they’ve issued bounties for my capture and extradition. In some realms, even the simple uttering of my name in public by any citizen is a death-penalty offense.
So, there you have it: Daytonetics 101. It’s your money, but if it were me, I’d use it to enroll in something useful, like “Video Game Design,” “Mini-Golf Course Management,” or “Tramp Stamps as Art for the Plebeian Class.”
Happy learning, yo.
But, wait. There’s more.
He is the co-owner of Busy Little Beaver Productions and is the producer and co-host for G & T Show and Gates of Sto’vo’kor. He’s directed voice actors, and produced and edited audio podcasts and dramas because he doesn’t have the face for video. He plays well with others and is always on the look out for the next project, the next thing, the next next. If he wasn’t working on something with a half dozen other projects waiting in the wings, somebody please check to make sure he’s still breathing.
During the day, he’s a mild-mannered computer repair man who dabbles in web design in his small, rural, Central California community. He lives with his lovingly dysfunctional family and loyal canine companion and spends most of his time in the closet concocting some hair-brained scheme or another. He’s got an unhealthy obsession with Lego video games, Klingons, and Star Trek Online that borders on the neurotic.
Despite all this, he still finds the time to write the words. Find out what he's doing here.
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