A balloon filled with loony baboons piloted by a buffoon poltroon with a laugh like the State bird of Minnesota (the common Loon) was whipped round and round by a cyclone (an Iowa State alum like me) until it worked like a blender to tender the gruel (or is that grool?) that makes the makings of a Paffooney. Yes, I took letters from many of those words and pasted them together with Elmer’s glue to create a new word to apply to a picture that accompanies a short piece of Mickian writing.
The girl in the Paffooney above should not be construed to be the poltroon who pilots the balloon. Breanna laughs more like a canary than a loon. That particularly pallid poltroon looks more like Ted Cruz, hence I chose to put Breanna in the picture in place of the Grandpa Munster look-alike that would otherwise offend your eyes. Paffoonies should be interesting to look at. Not sickeningly horrid.
The idea of a Paffooney is that it must contain a little bit of me… Illustrate a piece of my soul so to speak. It has to show a little bit of the self-examination that makes me bend and twist who I am until it fits into the pretzel-shaped container of who I am meant to be. I suppose I am meant to be an artist. Michael was, anyway. Mickey? Well, he’s a cartoonist. Don’t believe me? You could go to Google Image Search and search Beyer Paffooney. You will get a collection of what the algorithm thinks a Paffooney is, and hopefully at least a few of the ones I have created with my magic word attached that the algorithm judges you are mature enough to see.
Catch a Falling Star 