Category Archives: Paffooney

When the Captain Came Calling… Canto 13

Canto Thirteen – When You Have a Real Crush

Mom had a point about Conrad Doble.  Every single time Valerie was in the same room with him, he looked at her with a look that meant…  Well, it seemed that way.  She made very sure that she was never alone in the same room with him.  She almost wished some times that Mary Philips wasn’t so accepting and was willing to just kick the old slime-bucket out of the Norwall Pirates.  But he was a link to the old Pirates.  Valerie’s cousin Brent had led a group of Pirates that included Milt Morgan, Andrew Doble, Eddie Campbell, Todd Niland, and King Leer when he was the littlest pimple-head in the gang.  Doble even claimed there were times when the Cobble Sisters, Sherry and Shelly, were considered Pirates too, but it was difficult to believe Conrad Doble because he always added random x-rated details to the stories whenever girls were talked about.  But this particular time, when Valerie had been invited to the Philips’ house to discuss the Pirates, Doble was not even invited.

In the basement of Mary’s house, Dagwood Philips, her father, had built a comfortable family room.  It was heated by a Franklin stove that Dag had put in with his own carpentry skills and ingenuity.

“This is a really nice room,” Valerie said.

“Thanks,” said Mary.  “Pidney’s mother Julianna calls it our make-out room.  She says it’s where Pidney and I kiss so much we give each other kissing disease.”

Valerie was shocked.  “You kiss a lot here?”

“No,” said Pidney.  “My mother is always joking about it.  She says that if I know a girl as pretty and smart as Mary, then why am I not already proposing?   Why am I always saying that she is just my best friend?  She is my best friend.”

That was a relief to Valerie whose inner little jealousy-fairy had suddenly been shouting in the back of her mind somewhere until Pidney had said that one perfect thing.

“Your Mom has a thing about mononucleosis, too,” said Mary.

“That’s true.  She had it when she was a teenager in Poland.  She claimed she got it from kissing a boy too much.”

“Does that kind of joking bother your Dad?” Valerie asked.

“Of course not,” said Pidney.  “When Mom tells the story, it was Dad that gave her the disease.  They both had it at the same time.”

Valerie laughed, even though it was not funny.

Danny Murphy plumped down the big leather-bound album that he had brought to the meeting.  It stirred up clouds of dust from the second-hand coffee table where he plumped it.  It was fat with added pages, being one of those loose-leaf albums held together by a decorative cord, one you could add extra pages to.

“What’s that?” asked Valerie.

“That is the Sacred Big Book of Pirate Secrets,” said Mary.  “I asked Danny to keep it for us until we needed it to look at.”

“What kind of secrets?” asked Pidney.

“The secret kind,” said Danny Murphy.  “All of the Pirates wrote down things they thought were important, wise, or… maybe wicked.”

“Did you read some of it?” Mary asked.

“I did,” said Danny.  “In several places in there, different Pirates wrote that seeing Sherry Cobble naked was a very good thing.”

Pidney was suddenly blushing furiously.  “Sherry Cobble?  Isn’t that Brent’s…?”

“His ex-wife,” said Valerie.  “She was a nudist even back then.  I guess they all saw her when…”

“Yeah,” said Mary.  “About that.  I got that book from my brother Branch.  Not everything in there is necessarily put there by the original Pirates.  My brother likes to tell funny stories.”

“He wrote down all the Pirate stories, didn’t he?” asked Danny.

“Yes, he has a very big imagination.”

“Still,” said Danny, “it is written in different handwritings.  And I think Brent Clarke signed his name to one of the naked-Sherry comments.  And there’s a lot of other dumb stuff and cool stuff in there as well.”

“Anything in there about Tiki idols and talking cats?” asked Valerie with a laugh.

“Not yet,” answered Danny.  “I think that’s gonna be for us to write.”

“Is Ray coming today?” asked Pidney.

“He said he couldn’t.  It’s just the four of us,” said Mary.  “But we have more than just this silly thing to look at.  Here’s the log book we talked about.”

She plumped the leather-bound volume down on the table next to the Pirate book.  It had an anchor symbol embossed in gold on the front cover.  And the title, Log of the Reefer Mary Celeste.

“Wowsers!” said Danny.  “Can we read it now?”

“I thought Valerie and I might read parts of it out loud,” said Mary.  “There are parts of this that just beg to be read out loud.  And Valerie’s Aunt is a librarian after all.”

When the Captain Came Calling is the prequel to Snow Babies which is now available for free at this link; https://www.amazon.com/Snow-Babies-Michael-Beyer-ebook/dp/B077PMQ4YF/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=michael+beyer+books+snow+babies&qid=1554128143&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Leave a comment

Filed under humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

The Mirror in the Clown’s Hand

Self-reflection is the bane of stupid people. Essentially, they don’t want to risk encountering evidence that they actually are stupid. It would shatter their world to learn that they are idiots and most of what they believe is true is actually wrong. This fact goes a long way towards explaining why the Republican Party in its current form even exists, let alone the actions of the current mutant Cheetos monster that pilots their agenda and hates healthcare, the Special Olympics, and Puerto Rico.

So, if I am doing a self–reflection piece today, then that proves I am not a stupid person, right? What do you mean you agree with that? Yes, I can actually hear you mentally answering my questions as you read this. And if you believe that, then you have proven that even relatively smart people like you and I are capable of stupid thinking.

I believe in some stupid things, even though I think I am not stupid.

An example of this stupidity factor is my lingering belief that I am a nudist. I mean, I am rarely ever nude any more. I keep most of me covered up constantly because when my psoriasis plaques dry out they tend to flake and itch and force me to scratch to the point of infected bloody sores.

Obviously this is not totally a photograph from the 60’s. That does not make it a total lie either, though.

I have been pretty much accepted as a member of the nudist community on Twitter. I enjoy the artful pictures of nude people they share with me. And since I did a couple of blog posts for nudist websites, there are actually completely nude pictures of me available on the internet. I can be found on Truenudists.com for one, if your eyes can stand the horror. But I have only been to a nudist park, the Bluebonnet Nudist Park in Alvord, Texas. one time as an actual nudist. I can tell you, it was a very hot day even though I was not wearing clothes. I am comfortable with nudity. I am comfortable around nude people. I fully accept it all as a non-sexual thing. But am I really a nudist? Or am I only playing at it? If you follow me on Twitter, then you know I don’t retweet pictures of naked people. I engage a lot with other writers there, and most of them are not also nudists, or even open-minded about naturism. I write about nudists in some of my books, but they are not about nudism, and most of them don’t even mention it. So, what good does it do me to think I am a nudist? Well, the very idea of it does a heckuva good job of embarrassing my wife and daughter. So, I do get some crazy-old-coot satisfaction out of it. Otherwise it simply proves that rational and otherwise intelligent people can be committed to irrational ideas.

I am also of the often mocked and ridiculed opinion that not only are alien beings from other worlds real, they are capable of space travel and have been visiting us for as long as there has been an us. I did not always believe this, however. Before I wrote my novel Catch a Falling Star I believed as Carl Sagan said on the original Cosmos that it is wrong to accept things without proof, and true results are testable. My novel was about aliens who watched a lot of Earther TV and learned to speak English from watching I Love Lucy reruns, I wanted to make the aliens different from humans, but at the same time, alike with humans in the most fundamental ways that translate easily into humor and relatability. Not all of my hero-characters were Earth humans.

Brekka the Telleron tadpole (also a nudist) with her friend Lester the man-eating plant (who only ate her once)

As I did research on the internet (a tool I didn’t have when I originally created the story in the 1970s), I found a ton of researchers and writers and con men and MUFON and the Disclosure Project and nuclear physicists and astronauts Gordon Cooper and Edgar Mitchell who were all believers and mostly not stupid. Wow! What a huge and complicated hoax! Why would anybody believe , based on so little tangible evidence, and so much contradictory evidence, that the government’s position could possibly be right? I learned that I now believed, until significant further proof comes along, that I believe stupidly in alien visitors.

Today’s self-reflection post has now proven that I am a stupid old coot who thinks he is a nudist and an insightful conspiracy theorist. But the results of my look into the mirror have not made me upset about my stupidity. Maybe I am simply satisfied nudism is healthy and the universe is more complex than I am capable of understanding. Whatever the case, that’s enough with the mirror for today. You have to keep such dangerous weapons out of the hands of clowns.

Leave a comment

Filed under aliens, artwork, conspiracy theory, goofy thoughts, humor, nudes, Paffooney

Hidden Kingdom… (Chapter 2 through page 19)

If you would like to see the complete Chapter One, you can find it at this link; https://catchafallingstarbook.net/2018/11/24/hidden-kingdom-chapter-1-complete/

1 Comment

Filed under comic strips, fairies, Hidden Kingdom, humor, Paffooney

When the Captain Came Calling… Canto 12

Canto Twelve – Mom Matters

“Honey, I’m not trying to be mean to you or anything,” Valerie’s Mom said so that Valerie was clearly meant to understand that she was about to be very mean, but she wasn’t trying to.  “You have to tell us where you are going and what you are doing… and who you are doing it with.”

“Oh, Mom.  I’m not a baby anymore!  You need to trust me.”

“I do trust you.  I just don’t trust everyone you’ve been hanging around with in town.”

“You don’t trust Mary Philips?”

“Oh, I trust Mary fine, I…”

“Is it Pidney you don’t trust?  He’s a football hero, you know.”

“Pidney is fine too, I…”

“Ray Zeffer?  You don’t like Ray Zeffer?”

“I’m sure he’s a fine young man, but…”

“Then you don’t like Danny?  He’s practically my best friend.  He ain’t a girl like Jane and Wanda, or my cousin Stacy, but I can actually talk to Danny!”

“Valerie Elaine Clarke!  You are jumping to conclusions again.  You need to let me talk.”

Mom looked out the kitchen window at the table in the yard where Daddy Kyle and Uncle Dash were in serious discussion.  It was farm talk.  But it did seem an awful lot like older brother, Dash Clarke, was seriously lecturing younger brother, Kyle Clarke, about something that was seriously upsetting to both men.  Was that worry on Mom’s face?  Valerie wasn’t sure whether it was worry for Valerie, or worry for Daddy Kyle.  But she was sure it was worry-wart levels of worrying.

“You do realize,” Mom said, “that Conrad Doble is a lot older than you are.”

“Yes, Mom, I know.”

“And you know he was in trouble with the law?  He was involved in that whole wolf-dog thing when those attack dogs killed poor old Mrs. White.”

“Yes, I know.  But I don’t even like creepy old King Leer.  I try to stay away from him.”

“He’s a part of that club thing that Mary Philips is stirring up again.”

“You mean the Pirates?  We are a 4-H Club softball team, Mom.  They want me to play second base.”

“It’s a long time before summer softball comes around.  And you don’t understand what it was like before when those Pirates were making trouble in the 70’s.”

“Mom, Brent was the leader of the Pirates then.”

“Well, yes.  And your cousin is a fine young man now.  But the Pirates tell such weird stories and get into such weird situations.”

“Werewolves and an undead Chinese wizard, huh?”

“Now, you know I don’t believe any of those stories were true.  It’s just that…”

“You know that Torrie Brownfield had that hair disease that made hair grow all over his body.  He was an awful lot like a werewolf!”

“Okay, but that’s not what I’m trying to say right now.  That Doble boy is not trustworthy.  He is capable of some very bad things.  Maybe even drugs.”

“Believe me, I know, Mom.  But I can take care of myself.  And Pidney and Ray have both told King Leer to leave me alone or they would beat the snot out of him.”

Valerie’s Mom gave a brief chuckle.  “Pidney could do it too,” she said.  “Doble would be black and blue all over.   I have great respect for Pidney Breslow’s football muscles.  It’s just that…”

“I know.  When a girl reaches a certain age…  You know I had this talk with Daddy too.”

“Yes, well…”

At that moment, Daddy Kyle and Uncle Dash came storming in to the kitchen, the screen door making a sound almost like a gunshot as it slammed closed behind Uncle Dash.

“That goddam agent lied to me, Dash!” Kyle shouted.  “He promised me more time, and now he doesn’t even admit what he actually said to me before.  He shook my hand on it!”

“But he’s a government man, Kyle!  You should’ve known better than to trust the goddam FHA like that.  They wanted a chance to foreclose from the very start!”

Mom’s eyes were large and frightened as she looked at Daddy Kyle for answers, and Valerie was sure her own eyes were also.

“Kyle?”  Mom sputtered, “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, it’s the goddam FHA… er,” Kyle looked at both Mom and Valerie and appeared to finally register the big scared eyes.  “Um, it is something we should discuss later.  Not in front of the Princess.”

Uncle Dash suddenly quieted himself as well.  “Yeah, um… we’re not done yet, Kyle.  But I promised Dad I would look after all of it before he died.  I am not going to go back on my word.  We’ll find a way.  I just wish you hadn’t accepted those last two loans.”

“It takes money to farm, Dash.  You know I didn’t plan on the hail or the combine breaking down so soon.”

“Hell, I know you didn’t, Kyle.  We will find a way.”

Uncle Dash looked grim.  Daddy Kyle looked sad.   Valerie walked up to him and hugged him around the middle.  She didn’t know why, but she knew it was a very important thing to do just then.  And Mom was looking at her and nodding ever so slightly.  Not everything Valerie did was wrong.

Leave a comment

Filed under daughters, farming, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

Double Portrait in the Nude

I did a double-duty pen and ink illustration of two nude girls in a PG-13 sort of mode. It is not intended to be pornography. It is also not intended to draw viewers to my blog just because I happened to notice an uptick in views whenever I put a nude in an art post. I wouldn’t do that… would I? At least, not in a way that you could prove that was my intent.

There is an actual plan for using this drawing. It could work as an illustration for one or two or even three of my novels. You could argue that these are the twin-sister nudists, Sherry and Shelly Cobble from the book Recipes for Gingerbread Children. Here is the link if you want to read it to prove me wrong; https://www.amazon.com/Recipes-Gingerbread-Children-Michael-Beyer-ebook/dp/B07KQTMN7R/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=154752An0896&sr=8-1&keywords=michael+beyer+books+recipes+for+gingerbread+children

Notice, you can get it for one dollar on Kindle, or free with Amazon Prime membership.

They could also be used as an illustration for one of the fairy stories, representing the two nude Storybook fairies, Gretel and Anneliese. They also appear in Recipes, as well as potential appearances in future fairy stories.

Anyway, I have already gone and done it, posting this picture I drew today, to give you a good look at either Shelly or Anneliese’s shapely behind. I won’t make the mistake of posting it on Facebook.

Leave a comment

Filed under artwork, fairies, humor, illustrations, nudes, Paffooney

When the Captain Came Calling… Canto 11

Canto Eleven – Clubhouse Craziness

Two days had passed since the magic cat had given Valerie the strange wooden statue.  Now, it sat on the crate that served as a table in the middle of the Ghost House.  The newly re-formed Pirates were all there.

“I think it’s called a Tiki idol,” said Pidney.

“How do you know that, Polack?” sneered Conrad Doble.

“It looks kinda like the ones in the Tiki Bird Show at Disneyland,” said Pidney sheepishly, “Mom and Dad took me there when I was twelve.”

“Didja like the show?” asked Doble.  “The singing birdies and everything?”

“Yeah,” said Pidney matter-of-factly, “I have always loved everything by Disney.”

Both Valerie and Mary Philips smiled at him.  Pidney was always gonna have a lot of the little boy he used to be in him.

“It reminds me of the book you were telling me about, Mary,” said Ray Zeffer.

“What book?” asked Pidney.

“Ray was there when I showed the book to Mr. Salcom.  He’s in my Modern Novel Class third period.  It’s the book about the last voyage to the South Seas.”

“The one your Uncle Noah gave you,” added Ray.

“Noah Dettbarn is NOT my uncle.  He’s just a family friend.”

“Did your Uncle come to visit you recently?” asked Danny Murphy.  “Since he came home again, I mean?”

“He’s NOT my…  Oh, never mind.   It came in the mail a month ago.  It’s where I got those stories I was telling you about, Pid.”

“Oh, yeah.   The stories that you’re gonna share with us to become the Merlin of the Pirates,” said Pidney.

Valerie admired the way Pidney’s eyes sparkled when he talked about stuff that excited him.  And Mary’s stories were always something that excited him, no matter where she got them from.  Mary’s eldest half-brother, Branch McMillan wrote lots of fantastic stories full of lies and jokes and other nonsense.  A lot of that had rubbed off on Mary.

“So, you have a magic book after all?  Like old Milt Morgan had?”  Conrad Doble looked at Mary with an accusing stare that made Val want to punch him in the ear.

“Well, it’s not a magic book.  It’s a ship’s log book.  It has latitudes and longitudes in it, sonar readings, and some stories about what Captain Noah Dettbarn has been up to that are either huge honking lies, or the most fantastic things that ever happened to someone from Iowa.”

“Cool.  You have the book with you?” asked Doble.

“Not yet.  I’ll bring it to the next meeting.  I have to read all the stories myself first,” Mary said.

Doble squinted at Mary.  Valerie thought that must either mean that old King Leer didn’t believe her, or that his tiny brain was being squeezed too tightly by all the information Mary had just given him.  Surely it was the latter thing.

“What are we gonna do with the Tiki-thing?” asked Pidney.

“You really got it from a magic cat?” Ray asked Valerie.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s a magic cat, exactly.  It’s that ugly white alley cat that lives behind the Main Street businesses, by the water tower.  Crazy old Miss Haire asked me to go talk to it.”

“And did it talk back?” sneered Conrad Doble.

Pidney and Ray both glared at Doble, apparently not liking the tone of voice he used with Valerie.   But it was pretty much the same ugly tone he used with everybody.

“Um… It talked to me… yes.”

“But I didn’t hear it,” said Danny.   “Only Val has the witch ears that crazy old Miss Haire was talking about.”

“Witch ears?” asked Mary.

“She calls it the knowing,” answered Valerie.  “She says it is using all your senses to tell you more than any one thing can tell you by itself.”

“That’s real dog poop!” growled Doble.

“Miss Haire is rather eccentric,” said Mary, “but I believe she’s a good person at heart.  Did she say anything about the Tiki idol?”

“We talked to her before we got the idol,” said Val.  “We didn’t see her or talk to her afterwards.”

“Well, I think we should look up more about it in the library,” said Mary.  “Val, isn’t your aunt the head librarian?”

“My Mom’s sister, Aunt Alice, yes.”

“Can you, Pidney, and I meet in the library tomorrow afternoon?”

“You bet!”  Val liked the idea of looking stuff up with Pidney.  Using his football muscles to pull books off shelves and turn encyclopedia pages really appealed to a girl who liked to see football muscles in use and up close.

So, it was settled.  The Captain’s log book would be the magic book that sealed the New Norwall Pirates, and Valerie would get to do research with two of her favorite people on Earth all because of a silly little wooden-headed man in a grass skirt and a very ugly mask.

Leave a comment

Filed under humor, lying, magic, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

The Bare Necessity

I intend to to spend a lot of time in this essay talking about Twitter nudists, but that is not what this essay is about. A rather large amount of the meaning behind all of this has more to do with setting priorities, what things to pursue, and what things to abandon.


A lot of my time on Twitter is filled with tweets by nudists, authors who write about nudists, Russian video artists, and Tom Hiddleston fans. I do not fully understand the connections between those things.

If I manage to stay alive long enough to see the next Avengers movie, and hopefully even beyond that, then I am going to have to budget my time and moderate my efforts towards certain endeavors. Does that mean I intend to give up all association with nudists? Or possibly twitter?

Of course not. I am simply not that smart. To give up on Twitter, I mean. It is an ungodly waste of time. It is a media of questionable value to me because I have achieved no measurable marketing value as a writer from it. I have learned a lot about actual nudists and naturists from it. I have made connections with naturist authors and thinkers and other websites through Twitter. I have even learned how valuable some young women and men find pictures and .gifs of Tom Hiddleston with his shirt off and smiling. I am not sure I understand it. But I have learned the obsession is very real.

This is an example of a nudist Tweet from Twitter that I get daily in my feed.

And I have come to accept, to a degree that nudism is a good thing. It is way of life that has good effects on the people who participate in it. They have more confidence in themselves. They are definitely firm in their beliefs about most things. They are positive. And they get enough vitamin D from sunshine to be happy most of the time, and are rarely depressed. I wish I had embraced nudism when I had the chance back in the 1980’s. I might have been happier and healthier than I am now. And even now they are a very accepting group of people, willing to welcome me even when I am old and weathered and covered in psoriasis plaques and sores. They are almost as inclusive as Tom Hiddleston fans. But I don’t actually know why his fans want to fill my Twitter feed every day with Loki’s face.

But I said this essay was really about setting priorities. And, like the video suggests, I have to be willing to let go of things. I have to adapt to circumstances and stop doing things that don’t really help me. I have to finish more of my long list of projects. I have to focus.

Drawing nudes that are not sexual or erotic in nature has long been an obsession with me. Anatomy drawing is essential to learning to draw believable figures… even cartoon figures.

Uber driving is on my list of things to evaluate and possibly discard. It does not pay well. The accident I had last August was a difficult financial blow as well as an effective confidence-shaker. The penalties for Uber driving become apparent at tax time because they don’t take care of withholding like other employers are required to. So there is extra money to pay at tax time. I will undoubtedly have to continue Uber driving for a while simply because I now have another large tax bill to pay on top of the expenses that go along with the sin of being in poor health. But I will work into the plan a decisive step of quitting Uber when I can and finding other sources of income.

I also have to finish things I have started.

Look for the BARE NECESSITIES, the simple bare necessities… forget about your worries and your strife…

I have to finish paying taxes. I have to finish rebuilding the retaining wall in the yard. I have to finish driving for Uber to make money. I have absolutely no problem finishing writing projects, considering all the novels I have published in the last three years. And I definitely need to finish this essay.

So, what have I decided to give up? Twitter? Twitter nudists? No. I might give up following rabid Tom Hiddleston fans, though.

6 Comments

Filed under goofy thoughts, humor, insight, nudes, Paffooney, strange and wonderful ideas about life

Hidden Kingdom (Chapter 2 adding page 17)

If you would like to see the complete Chapter 1, it can be found at this link; https://catchafallingstarbook.net/2018/11/24/hidden-kingdom-chapter-1-complete/

1 Comment

Filed under comic strips, fairies, Hidden Kingdom, humor, Paffooney

Humor from Beyond the Grave

Being dead is not all down-side. There is a certain amount of goodness to be found in the fact of being already dead.

I know some of this morbid thinking comes about simply because I am facing my own mortality and lingering about in bed most of the time in pain and waiting for a heart-attack or a stroke to put the fireworks into the finale. It is not because I desperately need to get out and drive for Uber to make all the pennies I can for taxes and medical bills and can’t yet do so because of arthritis and diabetes and fear of fainting behind the wheel. I can live with that. It is about preparing and facing the final curtain with as much grace as a fool can.

Of course, the greatest boon that death grants is that it brings an end to suffering. My joints will no longer be on fire and blazing with pain (assuming there isn’t a Hell capable of delivering torments beyond what we get a heaping helping of during life.) I will not have to worry about medical bills and hospital bill collectors any longer. Not that the same can be said of my loved ones. But I myself will no longer have the capacity to think and worry about paying for my many sins of poor health and being sick. In fact, I will be spared a number of things that eat at me while I am alive.

I will not have to watch any more Adam Sandler movies.

I will not have to consider anything that is said on Fox News (unless, of course, Hell is real and they have cable TV there… Because, well, what else would be on?)

And no more of this guy! But I need to check on that no Hell thing. And if there is one, and he is headed there soon for all eternity, I might have to figure out some spiritual hack to get into Heaven.

If there is a Hell, though, it will be like Mark Twain once alluded to. The weather will suck, but the most interesting company to keep will all be there.

And it is a proven fact that writers and other artists make more money after they are dead than they did while they are alive. Think of how much money Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, J.R.R. Tolkien, and John Steinbeck have made selling books since they passed away. Edgar Allen Poe died a pauper like me, but his books continue to be sold and made into movies. And then there’s Maurice Hampton Greenblatt. You never heard of him, right? That is because he never wrote and published anything. (Although it also might have something to do with the fact that he is not a real person, and I made him up for this essay.)

Being dead will be like having written the final chapter in your last book about living life. You will close the book and simply be done… once and for all time. There is a certain satisfaction to be had if your life story has, at the very least, been an interesting story. And there is the whole becoming-a-ghost-writer thing to think about. People will still be able to read my words after I am dead. And who knows? The story may continue. There is a lady who writes classical music for dead composers. She has Schubert and Liszt and Beethoven whispering in her ear. Maybe I can find some goofy kid somewhere to start whispering my stories to.

Leave a comment

Filed under artwork, autobiography, goofy thoughts, grumpiness, humor, illness, Paffooney, satire, self pity

Random Acts of Artisticalness

Yes, I know it is not a real word. But it should be. It means an excuse for sharing stuff I have drawn, colored, and/or created because I have this sense of being an artist despite all evidence to the contrary. (Take note of this fact; art has never directly made me money, only helped me to do numerous other things, like being a teacher, that did.)

………………

………………

………………

””””””””””’…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

…. …. ……. …. ….. …. …. …. …… …….. … So, I guess you get the idea. Making pictures is a part of my life. I can’t help it. I do what I do because it represents what is inside me constantly burning to get out. There are all kinds of stories that go with each and every one of these pictures. Fiction stories, true stories, somewhat true stories, dreams, nightmares, and sometimes just plain imagination. Story + Picture = Paffooney. You have been thoroughly Paffoonied for today.

1 Comment

Filed under artwork, humor, Paffooney