
The 1957 Pink and White Mercury of Imagination
I have so many ideas for posts that I have to pause for a minute and sort through them so I don’t get so busy writing I forget something that is a very good idea. So, I intend to write today about things I am planning to post.
Sunday I wrote part one of “Why Do You Think That?” It was specifically about the insane notion that “All kids are good kids”. The kind of thing only a weird old retired teacher could believe. There needs to be at least a part two. I have some other weird beliefs to defend. “Even we atheists need religion” is one. “Everybody is a nudist under their clothes” is another. “Conservatives and Liberals are different animals” is another that might get me killed.

I wrote a blog post before about accepting entries in an inter-stellar bad-poetry-writing contest. I have an insane urge to put some of my own ridiculously bad and morally indefensible poetry in that contest. There is enough of that to seriously challenge for the worst poet in the galaxy title.
I have also been doing some colored-pencil artwork that I want to talk about the process of the making of it and show you the work in stages of progress. That is a way a blogger can make more out of nothing.
Trump is trying hard to take over my blog with clownish buffoonery, but, of course, I am trying to get away from doing that all the time. The Great Orange Face is certainly an easy mark for something to make fun of. But I can’t keep up with other political humorists. I am too dedicated to avoiding insult humor to deal with a clown that invites you so enticingly to throw pies at his face. He does it so often, and I have already thrown so many pies… that my arms are about to fall off.
After a particularly bad night of vomiting and breathing problems, I am once again thinking about writing about death and the extinction of the whole human race. Playing checkers with the Grim Reaper is an unusual source for humorous blogs, but I have enough inside information and first hand experience to turn it into a wild board game played on a roller coaster at midnight.

Yes, I am randomly re-visiting illustrations from my picture file.
I am currently writing a comedy horror novel called The Baby Werewolf. It is a story I have been working on for twenty years. It challenges my very skills as a surrealist. There should be plenty of things to complain about in this blog along the way. I know you probably aren’t interested in that. But I am. And don’t tell anybody this, but I don’t write this blog for you, the reader. I write it for me. It makes me laugh and it makes me cry and it gives form and permanence to the never-ending dialogue going on in my head.
So, as I approach the 500 word mark, this blog stands revealed as a writer’s road map. If you are one of those readers who actually reads the whole blog and don’t just click “like” after looking at the pictures, then you know what sorts of things to avoid in the future with this goofy old blog thing.



































The Be-Bop Beat of Mickey’s Brain
Truthfully, when I look back at the string of posts in the picket fence of this daily blog, I fail to see the overall map of it in any semblance of pattern or order. Honestly, I did not set out to be purposefully wacky.
I did, however, set out to be purposefully surreal. I mean it, I consciously put bizarrely dissimilar things together in an attempt to find parallels and connections in unlike things because, not only is it funny and surprising, but is a comic act that serves to keep the mind nimble and never numb. I do think quite a lot. And I try to see connections between things where others wouldn’t. For instance, the Coppertone girl with her bare butt and Bullwinkle with his unicycle are both being threatened in a way that is both comic, and taking advantage of their inherent image of innocence. Neither will lose anything by it. The girl stands to brown her pale white behind in the sun, while Bullwinkle will probably land on his head and it will make a decent cushion to preserve him because of it’s empty and rubbery qualities.
I must also admit to a bit of the old telling of stretchers, the misrepresentation of the truth, the loquacious layer-onner of lies. Not Trumpian lies that land on you like elephants dropped like bombs out of B-52’s. Instead, fictions that entertain and elucidate. It is the most likely reason I keep saying connecting words and phrases like “truthfully” and “honestly” and “I mean it”. Those are words that liars love.
Yes fiction writers like me tell little white lies.
I have now published my novel Recipes for Gingerbread Children. It is a novel based on real people I have known and loved and listened to. It is about an old German woman, a survivor of WWII concentration camps, who loves to tell stories to children and bake gingerbread cookies, especially gingerbread men. It features a pair of teenage nudist girls who believe in going completely naked whenever you are indoors, even if you are in someone else’s house. It features Nazis, both in flashback and ghostly forms. It also features fairies from the Hidden Kingdom of Tellosia, a fairy kingdom filled with little three-inch tall magical people living under our very noses. And it has a werewolf in it, though admittedly a very young one. It is a comedy with its requisite sad parts, and it is definitely an example of surrealism. It is also full of lies… err, I mean fiction.
But the real purpose of this supposedly be-bop brain fart in blog-post form is not so much to explain my blog (because how do you explain a blog that goes from Flashbacks and Foobah to telling about Madman Trump to Another novel part… #37 to Centaurs to a book and movie review, to this eccentric and eclectic thing, which probably exists more to make alliteration jokes than anything else in the most musical beat I can bang out?) but to prove that I do often think about thinking and how things fit together and what it all means… and how to write a run-on sentence that adds to the effect rather than simply annoys. And, yeah, I’m doing that. And it feels like a good thing to do.
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Tagged as goofiness, humor, justification for blogging, Metacognition