How Does Mickey Justify This?

Swashbuckling mice fighting racist weasels? Why?

There’s something really wrong with this guy.

And what does this oil painting signify? It’s called “The Madonna of the Golden Door.” But the door is obviously made of brown wood, surrounded by all the gold paint the doofy artist could afford at the time.

And is this a painting of a naked young girl, or a shirtless boy with long hair? And how can there be an ocean in the background if the painting was done in Iowa, as far away from the ocean in every direction as you can get in North America?

And no explanation of this is worth the time it would take to explain.

Are they green because they are aliens? Or do they just eat too many leafy vegetables?

One of the models in this picture didn’t show up to pose for this picture… but his clothes did?

So, maybe this post is geared toward artworks that Mickey doesn’t reveal very often because they show some of his mistakes and tendency to bad judgments. Yeah,, that’ll do, unless he decides to tell us the real reasons at some later time.

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Lately I have been having memory troubles. You know what I mean, when you walk through a doorway with a definite purpose in mind.and then, on reaching the other room, you have no earthly idea what that purpose was. It happens to me regularly. In fact, I can even start writing a sentences, and then I… What was I talking about? Oh, yes. I need to practice writing some more spectacularly bad poetry, before I forget how to do it.

Why did I use this picture? I don’t know. I have forgotten.



My mind slips out of my left ear…

And I can’t remember things.

So, I have to search under the table…

To find my mind…

And then I remember that that’s not how a mind works.



Tell me now, before I forget…

What was I supposed to remember?

Was it something religious, important, and good…

That comes towards the end of December?

Was I supposed to buy something for somebody then?

I wrote a note to myself in September…

Oh, gosh! How could I ever forget that?

Now the fire is nothing but embers.


Finding Fairies in my Hair

Why do I have elflocks all snarled up in my hair?

Surely some fairies have been twisting it up there.’

But if I can catch one and make him confess,

He claims I don’t comb it, and that’s why it’s a mess.


Doofy Me

If I forget everything I ever knew,

Would it be possible that I am still smarter than you?

Old Socrates said he knew nothing at all.

And so he asked questions from Winter through Fall.

I hope I retain enough brain to remember

That everyone needs to wear clothes in December.


Yep, I still obviously remember how to write spectacularly bad poetry. It is my contribution to literature. Virtually all poets will be able to say, “At the very least, I am a better poet than Beyer.”


Filed under autobiography, goofy thoughts, humor, Paffooney, poem, poetry

Consecutive Daily Post #587

This is a new and better photo of an old colored-pencil picture. Yes, there are copyrighted characters in this multi-portrait, but I am not making any money at all with this post, so I am not violating anybody’s copyright.

This is the 587th consecutive day of Mickey posting at least one post on this danged old Catch a Falling Star thingy. That is not a record or even a milestone. I have reached this point at least twice before.

This is an oil painting you haven’t seen in a long time on this blog, though this is also a new and better photo of it.

A year ago in September, I lost my mother to heart and kidney problems that conspired to defeat her doctors and bring an end to her consecutive run of 87 years of being alive. I kept writing and posting all during that time because it helped in many ways. In two consecutive years, I lost both of my parents, my Dad in 2020 and my Mom in 2021. I had a lot of memories to process as well as an inheritance and all the stages of grief. The time I spent writing resulted in two books, Laughing Blue and Mickey’s Rememberries, that contained all of it… I mean most of it… err, maybe just some important parts of it. And I had them both published before my mother died, though she never got to read either one.

This is basically a portrait of my daughter, the Princess, though it was drawn more than a decade before she was born. It is based on a dream. I don’t expect you to believe any of that. And that is because it is often hard to take the truth of things at face value. Truth is only an idea after all.

I am beginning to be noticed as a writer. It is painfully slow, only a dollar or two at a time, but real. People are actually reading my books without being paid to do it. And a few of them even like the stories. I now have 21 books written. I have #22 written, but not yet published. I also have #23, a novella, only two chapters from finished. And I have started both #24 and #25 already. And the potential is there… but it is also a good thing that I don’t depend on writing for income.

This is a picture of daily life in a sealed environment on Mars, created in 1980 with a pencil and paper.

I have managed in 65 years to create some evidence that I can do art in a couple of different forms with intelligence and humor (though I’m sure there are some readers who would strongly dispute that I have either quality in any amount at all.) It is enough. I may not be the superstar I once dreamed of being. But I have learned that I wouldn’t want to be that anyway. Being an ordinary unrecognized genius is good enough to justify a life.


Filed under artwork, autobiography, happiness, humor, Paffooney

Just Write Something, Mickey

“Lately Mickey hasn’t been doing much of any writing on his work in progress. I, a professional Professor of knowing practically everything and knowing most of it wrongly, am here to give the hopeless goofy guy some much needed advice. Of course, I shall offer that advice incognatively… err, incontranatively… err… anonymously because Disney enjoys suing schoolteachers and other criminals who misuse their intellectual property.”

“But I can’t help myself when it comes to giving opinions on stuff that ain’t really my business but fascistinates… err, fusstinates… err… highly interests me. So, here goes.”

“Write about something Over the Rainbow. I mean your imagination is really garganteelian… err… gigantickingly… err… really pretty big. You can make up something being about made-up worlds, witches who fly around in soap bubbles and other such nonsensical things. Maybe talking scarecrows and heartless metal guys and really big kitty cats… make a story with something beautiful and imaginative, though maybe not as beautiful as that Judy Garland chick… she was really georgeous… err… magnifical… err… really hot-looking! But she is so old she is dead now. So, you can’t put her in the film version of what you write.”

“Or you could write something extra creepy. Something totally like the Addams Family. You’ve got a talent for writing stuff that seems extra morbeedious… err… mackahbreebrious… err… extra spooky. You can turn peoples’ stomachs inside out and make them feel all gooey in their courageousness because of weird evilness and dark happenstances… err… murderiferous scenarios… err scary stuff. It helps that you can be funny here and there when you scare us. You can be totally spooky-ooky in your stories and sometimes you make us sharpen wooden stakes and make necklaces of garlic. Do an Uncle Fester shtick. Of course, Jackie Coogan is so old he is dead now, so you can’t use him in your film version.”

“Or there is always the absolutely romantical… like a story about a three hour cruise where funny guys get shipwrecked on a desserted island with girls that wear bikinis where you don’t see the cutie’s belly button. And “desserted” is the right word because the dessert is actually coconut-cream pie. But you are good at writing about faskinating… err… interesstrial… err… attention-requiring young women and really dorky guys and how they can fit together like puzzle pieces that you don’t even have to use scissors to make them fit together. Romantical comedy is a thing you can do too. So, we don’t even need to talk about Dawn Wells who played Mary Ann. You couldn’t cast her in the movie version because you’re still sad about Covid having taken her away in 2020.”

“But anyway, you got no excuses now, Mickey! You know you can write It’s just getting anybody to read the danged thing you can’t do. So, write something!!!”

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Filed under humor, goofy thoughts, new projects, writing, writing humor, novel writing

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

It is, of course, one of the most powerful, masterful, and best-known pieces of music ever written.

Mozart completed the “little serenade” in Vienna in 1787, but it wasn’t published until 1827, long after Mozart’s untimely death.

The Serenade is incorrectly translated into English as “A Little Night Music”. But this is and always has been the way I prefer to think of it. A creation of Mozart written shortly before he hopped aboard the ferryman’s boat and rode off into the eternal night. It is the artifact that proves the art of the master who even has the word “art” as a part of his name. A little music to play on after the master is gone to prove his universal connection to the great silent symphony that is everything in the universe singing silently together.

It is basically what I myself am laboring now to do. I have been dancing along the edge of the abyss of poverty, suffering, and death since I left my teaching job in 2014. I will soon be taking my own trip into night aboard the ferryman’s dreaded boat. And I feel the need to put my own art out there in novel and cartoon form before that happens.

I am not saying that I am a master on the level of a Mozart. My name is not Mickart. But I do have a “key’ in the name Mickey. And it will hopefully unlock something worthwhile for my family and all those I loved and leave behind me. And hopefully, it will provide a little night music to help soothe the next in line behind me at the ferryman’s dock.

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Filed under artwork, cartoons, classical music, commentary, feeling sorry for myself, Hidden Kingdom, magic, metaphor, music, Paffooney

AeroQuest 5… Canto 144 (revised)

Canto 144 – Raising the Walls

Outpost was abuzz with activity.  The airless world had only limited defense from attack, but that was swiftly changing.  The primary protection had always been the secret of its location.  As an airless world, the surface could easily be lasered or bombarded with no atmosphere to interfere with the destructive force. 

But now a new technology had arisen from an unexpected source.  Tron had ordered the mirror fields raised, hoping that some laser fire could be reflected into the surrounding darkness.  This, by itself would’ve been very little help from the orbital bombardments that Admiral Tang’s military space fleets were capable of.  But his little Peri Space-Elf friend, Hassan, had invented nanite armor that could adjust instantly into whatever weapon or defense system the wearer could command.  And he had recruited the silicon-based alien lifeform known as the Lazerstone Collective to wear this incredible morphing armor as the Lazerstone Marines.

Lazerstone then raised a million alien troops from the harmonic stones the planet Outpost was amply blessed with.  They practiced relentlessly with the new armor, when the original Lazerstone suggested they use more of the harmonic stone to raise and lower mirror-defense walls for protection against beam weapons and diamond force dissipation shields against all physical and nuclear attacks using the nanite technology to create the walls.

 It was an amazingly effective defensive weapon.  The original Lazerstone could raise and lower walls to counter the practice attacks of ace pilots Elvis the Cruel and Apache Scout.  He did this with the skill and style of a master pianist playing the best of Mozart on the piano.

“I’m beginning to feel like we have a chance to win when Tang shows up,” said Tron.

“It is looking good on the defensive side, I have to admit,” said Admiral King Killer.  “But whether or not we can get the space forces coordinated and capable of fighting is another problem all together.”

“What’s the problem, King?”

“Well, we have all these dinosaur-shaped starships built with the Ancient technology that Frieda provided from the new shipyards in Don’t Go Here.  And they’re massively powerful, but the rookies flying them are practically hopeless as pilots, let alone space warriors.”

“What about the Nebulons and the Lupin corsairs?”

“They can be a bit of a hassle too.  The Space Smurfs have those living space-whale cruisers, and other space-fish-shaped crafts that are actual creatures too.  And they don’t cotton too well to the giant dinosaur-looking things they have to fly near.  The poor Nebulons have had to deal with some of their spaceships having complete panic attacks.”

“And the Lupins?”

“Effective fighters in small packs against solitary vessels, but completely chaotic when you try to get them to coordinate with other non-Lupin fleets.”

“We are old veteran star fighters, you and I, King.  We get out there in the glorious heat of battle, we can defeat any enemy that rises against us.  Just like the old days.”

“In the old days we had nothing to lose.  We fought every battle like we would be killed to the last man.  And we did get our behinds licked by the Faceless Horde before we left Pan Galactican space.”

“Yeah, well…  There was too much we just didn’t know about that enemy.  You know we killed a lot more of them than we ever thought we did.  They were just evaporating when they died.”

“Yeah, there’s that.  But this could be the final battle this time.  And we might not live to have a next one.”

“Don’t worry, my friend.  It may be the end.  But we’ll give them a fight they won’t soon regret… err, I mean, forget!”

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Filed under aliens, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, science fiction

Humble Pie

The difference between who you want to be and who you are is humbling.

The recipe for humble pie requires good, clear eyesight.

And you need a reliable mirror that only shows the flaws in the reflected image, not in the mirror itself.

And you need to look at every detail in the whole of you. Even the secret things that you tend to conceal from everybody, especially yourself.

And writing a novel, if you do it right, is a form of baking humble pie.

The good and the not-so-good is reflected in reviews, which are often written with mirrors that have flaws.

But what you see, if you are honest with yourself, can show you that, even though you are far from perfect, you are exactly what you are supposed to be.

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Filed under artwork, autobiography, commentary, empathy, feeling sorry for myself, irony, Paffooney, self portrait, strange and wonderful ideas about life

Wrapped in Sunshine

Wrapped in sunshine, things are always better.

Artificial light simply does not compare.

Nudists like me are happiest when the only clothing we are wearing is sunshine.

Kids are prone to love being naked outdoors,

But they do tend to think what their parents teach them to think.

And their parents usually think nudists are dangerous…

Or just plain crazy.

But Sunshine can be an idea. What we former English teachers call a metaphor.

Today’s Lesson on the first day of Kindergarten… because Mickey is in his second childhood.

Having sunshine in your mind is a way of thinking that can benefit you better than you know.

Sunshine in your mind can simply be happy thoughts. And, remember, happy thoughts could make Peter Pan fly!

So, wrap yourself in Sunshine… And light up the world!

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Filed under battling depression, foolishness, goofy thoughts, healing, health, philosophy, poetry

Debussy Reverie

Some Sunday thoughts require the right music.

Some Sunday thoughts actually are music.




  • 1.a state of being pleasantly lost in one’s thoughts; a daydream:”a knock on the door broke her reverie

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I had originally thought to call this post “A Walk with God.” But that would probably offend my Christian friends and alienate my Jehovah’s Witness wife. It would bother my intellectual atheist friends too. Because they know I claim to be a Christian Existentialist, in other words, “an atheist who believes in God.” Agnostics are agnostics because they literally know they don’t know what is true and what is merely made up by men. And not knowing offends most people in the Western world.

But Debussy’s Reverie is a quiet walk in the sacred woods, the forest of as-yet-uncovered truths.

And that is what I need today. A quiet walk in the woods… when no literal woods are available.

I have apparently survived the Covid pandemic. But this pandemic has been hard on me. Having had the Omicron variant, I am left without the strength I once had even though I am fully vaccinated. I have lost the power to be a substitute teacher, a job I love. The loss of the ability to teach in any form still drives me to tears. I am a prisoner in my room at home most days. My soul is in darkness, knowing that the end could be right around the corner. There is so much left to do, to say, to write down for those who come after so they can fail to read any of it and reinforce the cruel irony that informs the universe. I have stories and lessons and morals and meanings to give the world still if only someone is willing to listen.

I am not afraid to die. I have no regrets. But I have been in a reverie about what has been in the past, what might have been, and what yet may be… if only I am granted the time.

And, as always, I feel like I have more writing yet to do. I am about to finish The Education of PoppenSparkle. And I have started He Rose on a Golden Wing, The Haunted Toystore, and AeroQuest 5. And I have stories beyond that to complete if I may.

But the most important thing right now is having time to think. Time for Reverie. And reflections upon the great symphony of life as it continues to play on… with or without me.

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Filed under artwork, healing, health, insight, Paffooney, religion


If you know anything about my sports obsessions, you know that I am a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals since the 1960s. Yes, the Cardinals of Bob Gibson, the pitcher, Lou Brock the base-stealer, Tim McCarver the Catcher, Mike Shannon, Orlando Cepeda, and Curt Flood.

And I cheered for them for decades, several World Series years, some won, some lost.

But in 2011 Albert Pujols led the team to a World Series win, the last time that happened.

Pujols left the Cardinals for a time, as a matter of more money for his amazing feats of baseball.

But now he is back. And he is ending his career with the Cardinals on a high note. Home runs number 699 and 700 were hit in consecutive at-bats against the Los Angeles Dodgers, the winningest team in baseball this season. I am in orbit. Only Barry Bonds, Hank Aaron, and Babe Ruth have hit more in a career.

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Filed under autobiography, baseball, baseball fan, cardinals