Tag Archives: goofy thoughts

Who Am I?

space cowboy23

“Who am I?” the Walrus said,

“I have to know before I’m dead.

And if the Cosmos will not say,

I’ll ask again another day.”

“You are a simple Disney clone,”

Said Cosmos when we were alone.

“You draw and color with your brain,

And tell some stories despite the strain.”

class Miss Mcover

“You taught a while in the Monkey House,

And learned that students like to grouse,

But in the end will love your class

And will give you medals made of brass.”


“And your poems are filled with Angel words,

Both quite profound and yet absurd,

Because your mind soars far away

On winds of wild romantic play.”

“I guess that I can live with that,”

Said Walrus as he grew quite fat.

“And Mickey is the name I write

To sign my pictures in the light.

And that is all I have to say

To write myself in the crazy way.”


Filed under humor, Paffooney, poetry, Uncategorized

Me, Myself, and It


I think it is provably true that any time an artist creates a work of art, it is actually a self-portrait.  Did you see the works of Thomas Kinkade and Paul Detlafsen in my recent posts?  Can I not effectively argue that those paintings give you a glimpse of the real person behind the paintbrush?  Was Norman Rockwell not the man portrayed in all those lovely down-home, truly American oils he did?  Was Theodor Giesel not also Dr. Seuss?  Then I look back at some of the goofy pictures that I have created through the years and think, “Oh no!  What have I done?”  I sometimes think I don’t have to post nude selfies of myself for people to see me naked.  Should I really have done that…?  …Of course, I should!  And that means I have seen William Shakespeare naked too!  Good Golly!  I have to quit thinking these goofy thoughts!


Filed under cartoons, goofy thoughts, humor, Paffooney

Baring the Soul of Creativity

CreativitySo, I finished the Paffooney pencil drawing that I was working on to illustrate my struggles with the creative act.  I can noodle on the piano to some effect, but I cannot play Chopin’s Prelude in E Minor the way the boy (or is it a girl?) in the picture is doing it.  What I can do is create a symphony of words and pictures that reveal my inner self as thoroughly as if I were performing naked in front of the audience.  So what you see here is not the real naked me.  It is, rather, my naked thoughts, my soul, the beauty that is hidden inside my hideously aged and peeling flesh.  Inside my mind is beauty and rhythm and rhyme…  On the inside you can see what is there without the usual patina of pain and depression and pessimistic pondering.  I have explained the naked piano player, but you may be wondering still about the butterfly.  You see, long ago when I was a butterfly hunter, I longed to catch the tiger swallowtail that flitted about our back yard and played about the neighbors’ hollyhocks.  It was a very elusive butterfly, you see.  Monarchs and red admirals, mourning cloaks, fritillaries, painted ladies, and even spicebush swallowtails I had captured and mounted in my butterfly box.  But never the tiger.  He always seem to flit too high above my net at the last moment.  I would see him towards the tops of towering maples, but rarely within reach, and never long enough to grab him in my net.  So, one day, I was sitting under the little maple in the back yard, reading a book, when the tiger swallowtail came to light on the back of the hand I used to hold my book.  Now, I could have grabbed him right there.  I would have been victorious.  But in clapping my left hand over him to capture him, his wing dust might have smeared, or his lovely wings might’ve cracked and broken.  I had to make an instant decision.  I chose to let him flutter away.  I did not crush the butterfly, and so… my life, my art, my inner self have all benefited.  To this day I can say… “I did not crush the butterfly” and that has made me who I am.


Filed under Uncategorized