Tag Archives: nonsense


Ima mickey33

I’m a Mickey, yes, indeedy…


Chicken-ninja throwing stars,

Hit their targets thrown from Mars…


And when the pandas drive their cars,

Their tire treads are candy bars!

Take that truth from me!

Animal Town212


Being a Mickey is a rabbity thing…

As if it were Bugs who taught us to sing,

And unmusical music we all start to bring…

Because we use only the words that we know!


castle carrot

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Filed under goofy thoughts, humor, Mickey, Paffooney, Paffooney cartoony, poetry, rabbit people

Wordless Christmas Post

tree time_ginger

This is a wordless Christmas post.

Oops!  I shouldn’t have explained.  Okay, a six-word Christmas post.

Wait a minute, I didn’t count those words…

Seventeen words, then… urm… Twenty-seven… Twenty-nine… Is a hyphenated compound two words or one?  Dang it!

Okay… a too-many words Christmas post.

Have another picture to look at while I sort this out.



Filed under humor, Paffooney, Uncategorized

Wild Rides in My Own Head

road trip

Of late I have encountered many roadblocks on the road to creativity.  Illness gets in the way.  It is hard to think when I have too much arthritis pain.  I have a hard time composing anything on days like yesterday when my blood sugar is out of whack.  I haven’t been chased by car-driving crocodiles in red fright-wigs and green race cars.  At least, not while I was awake.  I am trying to follow a writing schedule that has me editing a novel for a contest in April, writing two other novels simultaneously, a set of short stories, and this daily blog that I am trying to average 500 words per day in every day  (and succeeding now for roughly 41 straight days) (some days I write less words, but some days I go way over the stated limit).  I end up squeezing the toothpaste tube of new ideas from both ends until the big wad in the middle finally bursts and gets white gobbets of creative-idea paste on everything in the room.  I will admit that I mangle a metaphor or two, and give meaning to random blobs of description merely for the sake of adding more words.  And what is this bit about, then?  Clearly I am thinking about how I think and it is not a pretty sight.  Sometimes my children bounce out of the rumble seat towards the river of man-eating fish, and I have to depend on the odd three-eyed alien tootling along in a space-doughnut to catch him or her in the nick of time.  But sometimes, too, I am the rabbit, calmly watching from the sidelines hoping not to get run over but too fascinated to look away from the slap-dash slap-stick chase scene that is my actual life.  This particular bit of tooth-paste squeezing is known as free writing, where I just keep stringing words and phrases together for as long as I can keep my aching fingers from falling off.  I make corrections as I go, but there is no outline here, no discernible pattern, and very little logical coherence.  Like the picture Paffooney, once it gets started, it just goes.  And goes and goes.  I have bounced over broken bridges and landed squarely on the pavement on the other side more than once of late.  I paid the tax on the house and managed to remain a homeowner for another year.  I fought off numerous bill-collecting crocodiles set on me by credit-card banks who are after me to pay off mountains of accumulated debt and interest after my multiple career-ending illnesses.  I have lawyers helping me with debt reduction, the step before bankruptcy, which is also probably the step before stepping off the ledge at the top of the Chrysler Building.   I continue to draw stuff that makes little or no visual sense, and post them here to further delight, dazzle and delude you.  And, of course, I have the audacity to label this word free-for-all as humor… but I have reached five hundred and five words.


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Filed under aliens, artwork, humor, magic, Paffooney

Space Pirates

I enjoy science fiction almost as much as I enjoy humor in both my reading activities and my writing.  My goal has been, since reading Douglas Adams’ wonderful trilogy, or quadrilogy, or possibly quintology of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to write such an opus.  That is the real reason my first published novel, Aeroquest, exists.  Sorry about that.  First novels are often a bizarre over-reaching, trying to do too much, shooting in too wide an arc, and getting totally lost in the tangle of plot, character, and purple paisley prose that characterizes a novelist’s obsession with his own inner eye.


Swashbuckling space-pirate teenagers are the students in my teachers-in-outer-space epic, Aeroquest. It gives you an idea about how silly the entire project really is.

My novel is a total mishmash of things from Star Wars, the Marx Brothers movies, Star Trek, Dune by Frank Herbert, old Flash Gordon serials, Indiana Jones, Tarzan, and several things like Nebulons (the little blue alien people) that I made up from my own Saturday-afternoon childhood daydreams.  Parts of it are actually funny, I think, like the part about flying out of jungle danger by levitating with an anti-gravity bustier one of the characters wears because of her overly-generous up-front endowment.  But parts of it are incomprehensible and sad.  And not sad in a good way.

But I am seriously planning to rewrite the awful thing and get it published with a better publisher.  I have worked a little bit on doing a graphic novel of the thing.  I have my doubts, though, that I have enough drawings left in my arthritic old fingers to accomplish that part of the daydream.  The world needs space pirates, especially now when an evil empire of the wealthy elite has taken over our world and threatens to crush us economically under its heel.  Pirates rise up to take what they like from forces that outnumber them.  They do the Robin Hood thing, taking from the rich and giving to the poor… er, or possibly keeping it for themselves.  I mean, if they are the poor, then that’s okay, right?  So, I have shared a Paffooney of some of the student pirates from my totally awful first novel, talked up the daydreams and fool’s hopes in my ill-fated novel Aeroquest, and acknowledged that you should never, ever pay the bloated price the cheap-o publisher with no editors on staff charges for the whole mess.  Wait til I get it rewritten.  It will probably be even more horrible.


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Pooh and Tigger

Pooh and Tigger

I am trying to post pointlessly every day to fill up my blog with… Pointlessly posted Paffoonies. What good does this do for life, the universe, and everything? Well, maybe nothing, nada, zilch, and zahooey. But it’s fun. And maybe I can make someone smile who wouldn’t have otherwise. Isn’t that a worthy woozie?


May 14, 2014 · 2:17 am

Inventive Travel Technology


My writer friend, Stuart West (http://stuartrwest.blogspot.com) suggested it might be possible to travel by feeding bubble gum to goldfish.  Here is what I thought it would look like.  Don’t hold your breathe waiting to sign up for tickets, however.  Stuart didn’t think it would work so good after all.  I guess I draw scary pictures sometimes when the idea-wagon starts rolling downhill.

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Sense and Nonsense

So, here’s the situation, testing has once again laid waste to lesson plans.  Because of an important State Test that determines how well high schoolers read English, I have to spend more time in the test administration room than I was originally scheduled to do.  My mind is elsewhere.  My own personal son is home ill with the bubonic plague again for like the fourteenth time this school year, so I not only have to worry about whether he has passed away or not before I can make a doctor’s appointment, I have to worry that my congested nose and throat are the same plague taking hold in my buboes.  I have not had the time I planned on for lesson planning as I am walking in the door for the start of second period.

“Mr. B, what are we gonna do today?” asked Girly-Go-Getter who always has to have challenging work in front of her, or her parents will be knocking on the school door with subpoenas in hand for a little friendly lawsuit.

I shrug.  No time to prepare, right?  Am I supposed to teach out of my head or something?

“Let’s watch a movie,” says Slow-Poke Rodriguez, a cartoon Mexican mouse who is so politically incorrect he probably does have a gun in his backpack.

“A movie?” says I, “You want to watch a G-rated probably-a-cartoon movie not from Disney (because they sue teachers for using their property without licensing agreements) because you haven’t seen any movies in class at all this week during testing?”

“We watched movies in all our other classes,” says Bad-Donkey Jones who is bipolar and mildly schizophrenic.  (He has a special form from the counseling office that forbids me from punishing him or even talking mean to him in any way, which I would never do because I am old and he can probably kill me with one hand anyway). 

“No movies,” I said.  “Teachable moments only.”

“Aw, gawd!” say several students at once.

“Praying to me won’t help,” I answer, only partly in jest, “I am not God.  If I were, there’d be lightning.”

“So what will we do?” asked Girly.

“Let’s talk about thinking skills again.”

“Aw, that’s soooo boring!” croon several.

“How does that help us pass our tests?” whine the rest.

“It may never help you pass a test,” I admitted humbly.  “But it is a key to success in life.”

“How?” says Slow-Poke, assuming that if he keeps asking questions, I will wear down and show him the movie Shrek again.

“Okay, let’s take the thinking skill of questioning.”  General groans in response, especially from Rodriguez who realizes that the selected strategy is his fault.

“You can’t use questioning on the State test!” says Girly.

Actually, you can, but I look around at the mostly vacant stares and nodding heads with earphones in both ears.  Oh, yeah, there is at least one that only has one ear plugged, and he will contradict me if I tell them all they are not actually listening, that he can listen to two things at once.  I don’t really feel like giving any more praise to the lovely State test anyway.

“Maybe you can’t use questioning as a thinking skill on the State test,” I craftily admit, “But the State test we all love and honor so much is mostly about spitting out facts and figures and spotting spotty spelling.”  Some of the actual listeners chuckle when they notice the rhymie little alliteration I slipped in there.  “Is that the only thing you need to know in life?  Facts, figures, and spelling?”

“It sure, hmm, ain’t!” says Jones.  I try real hard to make my eye twinkle to let him know how much I appreciate the way he fluffed over the spot where he could’ve used his favorite f-word.

“When you have a question in Science class, especially on lab days, what do you have to do?”

“Aw, gawd,” says Jones, “You need to make up all that stupid hypothesis sh… stuff, and find a procedure or something.”

“You mean, in Science class you have to come up with an idea to answer the question and then test that answer?”

“Yeah,” says Slow-Poke, “You gotta do stuff just like that.”

“So you need to answer questions by asking more questions?”

“Questions like what?” says Jones.

“Hey, that’s a good one right there,” I say.  Fortunately, when they all laugh at that, Jones doesn’t think they are laughing at him.  “You have to ask questions like; what questions do I need to ask to find each possible answer, and what experiment could I do to tell me one way or another how good my possible answers are?”

“Yeah,” says Jones, “Learning to ask questions is about all we do in Science Class.”

“That’s what Mr. P, the Physics teacher says Science is always about,” declares Girly, “finding the right questions to ask.”

“Well, good,” I say, exhausted beyond belief.  “I have now taught Mr. P’s lesson for him.”

Everyone laughs again.

I look at the clock.  Fifty gazillion hours to go before the dang bell!  How do you fill it?”

“Okay,” I say to Slow-Poke, “so you want to watch Shrek one more time?”

That, of course, is the entire essence of being a public school teacher.

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