Tag Archives: photo Paffooney

A New Toy for Christmas

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I am almost sixty years old.  My parents are still alive and both in their eighties.  So today I spent some of the money in my Christmas gift from Mom and Dad on a toy.  I bought an action figure (don’t call it a doll even though it is) of Ezra Bridger, a Jedi Padawan from Disney’s “Star Wars Rebels”.   Now, you may have been told (especially if you are from my generation) that big boys don’t play with toys… but that is total hogwash, propagated by people who are intent on sucking all the joy out of life… but not wives.  No, I never said wives.

If you haven’t followed this particular line of idiocy in my goofy little blog, I confess to being a doll collector.  I collect twelve-inch action figures and dolls.  My wife helps me with the Barbie collection.  I have Star Wars figures, Captain Action figures, movie figures, monster figures, super hero figures, and so on and so on into a twelve-inch infinity.  I will be showing you more of the insanity of my collection in upcoming posts so that you can marvel at a man who plays with toys on into his second childhood.

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Fog in the City (a melancholy poem)

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It doesn’t come in on cat feet.

That’s probably Chicago you’re thinking of.

It comes in on the sound of screeching tires…

and ambulance sirens…

because of all the idiot drivers…

in their silver-gray WASP rockets…

that don’t know how to slow down…

or turn on their low beams…

for safety in the big, cold city of Dallas…

where the air is yellow…

except in the fog…

and rush, rush, rush…

business never waits…

for a foggy day.

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Filed under artwork, humor, irony, photo paffoonies, poetry

Final Star Trek Confessions

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I am sorry, but today’s post will probably bore you unless you are a doll-collecting, obsessive-compulsive bag of mixed nuts like I am.  These are the kinds of details that only interest the true collect-a-holic.  You see in the picture my mint in-the-box Star Trek Barbie and Ken, 1996 30th Anniversary Edition.  It was a difficult track-down.  Now, you Google it and you can get one for 25 dollars on e-Bay without breaking a sweat.  When I got hold of this in 1998, however, it was a bit tougher to find.  It started with a trip to Goodwill.  My wife loves the bargain clothing and especially the shoes.  (She’s from the Philippines and has a touch of Imelda Marcos Footwear Disease.)  While there, with my young son in tow, in the toy section… I discovered two loose Barbie and Ken dolls that actually weren’t naked.  Barbie’s head was severely damaged, and she had lost a leg.  Ken was in practically un-loved, un-played-with condition.  Both had uniforms.  The Star Trek uniforms you see here on the two figures in front.  (Ken was missing the shoes, phaser, and communicator, but the original accessories were pretty small and pitiful anyway.  Barbie had no fishnet stockings and no shoes, along with no working head.)  Of course I had to buy these wonderful items.  They cost me 25 cents apiece.  Gonga!  I hadn’t known that such a 12″ action figure existed!  (Okay, really a doll, but, you know…)  I immediately began a search of toy stores and junk shops in South Texas.  At the time we had relatives in Dallas.  So I went prowling there too.  You wouldn’t believe the looks I used to get from parents wondering what a forty-something old man by himself wanted in the Barbie section of KayBee Toys.  Now they see my gray hair and figure, ah yes, shopping for his granddaughter (of which I have none, but I digress.)  Finally I found the rare item in a San Antonio flea market stall.  And it only set me back fifteen dollars.  Wotta find!  It made my goofy old collector’s heart glad for a couple of months afterwards… heck, that’s not true either!  Sixteen years later it still makes me giddy.

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Filed under Barbie and Ken, doll collecting, goofiness, irony, toystore quests

The Rest of the Star Trek Collection

I am guilty of owning more dolls in my Star Trek collection.  Here is the Next Generation set.

20141208_144528  You may notice that I still have work to do.  No Commander Data… No Geordy La Forge…  No Wesley Crusher (if such a doll even exists)…  These figures are all dressed for a TNG movie that practically nobody liked.

I also have two Star Trek Voyager dolls, Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine.

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It is probable that no other figures from this series exist in twelve inches.

Captain Sisko is the only figure I have ever seen for Deep Space Nine, though I have a suspicion that more exist, at least the female crew members, and maybe that wonderfully devious Ferengi Quark.

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The Rules for Collecting

20141207_150302  Oh, no… My secret is out.  I am a doll collector.  (Wait, wasn’t I supposed to claim they are “action figures” so that I can get away with being a man who, at the age of nearly 60, still plays with dolls?”)  I got started down this dark path back in 1965 when my parents bought me a G.I. Joe sailor for my ninth birthday.  It was the beginning of an addiction that has dogged me even down to this very day.

There are some things that just aren’t easy to admit to, like being gay, or being a socialist, or being a werewolf.  Well, I am not gay and I am not a socialist, so don’t worry about that.  Those are not really terrible things to be when it comes right down to it.  I have friends that are gay, friends that are socialists, and friends that are… um…  well, enough about those things.  I am writing about the terrible scourge of doll collecting.  In order to control such a rare and debilitating disease, I had to come up with a set of rules that would keep me from becoming a penniless hobo living in a cardboard refrigerator box in an alley with thousands of Barbie dolls.  So let me explain the sacred rules that have kept me at least partially sane for almost fifty years.

Rule #1;  Thou shalt only collect and obsess over twelve-inch dolls and action figures.  That allows for literally thousands of choices to pursue, and rules out the many size variations like the three-inch G.I. Joe’s and the three-inch Star Wars figures and all the Mego eight-inch superheroes who were everywhere in the Seventies and Eighties, but now are rare and expensive.

Rule #2; Thou shalt not collect and obsess over dolls and figures that cost more than twenty dollars.  This is the poverty prevention rule that keeps an obsession from breaking the bank and wreaking havoc throughout the rest of my life.  I have only broken this rule on rare occasions for hard to acquire dolls or figures, and most of those were actually presents paid for by somebody else.  I can blame the exceptions mostly on people who know about my weakness and exploit it for their own personal reasons… hopefully because they just like to make me happy.

Rule #3;  Thou must seeketh the lost and forlorn doll and redeem it from destruction.  Whenever I can, I look for dolls at Goodwill stores and yard sales.  I have bought a ton of naked and sometimes broken Action Man, Barbie, Max Steel, Ken, and G.I. Joe dolls.  I then try to find or make clothes for them.  My daughter went through her Barbie period in a most destructive manner.  She didn’t merely discard dolls and Disney princesses, she beheaded, dismembered, disrobed, and chewed them.  I have rescued and repaired many of them, but only after securing her promise that she doesn’t want to play with them or eat them any longer.  I should note, though, that I no longer acquire dolls in this way, now that she is middle school aged and wouldn’t be caught dead with a doll.

Rule #4;   Thou shalt not let your daughter be the the only one who has fun pulling them apart, but you will put them back together again in ways that make them into something new.

So, these are the sacred rules of collecting which shall not be violated in the pursuit of this weird religion, the bringing together of a multitude of dolls.

That is my “Enterprise Collection” above.  Specifically the “Original Series Enterprise Collection”.  Look more closely.

20141207_150408   Spock is holding a Vulcan harp-thingy (whose name I won’t quote here because I don’t want to seem too much like a Trekkie… and besides, I forgot what it is called and am too lazy to look it up again… What can I say?  I’m old.)  Kirk is wearing a Wrath of Khan movie uniform.

This green Barbie doll is a Goodwill rescue turned into a green Orion dancing girl with paint, sequins, material from a quilting project, and a hot glue gun.  20141207_150449

20141207_150510  Uhura was the hardest member of the team to track down and acquire.  After Kaybee Toys went out of business, I had to turn to the internet to get hold of this beauty.  I also had to pay $24.

You may also have noticed that Sulu is missing from my Original Series set.  Well, I’m still working on that one.  But I do owe a debt to J.J. Abrams for making a new movie version of Star Trek and inspiring a new set of twelve inch dolls.

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And let me not forget Rule #5, the most important rule…  Thou shalt play with the dolls you collect.

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Filed under collecting, doll collecting, goofiness, humor, Paffooney

Self Portrait and Mildly Broken Heart

DSCN5418  Hermoine, Vintage Ricky, and Vintage Skipper are inspecting my heart monitor in this silly Paffooney  Photo.  I have been wearing the thing since Monday to hopefully detect an irregular heart-beat problem.  It’s kinda like when you hear a knocking noise in the engine, but when you take it in to the car dealer, you can’t get it to make that sound even once.  Two trips to the doctor and two EKG’s have not been enough to fix the knocking in my engine, and so I am still on a heart-attack/stroke watch.  Four times in the last two nights I have felt the racing heartbeat and painful tugging sensation in my chest that could spell the instant end.  But I am not worried.  I now have the opportunity to lay in my bed all day and play with my toys… err… admire my collection.  I apologize for Ricky not putting on proper clothes for this post, but they haven’t made clothes for a doll like him since the early seventies.  They are a little hard to come by.  And they always sold Barbie dolls in bathing suits when he was new to the world.  So he goes about mostly naked and I have to apologize for him whenever we are in polite company.

“So, Mickey,” you are probably saying to yourself, “it’s a heart problem, not a brain problem, right?”

Well, if my hyperactive butterfly of a heart sends a clot the wrong direction, it could be a stroke, a brain-curdling, word-mincing, vegetable-making sort of brain problem.  If it’s all the same to God, I’d much rather have a heart attack, thank you.

I am really, honestly not worried though.  My career is ended.  I can no longer get up in front of a classroom, a basically captive audience, and inflict upon them a never-ending spiel of word-wit and vocabulary-bloating that made kids laugh and love my class (based on the fact that even though they thought they were avoiding learning to write and read and speak in my English Class, we were actually practicing those things bell to bell).  Though I miss it so terribly it probably isn’t helping my current condition, I really have done my job and taken my best shot at winning the ongoing War Against Ignorance.  I actually make more money now on my full retirement pension than I was making month to month as a teacher.  (Mostly due to deductions for health problems and absences from work).  I have the chance to draw some and paint some and write a lot now.  I can do more story-telling of the written-down variety, and not waste my tall tales in the very absorbent air of the classroom.  I get to joke about my condition more, and hide my rotted out hulk of a body behind a computer screen so no one has to cringe while looking at my fuzzy, spotty old form.  I can use words to be beautiful in the reader’s mind’s eye once more.  Oh, and I made the mistake of promising to show you a self portrait.  So, try to keep your lunch down, because here it is;

Self Portrait

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Filed under health, humor, Mickey, Paffooney, philosophy, photos

Walter Mitty

DSCN5331I am still recovering from a heart-attack scare, and as a part of my regimen of rest and fluids, I watched the DVD of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty starring and directed by Ben Stiller.  It is a brilliant piece of film art in my opinion.  The basic story is about a day-dreaming ne’er-do-well who is so much like I once was that it is practically an unauthorized biography.  Mitty daydreams and pines over a co-worker that he is afraid to introduce himself to.  He works at Life Magazine at a time when the printed periodical was going out of business.  His job is on the line.  Then, he loses a photograph from a famous photographer when he has never made such an error before.  To correct his mistake, he goes on a world-hopping quest to find the photographer, visiting Greenland, jumping into the ocean from a helicopter, fighting a shark, escaping from an erupting volcano in Iceland, climbing a mountain in the Himalayas, and finally, getting fired for not finding it, though he does find it, and proves he is more competent and brave and daring and heroic than even his daydreams told him that he was.  At the end he even gets the girl.  It made me cry to realize how much my life was like that.  It has been a comedy of errors compounded by the criticism and negativity of the world around me.  I fought hard to be a competent teacher.  I had to become an advocate for kids.  I fought for the good of the students against principals, parents, the State of Texas, three school administrations, politicians, and sometimes even the students themselves.  I rose to new heights during my darkest hours.  I made a difference.  A lot of kids came back to tell me I was their favorite teacher, that they learned things and remembered things from my class more than any of their other classes.  I know some of them were lying for sentimental reasons, but not all of them were.  So I was, in the end, a success.  I had my Walter Mitty moments.

So what is the point of all of this, and of the picture of my messy studio which is also my bedroom and sickroom?  If I had died from the heart attack rather than finding out it wasn’t really a heart attack, I would still be successful in the course of my life and career.  Three beautiful and intelligent children with my genetic stamp… more than 2,500 students educated and served… thirty-one years of faithful teachering… like Walter Mitty, I have been worth so much more than I have ever been given credit for.  And yet… and yet… I am not finished.  I am only now coming into my real magical powers over words and ideas.  I am only now reaching out and saying what treasures are truly in my heart for all to take away and enrich themselves with.  Some of it is in the books I have written.  Some of it is in the blog I am here making available to you.  I am not bragging.  I am old and in pain and very near the end… but I still have love to give… and laughter… and life.  Please, help yourself to it while you may.  I am not done yet.

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Making a Meme

Trying to do social media marketing for my book tends to be a lot of sharing of memes.  (Is that pronounced “Meeems” or “Meemees”?)  I borrow stuff from others and post it based on my values, my politics, and my notions of what is wisdom.  But the stuff that’s out there is wild and woolly, strange and fool-y.   Quotes from authors and figures I respect are not actually things they said.  Some of the memes are positively hateful and negative.  I believe in gentle humor… things that make you laugh because they reveal unexpected truth.  I don’t like insulting and degrading things.  I could call Rush Limbaugh or Ted Cruz names.  They make that very easy.  But I don’t find that junk funny.  So, I decided to try making what I think is a good meme.

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There it is.  I made that.  Share it, or throw up about it, I have no control over that.  I have no clue what makes something like that go viral or trend or whatever else they call it.

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Dr. Evil Invades Mickey’s Library!

Earlier I alluded to the plan of the super scary villain, Dr. Evil with the removable brain.  He was planning on invading Mickey’s library with malice aforethought… er, anger about all the books in there… or something.  Anyway, today he attacked.  He showed up with several of his evil minions.

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He brought some of the most evil minions I could afford on a teacher’s salary.  Ming the Merciless is his most evil adviser, a real whiz with the evil plans, even though I suspect he really doesn’t like looking at the Doctor’s exposed removable brain so much.

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So, once convinced, Dr. Evil put on his Dr. Normal-Guy mask.  It was a disguise he often used, and was successful while wearing it, because he could sneak past his enemies while they were laughing and rolling on the ground.  The laughter often started inexplicably after an enemy would ask what nationality a name like “Normal-Guy” really was.

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Besides fooling the foolish Action Hero guys, Dr. Evil relied on a secret weapon.  GRAMMAR NAZIS!!!  He would use them to relentlessly correct the spelling of the Action Hero guys until they cried like little babies.

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Will the Grammar Nazis prevail over the Action Heroes?  Would they take over Mickey’s wonderful library?  Would they notice how many times the villains misspelled the word “removable”?

Stay tuned next time… Same Bat Station!   Same Bat Channel!  For the next thrilling episode of Doctor Evil Attacks Mickey’s Library!!!!!

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The Action Team Defends Mickey’s Library

Today it was rumored that the sinister Dr. Evil planned on invading the Mickian Library to threaten the books… just because he could.  He’s been known to channel super villains like the evil Emperor Ming of Mongo.  (Nobody scarier than that because Playing Mantis toy company couldn’t license DC or Marvel either one)

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So, once we learned of the plot, we called on the Captain Action League to defend the library and rescue the books.

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Hopefully the plans of the evil doctor with the removable brain have been thwarted.

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