life

Mickey Mouse Goth Club

Once again, I sit before the screen and the only thing going on is the taunting of damn blinking cursor.  I thought posting more to my blog would get me motivated to produce stories. If anything, it wears me out.

So, let’s talk about The Mickey Mouse Club.  Shall we?  I know, not a very artful way to flow into a discussion of The Mickey Mouse Club, but …is there a way to do that?  Really?

A kid’s show that existed to bridge the likes of Bugs Bunny cartoons, Captain Kangaroo and American Bandstand. At least I remember them being in the same time frame. I could be wrong. I was a kid and didn’t pay much attention and now, looking back 60 years, my senior brain cells kind of acts like a Cuisinart to my memories between the years of 0-16 or so. They are pureed together quite smoothly. It’s not that I’m in early stages of Alzheimer or anything, it was like I said.  I was just a kid and when you’re a kid, who pays attention to think that someday they may want to recall a segment of those days.  You know.  For historical verification.  Not me.

So, back to The Mickey Mouse Club.  I bring this up because of the passing of Annette. What a cutie she was and boy, did I ever want to be like her.  But, I was as far from Annette as a croissant is from a biscuit.  I idolized her. And I wanted to be a mouse-ka-teer, big time, but we didn’t have much money, living on the farm and all, so I never got to have real mouse ears. The store bought kind, I mean. Not real ears cut off a mouse.  EWWWWWWWWW!  I made some from cardboard and painted them with black shoe polish. Wore long white socks and my black patent leather Sunday shoes, puffy sleeved white blouse and a saucy skirt Mom made from a table cloth she donated to my dream.   I was a dish!  Until I sweated a bit too much.

Then I was just a poor farmer’s daughter with black streaks running down from my forehead , over and down my face… kind of like a crying Goth girl, come to think of it.

Cool!  The Mickey Mouse Goth Club.  Awesome!

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