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!