Sometimes, the thing you never wanted as a kid is exactly what you need as an adult.|

A look at why I recently bought a Mr. Mxyzptlk action figure, and what it revealed about the way I’ve hidden my power behind practicality for too long.

I didn’t grow up obsessed with Mr. Mxyzptlk.

In fact, I don’t recall ever once wanting the toy as a kid. My Mego figure line-up was straightforward—Superman, Batman, and Robin. The heroes. The staples. The ones who represented order, justice, and all things right in the world. As far as I was concerned, Mxyzptlk was just that weird little chaos goblin who popped up every now and then on Super Friends, turned everyone into babies or dragged them into the Land of Oz, and then disappeared with a laugh.

Fast forward to now—2025. I’m a grown man with a control room filled with decades of memories and the mission of turning all that creative energy into something real. And what did I just do?

I bought a reproduction Mr. Mxyzptlk Mego figure.

No nostalgia tug. No childhood memory attached. Just this weird, almost cosmic pull to bring that little imp into my collection.

And it’s got me thinking.

Why him? Why now?

The truth is—Mr. Mxyzptlk is the embodiment of creative chaos. He doesn’t break things because he’s evil. He bends reality because he can. Because it’s fun. Because it reminds the powerful that there’s something stronger than strength: imagination.

And maybe… that’s what I’ve been suppressing.

See, these past few months have been a ride. Caregiving for my mom. Rebuilding my creative workspace. Trying to finish a novel while starting a radio stream, while managing a business, while still trying to breathe and sleep and be a present husband and dad. And I realized somewhere in that fog, I started slipping into a mode of survival over creation. Logic over wonder. Checklist over curiosity.

Mr. Mxyzptlk showing up in my head—and on my desk—isn’t random. It’s not just some quirky purchase. It’s a subconscious flare going up.

It’s me telling myself:

“Hey pal… remember when magic didn’t need a reason?”

This little imp isn’t here to derail me. He’s here to shake the etch-a-sketch. To remind me that play is sacred. That disruption can be divine. That sometimes, the muse doesn’t whisper in poetic metaphors—sometimes, he shows up in purple tights and a derby hat and challenges you to say his name backwards just to prove you’re still paying attention.

The Spark Hiding in the Chaos

The older I get, the more I believe that the things we’re drawn to without explanation are rarely without meaning. They’re breadcrumbs. Echoes from the parts of ourselves we’ve boxed up and labeled as “silly” or “unnecessary”—when in truth, they’re the very keys to unlocking our next level.

I didn’t want Mr. Mxyzptlk as a kid.
But right now?
I need him.

I need the trickster in my corner reminding me that the rules are bendable. That stories are alive. That creation doesn’t come from perfect control—it comes from dancing with the unpredictable.

So yeah. He’s got a place of honor now.

Right next to the ones I did want as a kid.

Because maybe, just maybe, that’s the message: We’re not here to outgrow our past…
We’re here to reclaim it—
And use it to build something wilder, weirder, and more wonderful than the world is ready for.

Let the imp play.

Let the spark catch fire.

—Jim 4/19/2025