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“‘Tha ma’es nowt O’ me, Mickey Mouse, specifically the one from ‘Steamboat Willie,’ not any subsequent iteration of Mickey Mouse! The one with no gloves and a jaunty hat! Dost want her? Dost want my Lady Jane?’” Winnie-the-Pooh suggested. (He had been in the public domain for over a year and was trying to help.)
“Hmm,” Mickey Mouse said. “Perhaps not.”
“Tigger is also in the public domain,” Winnie-the-Pooh said.
“That is a more natural fit, I think,” Mickey Mouse said.
“‘Tigger says goodnight to Lady Jane, a little droopingly, but with a hopeful heart?’” Sherlock Holmes said. “No, I don’t see it.”
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“No,” Mickey Mouse said, “I mean, I think Tigger and I could interact in a more natural way than this Lady Chatterley situation you seem so intent on foisting upon us.”
“Oh,” Sherlock Holmes said. “I don’t think I’m foisting anything on anyone. Obviously everyone’s first thought on hearing that you and Lady Chatterley had entered the public domain at the same time was, ‘Here is the crossover America has been waiting a century to experience!’”
“Ninety-six years,” Mickey said. “Technically, since we came out in 1928.”
“Suppose we did away with John Thomas synecdoche situation and just put you into the lover’s role more broadly,” Sherlock Holmes said hastily, flipping rapidly through the pages. “Here is the scene where you meet Lady Chatterley for the first time. ‘She was watching a brown spaniel that had run out of a side-path, and was looking towards them with lifted nose, making a soft, fluffy bark. A mouse with a gun strode swiftly, softly out after the dog, facing their way as if about to attack them; then stopped instead, saluted, and was turning downhill. It was only the new game-keeper, but he had frightened Connie, he seemed to emerge with such a swift menace. That was how she had seen him, like the sudden rush of a threat out of nowhere. He was a mouse in dark green velveteens and gaiters … the old style, with a red face and red moustache and distant eyes.’”
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Mickey Mouse looked at him expectantly.
“And a jaunty hat and no gloves, and his eyes were just black ovals,” Holmes added, sighing.
“I just don’t want you to get sued,” Mickey Mouse said.
Holmes resumed reading. “‘Mickey Mouse!’ called Clifford.”
“The big red dog?” Mickey asked, taken aback. “But he was created in 1963.”
“No, Clifford is Mr. Chatterley.”
“This isn’t really doing it for me,” Winnie-the-Pooh said timidly. “Although it could be that I’m not familiar with the underlying text.”
“Please,” Holmes said. “You mustn’t keep interrupting. ‘Mickey Mouse! Not just any mouse, but the one from ‘Steamboat Willie’! The mouse faced lightly round, and saluted with a quick little gesture, a soldier! A mouse who looked like he’d be really at home on a steamboat, specifically.’”
“Hmm,” Winnie-the-Pooh said. “Who is the audience for this?”
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“It gets better later on,” Holmes said, skimming forward. “‘A mouse! The strange potency of mousehood upon her! Her hands strayed over him, still a little afraid. Afraid of that strange, hostile, slightly repulsive thing that he had been to her, a mouse. And now she touched him, and it was the sons of god with the daughters of men. How beautiful he felt, how pure in tissue! He did not have gloves on, for copyright reasons.’” Holmes frowned. “‘How lovely, how lovely, strong, and yet pure and delicate, such stillness of the sensitive body! Such utter stillness of potency and delicate flesh. How beautiful! How beautiful! Her hands came timorously down his back, to the soft, smallish globes of the buttocks in their buttoned-up shorts, but not the red shorts that would later become iconic. Beauty! What beauty!’”
“No,” Winnie-the-Pooh said. “I don’t think so, do you?”
Holmes sighed. “I suppose there’s always Virginia Woolf’s ‘Orlando.’”
“Ooh!” Mickey Mouse said. “Orlando! I love Orlando!”
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Mickey Mouse couldn’t believe it. “Steamboat Willie,” his maiden appearance, was finally — as of Jan. 1, 2024 — out of copyright and in the public domain. He was his own mouse. He could do and say whatever he wanted and Disney couldn’t stop him.
“I keep telling you,” Sherlock Holmes said (he had been fully in the public domain since 2023 and was showing Mickey the ropes), “this kind of column has always been legal. It’s parody.”
“But it didn’t feel legal,” Mickey Mouse said. “Disney is famously litigious.”
“As I’m sure you’re aware, ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ is in the public domain now, too,” Sherlock Holmes observed. “This same year. So for anyone who has been waiting to go through ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ and replace all instances of the words ‘John Thomas’ with ‘Mickey Mouse’ and sell that, the time is now.” He pulled a small leather book from his person and began reading excitedly. “For instance, ‘Ay ma lad! Tha’re theer right enough. Yi, tha mun rear thy head! Theer on thy own, eh? An ta’es no count O’ nob’dy! Tha ma’es nowt O’ me, Mickey Mouse. Art boss? Of me?’”
“Ah,” said Mickey Mouse uncertainly. “Yes, I suppose someone could do that, as long as it was specified that it was the Mickey Mouse from ‘Steamboat Willie’ and not any other subsequent iteration of Mickey Mouse. Just to avoid lawsuits, because the later Mickeys are still under copyright.”
“‘Tha ma’es nowt O’ me, Mickey Mouse, specifically the one from ‘Steamboat Willie,’ not any subsequent iteration of Mickey Mouse! The one with no gloves and a jaunty hat! Dost want her? Dost want my Lady Jane?’” Winnie-the-Pooh suggested. (He had been in the public domain for over a year and was trying to help.)
“Hmm,” Mickey Mouse said. “Perhaps not.”
“Tigger is also in the public domain,” Winnie-the-Pooh said.
“That is a more natural fit, I think,” Mickey Mouse said.
“‘Tigger says goodnight to Lady Jane, a little droopingly, but with a hopeful heart?’” Sherlock Holmes said. “No, I don’t see it.”
“No,” Mickey Mouse said, “I mean, I think Tigger and I could interact in a more natural way than this Lady Chatterley situation you seem so intent on foisting upon us.”
“Oh,” Sherlock Holmes said. “I don’t think I’m foisting anything on anyone. Obviously everyone’s first thought on hearing that you and Lady Chatterley had entered the public domain at the same time was, ‘Here is the crossover America has been waiting a century to experience!’”
“Ninety-six years,” Mickey said. “Technically, since we came out in 1928.”
“Suppose we did away with John Thomas synecdoche situation and just put you into the lover’s role more broadly,” Sherlock Holmes said hastily, flipping rapidly through the pages. “Here is the scene where you meet Lady Chatterley for the first time. ‘She was watching a brown spaniel that had run out of a side-path, and was looking towards them with lifted nose, making a soft, fluffy bark. A mouse with a gun strode swiftly, softly out after the dog, facing their way as if about to attack them; then stopped instead, saluted, and was turning downhill. It was only the new game-keeper, but he had frightened Connie, he seemed to emerge with such a swift menace. That was how she had seen him, like the sudden rush of a threat out of nowhere. He was a mouse in dark green velveteens and gaiters … the old style, with a red face and red moustache and distant eyes.’”
Mickey Mouse looked at him expectantly.
“And a jaunty hat and no gloves, and his eyes were just black ovals,” Holmes added, sighing.
“I just don’t want you to get sued,” Mickey Mouse said.
Holmes resumed reading. “‘Mickey Mouse!’ called Clifford.”
“The big red dog?” Mickey asked, taken aback. “But he was created in 1963.”
“No, Clifford is Mr. Chatterley.”
“This isn’t really doing it for me,” Winnie-the-Pooh said timidly. “Although it could be that I’m not familiar with the underlying text.”
“Please,” Holmes said. “You mustn’t keep interrupting. ‘Mickey Mouse! Not just any mouse, but the one from ‘Steamboat Willie’! The mouse faced lightly round, and saluted with a quick little gesture, a soldier! A mouse who looked like he’d be really at home on a steamboat, specifically.’”
“Hmm,” Winnie-the-Pooh said. “Who is the audience for this?”
“It gets better later on,” Holmes said, skimming forward. “‘A mouse! The strange potency of mousehood upon her! Her hands strayed over him, still a little afraid. Afraid of that strange, hostile, slightly repulsive thing that he had been to her, a mouse. And now she touched him, and it was the sons of god with the daughters of men. How beautiful he felt, how pure in tissue! He did not have gloves on, for copyright reasons.’” Holmes frowned. “‘How lovely, how lovely, strong, and yet pure and delicate, such stillness of the sensitive body! Such utter stillness of potency and delicate flesh. How beautiful! How beautiful! Her hands came timorously down his back, to the soft, smallish globes of the buttocks in their buttoned-up shorts, but not the red shorts that would later become iconic. Beauty! What beauty!’”
“No,” Winnie-the-Pooh said. “I don’t think so, do you?”
Holmes sighed. “I suppose there’s always Virginia Woolf’s ‘Orlando.’”
“Ooh!” Mickey Mouse said. “Orlando! I love Orlando!”
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