Escape from Disney World After having spent his childhood doing comic strips and his youth doing animated cartoons, Mickey Mouse finally discovered his true vocation as a corporate insignia. In heraldic times, only mythological creatures or rampant beasts could aspire to adorn a coat of arms. In the century of the cartoon, it's only natural that the Magic Kingdom's logo is a rodent with gloved hands. Like the Mercedes star or the McDonald's golden arches, Mickey is a registered trademark. At this stage in his entrepreneurial consolidation, it would be a ghastly error to cast him in a film. The host of the Disney emporium cannot be reduced to having stories told about him; he is the transaction-validating talisman of a territory dedicated entirely to transactions. Whenever a tropical storm descends on Disney World, the visitors buy yellow raincoats. "I've never felt so silly," remarks one father, who would look like an errant firefighter if not for the tutelary mouse stuck to his back. "Are you calling Mickey silly?!" protests his son, who understands the value of myths.