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LOVE GETS THE SH*T KICKED OUT OF IT

Cartoon used by permission: 250398_RGB_1290.jpg America is back by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Where is the love?  That’s what I keep singing to myself as I read the news every day.  And I’m not wasting my breath on the soft R&B Donny Hathaway/Roberta Flack version—my voice is stripping the paint off the walls with the Black Eyed Peas version: 

What’s wrong with the world, mama

People livin’ like they ain’t got no mamas

I think the whole world’s addicted to the drama

Only attracted to things that’ll bring you trauma…

Where is the love?

As a Christian, I am particularly horrified by the lack of love demonstrated by the MAGA “so-called” Christians.  To me Jesus is love.  Period.  To me treating others as I wish to be treated is the answer. Period. To me love wins. Period.  But as I was musing over the loveless actions by so many people who should know better, I wondered if there was more behind their failure to love as Jesus commanded—maybe a hidden conspiracy to eradicate love altogether from the American soil.  Maybe the MAGA Christians are being trolled by a Wormwood demon like the one in C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters.  As I meditated on the greatest definition of love between humans in the Bible (I Corinthians 13), I imagined correspondence between two demon-like women (Maggot Girl and her aunt, Scorched Earth)* who have been assigned by the Father of Lies (Devil, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Satan, Sneaky Snake…whatever you call evil) to turn the MAGA Christians into instruments of lying, deceiving, manipulating, self-centered godless creatures bent on erasing love and truth from the country that Ronald Reagan once claimed was the “shining city on a hill” to the rest of the world.

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.” (I Corinthians 13:1)

Dear Maggot Girl: It was such a delight to receive your correspondence regarding the inroads you’ve made with the MAGA crowd in having them turn our enemy’s name and purpose into a used diaper.  I tell you, that was a stroke of genius encouraging them to carry “Jesus Saves” signs and crosses when they stormed the Capitol on January 6th.  Was that your idea to have a couple of them pray and ask him to bless their insurrection in support of a huge lie? Brilliant!  I bet “you know who” wept when he saw that.  Also, I must say that I admire the loveless touch of the MAGA peeps refusing to take the Covid vaccine even though their Orange Idol facilitated the rapid making of it.  Continue to blind them to the fact that the vaccine is not for them—it’s an act of love so that the people they come in contact with (their families, neighbors, and countrymen) don’t get Covid-19. Keep up the good work, dear niece. You are a chip off the old block, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.

Most Affectionately,

Aunt Scorched Earth

Cartoon used by permission: 249377_RGB_1290.jpg Fox News and Dr Seuss by John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune PA

“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” (I Corinthians 13:6)

Dear Maggot Girl:  I got your update on the continued indoctrination from Hell’s news channel—Fox News.  Their continued obfuscation of the “truth” by refusing to report it, and their ginning up of faux outrage over silliness instead is just fabulous!  Don’t you just love their new slogan: “Most Watched, Most Trusted”?  Even the most ardent Fox fan had to know that their old slogan—“Fair and Balanced”—was a farce.  But it served our master’s purpose because it got the MAGA crowd to swallow the lies from Hell hook, line, and sinker.  Did I tell you that I had lunch with Roger Ailes the other day?  He has one of the primo suites in Hell with a view overlooking the fiery lake. It was such an honor.  I don’t know if it was the 20th or the 23rd sexual harassment assault that earned him such a nice location down here, but I am telling you, I was positively jealous.  Of course, I kept my distance from him.  I’m no fool, no siree!  He’s a little too gross, even for me.  Stay focused, my Munchkin.  Looking forward to your next report.

Most Affectionately,

Aunt Scorched Earth

Cartoon used by permission: 250445_RGB_1290.jpg The Sleezeball by Bruce Plante PoliticalCartoons com

“Love always protects…” (I Corinthians 13:7)

Dear Maggot Girl:  I was so relieved to learn from your latest report that you were able to escape any entanglement with Rep. Matt Gaetz.  Given your tender age, I must say I was very concerned for your safety, but your assignment to pervert the meaning of love through a “Christian” vessel was too delicious to pass up.  Did I read in one of your previous reports that Gaetz once boasted (and I quote), “I was saved in a Baptist Church during my teenage years. I am a member of First Baptist Church in Fort Walton Beach. The Bible, the Gospel—these are our instructions from God. We are to follow faithfully”?  Woe, baby!  That hypocrisy is damn good—highest level stuff.  Keep up the good work, my Liebchen!

Most Affectionately,

Aunt Scorched Earth

Cartoon used by permission: 249819_RGB_1290.png Atlanta Killings by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.” (I Corinthians 13:2)

Dear Maggot Girl:   Your reports of your influence on the shootings of eight people (six of them Asian) in Atlanta by that kid from an uber-strict Christian family were breathtaking.  Am I to understand that the young assassin’s Instagram bio once boasted the following tagline about himself: “Pizza, guns, drums, music, family, and God.  It’s a pretty good life”?  Our Father of Lies has been masterful in perverting normal sexual urges in Christian kids during their teen years into shame through their parents and holier than thou churches’ misinterpretation of the Bible regarding sexuality. Consequently, they either become sexually repressed or sexually obsessed to the point of being sexually possessed—overwhelming their abilities to have normal sex lives in their adult years.  A couple of quotes were very insightful in your report from The Washington Post: “A Neighbor said, ‘the family came across as a good Christian family,’” and “the assassin’s roommate said: ‘He was militant about it (suppressing his sexual urges) …this was the kind of guy who would hate himself for masturbating, would consider that a relapse.’”  He, he, he!  Heaven must be in mourning over this.  The people who should have been vessels of love bombed on three levels.  The Christian young man racially blamed Asian massage parlors for his “spiritual” failures and slaughtered them, his mother and father blamed the son for their lack of teaching healthy sexuality to him as a child and rejected him, and then his church summarily abandoned him—in the name of the God of love—in his hour of dire need. (If one can’t have the love of one’s church family when one has committed the most heinous of crimes, when in the hell does one ever need a God of redemption?)   I almost feel sorry for our enemy, the God of love.  His “love wins” campaign on the Earth is in shambles.  Eye-opening stuff, my favorite demon recruit.

Most Affectionately,

Aunt Scorched Earth

Cartoon used by permission: 249253_RGB_1290.jpg The spreading plague by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.” (I Corinthians 13:4)

“Love is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” (I Corinthians 13:5)

“If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.” (I Corinthians 13:3)

“Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.” (I Corinthians 13:8)

Dear Maggot Girl:  I just love your generation’s use of technology.  Your reports on the influence you’ve had in fomenting lies into MAGA Evangelical minds are phenomenal.  The Big Lie that the election was stolen is a classic and will go down in devil history as a guide to “how to hijack love through the use of subterfuge”.  But the Great Lie that Trump is Jesus’ main squeeze sent to Earth to do his bidding is priceless! In my day, all we had to booster the Emperor of Hell’s lies was Fox News and a couple back-alley internet trolls, like Alex Jones. However, your ability to recruit Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter (oh, my devil, has that been a goldmine!) to foster Satan’s lies against love has been incredible.  Bravo!  Bravo!  Bravo!  Until we see each other again, I remain…

Most Affectionately,

Your Aunt Scorched Earth

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (I Corinthians 13:13)

My Dearest Maggot Girl:  As soon as you can,come on down home for a well-deserved vacation and for a special ceremony in your honor.  I’m supposed to keep it a surprise, but you are being given a special commendation for your work in thwarting love on Earth in the great territory of America.  The Emperor of Evil told me himself how proud he is of you. Due to your influence in turning love to hate in the hearts of so many Christians, racism is in full bloom in America.  His Majesty the Devil has always known there was one tool in his enemy’s tool chest that he, the Dark Lord, couldn’t beat in capturing the souls of men, and that was love.  But now that the MAGA Evangelicals have chosen to betray their master in heaven, forsaking love for power, and embracing lies and conspiracy theories for truth, we are definitely on a roll my Wart Pimple.  See you soon.  I can hardly wait to celebrate your triumph with a cup of witches’ brew.  Do you still remember the 23 ingredients of that delicious expensive potion: “a toad, a slice of swamp snake, a newt’s eye, a frog’s tongue, a bat’s fur, a dog’s tongue, a black snake’s forked tongue, a burrowing worm’s stinger, a lizard’s leg, an owl’s wing, a scale of dragon, a wolf’s tooth, a witch’s mummified flesh, the gullet and stomach of a ravenous shark, a root of hemlock (a very poisonous plant) that was dug up in the dark, a liver of a Christian who is not baptized, a goat’s bile, slips of pine trees, a Turk’s nose, a Tartar’s lips, finger of a baby that was born dead by a prostitute, a tiger’s gut and a baboon’s blood.” Hum…yum!  (At least that is what “Aslan” from Facebook claims who stole it from Shakespeare’s Macbeth.  Consider the source. Given that I found it on FB, it could all be a lie.)  In any case, we’ll have some sort of celebratory brew to toast your triumphs against love. I’ve been saving a bottle of champagne from the 1600s invented by that nasty monk, Dom Perignon for just such an occasion. Safe travels, Baby Soul Eater.

Most Affectionately,

Your Aunt Scorched Earth

*With apologies to the great C.S. Lewis and his brilliant satirical work, The Screwtape Letters.

Cartoon used by permission: 224200_RGB_1290.png  Cross Purposes by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on April 11, 2021 in Uncategorized

 

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BREAKING NEWS: I’M SUFFERING FROM PTSE—’Pandemic Trauma and Stress Experience!’

Cartoon used by permission: 249454_RGB_1290.jpg Breaking News by Rick McKee CagleCartoons com

The other day I posted on my Facebook page that I thought I had PTSD from living under the reign of Trump and Covid-19. But that is not accurate. Come to find out, I may have something called “pandemic trauma and stress experience (PTSE),” according to Dr. Gail Saltz, Associate Professor of Psychiatry at the NY Presbyterian Hospital Weill-Cornell School of Medicine, as was reported to Nicole Karlis of Salon.com in the article: It’s not just you: Why everyone is super exhausted right now.”

For me the exhaustion started with the hope of getting the vaccine as a high-risk human. Stress, thy name is trying to hunt down a Covid-19 vaccine, especially as a senior citizen. I don’t know about your area, but my vaccine hunt was a “Where’s Waldo-like,” frustrating trip through pharmacy/hospital hell.  When the vaccine first came out, I was told by our local press (and my doctor) that I’d qualify for the top second group to be given the shot (1B) because I have several comorbidities—one of them being old age, another being gloriously chunky, and the rest of them being none of your business.

Cartoon used by permission: 249263_RGB_1290.jpg Light at the end of the tunnel by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian

When the time came for my group, I signed up everywhere there was a whisper of getting a vaccine appointment. Rumor had it that my doctor’s office might have 300 slots if I got there fast enough and kept calling and nagging them. (“Nope. Nada. No can do,” they said.) Two hospitals were rumored to have the shots but none that were affiliated with my doctors. (I was beginning to think this was a race thing because no Black person I knew had been able to procure a shot in my area.) I signed up on my county health website. (Eleanor, who?—don’t call us, ‘cause we ain’t gonna call you!) I heard about an obscure pharmacy in my town that uses the cutesy old English spelling of double p’s to describe its establishment—all I had to do was send a text to get on their list for a vaccine appointment, but apparently, they ran out of shots the day before I signed up. (They ghosted me like a Dickens specter, but never bothered to tell me that I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting vaccinated).  National news said one of the largest pharmacies in the land would offer millions of shots, and all I had to do was go online and sign up, but every time I logged on (day after day after day after day) every single appointment was booked.  (“W of the T of the F,” I thought, “I escaped the ghetto, certainly I can outsmart a stupid pharmacy website!”)

Cartoon used by permission: 249092_RGB_1290.png Losing It by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN

With my laptop in hand and my phone by my side, I stayed up through the night one evening mainlining caffeine, pinching myself to stay awake, and watching the sequel to the Gilmore Girls. (The revisit with the girls left something to be desired, BTW.)  At exactly two minutes after midnight, I logged onto the big pharmacy website, and Eureka! There were open appointments…although it took me a lifetime jumping through all the pages of questions they demanded like, “of these gazillion addresses listed, which one do you remember as a place you might have lived thirty years ago?” (Are you shittin’ me, giant pharmacy store? I can’t even remember what I had for dinner last week!)  By the time I finally escaped their Indiana Jones death traps and clicked on “submit,” and received two dates (one for each 2-shot vaccine), I thought I had won the lottery.  (Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Thank you, Jesus!)

I bragged to everyone I knew that I had done the impossible and had gotten an appointment on the giant pharmacy website. I had done what other mere mortals could not do. My friends were so jealous.  I gave tutorials on how to go fishing for a vaccine appointment at two minutes after midnight when the pharmacy uploaded the new slots.  I was flying high!  (Note to self: pride goeth before the fall.)  Until…until the nation-wide pharmacy sent me an email three weeks later that my first appointment had been rescheduled.  (Same time—different date.)  Okay, okay…just keep breathing, I told myself—stay calm.  You’ve got your foot in the door.  They can’t abandon you now.  (Oy, I am so naive!)  Two days before my first shot, I got an email which announced that my rescheduled appointment had been cancelled and they had no idea when it would be rescheduled.  (“We’ll call you and reschedule promise.” Liars! They never did.) 

I finally did get my first vaccine (still waiting on the booster), but not through any of the multitudinous sites where I’m waitlisted.  I had to go through a backdoor channel because the sites that were supposed to do their job never got their shit together in my town.  (What a fuster cluck!)  I’m absolutely exhausted over this hunt to keep me alive.  I felt as if I were an addict trying to get a hookup.  I don’t want to hear any more news reports about Black people being reluctant to get the vaccine, because this is one Black person who had to move Heaven and Earth to get a needle shoved into my arm, and I’m still waiting for the repeat.

Covid-19 Vaccine ET: Photo Credit E. Tomczyk

Now I’m contemplating a world where I have more freedom.  I’m trying to wrap my head around reentering that world.  Apparently, that concept causes extreme anxiety too when a pandemic is winding down, if Dr. Gail Saltz is to be believed.  Where do I go first?  How far afield should I go?  Should I trust airplanes?  Should I go by car? How do I proceed?  Where will I be safe?  What should I wear?  Will any of my dress-up clothes still fit?  Should I wear one mask or two?  Will I be safe around the unvaccinated? Apparently, 50% of Trump supporters are anti-vaxxers and won’t wear masks—what do I do if I run into these Neanderthals other than beat the crap out of them for being so selfish?  What if I get sick from the booster shot?  What if…? It hurts my head.

I think I’m going to pull a Scarlett O’Hara and deal with it tomorrow—maybe sleep for a few more months.  Maybe catch up on the old Gossip Girl series while munching on a box of chocolates and Chinese take-out. YA literature pablum at 72 years old, wrapped in chocolate, accompanied by baby steps to reenter the world is all I can handle right now.  Just trying to get vaccinated wore me out for at least another year.

Cartoon used by permission: 249634_RGB_1290.jpg Post Pandemic Stress by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Cartoon used by permission: 248908_RGB_1290.jpg Tomb of the Unknown by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on March 19, 2021 in Uncategorized

 

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“Ain’t Nothin’ Like the Real Thing, Baby… ”

VALENTINE’S DAY STORY REMIX: I pulled this post from a few years ago and decided to update the pictures and cartoons and rerun it because I still feel the same way about my man after all these years.  Enjoy!

Author and Husband celebrating 40th Anniversary Kiss/Photo Credit: M. Mason

Do you know what I’ve discovered about this Valentine’s Day?  I got struck by Cupid’s arrow some 48 years ago and it was true love—go figure!   I am Black, and he is White.  We met 7 years after the Supreme Court struck down the miscegenation laws across America via Loving vs Virginia.  We married 12 years after interracial marriage became legal in the United States.  But even though the anti-miscegenation laws took effect in 1967, it took South Carolina until 1998 and Alabama until 2000 to get their acts together—and they did it by a mere 62% (SC) and 59% (AL) of the voters.  Oh well, good thing WW (“White and Wonderful”) and I went on about the business of building our lives and being outrageously happy without waiting for the naysayers and the racists to give us permission to love.

Author and Husband 14th Anniversary/Photo Credit: J. Tomczyk
Anniversary Celebration of Author and Husband: Photo Credit/J. Tomczyk
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
…and then there were four! Author’s Husband and Children/Photo credit: E. Tomczyk

My husband and I owe a great deal of gratitude to Mildred and Richard Loving.  God knew what he was doing when he allowed the burden of overturning the miscegenation laws in America to be placed upon their backs.  They were simple country people who had grown up together and fallen in love.  They weren’t interested in brandishing a cause—they just loved each other.   When they married in DC where interracial unions were legal, they came back to their home in Virginia to start their lives together.  I have often tried to imagine what it was like when the white sheriff and his two deputies broke into the Loving’s home in the middle of the night while they were sleeping and dragged them out of their bed and put them in separate jail cells—tormenting Mrs. Loving with the threat of rape from other prisoners.  They pled guilty to “breaking the law” and were sentenced to one year in jail, but it was suspended for 25 years if they agreed to leave Virginia and never return together— leaving behind their home, their land, their parents, their friends, and their relatives.

The trial judge of Virginia (Judge Leon Bazile) who leveled the inhumane judgment against the Lovings issued this statement in defense of his ruling:

“Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, Malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And, but for the interference with his arrangement, there would be no cause for such marriage. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix.”

When I read Judge Bazile’s draconian statement, I wondered what type of marriage he had.  Was he happy?  Did he touch the soul of his wife like a deer panting after running rivers when it is exhausted from thirst (I suppose I’d have to ask her)?  Did the two of them share uproarious laughter over something innocuous that only resonates with two hearts connected in seeing life through the same kaleidoscope? Was she the first well-spring of joy on Judge Bazile’s mind when he awoke most mornings and the last one he longingly kissed goodnight? Had they traveled to Hell and back having been beaten, tossed, and battered by this world and still come out loving each other—loving deeper than when they first began? Because, you see, my husband and I have experienced that type of deep, deep love for forty-two years.

When I see the signs of the racists back in the day who equated the mixing of the races to communism, or heralding the Antichrist’s reign of terror down on our country, it causes me to ponder how many of these men beat their wives, or how many of these people divorced each other, or how many of them sat at dinner tables and never uttered one word of conversation to each other beyond an occasional grunt or two because they had nothing in common?  Because you see, WW and I can’t shut up from sharing what we’ve experienced while we’ve been apart because we’re each other’s best friend and best listener.  We love many of the same things, and what we don’t love, we pretend that we do.  I wonder if the people in the archival picture from the 60s who were against interracial love got marriage so perfectly that they can now sit at the right hand of God and judge all others outside of their spectrum.

Race Mixing
Civil Rights Image Archives

It took the Lovings nine years to win their case to stay a married couple in Virginia.  In 1967 they prevailed and Chief Justice Warren issued this statement:

“’Marriage is one of the ‘basic civil rights of man,’ fundamental to our very existence and survival…. To deny this fundamental freedom on so unsupportable a basis as the racial classifications embodied in these statutes, classifications so directly subversive of the principle of equality at the heart of the Fourteenth Amendment, is surely to deprive all the State’s citizens of liberty without due process of law. The Fourteenth Amendment requires that the freedom of choice to marry not be restricted by invidious racial discriminations. Under our Constitution, the freedom to marry, or not to marry, a person of another race resides with the individual and cannot be infringed by the State.’

The Supreme Court condemned Virginia’s anti-miscegenation law as ‘designed to maintain White supremacy.’”—Wikipedia

Interracial Marriage cartoon Kevin Sters
Sacred Institution of Marriage, Kevin Siers, The Charlotte Observer, NC/Cagle Cartoons

The most romantic words I’ve ever heard were from the lips of Richard Loving just before the Supreme Court ruling when his lawyer asked if he had any message for the judges:

“Mr. Cohen, tell the court I love my wife!”

I am discovering what I’ve always known:  I love my husband, and I can’t imagine having lived life without him.  I would be half the person I am today.  Marvin Gaye was right when he sang:  “Ain’t nothin’ like the real thing, baby…” In the beginning of our marriage, people used to stare at us all the time and occasionally make cracks about our interracial status (“Hey, Zebras”).  But now most times when people of any race stare at this old couple deeply loving one another in our 70’s, they often ask how long we’ve been married, gasp at the answer, and then ask us our secret.  We used to throw two-word one-liners at them:  “it’s communication, it’s respect, it’s laughter, it’s prayer…”  But now we just say “it is love,” and the definition is I Corinthians 13:4-8.

LOVE

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.

Love doesn’t strut,

Doesn’t have a swelled head,

Doesn’t force itself on others,

Isn’t always “me first,”

Doesn’t fly off the handle,

Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn’t revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything (well… most things–annotation, mine),

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end.

Love never dies.

TODAY: Let us grow old together because loving well AND living well is the best revenge!/Photo: J. Tomczyk

QUOTES FOR VALENTINE’S DAY

“Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work―a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you―especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards.―Cupid”Rick Riordan, The House of Hades

“All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.”—Charles M. Schulz

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone―we find it with another.”—Thomas Merton

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on February 13, 2021 in Uncategorized

 

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OPENING OUR SOULS INSTEAD OF HARDENING OUR HEARTS

Cartoon used by permission: 247756_RGB_1290.png Page Turner by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN

January 20, 2021—Joe Biden and Kamala Harris’ Inauguration day that almost wasn’t.  I’ve got to tell you that I was so nervous about the fulfillment of the promise of that day that I could barely breathe. (It didn’t disappoint.)  I plopped my chubby ass down on the couch in front of my TV at 11:00 a.m. (along with a husband, a bottle of champagne, caviar, cheese and crackers) and didn’t move (except for a few quick bathroom breaks—after all, I am 72, and my bladder is the size of an apricot) until the last bombastic explosion during the climax of Katy Perry’s “Fireworks” song at 11:00 p.m.

Somewhere around the middle of President Biden’s inaugural speech I started to bawl like an abandoned baby just wanting to be held, and when the President got to this passage in his speech, I heard what he was requiring of me as a good citizen—a good Christian, and it resonated loud and clear:

“But the answer is not to turn inward, to retreat into competing factions, distrusting those who don’t look like you do, or worship the way you do, or don’t get their news from the same sources you do.

“We must end this uncivil war that pits red against blue, rural versus urban, conservative versus liberal. We can do this if we open our souls instead of hardening our hearts. If we show a little tolerance and humility.

“As my mom would say— just for a moment, stand in their shoes. Because here’s the thing about life. There’s no accounting for what fate will deal you. There are some days when we need a hand.  There are other days when we’re called on to lend one.  That is how we must be with one another.”

Cartoon used by permission: 247799_RGB_1290 (1).jpg History is watching by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

At the end of the inauguration, I raised a glass in tribute to hope, healing, and unity in America, and posted my congrats on my Facebook page:

“CONGRATULATIONS PRESIDENT BIDEN AND VICE PRESIDENT HARRIS!  For the first time in four years, I am able to exhale.  You both are truly an answer to a culmination of prayers for restoration of sanity, truth, and righteousness.  God bless you both, and God bless the United States of America as you lead us in healing, unity, and restoration of integrity to the Presidency and our nation.

P.S.  I wore my pearls today in honor of you, Madam Vice President. I am so very, very proud of you!”

Author’s Toast to Biden/Harris: Photo credit: J. Tomczyk

It didn’t even take 24 hours before my first hater struck.  He was MAGA, he was White, he was male, he was self-righteous, he was angry, and he was entitled.  He felt he had every right to attack my faith and my intelligence as an educated, accomplished 72-year-old Black woman, and every fiber in my being wanted to “clap back” on Facebook and rip his face off while simultaneously puncturing his butt with a new a-hole. And then I remembered something significant about my attacker: But for the grace of God, go I.  Instead of attacking back, I blocked that White man’s assault (sent him into Cyber Hell). Rather than let him draw me into an argument on Facebook (each hidden behind the manipulative algorithm skirts of Mark Zuckerberg), I have chosen to answer my hater in a more controlled space.

Cartoon used by permission: 247696_RGB_1290.jpg Franklin Graham and the One Commandment by John Cole ncpolicywatch com

Dear MAGA White Man (a.k.a, “Hater just be hatin’ cause he thinks he can”):

I know you! I haven’t seen you or talked to you in over thirty years, but I do remember you. In fact, we used to belong to the same cult, back in the day—some fifty years ago. We weren’t close or anything, but we did enjoy each other’s company when our paths crossed.

You were different then—full of hope and promise that we were going to save the world in Jesus’s name.  You were shy and unassuming, but your eyes always twinkled with joy.  I remember, unlike most people I meet, I was always glad to encounter you. 

About ten years after our initial church affiliation together, I ran into you in another town while visiting a mutual friend.  You and your lovely wife invited my husband and me to your home for an evening of great food and wine.  It was a lovely dinner, full of laughter and sharing of artistic endeavors. As we ate dinner on your deck under a perfect starlit night, I remember being in awe of your talent as you proudly displayed your most recent artwork. At one point, late in the evening after much wine, you confessed that since our youthful adventure in a church we attended some ten years before, you had suffered much pain and sorrow.  You spoke of how you had struggled financially for years just trying to make ends meet, and it had been a great strain on your wife and children.  But a miracle had happened!  You had come into a windfall of a large sum of money a year before, and thought you and your family were finally going to be able to participate in the American dream.

Cartoon used by permission: 224270_RGB_1290.png Easter by Milt Priggee Oak Harbor WA

But life has a way of fucking with us—as I know all too well.  At this point in the story, you began to cry and your wife took up the telling of your Odysseus journey.  She couldn’t explain the “why” of your choices, and no one who had not walked a mile in your shoes could ever possibly apprehend your decisions over that previous year.  Your mother had died unexpectantly, and your wife’s body was diagnosed to be riddled with cancer.  You did as we were taught to do:  pray for another miracle.  After all, bad things didn’t happen to good people—or so we thought.  Somewhere in your fog of grief, your wife said you started assuaging your pain and lack of control over the vagaries of life by carousing the dark dens of crack and heroin in a neighboring city, and in less than a year, your newfound wealth—your children’s education and your wife’s medical treatments—was snorted up your nose and shot into your emaciated arms.

Then your wife said something to me I will never forget: “We had suffered the death of his precious mom, the threat of cancer plagued us, and we had lost all our money—we were at rock bottom.  But I decided that I was not going to lose my man like this. There was no future without him. And so, I—a White woman from a small town, scared of my own shadow and shaking like a leaf in the middle of a gale storm—combed every crack house in the city looking for him—frantically searching for him—until I found my wasted husband and dragged him home to heal.”

I remember saying something stupid like, “I grew up in the heart of the ghetto, and I wouldn’t have had the courage to do what you did.”  Your wife said something I will never forget: “Oh yes, you would have found the courage because ‘perfect love casts out all fear.’” At the end of the evening, we prayed together. Prayed for your continued recovery and for the healing of your wife.  Prayed that what the “canker worm had eaten would be restored.”  Prayed that all our lives would be blessed in the future.

Cartoon used by permission: 191272_RGB_1290.png Valentines Lasting Love COLOR by Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

That was thirty years ago.  We lost touch after that.  I’d seen your profile on Facebook once, but I didn’t follow your posts.  Saw just enough to notice that you were still clinging to the false doctrines of our cult days, which I had summarily rejected*. I also noticed you were a real MAGA Head and Trump worshipper. I gave you grace by not attacking you (never commenting—not even a horrified emoji face) for your beliefs on your FB page.  Imagine my surprise when you attacked my faith on my FB page—accused me of not believing in Jesus—simply because I congratulated President Biden and Vice President Harris on their election win.  You did so not knowing what I’ve been though in life and not having spoken to me in several decades.  At first, in my anger (I ain’t gonna lie—I really wanted to smack you upside your head and rip off your testicles), I didn’t remember our dinner of years ago.  All I could think about was coming after you with both guns verbally loaded.  But before waging my attack, I contacted a few old mutual friends to “kvetch.”  They told me that they had lost touch with you now that you’d become such an anti-truth, Trump idolizer.  However, they did mention that they heard you had fallen back into drugs for a while, lost everything again, and the cruelest cut of all was that your lovely wife had died.  They said that you’d gone nuts (their words, not mine).

Cartoon used by permission: 247327_RGB_1290 (1).png MAGA Hatters by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

That is when my reactive anger against you dissipated, and I felt great sorrow for you.  All I could think about was: “But for the grace of God, go I.” We both entered that church 50 years ago needing a place to belong in the calamitous, cacophonous, driftless years of the 70s, but never realized that it would turn into a cult and that that cult would make your mind a fertile ground for the MAGA doctrine. We were full of so much hope and expectations. Both of us had and have suffered great losses and disappointments since then. I fled the religion of our youth* losing my best friend and church home, but I feel it has made all the difference in the grace with which I see the people of the world who don’t look like me, don’t worship the same god, and who don’t belong to the same political party.

I’m sure you think I’m as blind as a bat at noontime, given your political and religious bent. I only ask that you remember our shared humanity before you write me off—when we cried together, prayed together, and hoped for the best in each other’s lives all those years ago.  There was no disdain for my “liberal” beliefs on your part, nor was there any knee-jerk reaction of horror for red ball caps at the mere sight of their appearance on my part.  We were just humans trying to find our way back home.

Cartoon used by permission: 247872_RGB_1290.jpg New Reality For Republicans by Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons com

Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit back and bask in the hope I see for us all (you and me) as Americans in this new administration—not to mention the possibilities from Kamala Harris’ win for my future granddaughters.  I know you’re pissed, old acquaintance, because you think the election was stolen from you.  And I think if your group had managed to overturn a free and fair election, my vote would have been stolen from me.  You think your man was chosen by God, and I think he’s on a mission from Hell.  There you have it! We’re at a stalemate here—never to agree, I suspect. But we are in the middle of a war against an unseen enemy that is ravaging our nation and could kill us all if we don’t drop our ideological weapons and band together.  Our only chance of survival is to unite on the fertile grounds of our shared humanity and give this new administration a chance to lead us to higher terrain and healing. Anytime you’re available, I’m ready to call a truce and to speak of love found, love lost, and hope that springs eternal. Maybe, just maybe, we might find common purpose and incentive to coexist.

God bless—From: Someone you once broke bread with.

Cartoon used by permission: 247921_RGB_1290.jpg Be like Kamala by John Darkow Columbia Missourian


*If you are a victim of a church or a religious experience gone nuts, I have walked a mile in your shoes.  Check out my second memoir, Fleeing Oz.  It might be of help, and if it is, please drop me a note and let me know.

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on January 31, 2021 in Uncategorized

 

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2021, YOU GOT SOME ‘SPLAININ’ TO DO…

Cartoon used by permission: 247093_RGB_1290.png 2020 Won’t change by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

Did anybody else lapse on their “dry-wine January resolution” already?  Everybody?  I thought so!  It isn’t even Inauguration Day yet, and I am wishing I had planted a cannabis field in the swamp behind my house when I had the chance.

2021—what a shitshow!  If I had known this year was going to set the stage for the breaking of America, I would have never started a new diet, never started a weight-training program, and never started on my fourth book.  Instead, I would have jumped headlong into hedonism and let the chips fall where they may.  As the Peggy Lee song says, “…if that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing. Let’s break out the booze and have a ball, if that’s all there is.”

Cartoon used by permission:  247475_RGB_1290.png Breaking News by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

It almost seems as if we hired the wrong year. 

Does anyone know if 2021 came with references?  I would love to interview Baby 2021, and make sure it is prepared for what is up ahead.  I thought on New Year’s Eve that 2,600 American deaths a day from COVID-19 might be a gargantuan task for the little tyke to overcome, but I figured once we got our new President installed, we’d be able to make 2021 a year of recovery and healing.  And then came the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the unbearable…

Cartoon used by permission: 247294_RGB_1290.png The Patriotic Terrorist by Christopher Weyant The Boston Globe MA

As I watched the insurrection unfold, I started crying.  I don’t know what horrified me more: the brazen murderous hordes trying to overturn a free and fair election or that the mob was being led by White Supremacists masquerading as Evangelical Christians praying for God to bless their invasion to capture, judge, and execute the Vice President, Nancy Pelosi, and other legislators they hated while waving signs that said: “Jesus is my savior. Trump is my president,” “Jesus saves,” and “God’s Word Calls Them Out.”

These haters of liberty—these Christian Dominionists (ideology that America belongs to the Christian god, and only his approved followers are allowed to rule for now until Jesus returns)—were so rabid that one would be forgiven for thinking that the invaders might have been escapees from a mental institution.  Instead, they were pastors, realtors, a Texas florist, the son of a Brooklyn judge, police officers, a professor, a firefighter, a newly elected West Virginia lawmaker, teachers, a couple of misguided Black people, and even kids.

Cartoon used by permission: 247354_RGB_1290.jpg Refile Nuremberg Cartoon Correct Spelling by Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons com

How could the year 2021 have missed the signs from Donald Trump that he had no plans to ever concede or acknowledge the truth that he had lost? Instead, Trump sent out signals for weeks for the deplorables to come to DC and “stop the steal.”  Trump’s Big Lie that the election had been stolen from him almost upended our democracy and blew up what little bit of our nerves we had left from being tormented by COVID-19.  I reasoned that if this is the way 2021 started, I probably won’t survive until 2022, so I wrote 2021 a letter with a few tips on what is most important to help America triumph in this new year.

Cartoon used by permission: 247639_RGB_1290.png Feeding the fringe by Adam Zyglis The Buffalo News NY

DEAR BABY 2021:

Welcome to the new year!  Everybody is so glad that you’ve arrived.  We could hardly wait to get rid of your predecessor.  Your big brother, 2020, left us with 4 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide—400,000 of them Americans. The sane part of our country was pleased that 2020 helped us elect a new American President to lead us out of the mayhem and madness that Trump world had wrought.  For that reality, most of us will be forever grateful.  However, my expectation was that you, 2021, would help us ascend from the manure pile of the last four years. No offense, but you haven’t gotten off to a very good start.  I realize you are young, but you need to be a multi-tasker, Little Dude, because there are dragons in the land.

Cartoon used by permission: 247115_RGB_1290.png Pressure on Baby New Year 2021 by Jeff Koterba CagleCartoons com

Also, you appear to be soooo naïve Baby 2021.  I think you thought that just by electing a good and just man who was qualified to be President of the United States (Joe Biden), all would be well. And then came January 6th when a bunch of crazy people decided they weren’t going to allow Biden to become President—even if it meant killing their fellow citizens.  Long after Trump is gone, the spirit of the murderous mob will still be going strong and trying to permanently change the patina of our nation.  They are Hell bent on it.

Should you choose to accept being our current year Baby 2021, here is your first agenda item:  You must slaughter the lead dragon.  His name is Deception, and he masquerades as Truth mainly within White Evangelical churches, which acts as a cover for White Supremacy theories, Q-Anon conspiracy theories, and Christian Nationalism. The violent insurrection that happened on January 6th was led by the dragon Deception in the guise of Christianity and patriotism (Nationalism).  On January 6th, Americans lost their innocence as to who we are as a democracy and who our greatest enemies are.  Before Trump, many of us thought we were a multicultural nation where equality and voting were every citizen’s right, and our greatest enemies were international terrorists.  Well, surprise, surprise, surprise!  It looks as if the terrorists are domestic (extremely White), and they blew a shofar (Jewish religious ceremonial horn of a ram appropriated by Christians) as some White “Christian” woman sang “Peace in the name of Jesus…the blood of Jesus covering this place” before storming the Capitol

Cartoon used by permission: 247642_RGB_1290.jpg We have met the enemy by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

Baby 2021, not all the insurrectionists were Christians, but too many of them were, which meant that they had compromised the true meaning of Jesus and Christianity and were being emboldened by the Dragon of Lies.  They were the super glue of Trump’s presidency and stopped hearing anyone else’s voice but Trump’s.  When he said “storm the Capitol,” they replied: “Heil Trump!”  It didn’t matter that they were responding to a lie. It only mattered that they were following their Dominionistic leader’s instructions to keep him in power.

Your assignment is to wake up so-called “Christian” Trumpers to the truth. Their hearts, minds, and actions should belong to Jesus who is the epitome of Truth. The truth is: Trump didn’t win the 2020 election, Trump is not God’s chosen one, Trump is a very, very bad man, Trump is a murderer (over half the COVID-19 deaths are due to his negligence), Trump has lied over 40k times, and in God’s good time, Trump’s “ass is gonna be grass” (don’t know what that means? Ask any Black person over 40).  Baby 2021, do whatever is necessary to open the Christian Trump followers’ eyes. They were so tenacious at the riot because they thought they were doing God’s will, and they had no idea that they were being played by the demon Donald Trump.  I have a theory that if you can open the eyes of this group to the actual truth about the Giant Orange Lie they have been following, you might have a chance in repairing our democracy this year.

Cartoon used by permission: 247438_RGB_1290.jpg Foundations of Democracy by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com

In the meantime, there is hope.  There are better angels among us—a majority of Americans who have not swallowed the lie and won’t let the insurrectionists get away with their crimes.  Yesterday those courageous better angels impeached Donald Trump for the second time.  Tomorrow we remember and celebrate one of our most precious better angels who has passed on before us, but who left a legacy of truth, hope, and love:  Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.   That legacy will continue to be fulfilled by the election of our first Black, Indian-American, woman as Vice President, and the election (against all odds) of an extremely qualified, humble man as President who knows what truth looks like.

Cartoon used by permission: 205175_RGB_1290.png Keep Looking Up by Jeff Koterba Omaha World Herald NE

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Cartoon used by permission: 247613_RGB_1290.jpg Wisdom for the Right by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on January 17, 2021 in Uncategorized

 

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ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS . . .

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: In case you haven’t noticed 2020 has been a real shit show.  I’m so traumatized that I’ve got God on speed dial, and I’m harassing White Santa Claus every hour on the hour for what I want for Christmas.  Below are a few of my petitions sent directly to the North Pole. 

Cartoon used by permission: 246820_RGB_1290.jpg Stuck at home for Christmas by John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune PA

DEAR WHITE SANTA:  All I want for Christmas is my brain back.  A 72-year-old brain is not supposed to handle a pandemic, a lunatic, racist President who is destroying our country, people dying by the thousands per week—including personal friends—families being evicted on a daily basis, me unable to see friends from out-of-town and family for almost a year, threat of a civil war over to mask-or-not-to-mask, and the curse of possibly getting COVID-19 and dying from it due to my age and comorbidities.  I wrestle with insomnia and my brain is threatening to leave home and not return until Jesus comes back or you show yourself to be real.  I’ve never seen evidence of you in my life, you know.  Remember how you never bought me one toy when I was a poor Black child—not one fuckin’ toy?  I admit I wasn’t the best kid, but I wasn’t the worst either.  You try growing up in foster homes and an orphanage, and see how you manage. Do I sound bitter?  Maybe just a little.  Well, now is the time for you to make it up to me. I want you to start giving me presents.  Let’s start with my brain: I want my brain back!

Before I entered 2020, my brain was superb! I played “Hand, Knee, Foot, Canasta” every Monday with a bunch of ladies, wrote three books, and hundreds of stories and essays.  Now my brain has turned to mush, and I’m sure it is due to stress.  This morning, I lined up behind a man in the grocery store who looked like someone I know very well, but since I’ve never had to pick him out of a lineup by recognizing his ass, I wasn’t quite sure if it was my friend or not since we were six-feet apart.  However, I prepared to shout, “Hi—Merry Christmas!” to his back through my two super-duper Israeli masks (I take no chances at the grocery store), but when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t remember his name.  WTF! White Santa Claus, I panicked!  I know this man very well—I know his wife even better, but all I could bring to the forefront of my brain was the first initial of his name: “B.”  Any minute I knew the guy would turn around, and I’d have to address him by name.  Was it Bob, Bill, Ben, Barry, Bryson, Bennett, Brandon, Beau, Blake…? As beads of sweat formed on my forehead and dripped beneath my four-ply masks, he turned around, recognized me, and I went for broke: “Hi, Brody—Merry Christmas, my friend!” My friend didn’t recoil in horror so I must have gotten his name correct.  He greeted me by name (clearly his brain is still intact), and we yelled our commiserations back and forth about how we are both soooooo over 2020.  Whew!

Cartoon used by permission: 246243_RGB_1290.jpg Christmas List by Rick McKee CagleCartoons com

DEAR WHITE SANTA:  The second thing I want for Christmas is for you to capture Donald Trump and take him back to the North Pole with you.  Put him on a strict diet of no cell phone, no social media, no fast food, no sex, no sycophants, no friends, no relatives, no money, no visitors, and no red caps.  In other words, put him in prison.  Keep him there until he repents for the 40,000-plus lies he’s uttered, asks forgiveness to all the women he’s sexually abused, and confesses to all the crimes he’s committed.  Please throw away the key.

Cartoon used by permission: 246467_RGB_1290.jpg My favorite gift by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

DEAR WHITE SANTA:  Another thing I could use for Christmas is for you to end 2020 the day after Christmas.  Just skip to 2021.  We’ve all had it with this year. This isn’t a deal breaker, but it sure would be nice.

Cartoon used by permission: 246623_RGB_1290 (1).jpg Peace on Earth by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

DEAR WHITE SANTA:  One more thing I’d like for Christmas: please lobotomize the MAGA people.  While doing so, please clean the wax out their ears and soften their hearts to hear the true message of Christmas.  (It wouldn’t hurt to glue their mouths shut!) I’m sure you’ve noticed that they have been very bad little boys and girls for the past four years and are still misbehaving to the point of trying to engage in a civil war.  Ain’t nobody got time for that, White Santa.  They don’t believe the pandemic is real, they won’t wear masks and social distance, they’re saying that they won’t take the vaccine for the COVID-19, and they think the election was stolen from he-whose-name-I-hope-will-never-be-spoken-after-2020.  I know you tend to have a soft spot for White people, but they gotta go, Dude!

Cartoon used by permission: 246111_RGB_1290 (1).jpg All I want for Christmas by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com

DEAR WHITE SANTA:  All I REALLY want for Christmas is to hug my kids, grandson, and sister.  But since I can’t, please bless our Zoom times together, and grant us much joy and laughter.  I’d like to put in my “ask” for next Christmas though:  May my family and I all be together in person on Christmas 2021. Amen!

Cartoon used by permission: 246784_RGB_1290.jpg Christmas Wish by Bill Day Tallahassee FL

DEAR WHITE SANTA:  All I want for Christmas is my two vaccines.  I’m following all the rules and doing all that is necessary to keep others safe as well as myself.  These vaccines are my ability to see family and to travel.  Maybe I’ll even come visit you, Chubby Dude—assuming you’ve received your shots.

Cartoon used by permission: 204440_RGB_1290.png HAPPY BIRTHDAY by Milt Priggee Kitsap Sun

DEAR WHITE SANTA:  What I really, really want for Christmas, I don’t think you’re capable of giving me. In fact, I think even with all your good intentions, you obfuscate the real meaning of Christmas.  The real hope of Christmas is not an obese White man (no offense) who sneaks into houses via chimneys, devours cookies and milk at EACH HOUSE (Seriously? you probably have diabetes something fierce), and uses reindeer-power instead of gas or electricity to get here and there.  No offense, Dude, but I want the true promise of what the birth of Jesus means to all mankind:  peace on the Earth, goodwill to all people, no more hunger, no more strife, love and grace to everyone, no more sadness, no more sorrow, and joy to all!  If you see Jesus in your travels, please let him know that his character and name have been hijacked in 2020 to mean something other than what Christmas should be all about, and we could use a refresher course.

Cartoon used by permission: 246732_RGB_1440.png Bedtime Prayer by Ed Wexler CagleCartoonscom

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on December 23, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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OFFICIAL EVICTION NOTICE FOR ONE DONALD J. TRUMP AND HIS RESIDENTIAL DEMONS

Cartoon used by permission: 245464_RGB_1290.jpg Trump Evicted by Bill Day, Tallahassee FL

EVICTION NOTICE

TO:         Loser, Donald J. Trump

                1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

                Washington, DC            

  a.k.a. The White House

Cartoon used by permission: 245558_RGB_1290.png Trump Leaving White House by Bart van Leeuwen PoliticalCartoons com

Pursuant to the provisions of The Constitution, you are hereby given an eviction notice to vacate, on or before January 20, 2021, the premises and appurtenances (all accessories or other items associated with the Presidency such as Air Force One, any helicopters, the military, and the soul of America) that are owned by the People of the United States of America.  Trumpee, you don’t have to go home to Mar-a-Lago, but you can’t stay here.

Cartoon used by permission: 245762_RGB_1290.jpg Mine ALL Mine by Bill Day Tallahassee FL

YOU ARE BEING ASKED TO LEAVE FOR THE FOLLOWING REASON:

A failure to function as a proper president as specified in the Constitution, and as dictated by common sense, tradition, and godly principles.  When you moved into the White House, you had ONE JOB—AND ONE JOB ONLY:  Be presidential.  But you were not.  You neglected the most basic of duties (engaged in golf most of the time, traded conspiracy theories and lies with Fox News hosts, and played footsie with your best pal Putin). Consequently, “rats” were allowed to run amok through the corridors of the People’s House and across the land causing all sorts of damage that may take years to repair. It’s as if your primary motive was to huff and puff and blow the People’s house down if you couldn’t have your own way or make yourself a king forever and ever.

Cartoon used by permission:  246065_RGB_1290.png Light White House Fuse by Ed Wexler CagleCartoons com

You are hereby notified of your right to exit stage left without a public eviction notice, if you want to save face.  All you have to do is concede the election to President-elect Joe Biden, gracefully welcome the Biden/Harris presidency to the White House, and promise to disappear into the sunset on January 20th without another peep or sound from you.  You don’t even have to attend the Inauguration.  In fact, the people who elected Joe Biden prefer you don’t.

Cartoon used by permission: 245940_RGB_1290.png Trump 2020 Snow Globe by Ed Wexler CagleCartoons com

On the other hand, should you insist on not conceding, your landlords (all 80,962,077 of the American electorate) will gladly toss your sorry-ass out on the grass on January 20th.  They are fully aware that the Emperor has no clothes and charge you with willful ignorance, lack of integrity, creating an atmosphere of violence and treason, murdering hundreds of thousands of people due to negligence and mismanagement of the COVID-19 pandemic, and eroding trust in our government with the issuing of 20,000 lies and more (The People stopped counting your lies in October—it became too disheartening). In fact, immediately upon your vacating the premises, we are bringing in a top-notch exterminator.

Cartoon used by permission:  245574_RGB_1290.jpg The Exorcist by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

DONALD J. TRUMP, YOU ARE BEING ASKED TO LEAVE THE PREMISES OF THE WHITE HOUSE ON JANUARY 20, 2020 IN TIME ENOUGH FOR JOE BIDEN TO BECOME OUR 46TH PRESIDENT.  IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE, AN EVICTION ACTION WILL BE INITIATED AGAINST YOU BY THE SECRET SERVICE.  IF YOU ARE IN DOUBT REGARDING YOUR LEGAL RIGHTS AND OBLIGATIONS AS A TENANT IT IS RECOMMENDED THAT YOU CONSULT THE U.S. CONSTITUTION.

NOW GET OUT!!!

Yours in total disgust and disrespect,

80,962,077 of the American electorate

On behalf of the new inhabitant of the White House—

Joe Biden, 46th President of the United States

Cartoon used by permission:  245520_RGB_1290.jpg Inauguration Day 2021 by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Cartoon used by permission:  246089_RGB_1290.png Second Terminator by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on December 2, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION (a Halloween tale of horror)

(Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore’s “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” for the butchering and ham-handedness of his iconic poem)

Cartoon used by permission: 244465_RGB_1290.jpg Halloween 2020 by Rick McKee CagleCartoonscom

‘Twas the night before the Presidential election, when all through the land,

Not a godly person was sleeping—not a child, woman, or man.

A landslide of votes had been cast for Joe Biden with care,

But folks were nervous that come the new day,

The Trump nightmare would still be there.

Cartoon used by permission: 243693_RGB_1290.png Axing Norms by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

The Democrats were anxious as they snuggled in their beds,

While visions of a Biden win and Senate take-over danced in their heads.

And Pelosi in her Covid mask, and me in mine too,

Had finally calmed our hearts when we heard a loud “BOO!”

Cartoon used by permission: 244669_RGB_1290.jpg  Running mate by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

I wondered in my grogginess, what could be the disaster,

But soon spied a giant Covid spector and his Trump-like master.

Down to my knees I dropped like a flash,

Looked up to the heavens, and screamed: “Lawd Jesus, save po’ America’s ass”!

Cartoon used by permission: 244879_RGB_1290.png Donald Trump Undertakes the Pandemic by Dale Cummings Canada PoliticalCartoons com

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Illuminated the pumpkin-looking man with the Covid-orange glow.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

Trump’s idols, his lackies, and demons of fear.

More rapid than eagles, his flying gargoyles they came,

As he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Now Putin! Now Giuliani!

Now Lindsey and Fox News!

Come Hannity, and McConnell,

Come Repubs, and Laura Ingraham too.

“Back into the belly of the Oval Office!

And into the cowardly hearts of the Senate.

Y’all come visit—stay—for 2021 until forever,

‘Cause this Christian-idol mofo is guaranteed to win it!”

Cartoon used by permission: 244350_RGB_1290.png Happy Halloween 2020 by Bart van Leeuwen PoliticalCartoons com

But then in my nightmare, I heard on the roof

A stampede of angelic sandal-clad hoofs.

I ran to the window as thousands flew down

And trampled scary Trump

Into the Halloween ground.

They were led by Archangel Michael—

that champion from stories back in the day

His glorious Halloween costume was

Like a fashionable gay dude from the 1600’s, I’d say.

“Don’t let my outfit fool you,”

he said with a beatific grin.

“No evil is a match for me,

given my sword, wings and fabulous glam trim.”

Archangel Michael by Luca Giordano (1660 – 1665) – The Fall of the Rebel Angels/Public Domain

He spoke a few more words before vanquishing Trump:

“BE NOT AFRAID! The Orange one and his ghouls are a goner.

Tell all your frightened Dem friends

To have hope—Angels’ honor.”

Cartoon used by permission: 244862_RGB_1290.png Election Run by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT


Michael spoke not another word, and went back to his work,

Skewered all of Trump’s demon-pals, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose.

And giving a nod, up to the sky he arose.

His Arch-Angelness hung overhead, and to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew up like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he flew out of sight:

“2020 will not be like 2016!”

“Now calm your faint hearts and have a restful good night!”

Cartoon used by permission: 244884_RGB_1290.png You Are Fired by Marian Kamensky Austria

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Cartoon used by permission: 244926_RGB_1290.png Zombie Trump by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on October 28, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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DID ANYBODY INTERVIEW THE MIKE PENCE FLY?

Cartoon used by permission: 244252_RGB_1290.png Trading Places by Bart van Leeuwen PoliticalCartoons com

Last week Donald J. Trump lost the election.  You know why I know?  ‘Cause last week I projectile vomited, and I think I did so as a collective exasperated expression of at least 63% of the nation and 80% of the world.

I went to a funeral interment for a friend (at a cemetery, socially distanced, masks required), and I couldn’t even comfort my other friend (his wife) with a hug.  In the midst of my grief as I was leaving the burial grounds, I was made aware of President Trump’s callous, unrepentant, re-emergence onto the scene after his bout with Covid-19 (a sojourn that I hoped would be a come-to-Jesus moment for him).  But no…he had a meeting all right, but judging from the results, it must have been with Satan himself.  It was then that I decided “yesh gvul” (Hebrew for “enough is enough”)—this man had to go.

Cartoon used by permission: 244325_RGB_1290 (1).jpg Trump glorified by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

As you recall, Trump tested positive for Covid-19, but instead of it becoming his “aha” moment of broken-hearted repentance and empathy (as I had prayed) for the hundreds of thousands of people he had caused to get sick and die due to his ineffective handling of the virus, he returned to the White House crazier than ever. Upon hearing his stupid, boastful rantings as I left my friend’s funeral, I got so upset that I projectile vomited all over the inside of a fairly new Lexus (ceiling, steering wheel, windshield and control panel)!  As my husband side-eyed me in abject horror, I continued to vomit into a designer handbag, spew chunks of turkey roll-ups all over his Brooks Brothers suit and his face, all over my cute leather suit and dress boots, down my blouse into my bra, and all over my glasses and new wig.  We drove home in silence, completely covered in slime, as we contemplated the metaphor of “life under the Trump regime” that had erupted from the nether regions of my tummy.

Cartoon used by permission: 244160_RGB_1290.jpg Trump returns to White House by John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune PA

No, I don’t have Covid.  However, I do have Ménière’s disease which is manifested by an intense ringing in the right ear whenever I am stressed out, which causes a wicked case of vertigo that turns my tummy into a tilt-a-whirl.  I can handle most everyday stress—including a funeral or two.  What I can’t handle is our country sliding into Hell for another four years.  I did not have Ménière’s disease before Trump became President—I got it the day he was inaugurated. I’m sure there are scads of other people who have contracted all sorts of stress-related problems since the Orange horror became president.

But I realized something encouraging last week:  The majority of Americans are as sick and tired as I am and are motivated enough to send the Grand Imposter packing November 3rd with a win that will be too big to rig.  I’m seeing evidence that all good-hearted, sane, intelligent people have had enough and they are not going to take it anymore!  I think my vomiting was a sign to be broadcast to the Nation:  November 3rd, purge Trump so that our national nightmare comes to an end!

Cartoon used by permission: 244305_RGB_1290.png Scream At The President by Ed Wexler CagleCartoons com

I’ve been gathering testimonials from the various coalitions who are working day and night to defeat Trump, and I can feel the momentum.  For the first time in years, I have hope! I know Democrats are afraid of falling for another 2016 heartbreak, but this feels different.  (Of course, Trump is trying to cheat every which way but Sunday, but let’s hope and pray his efforts are obliterated.) People are tired of the crazies.  They want normality—dullness even.  They (we) are all tired of stupidity and being led by a reality TV star—we did not audition for this movie. The people of the world (except for Putin, Kim Jong Un, White Supremacists, and White Christian Trump supporters) are tired of vomiting whenever the bloviated Orange one causes the world to tilt with his ineptitude.

Cartoon used by permission: 244307_RGB_1290.png Stop the Crazy by Daryl Cagle CagleCartoon com

Anyway, in order to calm my agitated nerves and tummy the night of the great Vesuvius turkey-roll eruption, I slept with a diffuser that emitted lavender oil fumes.  I must have put too many drops in the little thingamajig because my dreams were hallucinogenic.  I dreamed that I was summoned to the bedside of the fly who occupied Mike Pence’s head for two minutes and nine seconds on the night of the VP debate. It seemed she wanted to alert America about the horrors she had seen being a fly on the wall in the Oval Office and what she gleaned from occupying Pence’s hair. Turns out the fly’s name is BeelzeBUG and she hails from the City of Fraud from the country of Dante’s Inferno 8th circle of Hell.

Cartoon used by permission: 244232_RGB_1290.png Pence fly by Hajo de Reijger The Netherlands

Ms. BeelzeBUG, I was so stunned to hear from your people who asked me to do an interview with you.  They said you had an urgent message for America. More than happy to oblige, but if the truth be known I thought you’d be dead 24 hours after the debate ended.

I am a black fly—not a mayfly, you “nyekulturnik!”  Mayflies live 24 hours; black flies are the superior fly and live as long as twenty-eight days—sometimes longer.  From my calculations, I should have 5 days to go, but it’s probably going to be just minutes given my trauma in the White House and how long I’ve been farting around with you humans.

I’m not a “Russian uncultured lowlife” Ms. BeelzeBUG, but I’ll let that insult slide given your condition. Speaking of condition, shouldn’t you be tripping the light fantastic by visiting copious dunghills and laying tons of eggs inside garbage cans before you have to go back to Hell?  What gives?

I have Covid-19, that’s what the hell gives!  I got it from that kiss-ass, Mike Pence.  I didn’t know this about him before I landed on his head, but his hair is like white sticky fly paper from all the hair spray he uses.  I got stuck and almost died in there.

Cartoon used by permission: 244292_RGB_1290.jpg Shoo fly don’t bother me by John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune PA

Why were you even at the debate?  Were you there to sabotage Kamala?

Initially, that’s what I was sent here to do by Sneaky Snake.  Satan’s a huge Trump supporter.  Surprised? I know you’ve been told that Trump is Jesus’ main man, but that’s a lie like just about everything else in Donny’s life.  Lucifer said, “buzz around Kamala’s ears, fly up her nose, and irritate her until she goes all mad-Black woman on Pence’s ass.  You know, get her to lose her cool.” But after hanging around on the walls of the Oval Office for a few days, I just couldn’t follow through with my mission.  I secretly love your country—best garbage on the planet!  And so much of it, too.  I had to help you out.

I live in the 8th circle, known as the Fraud dimension, which is the part of Hell where most politicians end their journey.  It is where “anyone who has committed fraud against humanity is punished.”  So, I know a skanky politician when I see one.  I came to Earth knowing what a fraud Trump was (the Devil has had his eye on that dude for years), but I was clueless as to the smelly corruption of Pence. Thought he belonged to the other guy in the sky.  But hanging around your VP for a few days, I quickly learned he was as bad or worse than Trump. He’s one sneaky son-of-a-bitch hiding under a pro-life cloak.  Here’s a little known secret:  Pence is auditioning to take Trump’s place if he croaks or to become President in 2024.  I came to the VP debate hall to warn America to pay attention to this man.  He says he’s a Christian, but he certainly doesn’t act like one—he’s a power-hungry fraud!  I was the fly on the wall that watched him for days.  I wanted your voters to know that when you take out his boss, make sure Pence goes down the sewer pipe with him.  Not only is your country’s future at stake, but so is the rest of the world and the planet.  Heaven and Hell needs America to get your shit together.  Go!  Tell everyone who will listen.  This election is not a test.  A fly from Hell saw the handwriting on the wall, and I am afraid—very afraid!

Cartoon used by permission: 244233_RGB_1290.jpg Fly on Pence by John Columbia Missourian

OMG!  The situation is worse than I thought.  I can’t imagine four more years under a Trump/Pence presidency.  Anybody with half a heart and a brain will be projectile vomiting every day out of terror and fear. What are we to do to save ourselves? 

Vote!  Vote as if your lives depend on it because they do!  Now I’m gonna shoo out of here.  Back to Hell which is a lot less scary than what I’ve witnessed in America during my brief visit.  Sayonara, Human.

Cartoon used by permission: 243750_RGB_1290.jpg Who is undecided by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on October 14, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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I’M IN LOVE WITH A NASTY, ANGRY, HORRIBLE, DISRESPECTFUL MADWOMAN

Cartoon used by permission: 242362_RGB_1290.png Running mate Harris by Bart van Leeuwen PoliticalCartoons com

“We need more than a victory on November 3rd, we need a mandate that proves that the past three years do not represent who we are or who we aspire to be.”—Kamala Harris, The Future VP of the United States

Needless to say, I am in love!  I didn’t think it was going to matter to me which qualified woman Vice President Biden picked to be his running mate until he picked Kamala Harris.  Granted it was the unveiling of an historical moment, which caused even my very White husband to choke up with tears at the possibilities, but it was also the power and hope I felt rising up in me, my daughters, and my friends as Kamala spoke when she accepted the call to action from Joe Biden. The power with which she so excellently and urgently prosecuted the zeitgeist of corruption, racism, and death against Donald Trump that he has unleashed into the lives of the people in the United States made me stand up and shout “hallelujah!”  As she declared, “The case against Donald Trump and Mike Pence is open and shut,” for the first time I could see a future without Trump, and I felt sure Vice President Kamala Harris was going to help get us there. Maybe even become our first woman president.

I tried to imagine how this chapter of America’s story might be told to our children in 100 years.  I wondered what kind of children’s books would be written about Kamala as future generations looked back on the dystopian country that “nasty” women like her helped save from the very brink of destruction.

A 2120 CHILDREN’S BOOK FOR VERY, VERY SMART CHILDREN

THE MARVELOUS, FANTASTIC, NASTY, ANGRY, HORRIBLE, DISRESPECTFUL, MADWOMEN WHO DESTROYED A LYING KING AND SAVED A KINGDOM by E. Tomczyk

Once upon a time, in a nation that existed a hundred years ago, there lived a people of many ethnicities and races.  It was a vast land that had often see-sawed from murderously grotesque (a misshapen monster of its actual self) to outrageously sublime (the best it could be) in trying to fulfill its pledge of “…one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” 

After hundreds of years of fits and starts after it was born, the majority of the people enthusiastically elected a chocolate leader who seemed to embody the promise and the hope of that great land. Unfortunately, a significant part of the vanilla people who existed within the kingdom and who considered themselves to be the most righteous and loved by God were very, very angry and plotted to make him a one-term leader. They could not see beyond his race and ethnicity and worked night and day to try to destroy him. But no matter what his enemies did, the chocolate leader was greatly loved, admired, and adored by many and led the nation to a better place for eight years.

But as in far too many stories about humans, an evil being arose on the horizon and captured the hearts and imaginations of a majority of the vanilla people (including a few of the chocolate people—I’m not going to lie), and let them establish him as King. He was a bright orange color (similar to a Cheeto), and he came to be known as “The Lying Toddler King.”

Immediately, The Lying Toddler King got on most people’s nerves—worldwide.  He was crude and rude, and he lied when telling the truth would have been so much easier.  Lying was his modus operandi.  There are those who say he averaged 30 lies a day.  Because he had never progressed beyond toddlerhood, he didn’t read, he refused to share, and he demanded to have his own way all the time.

If more knowledgeable adults and court advisors tried to correct The Lying Toddler King, he would shoot nasty words of 280 characters at them and make them very, very afraid.  Most of them would tremble in terror.  Whenever the Lying Toddler King threw nasty blue birds at them, reputations would be shot down, jobs would be lost, and the wounded recipients would crawl back home and hide under their beds. Once Toddler King actually hurled 200 tweets at his kingdom peeps in one day!

“Why in the ‘cuss word’* do you treat the peeps so badly?” a couple of The Lying Toddler King’s sycophants asked at the beginning of his reign.  “Can’t you see that many of them love you; we just don’t think you should say racist, misogynist, perverse things to your subjects or they will become disappointed and vote you out of your toddler kingdom.  Best to keep those things inside your tiny little head or you will scare people.”

“NO! NO! NOOOOO!  I do what I want, you ‘cuss word’ lapdogs.  Don’t you know that my people are so loyal that I can shoot anyone on 5th Avenue and no one would stop me?” boasted The Lying Toddler King.

Three years went by and The Lying Toddler King ruled with impunity (that means he never got put in a “time-out” corner for anything he did that was bad, boys and girls).  But a lot of bad things began to happen on his watch.  Sickness and death.  Injustice and brutality.  Murder and mayhem.  Racism and cruelty.  Destruction and pollution. It got so bad that chocolate and vanilla people joined together to remove the bad king. The women—especially the chocolate ones—had had enough! They picked a grownup vanilla man by the name of Joe Biden who, in turn, picked a chocolate running mate by the name of Kamala Devi Harris to fight The Lying Toddler King and his sycophantic side-kick whose name was Mike Pence (also a man-baby of the pasty white variety).

Kamala Devi—isn’t that an unusual name, boys and girls?  It literally means: “Lotus—goddess of prosperity, good luck, and beauty, which manifests as protective womanhood that is fierce—strong enough to create new worlds but able to destroy those worlds…”  Kamala was the first African-American, Asian-American woman on a major-party presidential ticket in the vast land of our story.  Her mother was born in India and her father was born in Jamaica.  They immigrated to America and Kamala was born in that great land.

Go figurean immigrant and a chocolate woman as well!  This was the Lying Toddler King’s worst nightmare. He immediately became frightened and confused. It was well known that his kryptonite was strong women—especially strong chocolate women.  He sensed that they had the power to eat his lunch. The Lying Toddler King had a giant hissy-fit and pulled a bunch of mean and racist building blocks out of his toy chest to throw at Kamala. “She’s such a nasty woman, I tell you.  NASTY, NASTY, NASTY!” wailed The Lying Toddler King.  “She’s angry and horrible!  I think she’s a madwoman. Did you see how disrespectful she was to Sleepy Joe?  I’m surprised he even picked her as a play-date buddy.  Besides, I heard she doesn’t even belong here among our vanilla people, and the rules forbid her to be one of its leaders.  I heard her parents were born in ‘cuss word’-hole countries.  Somebody better check that out!  Where the ‘cuss word’ is my nukkie?”

The more the Lying Toddler King screamed and yelled, the more women of both chocolate and vanilla colors came together to declare their allegiance to the Biden/Kamala team because for the first time in years, they could see a better world ahead.  Eighty-year-old vanilla women were sending emails to seventy-year-old chocolate women that read: “I’d almost lost hope until I heard Joe Biden picked Kamala Harris as his running mate.  We just might survive, after all!”  Grown chocolate and vanilla men who didn’t fear strong women were high-fiving each other. Chocolate little and big girls burst into tears because for the first time they saw someone who looked like them who was prepared to help bring down The Lying Toddler King and potentially break the most powerful glass ceiling in the land. They made T-shirts that declared: I’M A NASTY, ANGRY, HORRIBLE, DISRESPECTFUL MADWOMAN!  HEAR ME ROAR, MOTHER “CUSS WORD”! The more these women roared, the more The Lying Toddler King became frightened and unglued.  They became known as the NAHDMs throughout the land, and no matter how much The Lying Toddler King tried to cheat, steal, or destroy the election, in the end all the NAHDM women—chocolate and vanilla—stood united and they crushed him and removed him from the throne!

The citizens of that great nation learned their lesson and never elected a baby king to lead them again.  You’ll have to read the sequel to find out whether or not they ever reached their ancestors’ vision to be an ethical and just nation, thus leaving their children a better world.  In the meantime, the moral of this story, boys and girls, is never, ever underestimate a woman—especially a chocolate one.  THE END

(*The use of the word “cuss” instead of actual swear words is a shameless rip-off from the director Wes Anderson, who used this brilliant mode of communication for his animated characters when filming the children’s book “Fantastic Mr. Fox” by Roald Dahl.)

Cartoon used by permission: 242301_RGB_1290.jpg Trump Reacts To Kamala by Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons com

Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer.  In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!).  Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.”  Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker.  If you don’t believe me, just ask her!

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
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Posted by on August 16, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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