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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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ARE YOU YOUR BROTHER’S KEEPER—YOU BET YOUR SORRY ASS, YOU ARE!

Cartoon used by permission: Mask mandate by Bruce Plante, Tulsa World

My pandemic body and mind are messing with my dreams.  In most of my dreams, I’m trying to escape from a frighteningly amorphous “unidentifiable something,” but at other times I have alternate-world movie-dreams that are crystal clear in which I wish would come true (like I’m 30 years old, look like Halle Berry, have the voice of Audra McDonald, and can eat anything I want).  I think these dreams or nightmares have a lot to do with the news I’ve consumed during the day mixed with what I’ve eaten for dinner and how soon I fall asleep after said consumption.

Last night I made the most amazing Keto lasagna sans pasta with extra, extra cheese (keep in mind that I’m lactose intolerant), hot Italian sausage, eggplant slices, and the perfect marinara sauce.  It was the kind of ooey-gooey pleasure that you just know will create demons of indigestion exploding from your butt at the pitch and rhythm of Army taps while setting your esophagus on fire straight up from your tummy to your hair follicles, as visions of cheese balls dance in your head.

I went to bed much too early following my sumptuous repast, but a massive thunderstorm (keep in mind that I am deathly afraid of thunderstorms) settled over my house and rather than pace the floor in terror like a traumatized puppy, I plugged in my sound machine and my iPod featuring endless Barbra Streisand songs, and promptly fell asleep. So it was that I dreamt of a land where the MAGA Christians suddenly woke up as if from a nightmare and all simultaneously burned their red hats in massive bonfires across the land in exchange for bracelets that bore the initials WWJD: What Would Jesus Do?

Cartoon used by permission: 240874  Masks a miracle cure by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, I know,” said one very White Evangelical Christian. “Jesus would wear a mask during these times, even as he preached, and be a leader who set an example of the right thing to do for the good of all the people. After all, it was Jesus who said: ‘The second most important command is this: Love your neighbor the same as you love yourself.’”

Another White Evangelical WWJD bracelet wearer chimed in with a Bible verse of love that she seemed to have learned long ago but had forgotten until her head was set free from the tyranny of the MAGA hat—”I am positive that Jesus would wear a mask at all times and encourage all his followers to do so because he said: ‘I can guarantee this truth: Whatever you did for one of my brothers or sisters, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you did for me.'”

“Jiminy-Crickets, why don’t we show America how it should be done?” said a White Evangelical grandma.  “Sugar, we should all wear masks to protect our fellow human beings—our neighbors—our countrymen because wasn’t it Jesus who said: ‘So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.’”

The dream was so sweet and hopeful. Just when I was feeling all kumbaya in my alternate world, a thunder clap woke me at 3:00 a.m. and slammed me back into the real world. It sounded as if the Earth split in half.  Unable to get back to my happy place dream, I got out of bed, made myself a cup of tea, and checked the news feed on my phone:

“The one area where white evangelicals fall far behind? Mask wearing. A white evangelical under the age of 35 is 13 percentage points less likely to wear a mask in public than the same age group in the general population (58.7% vs. 71.8%).”—Christianity Today.

“…in America, not wearing a mask has become a political statement — and it’s a statement increasingly being made by avowedly devout Christians.”—Anthea Butler/Think

Cartoon used by permission: 241088 Maskless Bob by Monte Wolverton Battle Ground WA

Unable to go back to sleep, I googled what MAGA folks (80% of them Evangelical Christians) were doing to save the most vulnerable among us. Maybe my dream was prophetic.  Maybe they would ignore their toddler king and do the right thing—once and for all.  But what I found of their reported actions was not WWJD but WWSD: What Would Satan Do?

“I got every fuckin’ right to not wear a mask,” said a Costco customer who was asked to leave the store for not obeying their rule of “no entry without a face mask.”

Security guard (father of eight) at a Michigan Dollar Store was killed after he asked a woman to leave the store for not wearing a mask.  She left and then returned with her husband and her son and shot him dead.

Old man in a Dollar Store rubbed his snotty nose and rheumy face on the shirt of a store employee just for spite after she asked him to put on a face mask.

The Utah County Commission postponed a meeting on masks after scores of protesters packed the room—wall to wall—without wearing masks as a massive human “FU” to the commission’s mere discussion of wearing masks to protect their neighbors (isn’t this Mormon country?).

A female clerk was punched in the face three times when she told a male customer she couldn’t sell him cigarettes unless he put on a mask.

Georgia governor (anti-mask Trump sycophant) started a mask war against Atlanta’s mayor (pro-mask wearing Covid-19 survivor) by suing the mayor and the city council when the mayor requested all citizens of Atlanta wear masks to protect their family, friends, and neighbors.

Cartoon used by permission: 239371 Face Masks by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

“What a world!  What a world! What a world!” I groaned.  Before I knew it, the sun had risen and my husband strolled into the kitchen for breakfast.  After kissing me good morning, he asked, “So how’s your ass?”

“What? How’s my ass? That’s a weird question,” I replied. 

“No, it isn’t.  I’ve been awake since 3:00 a.m. because you let off the loudest fart I’ve ever heard.  Not only was it loud but it seemed endless. (Don’t even get me started on the smell.)  In fact, I didn’t know that such a powerful sound could come out of a human being’s butt. Isn’t your a-hole in excruciating pain? I am amazed you’re able to sit on your bottom.”

“That was not a fart at 3:00 a.m., that was a massive thunder clap from the heavens,” I said.

“It was a massive thunder clap all right—straight out of your ass. It woke me up.  I half expected to look up and see you floating at the top of the bedroom ceiling.  If that had been the case, I have no idea how I would have gotten you down.  You know it was that double-cheese, veggie Keto lasagna, in case anyone is in doubt, Ms. Lactose-intolerant Lady.  So for the sake of your ass and your fellow-man (a.k.a. your husband), you might want to put that recipe on the trash heap marked: ‘The end of ET’s love affair with cheese.’  After all, what did Jesus say: ‘So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them…’  Time to give up the cheese, Babe!”

Cartoon used by permission: 240662 The End Is Near by Rick McKee CagleCartoons com

“At long last, we have made a truly game-changing scientific breakthrough in preventing the spread of COVID-19.  We have found a disease-control tool that, when used properly, can reduce transmission by somewhere between 50% and 85%.  The tool is cheap and remarkably low-tech.  You can even make one at home.” —The Power of Masks by Gavin Yamey/Time magazine

Cartoon used by permission: 239295 Mask Hamlet by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN

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 July 25, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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MY BLACK SKIN IS MY SIN

Cartoon used by permission: 239571 Birth Target by Bill Day Tallahassee FL

I am 72 years old.  I am Black. I am heartsick.  I am tired.  I am horrified.  I am scared.  I am mortified. I am enraged!  I am undone.  I am hopeless….

This has been my state of mind since the murder of George Floyd, and I feel like I’m sitting Shiva for our country because it finally hit me that all the work I’ve spent my life pursuing toward racial harmony has pretty much come to naught.  Actually, the “Karen” story (Amy Cooper) about the White woman who tried to destroy an innocent bird-watching, Harvard-educated Black man’s life sent a dagger through my heart and dropped me to my knees.  The George Floyd story just finished me off!  The “Karen” story didn’t happen in Mississippi, it happened in New York City.  She wasn’t an old fart set in her ways, she was young.  Ms. Cooper probably worked with African-Americans, maybe even socialized with them. She keeps shouting to the world that “I am not a racist,” and yet, when politely asked to obey a law she was breaking by someone who was Black—rather than complying—she weaponized her White privilege against an innocent man by falsely accusing him of assaulting her.  At the very least, she could have ruined his reputation and his livelihood, but at the very worst, she could have gotten Christian Cooper (no relation) killed by the cops who would have come running with guns blazing to protect this White damsel in distress.

“Nothing’s changed,” I said to my White husband whom I’ve known and loved for almost 50 years.  “Sure, you and I were ‘allowed’ to get married a decade or so after Loving vs. Virginia struck down the miscegenation laws in America, but the plight of my people has been two steps forward (Emancipation), three steps back (Jim Crow Laws), four steps forward (Civil Rights Act), five steps back (Police brutality and White Supremacy Terrorism)…it always seems that Black folks come up short when the math is tallied regarding equality and justice.  You know what the problem is, don’t you, Honey?  It’s slavery!  To coin a phrase from Van Jones, ‘Our Black skin is our sin’ and systemic racism started from the moment we were dragged onto American soil as chattel.  The institution of slavery gave even the lowest form of White man (unintelligent, KKK’er, whip-yielding, gun-toting, racial terrorist) a license to reign over us and left the most excellent of Black person (educated, honorable, God-loving, hardworking, peace-loving) with a target on his/her back.”

“As a White man, what do you have to say about that,” I said to my husband.

“Just listening,” he replied.

Cartoon used by permission: 239715 George Floyd by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

My poor, sweet husband.  The thing is that I know he listens because he is one of the good guys—what the Jews used to call “Righteous Gentiles”—non-Jewish people who risked their lives to help Jews escape the Nazis.  In my case, his children’s case, our grandson’s case, and our Black friends’ cases, he is a “righteous White man” who tries to understand the racism that plagues African-Americans.  But he is still a White person.  Still endowed with certain “inalienable rights.”  And as I mused about how closely connected in spirit the false accusation of Amy Cooper was to the killing of George Floyd, I realized that both situations happened because White people thought they could get away with their actions because of their entitlement—the law be damned.

Consequently, I decided to invite a couple of other “righteous White people” over for a “social distancing bring-your-own-drinks—but go home if you have to pee—cocktail hour” on my very large wrap-around deck.  We sat six feet apart while we caught up on our lives, and had a conversation about race—three White people and me. 

Cartoon used by permission: 239755 Our own worst enemy by Dave Granlund PoliticalCartoons com

(For the purposes of this story my “Righteous White friends” will be called Joe and Meg.  My husband will be referred to simply as “WW—White and Wonderful.” This is only a snippet of a much longer conversation.)

ME:        Hey you three, what does it mean to be White?

WW:      Watch out, everything you say to her will probably end up in a blog.

MEG:     I don’t know…I can tell you that I know that I can’t possibly know what it means to be Black, no matter how hard I try.  I’ve never walked in your shoes.

ME:        Excellent politically correct answer, Meg, but it still doesn’t answer my question.

JOE:       I’m not White, I’m Jewish! 

ME:        Of course you’re White.  You’re an Ashkenazi* Jew.  If you were a Sephardic** Jew, I might cut you some slack.

JOE:       I’m just sayin’, I’ve suffered racism. Oy, how I’ve suffered.  I’m fine until certain people find out I’m Jewish, and before you know it—I’m dealing with anti-Semitism.

ME:        I’m not denying that, but for the sake of this discussion, you’re White.  You know why?  You can blend in and no one would ever know you were Jewish.  My skin color announces my Blackness as soon as I enter a room.  In fact, there have been times when I’ve been promised rental properties over the phone or set up business arrangements via email and White people assumed by my “articulate” speaking voice and excellent grasp of the King’s English that I was White.  But the minute they laid eyes on me, I lost said rental property with the bold pronouncement: “Oh, I thought you was White.  You sounded White on the phone.  You need to know we don’t rent to niggers in this town.”

MEG:     She’s right Joe.  Have you ever been chased by White people when you jog or ride your bike?  Have you ever been denied a place to live?

ME:        We’re getting off topic here.  One of you three White people tell me what it means to be White so I can go get me some of that.  I’m tired of the struggle.

Cartoon used by permission: C Clamp Racism by Bill Day, Tallahassee, FL

MEG:  Well, being a WASP is what being White means to me.  I’m about as White Anglo-Saxon Protestant as they come.  There is not a shred of color anywhere in my background.  I’m ashamed to say that the racism in my family was blatant.  I’ve tried my entire adult life to overcome it.  I also think everyone is just a little bit racist though.

ME:        True, but for the sake of this discussion, it’s about racism against Black people.

WW:      I’m a direct descendant of Governor Bradford of the Mayflower.  Got the papers from the Daughters of the American Revolution to prove it.  I was always told I could be anything I wanted to be because I came from that stock—even President of the United States.  I never thought of it as White privilege, it was just what I could aspire to if I wanted it.

ME:        Yeah, don’t I know it.  His mother has been dead for ages and she is still rolling over in her grave because WW married me instead of a White girl.  Talk about Black skin being my sin.

MEG:     That’s it.  I guess being White means being part of the status quo and never having to think about “fitting in.”

JOE:       I’m Jewish…I think about not fitting in all the time.

MEG:     But if you didn’t tell anyone you were Jewish…it’s not the same burden.

WW:      Maybe that’s it: Being White means you get to assume, presume, and expect certain rights and privileges.  You think your life is supposed to be whatever you want it to be because you are a White male, especially.  When that doesn’t happen, it often comes as a total shock.  For instance, when I was out of work for four years, the worst part of it all was the despair of my dreams deferred.  This was not supposed to happen to me.  I kept telling God and Eleanor that this sure is a waste of a perfectly good White boy!

ME:        And what did I tell you?

WW:      “Get over it.  Now you know how the Black man feels.”

MEG:     I’m not so sure it is relevant what it means to be White to White people if we want to solve racism in America.  I think if we are human we need to listen to the stories of the pain and fear that Black people are experiencing and learn from it without getting defensive about being White.  It’s not really about us.

ME: Well, it kind of is…

Cartoon used by permission: 239646 The Flame by Bill Day Tallahassee FL

WW:      I think that’s the key: Listening and absorbing the stories.  Sometimes I think our entitlement and privilege keep us from hearing the stories about people who aren’t like us. People in general are terrible listeners. Those histories of the African-American journey since 1619 are there to teach us, if we just listen and work to bring about the needed changes.

ME:        I know what it means to me to be Black.  It means never feeling completely comfortable or totally accepted.  Being Black to me means always being on guard because some White person feels he or she is entitled to hoist a Confederate flag in my community—all the while claiming they are not racist—“It’s just my heritage.”  It’s always making sure I’m not perceived as the “angry Black woman” to White people as I respond to that gun-toting White Supremacist that the goddamn Confederate flag is my heritage too—a heritage of bondage, enslavement, and terror and it needs to burn in Hell, not be flung in my face.  I can never, ever relax.  My Black skin might scare them if I’m too demonstrative—too passionate about a subject. Too anything! Remember Honey in our early Jesus freak days how some White Christian chick told me that my Afro offended her, and I needed to get rid of it because she thought I looked like a Black radical and that freaked her out?  Good grief.  This chick was supposed to be my sister-in-Christ for Christ’s sake. Ride or die for Jesus and all! 

WW:      I loved that Afro on you.  Talk about sexy!

ME.        Focus Babe.  I think the thing that chilled me to the bone this week is that it doesn’t seem to matter how much education a Black person has, how much money, how much status, how much talent, how innocuous our activities—our skin color can get the police called on us by any entitled White person—just because they can.  We are rarely given the benefit of the doubt.  Remember how Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr., Harvard’s most prominent scholar of African-American history, got arrested by a Boston policeman for entering his own house?  You know, he’s the guy who helps celebrities find their roots, right?  President Obama held a beer summit with Biden, Gates, and the cop to smooth things over.  Conservative talk radio and Fox News trashed Obama about it for years.  Well, we know now that Gates and that policeman became friends.  In fact, the policeman gave Professor Gates a sample of his DNA, and the two of them turned out to be distant cousins and share a common Irish ancestor.  (So take that and shove it up your ass, Fox News.)

WW:      Maybe that’s the answer to the beginning of healing for our country from racism.  Maybe if we as White people recognize our privileges and entitlements and stop clinging to them, then we could seek out what connects us as human beings with all people of color.

ME:        And WORK, WORK, WORK together to change policies, and laws, and institutions…

CONVERSATION ON RACISM TO BE CONTINUED…

*Ashkenazi Jew: originally from Eastern Europe, Germany, Russia

**Sephardic Jew: originally from Spain, Portugal, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia

Cartoon used by permission: 239837 History Quiz by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

Lest you think I’m being hyperbolic comparing Amy Cooper’s false accusation to the policemen’s heartless murder of George Floyd, I find that the demonic spirit of both comes from the same well-spring—racism.  Our history is replete with these nightmares that haunt African-Americans on a daily basis.  Here are just a few:

1891 Joe Coe’s lynching—Lizzie Yates, a 5-year-old, said she was raped by a Black man.  Coe was a railroad porter, husband and father of two.  Witnesses vouched for his upstanding character and whereabouts on the day in question. Many years later Lizzie Yates confessed she had lied.

1921 Tulsa Race Massacre—Sarah Page accused a Black teen of assaulting her, which later on proved not to be true.  Dozens of Black people were killed, hundreds were injured and thousands were left homeless or displaced.  Greenwood (affectionately known as the Black Wall Street) was home to scores of lawyers, teachers, preachers, bankers, and business owners. The entire town of Black residents was burned to the ground by Whites (nationally renowned Black surgeon A.C. Jackson—the best in the nation—was gunned down while standing on his front porch trying to cooperate with the attackers).  What wasn’t burned was confiscated.  It has been recorded that for years afterwards the once wealthy Black women of Greenwood saw their jewelry worn with prideful abandonment by White women who passed them on the streets of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

1923 Rosewood massacre—Fannie Taylor accused an unidentified Black man of assaulting her (accusation proved to be a lie—she was having an affair with a White lover who beat her). Many of the Black people in the mostly Black township were massacred by White Supremacists and Rosewood was obliterated.

1931 Scottsboro boys’ trial for rape—Victoria Price and Ruby Bates (suspected of prostitution, they tried to escape potential morality charges by accusing nine black teenagers [age 13 – 19] of raping them on a train). The women were examined by a doctor but no evidence of said rapes were found.

1955 Murder of Emmett Till—Carol Bryant accused 14-year-old Emmett of whistling at her and flirting (a few years ago—6 decades later—Bryant admitted to falsely accusing Emmett and said: “nothing that boy did could ever justify what happened to him”).  Emmett was beaten, mutilated, shot in the head, and thrown in the Tallahatchie River after being bound to a 70-pound cotton gin fan. He was discovered three days later.  His face was so disfigured his own mother couldn’t recognize him.  The killers were acquitted, although they subsequently boasted to Look Magazine (for thousands of dollars) that they were responsible and proud of it.  After his death, Emmett Till became an icon of the civil rights movement.

DEAR WHITE PEOPLE:  If you are wondering why you should read about these horrors (after all, you didn’t commit them—no one you knew was involved in these crimes—you weren’t even alive for the majority of them)—think again.  I challenge you to listen, learn, and absorb these stories and many, many more. Unfortunately, there are too many to list here. But that is what the Google machine is for.  Search out these stories, not only to appear “woke,” but to gain an understanding of why traveling through life with Black skin can truly be misinterpreted as the mark of Cain by many a White person who will swear on their mother’s grave that they are not racist.

Cartoon used by permission: 239607 The Death of George Floyd 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!

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 June 2, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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SNAPSHOTS FROM THE CORONAVIRUS EDGE

“Over more than two centuries, the United States has stirred a very wide range of feelings in the rest of the world: love and hatred, fear and hope, envy and contempt, awe and anger.  But there is one emotion that has never been directed towards the US until now: pity.”– Fintan O’Toole/Irish Times

Cartoon used by permission: 238269 Quack Prez by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star, Tribune MN

I haven’t blogged in weeks.  I can’t.  I’m in a state of shock!  I’ve been frozen in place like Lot’s wife ever since I heard Trump announce that I could blast my insides with ultra-violet light and drench my innards with bleach, Lysol, and the likes of 409 Multi-surface cleaner to cure myself of COVID-19 should I unfortunately come down with the virus.  I can’t say my response to Trump’s inane declaration loudly enough that has been careening through my head for days on end:  WHAT THE FUCK!?!

Cartoon used by permission: 238543 Trump Wacky Package by Dave Whamond, Canada PoliticalCartoons.com

It is clear that a madman dwells in the White House, and not only is he trying to kill me, but his ineptitude in handling this pandemic is making me disoriented and possibly mentally ill.  I noticed it just the other day.  A series of unfortunate events happened last week that make me wonder if President Trump, along with polluting TV Land, has released a “mental virus” in the water and the air that will slowly drive us all crazy as we self-isolate, scurrying to and fro behind our masks, so he can dismantle our government brick by brick without much resistance. 

PHOTO CREDIT: E. Tomczyk/Coronavirus Times

PANDEMIC POOPS

Something has happened to my bowels.  I can’t stop shitting my pants when I hear Trump’s voice, read what idiotic things Trump says, or think/talk about Trump.  It’s like clockwork.  Trump opens his mouth, I feel the need to poop.

According to Kate Bratskeir of Huffington Post:

 “If you’ve noticed changes in your bowel movements over the past month or so, you might be wondering why this biological function—that often comes like clockwork—has decided to get weird.”

She says I “might be experiencing what we can call nothing else besides a ‘pandemic poop.’”

(Shit!)

Cartoon used by permission: 238263 Quack in chief by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian

I AM SLOWLY GOING CRAZY, ONE TWO THREE FOUR GOING CRAZY…

It’s been eight weeks since the shutdown, and I noticed that I have what some doctors are calling quarantine fatigue accompanied by coronavirus anxiety.  It is affecting me in all manner of ways—especially my memory.  I never know what day it is from sunup to sundown except for Friday.  That’s when the garbage man comes.  If it’s garbage day, it must be Friday.  If my garbage man should go on strike in the future, I’ll be screwed.  A psychologist friend thinks it is because I no longer do anything to bookend my days or break up my week.  I am in a constant loop of the same ol’ same ol’…

It keeps getting worse.

Ten days ago I did some cleaning and gardening. I took off my wedding rings so that they wouldn’t get damaged. Yesterday I realized I never put my rings back on.  When I went to do so, I couldn’t remember which hand wedding rings are worn on.  I had to resort to the best solution I knew to find the answer:  “GOOGLE: WHAT HAND IS THE CORRECT ONE TO WEAR WEDDING RINGS?” 

OMG!!  (You know the first thought that crossed my mind, right?)

A sympathetic friend told me that what I was experiencing was not Alzheimer’s—it was just coronavirus anxiety.  She said, if I was coming down with Alzheimer’s, I wouldn’t have remembered what the rings were for in the first place or that I was even married.  That was a good thing because shortly after speaking with her my husband walked into the room and wondered why my wedding rings were sitting on the counter and not on my finger.  Oy.

I blame it all on Trump.  I had just watched the morning news and watched him push three conspiracy theories and underscore four of his hate tweets against anyone who spoke truth. If he had not failed at his job from the very beginning (too much golf, watching the news, and rage tweeting), I would have been playing canasta with my gal pals (if it’s canasta it must be Monday) and known what finger my rings should be on because I could have simply glanced at my canasta partner’s hand.

Cartoon used by permission: 238383 Normal longing by David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star Tucson, AZ

I MISS MY BABIES AND MY BABY’S BABY

We are supposed to have a family reunion July 4th weekend in Seattle. I don’t think it’s going to happen. I know it isn’t. One coronavirus model shows a leap to 200,000 infections/3,000 deaths a day by June. I haven’t cancelled the plane flights yet, but it is inevitable we won’t go. It will be too risky to travel on a plane that far—especially as a vulnerable COVID-19 individual (this monster is disproportionately eating up Black lives as if we were a lion’s afternoon snack). I “Zoom” with my children and grandson most every week, and I know I should be grateful. I find myself clinging to their every word and sad when the Zooming ends. If we miss a week, I seem to slip into a mild depression. Their effervescent laughter makes my heart percolate and rejuvenates me. Normally, I am really grateful for the technology that can put us face-to-face, but as Mother’s Day approaches I guess I am painfully aware that I haven’t hugged my babies and they haven’t hugged me since last year. It hurts—it really hurts. (Who ever thought hugs would become one of the most precious and sacred gifts in the world.) What is even worse is that I haven’t kissed and hugged my grandson since Christmas. In our “new normal,” how long will it be before we can all be together as a family? What if one of us gets struck down by COVID-19 between our Zoom sessions? My heart breaks in missing and longing for my family—to sit with them, to hold them, to snuggle with them, to kiss their precious faces, to stroke their hair.

But then my God reminds me…

The hearts of the mothers of the nurses and doctors who have died fighting the good fight on the front lines of the coronavirus on our behalf would give anything to “Zoom” with their kids just one more time.  Of the 70,000+ Americans who have passed from this horrid pandemic, if their mothers are still alive, I know their hearts are breaking beyond belief this Mother’s Day.  The “new normal” for these mothers is something that I can’t even begin to fathom.

So I will stop whining and wait patiently for the kids to Zoom me this weekend.  (Oh yeah, if the kids are Zooming me, it must be Sunday—it must be Mother’s Day.)

Cartoon used by permission: 238635 Mother s Day 2020 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: 238389 Patron St. of Hopeless Presidents 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 May 6, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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GIFTS OF HUMOR IN A HUMORLESS TIME

I’ve always been a human being who could find humor in the worst of situations and times, which is one of the reasons I think my childhood did not drive me mad.  This week, as I mourned a friend who had passed from the coronavirus and prayed for two of my friends and two of my enemies who were stricken by this curse, one of the tools that helped me through the morass was finding humor in unexpected places.  Like receiving my carefully planned and expensive DIY pedicure equipment from Amazon (complete with top grade foot soaker and massager and lavender-scented Epsom salts) only to discover I can no longer reach my feet due to my 71-year-old chubby-ass body.  A bougie problem, I know!  Nevertheless it is a problem for me since my husband has not volunteered to give me a pedicure and probably never will.  We’ve all been affected by this pandemic, whether by mere inconvenience or debilitating loss—personally and financially.  Obviously, I’m still in the “inconvenienced” category by the grace of God.  I know this.  I am grateful, but I still need to laugh or I’ll turn into a ball of rage because I blame everything from my friend’s death to my inability to maintain my diva nails and toes on one person and one person only:  Donald J. (“I don’t take any responsibility”) Trump!

Cartoon used by permission: 237420 Incompetent Trump by Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons com

As I contemplated the absurdity of having seven out of my ten throbbing fingernails wrapped in Band-Aids (the result of trying to perform a DIY acrylic nail removal which gave birth to four punctured fingers and three torn nail beds), my sister-in-law sent me a list of coronavirus laugh lines entitled “Effects of the Coronavirus.”  Actually, she got them from her husband who was sent them by his old college roommate, but when I Googled them the published source turned out to be Chuck and Anne Norwood from The Laurinburg Exchange in Scotland County, North Carolina.  Chuck and Anne say these coronavirus laugh lines are not originally from them but were sent in by a reader who collected them from God knows where.  If these coronavirus quotes turn out to be the brain children of some of America’s gazillion wonderful comedians, please forgive me for not giving you the proper credit…blame it on the COVID-19 insanity or the mind-numbing pain emanating from my bleeding fingers that is slowly eroding my cerebrum and my well-being.

EFFECTS OF THE CORONAVIRUS

Cartoon used by permission: 236678 Here’s toilet paper by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

“I used to spin that toilet paper like I was on Wheel of Fortune. Now I turn it like I’m cracking a safe.”

“Classified Ad: Single man with toilet paper seeks woman with hand sanitizer for good clean fun.”

Cartoon used by permission: 237317 Almost Time To Eat Again by Ed Wexler PoliticalCartoons com

“Half of us are going to come out of this quarantine as amazing cooks. The other half will come out with a drinking problem.”

“I need to practice social-distancing from the refrigerator.”

“PSA: ‘Every few days try your jeans on just to make sure they fit. Pajamas will have you believe all is well in the kingdom.’”

“Quarantine Day 5: Went to this restaurant called THE KITCHEN. You have to gather all the ingredients and make your own meal. I have no clue how this place is still in business.”

Cartoon used by permission: 236749 NATIONAL COVID 19 school closings by John Cole,The Scranton Times Tribune PA

 “HOMESCHOOLING REPORT, FAMILY OF THREE—ONE ADULT, TWO KIDS: ‘Homeschooling is going well. 2 students suspended for fighting and 1 teacher fired for drinking on the job.’”


“Day 5 of Homeschooling: One of these little monsters called in a bomb threat.”

“Day 6 of Homeschooling: My child just said ‘I hope I don’t have the same teacher next year’…. I’m offended.”

Cartoon used by permission: 237299 Upside to lockdown by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

“This morning I saw a neighbor talking to her cat. It was obvious she thought her cat understood her. I came into my house, told my dog—we laughed a lot.”

 “I’m so excited—it’s time to take out the garbage! What should I wear!?!”

“I hope the weather is good tomorrow for my trip to Puerto Backyarda. I’m getting tired of Los Livingroom.”

“Still haven’t decided where to go for Easter—The Living Room or The Bedroom”

Cartoon used by permission: 237093 Easter Bunny Covid 19 safety by Dave Granlund PoliticalCartoons com

Happy Easter and Happy Pesach everyone!  Wishing you all bountiful gifts of gratitude, kindness, and comfort of heart as we reflect on the miracle of Passover and the hope of the Resurrection of Christ. Stay well.  Stay safe. Stay kind because we are all in this journey together.

Cartoon used by permission: 237469 The Promise 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!

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 8, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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TOILET PAPER COULD GET A PERSON KILLED

Cartoon used by permission: 236338 Life as we know it by John Darkow Columbia Missourian

“In the year 2525, if man is still alive—if woman can survive, they may find…” NO TOILET PAPER!

I’m almost certain the song writer Richard Lee Evans wasn’t thinking about toilet paper when he wrote the first two lines of his apocalyptic song in 1964, but toilet paper sure is on my mind in these pandemic days of the coronavirus.  I’m convinced that the wipe-out of toilet paper is a sign…a sign that America is one sheet of TP away from a total moral meltdown.

And I even have some butt in the game.  I’ve got Celiac disease with an occasional side service of IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), and toilet paper is my best bud.

So for me, this coronavirus hoarding shit just got real.

It isn’t just that TP has taken the place of gold, but it is the losing of our minds over the anticipated lack of it.  I don’t know, maybe the entire country has IBS which makes sense given the President we have—just sayin’.   If that is the case, I suppose the hoarding could be forgiven.  But somehow, I don’t think so… I just heard that people got into fights at my local Costco over the last couple of packs of TP.  In the area where one of my friends lives, people were seen assessing whether they could outrun their fellow shoppers, then they snatched said toilet paper out of other people’s carts and made a mad dash for the checkout counter.

Know your meme.com
Cartoon used by permission:  236278 Martian TP by Gary McCoy Shiloh IL

To make matters worse, fighting over toilet paper is not the only sign that we Americans are not going to weather this end-time scenario very well.  (Remember:  This is just the beginning—we could be in this “sans toilet paper world” for months, maybe years.  BTW people: Can we all spell BIDET?)

BIDET MEME: Pin by Jonathan Friday on Custom Memes

The other day, I went to the grocery store.  Since I’m old, I decided to arrive as soon as the store opened to avoid the crowds.  When I pulled into the parking lot and couldn’t find a parking space, I knew I would be in for a bumpy ride.  This grocery store is rather high end and expensive.  I chose to shop there because it is small and I knew I’d encounter fewer people—thus less issue with potential contamination as I am one of those in the high risk category (over 60 with a compromised immune system).  But when I pulled up to the store, there were hordes of very old White people banging on the glass doors to be let in (not one minority in the midst of the maddening crowd).  (Did I mention that I live in a town where people go to die after having made a lot of money in their careers?  Consequently, we have scores of very old, conservative, White, educated, rich people who predominantly voted for Trump because they thought he increased their stock portfolios and/or they are Evangelical Christians.)  Anyway, the people who were banging on the store windows all rushed inside when the doors were unlocked and made a beeline to the meat counter at the back of the store.  (Who knew 70 and 80 year olds could move that fast while pushing a grocery cart?)  By the time I got my service ticket, I was number 30.  There were no whole chickens, no chicken thighs or drumsticks, there were ten chicken wings, very little hamburger, a few cartoons of eggs from some free range farm that cost a king’s ransom and no carrots. 

“You know this is the only grocery store in town that has any meat left,” said the old lady with the nervous twitch who almost knocked over the bread cart as she tried to keep 6 feet of space between us. “That can’t be possible,” I gasped.  “We have four grocery stores within a two-mile radius!” 

Cartoon used by permission:  235885  COVID-19 and shortages by Dave Granlund PoliticalCartoons com

By the time I got to the butcher counter, the only meat and fish left were the cuts the Queen of England would serve for a fancy state dinner party.  “Is this all the meat you have today?  Isn’t there any chicken?” I asked the butcher. “Yep and nope,” he said, with a look of, “take it or leave it, lady—I been here since 6 a.m. butchering meat.  It’s not my fault that your greedy neighbors snatched up what little we had as if these rich old people would never eat again.  I got no whole chickens, no chicken thighs, no chicken legs, and the last of the chicken wings just got sold while answering your stupid questions.” 

As I quickly pointed to cuts of meat I’d either never cooked before (rack of lamb) or that cost me an arm and a leg (Prime Steaks) to purchase, I heard someone in the depleted egg section “Pssst!” me over his way.   The summons had come from a young African-American man who I’d never seen before.  There are not many of my peeps who shop in that store, so if you see one and you don’t know them, they either work there or they are tourists.   He was a new stock employee replenishing $5.00 a cup “Goat’s milk” yogurt made by Tibeto-Burman people from the eastern and central Himalayas. (All the Dannon, Chobani, and Stoneyfield yogurt had long gone the way of the chicken wings.)

The young man invaded my social distancing space to angrily complain about the racism in my town.  “Do you see that White woman over there?” said my new coronavirus friend.  “She coughed—COUGHED!—right in my face, didn’t apologize, didn’t even acknowledge me—just went on her merry way.  I’ve only been working here a week and I’ve never seen racism like this.  It’s the most racist town I’ve ever lived in!” 

Oh good grief, I thought.  All I wanted was some hamburger meat and a roast chicken.  Now I’m going to be involved in a race war.  “Listen, my millennial baby,” I said.  “I’ve lived here for a while.  Most of the people in the town are very lovely.  Do we have racists?  Yes, we do. But for every racist we have, there are ten more people who are not of that ilk.  If I were to take a guess, that woman is probably not a racist in the classic sense, she probably is just a self-absorbed bitch.  I would wager that we have more bitches than we do racists in this town.  Now go spray yourself down with some Lysol and think happy thoughts, for Christ’s sake, because things are going to get a hell of a lot crazier than this in the months to come.”

Cartoon used by permission:  235931 American Panic by Marian Kamensky Austria

All I could think of as I drove away (besides how I needed to call my friend Marilyn ASAP to ask her how to cook a rack of lamb) was that America may not survive COVID-19, not because of its deadly virus components, not because we don’t have the resources or the scientists to discover a cure, but because it hasn’t taken much to scratch the surface of our self-centeredness (“toilet paper for me and mine, I don’t give a shit about you and yours”), fears, suspicions, xenophobia, and meanness.  I heard a few days ago that gun sales were going through the roof.  Ammunition sales were unprecedented.  Looks like we’ll probably kill each other with guns long before the coronavirus does.

If I run into my new millennial grocery store friend again, I will share with him a secret that I learned from Viktor Frankl’s writing (survivor of four Nazi concentration camps); if the young man embraces this truth he will be able to live anywhere through anything with anyone at any time:

“Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.  You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you.”

In the meantime, for all my fellow citizens who are refusing to isolate themselves and are engaging in careless behavior (Spring Break millennials and some mega churches) thus disregarding the health of their fellow citizens, a pox on you and all your houses!

Cartoon used by permission:  236414 Spring Break morons COVID 19 by Dave Granlund 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: 236377 TP Treasure 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 March 19, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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THE PRESIDENT WHO CRIED WOLF (A FABLE FROM HELL)

Cartoon used by permission: 235544 Corona Virus Trump by Bart van Leeuwen, PoliticalCartoons.com

A MODERN FAIRY TALE BASED ON AESOP’S FABLE by Eleanor Tomczyk

“To Cry Wolf” defined as “to give a false alarm” with the result that subsequent true claims are disbelieved—Oxford Dictionary

Once upon a time in a land far, far away in the Milky Way Galaxy, lived a petulant little fat man who once laid illegitimate claim to the presidency of a country called the United States of America.  It was a big and powerful land with many beautiful people of different hues, colors, and religions at the time he became their leader.  The country had its issues but nothing that couldn’t be worked out through bi-partisanship, respect for each other’s differences, unity, brotherly love, and grace.  But when “Fat Boy Trump” rose to power, he was a petulant, insecure, and spoiled little man with very tiny hands who wanted the people of his land to worship him unequivocally and see him as the “fixer” of all their problems—both real and imagined.  In his effort to secure the people’s adoration, he spoke to them of carnage, mayhem, marauders, enemies at the border, and imaginary enemies called a “Deep State.” The real enemies of this great and powerful land were Putin of Russia, the White Nationalists within, and the greedy rich oligarchs who were praised, protected, and supported by the President.  The carnage that Fat Boy Trump claimed plagued our nation, of which he said only he could fix, always seemed to be against the poor, the indigent, the immigrant, and the foreigners from “shithole countries” as he was wont to call them.

Cartoon used by permission: 235582 Don’t worry Trump by Bruce Plante, Tulsa World

Fat Boy Trump was a leader who utilized “gaslighting” as a scepter.  When he lied about the size of his inauguration, the fact finders pleaded with him to tell the truth.  When he said that wind turbines caused cancer, the scientists warned him against tweeting alternative facts.  When he took a sharpie to an official government weather map and added a hurricane path over Alabama to support an apparent cover-up to validate an incorrect tweet, the meteorologists set their hair on fire.  When President Fat Boy Trump lied more than 60 times that the whistleblower complaint was false—that his call with the Ukraine president had been a perfect call—the Democrats warned him not to lie because there would come a time when the Nation would need him to tell the truth, but no one would believe him.  All in all, by the time of the Great Plague of 2020, Fat Boy Trump had cried wolf more than 16,200 times.  By the time the coronavirus monster threatened to destroy America’s citizens from sea to shining sea, its President had lost all credibility as a leader in the country as well as with the rest of the world.

Cartoon used by permission: 235469 Coronavirus Pandemic by Bill Day, Tallahassee FL

Fat Boy Trump rushed out into Tweeter Land and onto TV Land to try and calm the nerves of his country’s fearful citizens.  He blamed the Chinese, he blamed the Democrats for hyping the dark force of COVID-19 to tank his presidency.  He blamed his enemies (anyone who disagreed with him) for the stock market plunge.  But nothing worked because both the markets and the public were looking for reassurance from their leader that all would be well in the land that he had so divided and eviscerated with his copious lies.

Cartoon used by permission: 235566 Tweeting away the Coronavirus by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons.com

Our Liar in Chief tried to console us with false prophesies about the coronavirus (most likely whispered in his ear by his Pentecostal Evangelical “Spiritual Advisor” Paula White):

“It’s going to disappear; like a miracle, it will disappear—nobody really knows.”

Then our narcissistic leader made the coronavirus outbreak all about himself and a slam against the Democrats (half of the country he was supposed to be leading and comforting):

“The Democrats are politicizing the coronavirus. They’re politicizing it,” Trump said. “They don’t have any clue. They can’t even count their votes in Iowa. No, they can’t. They can’t count their votes. One of my people came up to me and said, ‘Mr. President, they tried to beat you on Russia, Russia, Russia.’ That did not work out too well. They could not do it. They tried the impeachment hoax.”

One of his non-scientist minions, National Economic Council Larry Kudlow, would come forth with a half-hearted Fat Boy proclamation:

We have contained this, I won’t say airtight but pretty close to airtight.”

A declarative document from the White House would definitively declare:

“The Administration is taking aggressive and proactive measures, working closely with state and local partners to protect the public health. President Trump has led the way in addressing the coronavirus and has allowed the U.S. to stay ahead of the outbreak as it has developed.”

Fat Boy sent Jason Miller, senior communications adviser on the 2016 Trump campaign down to the Fox News TV in the village to make a triumphant declaration:

 “Even if the virus is not our fault, we will be the ones to solve the problem. That is the message the American people need to hear.”

Cartoon used by permission: 235553 Trump and coronavirus by John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune PA

But the villagers—the frightened, panicked Americans—who could have really used a Comforter in Chief instead of a Liar in Chief during the encroachment of the plague—decided not to listen to their leader because he had fooled them 16,200 times before. Even if he were telling the truth now, how would they know? And so the very wise among them shouted back to the President in unison the Aesop moral of the tale of a President who cried wolf too many times:

“A liar will not be believed, even when [and if] he speaks the truth.”

Cartoon used by permission: 235526 Viral headlines II 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: 235524 Viral headlines 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 1, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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CUPIDS ACROSS AMERICA HANG UP THEIR BOWS AND ARROWS AND MOVE TO CANADA WITH MEGHAN AND PRINCE HARRY

Cartoon used by permission: 234892 Love 2020 by David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

THE CUPID LOVE TIMES—(The Tomczyk Satirical Report)/Valentine’s Day Post

On February 1st, hundreds of union Cupid leaders and the brain trusts of the National Valentine’s Association filed into an auditorium for a secret meeting. While seemingly ordinary in nature, high level leaks from the meeting have indicated that it was a very extraordinary gathering, and that come this Valentine’s Day, millions of love agents (a.k.a. Cupids) will be AWOL.

According to a high-level anonymous source of the UCW (United Cupid Workers), the Cupids have called for a strike which will commence at midnight on February 12th.  On the morning of February 13th, it is assumed that florists, candy makers, jewelers, and restaurants hosting special Valentines dinners will notice that no reservations have been made, no flowers purchased, and no romantic trips to Airbnb’s and hotels booked for that once fortuitous day.  The source says that the first indication that something is wrong in Cupidsville will be an uptick in “Valentighted” texts and voicemail messages.  For the uninitiated, the word “valentighted” was created by Metro UK writer Ellen Scott last year, and she says the word means: “the heartbreaking act of dumping someone right before Valentine’s Day, because you’re too tight to get them a gift, write a card, or make any kind of fuss… Valentine’s Day plus being too much of a tightwad to buy a gift = Valentighting.” [equal sign, mine]  In the meantime, this reporter has been told that all the Cupids who have the means to do so will relocate to Canada before February 14th—wherever Meghan and Prince Harry are hanging out. Their thinking is: if Meghan and Harry can disengage from the Royals, the Cupids can divorce from Valentine’s Day in America.

Internet Cupid Meme/Anonymous

Upon further investigation, several Cupids were willing to be interviewed by this reporter, but only if their names were not disclosed.  For the purpose of expediency, we’ll call them Cupid A, Cupid B, and Cupid C.

INTERVIEWER:  Can any of you tell me what started the Cupid organization’s decline?

CUPID A:  Certainly.  IMHO, it started with the birth of those damn internet dating sites.  Did you know there are approximately 8,000 dating sites around the world and 2,500 of them are in the United States?  I personally filed a lawsuit the minute the OkCupid site was launched in 2004. The nerve!

CUPID B:  Are you kidding me?  Our existence has been doomed from the very beginning because our modus operandi was to overpower freewill and make people fall in love with someone they hadn’t planned on giving the time of day to. Even God won’t make people do what they don’t want to do.  Not to mention, trying to catch people at just the right time and place and shoot them in the heart instead of in their asses or eyeballs has always been a lawsuit waiting to happen. 

CUPID C: No, that’s not our main problem.  We got screwed over by the Romans. The Cupids have been around since Greek Mythology.  Our name used to be Eros, the Winged God of Love (which I much preferred, by the way—much classier).  Back then we were slender and tall like a young Brad Pitt. We wore stylish tight leather pants with matching slippers and elbow-length leather gloves that caught the glimmer of our long, flowing golden locks.  (I’m pretty sure we were gay, too.)  But around 31BC, Rome conquered Greece, turned us into fat toddlers with a button mushroom-sized penis, stripped off our clothes and slippers, and we were given a choice of flying around naked or having our asses ensconced in droopy diapers.  To make matters worse, they forced us to succumb to very bad home perms for our hair. We’ve been a disgrace ever since. No one takes us seriously.

Cartoon used by permission: 74618 Valentine’s Day, COLOR by David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star Tucson, AZ

CUPID B:  No one takes love seriously anymore ever since the Abuser in Chief, the Orange Demon, the President of Lies, the Corrupter of Integrity, and the Bulldozer of Truth came to power.  Everybody is cynical, lacking hope, and waiting for the civil war to start.  People don’t even like each other let alone want to fall in love with anybody that’s different from them.  Where’s the excitement in that?  I used to be able to work a little magic—do a little mischief—by causing a Republican to fall in love with a Democrat, a Christian to fall in love with a Heathen, or an opera singer to fall in love with a heavy metal singer.  Now the American hearts have hardened so dramatically that no arrows of love have the capability to pierce their myocardium. 

CUPID A:  Ha, looks like someone has been reading his Thesaurus.

CUPID B:  Dude, I’m serious!  Trump has grabbed all the Republicans in Washington and across the land by their gonads and twisted them in a vice so hard that their hearts have imploded inside their chests.  There is nothing left for us to pierce—nothing left for us to do among the hard-hearted.  We are undone.  I mean we could stick around and wait for the apocalypse, but why?

Cartoon used by permission: 221646 Valentine’s Day by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star, Tucson  AZ

INTERVIEWER:  Wait a minute now, I’d like to push back on that.  There are other people in America who could use your love arrows.  What about us?

CUPID A:  Too late, Buddy.  Y’all are crazy and you’ve crossed over the line.  Last week some Alabama cop suggested that Nancy Pelosi should be taken out by a roadside bomb.  This week some rapper led the charge against Gayle King that threatened her life over an interview he didn’t like.

CUPID C:  Oh yeah, that was Snoop Dogg (a.k.a. Calvin Cordozar Broadus Jr.). Doesn’t that name just crack you up?  Where did he get the name Snoop Dogg from?  I’ve always wanted to ask him, but he scares the shit out of me. Anyway, I just got a text that Snoop’s Momma slapped him upside his head, and he manned up and apologized to Gayle. 

CUPID A:  Well, thank God for mommas…the Earth may yet be saved by them. But we Cupids have discussed whether we should stay or go ad nauseum.  We’ve really grown quite fond of you humans throughout the centuries, but we got a final commandment from our Boss (the big Cupid in the sky) who thinks we need to hightail it out of here before the civil war starts.  It’s his great wisdom which thinks that due to the “Capulets and the Montagues’” feud between the Right and the Left that has been churned up by the Demon King, the carnage will be unbelievable.  Our little vulnerable naked bodies will be chopped liver in that fray.  There will be naked cherub bodies flying through the air like dandelion puff balls in the path of a nor’easter. You know where we’ll be hiding out, though.  Just give us a call if you discern that the love of your fellow citizens has overcome their differences. In the meantime, you might want to engage in a strong bit of intercession to the God of Love to break the hardened hearts and give them the ability to love and be loved.  The love you guys need has gone way beyond our pay scale and love arsenal.  You need the big guns, Boo-boo! Ciao, Baby!

Cartoon used by permission: 234979 Needing More Arrows 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: 206562 Valentine 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.

Cartoon used by permission: 191041 Valentine for Washington COLOR by Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

 
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Posted by on February 12, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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