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IT’S RAINING PERVS, IDIOTS, AND LIARS!

Do you know what I discovered after returning from my Thanksgiving-enforced news hiatus?  Time away wasn’t long enough.  It appears that things have gotten much, much worse in these United States of America.  How is that even possible?  Within a span of seven days, it looks as if someone flushed a giant toilet in the sky and closeted perverts masquerading as upstanding human beings are circling the drain at a dizzying speed. 

Sexual Assault Graveyard Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

We appear to be on the verge of a nuclear war with North Korea (God, have mercy!), the trenches are crowded with die-hard Trumpeters refusing to see the light that their “savior” is destroying the presidency, our country, and our world standing, and if those aren’t enough metaphors for you, so-called born-again Christians are selling their souls to the devil in a fire sale to support an accused pedophile for the Senate and an admitted p**sy grabber and liar-in-chief in the White House.

November 30, 2017

Cartoon used by permission: Adam Zyglis, The Buffalo News

By the time I finished catching up with the news, I was exhausted and ready to take another vacation. But I momentarily thought to myself, this may be good.  These sexual assault revelations, at least, are a sea change in our culture.  Eureka! Maybe now, those who call themselves die-hard Christian supporters of Trump will come forward and demand a fundamental biblical action—confession/repentance—from our P**sy-Grabber-in Chief due to the 13 or so sexual assault allegations against him.   Maybe those who say that it is God’s will Trump is President and swear to his born-again status will help him see the error of his ways by speaking truth to power:  “Trump, you are a pervert. In fact, a news report was released today from two people who once heard you brag while gawking at a woman that was not your wife: ‘There is nothing in the world like first rate p**sy.’  Stand up and be counted, Dude.  Repent—go, and sin no more!”

Morning Tums Jeff Koterba Omaha World Herald NE

Cartoon used by permission: Jeff Koterba, Omaha World Herald NE

I heard plenty of outrage from Republican Christians against the “liberal” media and celebrity bad boys that got exposed (no pun intended), but only the sound of crickets when it came to holding Trump’s feet to the fire of sexual assault accountability.

Partician Outrage Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune

I was so dismayed that those who claimed to be the champions of moral authority were backing the wrong horse (again), much like they did historically as Lutherans for Hitler, Dutch Reformed Christians for Apartheid, and Southern Baptists for segregation that I got mad as Hell—at God.

But here’s the problem with the version of Christianity I believe in:  I can’t actually see God—or audibly hear Him/Her.  I mean, I know He’s there and loves us pathetic humans—all of us.  It’s just that I used to believe God spoke to me as an individual, as many of the Christians who support Trump and will never leave his side do (God “told” them to stick with Trump, no matter what).  But I was brain washed and all of the things I said God had said to me (except one—check out Monsters’ Throwdown to see which one that was) was all shit I made up so that other Kool-Aid drinkers would think I was all that and a bag of chips.

Right now, I am really angry.  Angry that the will and love of God is being misinterpreted, and I’m angry that God doesn’t rescue our country from the mentally ill despot in the White House. I’m so angry that I am wallowing in sin like a pig in a mud hole.

This morning I woke up thinking how much I envy my Catholic friends.  I would love to go to confession and bare my soul because I’ve got some questions that need answers and God’s got some ‘splainin’ to do about why so many of his peeps are so delusional.  As I often do when my head and heart are in a fog, I made myself a cup of tea, turned on the fireplace, and fantasized about the conversation I would have if a priest came wandering by my window.

Memes About Confession me me

ME:  Bless me father for I have sinned.  It has been “never” since my last confession because I’m a Protestant.  I mean for years, I was so arrogant I thought Catholics weren’t true Christians.  So, I guess, technically, this is my first confession.  I mean, I pray all the time and ask God to forgive me for my multitudinous sins, but I’ve never used a conduit.  Please forgive me if I make a mess of this and above all, please don’t take offense.  Some of my best friends are Catholic.

PRIEST:  Hello, Eleanor.  Good to see you, my child. No offense taken. May God the Father of all mercies help you make a good Confession, and I will do my best to help guide you through the process as a non-Catholic.

ME:  Well, that’s good, Father, because I need to confess right off the bat that my heart is consumed with hatred.  It’s a good thing I don’t own a gun because I could seriously hurt somebody right now.  Recently, I received a copy of a Facebook screed pontificating on the “anointed” reign of Trump and how much he had accomplished in God’s name as God’s man in power.  This was written by a person who used to be my friend until her constant Facebook attacks on President Obama were so clearly racist that I realized she couldn’t possibly love me, as a Black woman, and believe the things she posted.  In my ex-friend’s dissertation about Trump, she ignored his blatant lies (he’s re-upped the birther lie about President Obama, in case you haven’t heard), she ignored his racism (have you seen the latest anti-Muslim retweet that were doctored videos by a neo-fascist hate group aimed at demonizing Muslims?), and she ignored his alignment with Roy Moore (the accused child molester running for the Senate in Alabama).  All backed up by Scripture, of course. I can’t believe that she is such an idiot.  I hate her with a passion!

Trump Supports Roy Moore Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

PRIEST:  Well … that’s probably not a good idea.  In your Protestant journey did you ever read the scripture from Proverbs 10:12: “Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses?”

ME:  Yes, but SHE’S the one stirring up the strife.  The bitch knows better (sorry about the “B” word, Father), but she drank some right-wing Christian Kool-Aid.  Besides why should she be able to get away with being an idiot, and I have to obsequiously do the “love” thing?  You expect me to be nicer than Jesus?

PRIEST:  It’s not what I expect, it is what the God of Love commands.

ME:  Speaking of the God of Love, wait until you hear how mad I am at Him. I’ll probably get sent straight to Hell for those thoughts.  God’s got all the power, why doesn’t He DO something?  Why is He letting Trump flush our country down the toilet and bring us to the brink of WW III?  God knows that Trump is mentally ill.

PRIEST:  God’s ways are not our ways, my Child.

ME:  No disrespect, Father, but if I were a god and people were taking my name and my character in vain the way Trump and his Christian supporters are doing, I’d zap Trump with an aneurysm, strike Roy Moore with a heart attack, and cause the gun manufacturers and the NRA to get palsy every time they even thought about a gun.  And don’t get me started on Trump’s press secretary, Sarah Huckabee Sanders—the supposed daughter of a preacher man and a “God-fearing Christian” who justifies every lie Trump utters without blinking an eye.  Do you know that according to The Washington Post, Trump has made 1,628 false or misleading claims in less than 300 days?  I’d glue Sanders’ mouth shut and take away her ability to speak until she died if I were her god.  She’s heartless.

Sarah Huckabee Sanders

Sarah Huckabee Sanders Meme: Covering for Trump Lies/imgflip.com

PRIEST:  Well, we should all be glad you’re not God, and that none of us get caught in your crossfire. It doesn’t seem to have one shred of mercy. Let me ask you something. Have you ever been wrong about what you considered truth?  I mean something that you believed for years—maybe even believed it because you thought that is what God wanted you to believe?  And then one day, or over a series of days or years, the metaphorical scabs were removed from your eyes, and you saw “the light”—so to speak?

ME:  Oh Yeah. It’s happened more than once about quite a few things.  I wrote three books about changing:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, and The Fetus Chronicles.  You should read them sometime.  I think you’d enjoy them—even as a priest. Although the language might be a bit rough for you.

PRIEST:  Oh, you’d be surprised at what I can tolerate being a Father Confessor.  Why do you think you changed?  Was it through people hating and disdaining you, or was it through people praying for your awakening out of delusional thinking into something concrete and truly holy and love-inspiring?

ME:  Huh, maybe…

PRIEST:  When’s the last time you’ve read Romans 12:18: “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord. On the contrary: ‘If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

ME:  Okay, I get it.  I’ve forgotten who I am, and who God is.  I need to learn how to fight the good fight for the common good without resorting to using the same base weapons as my enemies, and let God do what only he can do to bring about the change he controls.  In the meantime, Father, now that I’ve seen the light—what is my penance?

PRIEST:  Not quite sure because you’re not Catholic.  Hum … How about, cut your news consumption by 90%? Most of it you can’t control, anyway.  Daily pray for strength to love those who wrong you.  Drink lots more chamomile tea and read a good book.  May I suggest the Holy Bible, Def Jam poetry, or listen to some Jill Scott tunes—preferably, “Living My Life Like it’s Golden”?

Confession Goes to You

Courtesy of Catholic Memes

ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA” MOMENT) ABOUT LOVE CONQUERING HATE

I am discovering that as much as I’d like to hate those who hate me or hate what I hold dear, I simply can’t get away with it if I say I love God.  It seems I must force myself to constantly press through those ugly thoughts into a place of grace and love.  I must pray for those I believe to be delusional to see the light—the truth.  It is hard and almost damned near impossible, but I must reach high when they stoop low.  As to my God, if He is to be truly an all-powerful God to me, then I must trust in Him (not lean on my own understanding of the moment in time) that all things will work together for good in the end.  Unfortunately, the God of the Universewho is timelessseems to have a different concept of time which definitely affects when there is an end to evil at any given moment.

Alabamas Black Response David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

               INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES

“This is not complicated. Conyers should resign. Franken should resign. Moore should drop out or be defeated. Hypocrisy on the other side doesn’t justify hypocrisy on our side. Period.”Tweet by Guy Cecil, Principal Player in Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee who helped Franken win reelection three years ago.

This is equally not complicated.  Trump should resign—immediately—before he fucks up our country to the point of no return.”—Eleanor Tomczyk, American citizen and decent human being

******

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK:  “The Fetus Chronicles:  Podcasts From my Miseducated Self” is on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST INTERVIEW?  Check out the podcast interview with Leo Brown: http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

****** 

REFERENCES

https://www.salon.com/2017/11/29/sarah-sanders-just-defended-donald-trumps-retweets-showing-facts-dont-matter/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/our-political-foundation-is-rotting-away/2017/11/29/173a497c-d54d-11e7-b62d-d9345ced896d_story.html?tid=hybrid_experimentrandom_with_top_mostshared_2_na&utm_term=.8349aa67825b

https://www.thedailybeast.com/trump-bragged-nothing-in-the-world-like-first-rate-psy

http://www.cnn.com/2017/11/29/opinions/donald-trump-has-gone-too-far-again-brian-klaas-opinion/index.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/fact-checker/wp/2017/11/14/president-trump-has-made-1628-false-or-misleading-claims-over-298-days/?utm_term=.8c3fbe8865b5

https://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line/wp/2017/11/29/two-new-reports-suggest-trump-has-come-unhinged-the-truth-is-worse/?hpid=hp_no-name_opinion-card-b%3Ahomepage%2Fstory&utm_term=.24422f838962

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.

 
11 Comments

Posted by on November 30, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

CRUCIFYING OUR IDOLS

Do you know what I discovered this week?  We are a nation of idol worshipers, and the worship of one of those idols by one of the home owners in my gated community broke my heart last week.

I’ve made no bones about the fact that I live in an idyllic community—some would call it paradise—where the people have retired from all over the country.  They’ve come from all walks of life, from all sorts of struggles, and they’ve worked really hard to afford the retirement they now enjoy with such abundance.  I don’t know the exact breakdown, but I would take a wild guess that the racial make-up is 80% White, 20% African-American, Asian, Indian (as in East Asian), Hispanic, and other. For the most part, my co-paradisians are overly friendly when we pass each other on our daily walks or see each other at social events (“Good Morning, How you doin’? Haven’t seen you in a while, How’s your husband since the operation? Get rid of those moles in your yard, yet? Nice dog, Great weather we’re having, How about those Houston Astros?”).  My co-retirees are extremely inclusive, intelligent, creative, and fun to chat with on any given day.  Until one of them hoisted a Confederate flag.  He claimed he didn’t do it to offend anyone; he did it in support of his heritage.

As a descendant of slaves, I replied:  “Bullshit!  Your heritage was my family’s bondage.  Furthermore, your flag is a symbol of treason and an idolized piece of cloth that wrapped itself around slavery, rape, violence, and genocide with impunity.”

Confederate flag heritage excuse John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: John Cole, The Scranton Times-Tribune

That was the bad news.  The really, really good news is that our home owners association swiftly did the right thing—the righteous thing—and smacked down this “White Supremacy Idol” before it became a cancer and spread like wild fire decimating the common good in the community:

“The ___Home Owners Association is committed to an inclusive and diverse neighborhood, and to compliance with Fair Housing laws. 

“The _______ Handbook prohibits ‘offensive and inflammatory’ flags….  The Confederate flag falls under both of these sections as it has been and is currently used by groups and people to intimidate, demean, harass and cause fear.

“Further, pursuant to the terms of the Fair Housing Act and under our duty as the _______Board of Directors, we cannot permit hostile environments to exist in our neighborhood, particularly when we have the authority to regulate the activity causing the hostility.

“… in furtherance of the common interests of our residents and the inclusivity and diversity of our community and to comply with our Governing Documents and Fair Housing laws… the Association will now formally prohibit the display of any Confederate flag within ________ which is visible from the exterior of any lot.”

Confederate flag and heritage Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

…which was a good thing, because, for a fleeting moment, I thought I was gonna have to move, and ain’t nobody got time for that!

The neighborhood Confederate flag was appropriately and swiftly handled by my HOA and got me to thinking about what an incredible revolution we could have in America if everyone who believed in the universal creed, “Do unto others, as you would have others do unto you,” turned in their idols that were destructive to that Christ-like motto for the common good.

As I was meditating about it all, I fell asleep and dreamt that I was put in charge of a “Buy Back” program for the resistance for the Center for Idol Destruction.  My job was to purchase any and all idols that were destroying the true spirit of the American ideals.  I dreamt that the NRA leaders, along with gun manufacturers, turned in their Idol of the 2nd Amendment in exchange for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all American citizens.  It wasn’t easy, but they did it for the children.

Gun Rights Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, Salt Lake Tribune

It was an emotional moment, and as we all hugged the bright-eyed kiddies gathered around us, the gun-rights people took up hammers and smashed the sacred cow that had become so idolatrous to them and so murderous to the rest of us.

While the champagne flowed, a group of men who looked like a sphinx on crack of Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby, Kevin Spacey, Bill O’Reilly, Roger Ailes, Kevin Spacey, Mark Halperin, and President Trump lugged in their Sexual Assault Power Idol.  They had worshiped it for years.  It was almost too grotesque to behold, and the harassment sphinx looked as if it was changing its mind, until I approached it in my pink #METOO t-shirt with a legion of women behind me.   The sexual assault sphinx smashed its idol for the sake of their mothers, daughters, sisters, fathers, brothers, sons, and friends.

November 3, 2017

Cartoon used by permission: Adam Zyglis, The Buffalo News

As I sent the sexual assault sphinx to confession and a month-long lice and flea bath, a large contingency from the Evangelical and Catholic Conservative Christian world begrudgingly brought in their Idol of Political Power.  This idol was not an easy one to wrestle out of the hands of its owners.  It wasn’t until I showed them a mock-up of their carcasses in the afterlife on a fiery dung heap made out of their Christian values that they let go of their idol in the name of Jesus and smashed it into a million pieces.  There was a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth.   I made a note to keep an eye on this group because they seemed to be easily seduced, and I caught several of them trying to paste back the idol of political power with super glue when they thought I wasn’t looking.

Selling Soul Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune

While I was looking for the Idols of Lust of Money and Greed, a group dropped by the Center who represented the 30-something percenters (a.k.a. the die-hard Trump supporters).  Most of them were from places like Johnstown, Pennsylvania.  They never expected Trump to keep his promises, but they love him anyway because he is the spitting image of their fear and ignorance.  They confessed that sometimes they wanted to destroy their Idols of Fear and Ignorance because they had become too burdensome to carry around, but letting go of their idols would mean they were wrong about so many things, and their pride just couldn’t admit to that—not after all they had lost.  Their fear and ignorance—cloaked in their prejudices—were all they had left.

The idolaters liked that Trump was bashing the NFL players who were “taking the knee in protest,” and a couple residents of Johnstown admitted to the reporter Michael Kruse from Politico* that they’d changed the football acronym to: “Niggers for Life” just for spite. They were mad as hell that those NFLers had so much, and they had so little left as true, blue, White Americans—real Americans.  Plus, no one could convince them that Obama was not the anti-Christ, because they had heard it in church after all, and no one could make them believe anything bad about Trump (no Russian collusion to see here, folks!) because it was all fake news anyway.  They loved Trump for tweeting and saying all the hateful, divisive things they felt that had mushroomed in their hearts from watching Fox News 24/7 and living in a closed and dying community.  Whether Trump ever kept a promise to them didn’t matter anymore; they would never abandon him.  At least Trump was tormenting the people that they wished they could beat the shit out of, given half the chance.

Sad, to say, those idol worshipers couldn’t let go of their sacred cows, and they walked out of my dream.  But I have hope that if they can’t let go of their idols today, maybe they’ll be able to do so tomorrow.  Hope always springs eternal in my dreams.

trump supporters John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: John Cole, The Scranton Times-Tribune

ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA” MOMENT) ABOUT IDOLS

I am discovering that the Commonwealth of Virginia tore down some idols on Election night, too, and sent Donald Trump a very strong resistance message by defeating his confederate-statue-hugging-candidate of hate, anti-gun control, anti-immigration, and anti-healthcare choice for governor by declaring:  “NOT IN MY STATE!”  The voting results were what the Washington Post called “…nothing less than a stinging repudiation of Trump on the first anniversary of his election.”  In fact, that rallying cry was heard across the land in NYC, in New Jersey, in Maine, in Georgia, in North Carolina, in New Hampshire, in Pennsylvania, in Washington State, just to name a few.  Charlotte Alter, a national correspondent for Time had the perfect tweet:

“A trans woman beat the guy who introduced the bathroom bill. A gun victim’s boyfriend beat a delegate with an “A” grade from the NRA. A civil rights lawyer who sued the police department just became the top prosecutor in Philadelphia.  Something’s happening here, folks.”

You bet your sweet ass something is happening:  good folks of all religious creeds, ethnicities, races, economic backgrounds, and gender affiliations are taking back their country from the idol worshipers of bigotry, hatred, abuse, and assault—community by community, city by city, state by state, and smashing the idols to smithereens until we take back the White House for the common good of the people.  All the people.

Trump Impeached Milt Priggee www miltpriggee com

Cartoon used by permission: Milt Priggee, http://www.miltpriggee.com

 INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ABOUT IDOLATRY

 “I’m not a Universalist, and the way I talk about final loss is this: People worship idols – money, whatever. Their humanness gets reshaped around the idol – you become like what you worship. That’s one of the basic spiritual laws.”N. T. Wright

“Revenge, lust, ambition, pride, and self-will are too often exalted as the gods of man’s idolatry; while holiness, peace, contentment, and humility are viewed as unworthy of a serious thought.”Charles Spurgeon

What we need to affirm is that Jesus is neither a Democrat nor a Republican. Whenever we marry Jesus to a political party, we are committing the sin of idolatry. We are making Jesus into the image of our political party.”Tony Campolo

All quotes courtesy of www.brainyquotes.com

******

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK:  “The Fetus Chronicles:  Podcasts From my Miseducated Self” is on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST INTERVIEW?  Check out the podcast interview with Leo Brown: http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

REFERENCES

https://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line/wp/2017/11/06/the-indefensible-republican-response-to-the-texas-mass-shooting/?hpid=hp_no-name_opinion-card-b%3Ahomepage%2Fstory&utm_term=.f21af5fa70ea

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/politics/wp/2017/11/06/theres-only-one-surefire-answer-to-the-problem-of-mass-shootings/?hpid=hp_hp-top-table-main_analysis-the-answer-545pm%3Ahomepage%2Fstory&utm_term=.690eb57a461a

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/virginia-politics/polls-close-anticipation-builds-as-virginia-governors-race-results-trickle-in/2017/11/07/68d6941e-c3d4-11e7-84bc-5e285c7f4512_story.html?hpid=hp_hp-top-table-high_vagovernor-8pm%3Ahomepage%2Fstory&utm_term=.e146154f9c62

https://www.salon.com/2017/11/08/yes-it-was-a-referendum-on-trump-reason-for-hope-a-year-after-the-catastrophe/

https://www.politico.com/story/2017/11/08/virginia-exit-polls-trump-northam-gillespie-244677

*https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2017/11/08/donald-trump-johnstown-pennsylvania-supporters-215800

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.

 
12 Comments

Posted by on November 8, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,

HYPOCRITES, SPIDERS, AND HELL

(2017 Halloween Edition)

Do you know what I discovered this week about myself?  I hope there is a Hell.  I know I shouldn’t wish anybody goes to Hell if I want to be a good person, but I’ve had it.  Nothing is seemingly being done to stop the horror of the man in the White House by God at this moment (although I’m still holding out for a Pharaoh-like deliverance).  Therefore, it sure would be encouraging if I knew certain elements would not get away with their deplorable actions here on Earth and, thus, fry in the afterlife due to a gigantic bitch-slap from karma. I need to know that justice is coming at some point.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week.  If there is a Hell, I would nominate two categories to start with:  hypocrites and spiders.  Especially Huntsman spiders.  They act all cool and nonchalant—all Charlotte Webby and shit—but they don’t talk to you or weave webs that say “nice Negro” like Charlotte did to keep you from getting taken to the slaughter house like Wilbur, the pig.  They actually have the ability to move at the speed of lightning and aggressively jump at you if you encounter them during your travels in Latin America, South America or Australia, and their bite can be vicious.

Spider I weknowmemes dot com

Courtesy of Zipmeme

Hypocrites are like that.  They make you think they represent one thing, say—the Christian Church, compassion, truth, honesty, empathy, morality, and godliness (like the Voters Value Summit on October 13th, who hosted Trump as their main speaker, and welcomed him as a conquering hero), while they sell their souls to a man who is vainglorious, boasts of grabbing women by their genitals, boasts that the best way to treat women is like shit, bullies any and every one, lies through his teeth, and must be the most spiteful, insensitive human being alive.  Yep, Hell sounds like a pretty good landing place for Trump and all the Trump diehards—people who refuse to see the truth about him no matter what he does.  Come to think of it, maybe Hell is too good a place for hypocrites such as these.

As I wrestled with my fantasy about zapping deplorable people and spiders into Hell, I came across a Halloween story that dealt with all three.  It was such a timely story that I had to share it with my readers.  Enjoy!

Scooby Doo Meme Dark and Stormy Night

Meme Courtesy of Scooby Doo and Friends, Hanna Barbera

*****

NOTHING TO FEAR, BUT. . .

The older couple should have known that something was afoot. They’d been married for more years than they could remember, and the patterns were always the same a couple days before All Hallows Eve every year: The day would somehow go off the rails—as if pushed off the tracks by ghosts and goblins just to underscore that they were in charge for Halloween.

This couple loved Halloween, but as they progressed in years, both were finding it increasingly hard to come up with Halloween costumes they hadn’t previously featured.  They weren’t amateurs when it came to figuring out unusual costumes.  No sexy nurse or Freddy Krueger costumes for them.  No siree!  At one Halloween party for couples before they were married, the man went as Frédéric Chopin, and the woman dressed as Chopin’s lover, George Sand (the notorious female, cigar smoking, trouser-wearing novelist).  In the midst of that Halloween party of yore, where there were three sets of bacon and eggs, two devils, five witches, four zombies, and six astronauts, they easily took the first place prize.  But after 45 years of knowing each other, they were stumped as to what to wear to the upcoming Halloween party with their friends that weekend.

You’d think that with all their previous Halloween experience they should have seen the signs of demons afoot.

As the couple barreled down the highway in their minivan to do their monthly Costco shopping, they both noticed how stormy the weather was.  It hadn’t even been raining when they left home, and there had been no rain in the forecast, but all of a sudden the sky darkened and it opened up with such fury, it was as if the Devil had called forth all his handymen to have a party at the expense of the sons of men.  (SCARY SIGN #1)

HER:  This is just awful.  Do you think we should turn back?  I can barely see the road.

HIM:  Of course not.  We’re almost there.  Besides, we promised we’d bring fruit platters enough for fifty people and the only place we can get that much fruit without breaking the bank is at Costco. We’re retired, remember.  Income fixed—fixed income.  Anyway you say it, it all means the same:  limited income for extravagance.  Let’s talk about other things so that we don’t think about lashing rains and flooding roads.  Have you come up with a Halloween costume yet?  The theme of this year’s party is:  things that scare the shit out of you.

HER:  Yes, I have.  I’m going as Donald Trump holding the red button that launches our nuclear bombs.

Scariest Costume Trump Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Cartoon used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

HIM:  Good one!  Simple.  Not much needed:  orange wig, white face makeup, one of my suits, and a red button box made out of cardboard.  Within budget.  That costume should be easily understandable to just about everyone except a Trump supporter.  Unfortunately, I haven’t come up with a thing I haven’t done before.  I’m not like you—I’m not afraid of much.  I’ve been chased by the KGB in my youth, shot at in Beirut, survived a bombing of my business by terrorists in the Middle East, and married you.  Do you know what cojones it took to marry you?

HER:  Oh really, old man.  You’re really pissing me off right now.  Not afraid of much, huh?  How about going as a spider, and not just any ol’ spider, but a big, juicy, gargantuan spider—if your bowels can handle it.  It won’t take much:  put a black stocking over your face, sew on two balled up black socks as eyes, put you in your black diving suit, and attach eight elongated blackened tubes made out of thousands of intertwined and connected pipe cleaners to your body, and voila!  There you have it.  Easy, cheap, and scary.  Then we’ll see just how much you’re NOT afraid of anything.  So nani-nani-boo-boo!

As the perturbed old woman watched her man’s face turn ashen and his knuckles grip the steering wheel (as if trying to hang on for dear life), she instantly regretted her spider taunt and realized she might have crossed the line.  In the stony silence that ensued, she remembered a horror story he had experienced from their salad days that she had forgotten in her old age.

Constipated spider solver END

Many years ago, the man had temporarily rented a room in the home of a couple and their two sons in a city where he was starting a new job.   He had moved to the city ahead of his family until they could sell their old home, while he established himself in his new job.  He knew the couple but had never realized what poor housekeepers they were.  To say that the couple’s home was a pigsty was an understatement.  Roaches weaved in and out of an incessant trail of ants who were constantly holding house parties in the weeks’ old spills all over the counters, stove, and floors.  The smell of months’ old urine caked on the toilet bowls gagged the uninitiated at the entry of every bathroom door and took second place only to the months-long litter box pea-and-poop collection of the two cats.  What made it worse was that the family reveled in their filth.  The consistent rallying cry among them was:  “Who is our friend?  DUST is our friend!”

But the man reasoned that one can put up with anything if one knows the end date.  At least that was his motto until the morning he woke up with his scalp feeling as if it were on fire.  When he rushed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, swirling in the blood on his head were hundreds of tiny baby spiders who were feasting on his scalp and dangling from his hair follicles into his eyes and ears.  As he frantically scrubbed his scalp with anything he could find and screamed in bloody terror, the family’s initial response was:  “We told you that dust is our friend.  I guess spiders are our friends too!” Although the man stayed in the home another week or two, and scrubbed the mattress with a gallon of bleach, he never fully slept again until he rejoined his family.

Spiders en mass Meme

HER:  I’m so sorry, Honey.  I’d forgotten that you have arachnophobia for a reason.  Forget what I said.  We’ll think of something else.  Okay.  Look, we’re at the Costco parking lot.  See.  You love Costco.  You can turn off the car now . . .  Just put one foot in front of the other—baby steps.  I promise, I’ll never tease you about spiders again.  I was being totally obnoxious.  (SCARY SIGN #2)

The old couple became engulfed in Costco, and the man soon forgot his episode in the car. Like most couples, the old man and woman went into Costco to spend $100 but arrived at the cashier’s station having spent more like $600.  The cashier made a snarky remark about the abundance of their purchases (everybody’s a critic!) and offered to provide boxes for all their items, especially the copious fruits for the party. (SCARY SIGN #3)

By the time the old couple left Costco, the rain had stopped, but it was still gloomy and cloudy.  The man was totally back to normal as he and the old woman remarked on how wonderful it was to be part of a global market where one could have the best fruits and vegetables all year round, whether they were in season or not.  When they returned home and unpacked their goodies, they made a game of noting where each box had originated:  grapes, bananas, and mangos from Latin America, Mexico, and South America—oh my!  As the old couple emptied each box, they threw them into the garage at the foot of the stairs, and proceeded to make their dinner.

Like most couples they had their unspoken duties as husband and wife.  Most of the time, the wife would cook, they’d clean up the kitchen together, and now that the kids were grown and gone, the old man would take out the garbage each night and put it in the industrial garbage can in the garage.  But for some reason that night the old man got distracted by the storm that had picked up again and had gone to check on a noise he heard in the basement, so the old woman (still feeling horribly guilty for the spider tease that had traumatized her man) decided to be especially kind and take out the garbage. 

The minute the old woman turned on the garage light, she saw it at the foot of the stairs by the Costco boxes.  She froze.  It froze.  Her mind couldn’t fathom what she was seeing.  It was not from her realm of knowledge.  It was not from North America.  It was the size of her hand.  Big.  Black. Eight legged.  Beady eyed.  Menacing. 

The old woman knew she needed two things:  shoes on her bare feet and a weapon.  She stealthily backed up the stairs (never taking her eyes off the creature), quietly put on her husband’s house slippers, and grabbed the most dangerous weapon in the house—a can of hornet’s spray.  She would have given anything to be a card-carrying, pistol-packing member of the NRA right about then, but…oh well.

Her eyes locked with the eyes of the alien creature, and they stayed frozen in position for what seemed like an eternity as they sized each other up and down.  The old woman would later swear that at that exact moment she heard the theme song to the western:  “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.”

Large Spider Top

Meme Courtesy of quickmeme.com

The old man’s wife reasoned that it had to be a spider because of its eight legs, but its body was so big that four legs jutted off to the left and four to the right giving it the ability to zig and zag.  She also reasoned that she’d only have one shot at destroying this demonic creature before the old man saw it.  He’d survived many things, as he had said in the car, but there would be no way he’d survive the sight of this creature.  Talk about a widow maker.

The wife positioned the long-shot hornet’s spray at what she hoped was the perfect angle and pressed the button with all her might.  It was Armageddon at warp speed!  No matter how much she sprayed the goddamn creature, the faster he moved—TOWARDS HER!  The creature chased her, she chased him, paint cans crashed to the floor, ladders crashed to the ground, garden tools slammed against the cars, and the garage floor was awash in toxic bug spray.  Just as the old woman shot out her last stream of killer spray and was about to faint from the fumes, the massive spider tried to make a run for one of the Costco boxes from whence he had come.  “Oh, Hell to the no!” screamed the old woman as she lifted up her leg as high as she could and slammed it down on the massive spider with all her might.  She not only stomped on it, but ground it into the pavement a dozen times or so to make sure the execution was complete.  The old woman would later swear that she heard the screams of a million Huntsman spider babies descending into Hell.  Because that is what the creature was:  the biggest Huntsman spider ever, from either Latin or South America that had made the journey across the border in a Costco shipping box to the home of the most arachnophobic man on the planet—just in time for Halloween.  THE END

Jesus killed the spider

Meme: Google/Anonymous

THOUGHT YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW:  Although the conversation between the “old man” and the “old woman” are embellished, both spider stories, including the showdown in the garage, actually happened to my husband and me.  His arachnid story happened many years ago and was as horrifying as recounted, and my confrontation of the Huntsman spider happened this past weekend after a trip to Costco.  To say I lost my shit in the garage over the encounter with the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in my life would be putting it mildly—but to conclude that I’m seriously wondering if our earthly creatures are a new ISIS terrorist strategy, then you wouldn’t be too far off the mark.  Also, my husband has refused to wear the murder weapon (his house shoes) ever again—even though I washed them.

Happy Halloween!  May God bless you, may God bless these United States of America (and the Earth) by saving and delivering us from the madman in the White House, just as I saved my husband from the attack of the Huntsman spider, before every day in America becomes a “dark and stormy night.”

Menacing spider top

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTE ABOUT SPIDERS

 “From everything I can read about Aussie spiders, it seems like all they really like doing is hiding in your house or garden or car until you ‘accidentally’ disturb them – probably by doing something crazy like putting on the shoe they are lurking in – and they can officially bite you to pieces.”—John Niven

*****

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK:  “The Fetus Chronicles:  Podcasts From my Miseducated Self” is on sale now at Amazon!

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

WANT TO HEAR THE AUTHOR’S LATEST INTERVIEW?  Check out the podcast interview with Leo Brown: http://breadboxmedia.podbean.com/e/what-if-it-is-true-can-you-find-faith-in-darkness/

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.

 

 
6 Comments

Posted by on October 19, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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MEET THE DOTARDS

Do you know what I discovered this week with great amusement?  Most of our news anchors had never heard of the word “dotard” when Kim Jong Un rocketed the word as an insult against Trump.  What was even worse is that most of them couldn’t even pronounce it.

I was screaming at the TV every time Joe Scarborough bastardized the word on Morning Joe.  Even this poor Black child, born in the ghetto, knew what “dotard” meant and how to pronounce it, but I guess that’s what happens when one has read Chaucer, Shakespeare, Agatha Christie, and J.R.R. Tolkien. (Thanks Cleveland School System; maybe you weren’t so awful after all.)

Dotard 1 Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

By the way, in case you haven’t been brought up to speed regarding Kim Jong Un’s vocabulary lesson to the English-speaking world (albeit, outdated English):

MEANING OF DOTARD ACCORDING TO MERRIAM-WEBSTER:  “a person in his or her dotage,” which is “a state or period of senile decay marked by decline of mental poise and alertness.”

PRONUNCIATION OF DOTARD: dō-tərd (as in DOE-turd)

Since the word has gone viral (#dotard), I thought I’d look around for some examples to add to the online chatter about this hilarious choice of wording from one crazy-ass dictator to his wannabe counterpart.

I didn’t have too far to look.

I have retired to a town that is a haven for retirees.  It is a lovely town—extremely bucolic—with a world-class university, lots of educational and social opportunities, wonderful restaurants, and easy access to major metropolitan areas to partake in wonderful theater and museum events.  But for all its positive aspects, I have found a place where the dotards go to hang out.  It is the back page of the local newspaper (the only part of the local paper that I read because the rest is too boring for words), and they use it as if it were a communal Twitter and/or Facebook page.  One can call, fax, or email the editor of this newspaper and all the dotards are allowed to remain anonymous, which I think emboldens them.  Each message has its own stand-alone title.  I thought I’d feature a few of the more dotard-like examples to show my readers that dotards are alive and well—probably someone in your family, even—or at least a Trump voter who is mad as hell at everything and everybody.  I daresay, if any one of these dotards had access to a nuclear bomb, my lovely retirement town would have gone up in smoke a long time ago.

old man yells at cloud

GET OFF MY LAWN BACK PAGE

(From the Retirement Mecca Gazette)

Name of newspaper and its back page have been changed to protect me from becoming one of the local dotard’s anonymous attacks

***

WHEELIE TERRORS

Well, I see another day that the roads are all screwed up…for a damn bicycle race.  It never ceases to amaze me how something that pays no taxes to use the road can screw it up for people who do pay taxes.  I can’t even go to the grocery store without encountering a two-wheeler.  If God wanted us to ride bicycles, he wouldn’t have given us cars.   Down with bicycles, I say!  Up with tax-payin’ diesel mobiles!

DAMN YOU RAIN GET OFF MY LAWN

***

YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE

Read your article about car thefts on the rise.  Couldn’t help but notice that many of the cars stolen didn’t have their doors locked.  If you leave your car doors unlocked, what do you expect to happen?  There is a fool born every minute is all I have to say. 

YOUNG WHIPPER-SNAPPER

To the young woman who passed me on the road the other day, I couldn’t help but notice that you had two little kids in the back seat observing you breaking the law.  Now it is true that I was traveling below the speed limit (when I make a mistake, I own it), but that was no reason for you to pass me and give me what looked like “the finger” (although, I’m not quite sure it was your finger because I didn’t have on my glasses which is why I was driving so slow).  Do you hug your mother with that hand?  Shame on you…and to think your children saw you do that.  You owe me an apology, young lady!

RAZZLE-DAZZLE

Orange is my favorite color, but not on accent panels on the design of buildings for the rebuilt/redesigned shopping center, let alone red and yellow, too.  Why not some blues and greens?  Planning commission wants “edgy.”  What’s next?  Digital signs on our main road?  Who bamboozled the city planners into this?  I bet you it was that pesky Obama.  He’s out of the White House (thank God!), but still causing problems…roaming to and fro seeking whom he can devour with his foreign communist ways.  I heard on Fox News that he pops up all over the place, and the next thing you know, Confederate statues are being removed and towns are tryin’ to go all “edgy” in their color schemes.  He’d be the one to push red and yellow colors on our historical town just to get back at President Trump.  I’ll be keeping a close eye on this—you bet your sweet biffy.

Grumpy Old Woman

***

DREAMERS

Last week, the Retirement Mecca Gazette ran an article that stated 23 college students at our very fine upstanding university are part of the 800,000 protected by the executive order President Obama signed in 2010. These so-called “dreamers” were given short-term protection…What’s puzzling to me is that 23 legal citizens were denied entry into the college because our state college chose illegals over my granddaughter.  Are illegal immigrants a protected minority class in the USA?  If so, are they more protected than struggling Black families?

DREAMERS CONTINUED

I’ve got one thing to say to the so-called “dreamers”:  Get out of my country.  Go back to Africa with the man who brung you—your savior, Barack Hussein Obama!  Worst president ever!  Good thing President Trump is going to make America great again and kick you out.  President Trump—best president ever!

DACA John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: John Cole, The Scranton Times Tribune

 ***

ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA” MOMENT) REGARDING THE WORD “DOTARD”

I am discovering that dotards are everywhere, because being a dotard is a state of mind.  They are in our families, our churches, our communities, and our government.   A dotard is anyone who is afraid of change, intransigent in thought, and hard of heart when it comes to his or her fellowman.  Dotards have to be right even when the entire world knows they are wrong because to admit they are incorrect would involve a streak of humility that no dotard possesses.  All dotards fear things getting out of control (people moving too fast, ideas changing too quickly, the status quo vanishing before their eyes).  The most recent dotards have popped up on the Right-Wing Christian horizon proclaiming that the Rapture will start on Saturday, September 23rd because God is judging America for its wicked ways.  That’s the day when God will “snatch” all the Christians (all dotards) up to heaven and leave the rest of us sinners on Earth to be tormented by the likes of Kim Jong Un, the winds, the rains, and the earthquakes until Jesus comes back and sends us all to Hell.

They haven’t mentioned whether Trump will be one of the snatched.

Personally, I’ll take my chances with God as to the state of my soul, but I sure would like to see all the Christian dotards (and Trump) vanish on September 23rd.  I need some peace.

End is Nigh Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle

Dotard Trump

WANT TO READ MORE OF THE AUTHOR’S WORK?  CHECK OUT HER LATEST BOOK:  “THE FETUS CHRONICLES: PODCASTS FROM MY MISEDUCATED SELF” ON SALE NOW AT AMAZON!

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***

ADDITIONAL READING

http://www.cnn.com/2017/09/22/asia/north-korea-dotard/index.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2017/09/21/a-short-history-of-the-word-dotard-which-north-korea-called-trump/?nid

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/21/world/asia/kim-trump-rocketman-dotard.html?hp&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=first-column-region&region=top-news&WT.nav=top-news

http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/the-world-is-going-to-end-%e2%80%94-just-probably-not-saturday/ar-AAskITR?li=BBnbfcL&ocid=UE13DHP

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 September 23, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , ,

GOD IN THE DARK

Recently, a self-described “heathen” asked me, a self-described “God-fearing woman” (her words—not mine) what hope could I offer her in response to the overwhelming anguish and despair she felt in the midst of all the racial, political, and natural disasters that have recently descended upon Americans as to why God was allowing all this devastation.

Dreamers David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

 

Did I agree with the loud-mouthed, ignorant Christians who were proclaiming the hurricanes to be the wrath of God against a nation that allowed homosexuality and abortions to exist?

 

Gods Wrath Larry Wright CagleCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Larry Wright, CagleCartoons.com

 

She said: “If all the mayhem is God’s ‘wrath,’ as your Christian peeps would try and lead me to believe, then why is he punishing the innocents by drowning or displacing them while patently evil characters of our world seem to run amok freely and God seemingly looks the other way?”

 

Evil Others Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star Tribune

 

I told her that she was asking the wrong questions.

 

Hurrican Treaty Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle

 

There is only one question that brings any comfort and perspective in the midst of a storm—man-made or nature-born:  “Where is God in all this pain and devastation?”  I am not in the path of a hurricane today and agents of racial hatred are not burning crosses on my lawn at this moment, but in my lifetime of almost seventy years as an African-American, I have been almost consumed by so many relentless personal storms that, in the heart of them, my anger against God was palpable and almost Job-like. 

 

God Fearing Religion John Darkow PoliticalCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission:  John Darkow, PoliticalCartoons.com

 

But as I told my heathen friend, God always showed up for me in the dark through the love, grace, heroism, comfort, helping hands, and mercy of human beings—and sometimes angels.  Many times I had no idea that they represented the presence of God to me when it was happening.  It was only in looking back all through my copious personal storms that I saw God in my darkest hours, and finding God in the dark has always obliterated the so-called prophets of doom, as well as strengthened my faith and trust in a higher power.  I agree with the wonderful Mr. Rogers when he asked his mother how to deal with the awfulness of tragedy, and she said:  “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” 

Mr. Rogers

 

…and I would add, look for God in the midst of the helpers…I’ve always found him to be there, not only in my life but in the storms we are facing today as a nation.

***

WANT TO READ MORE OF THE AUTHOR’S WORK?  CHECK OUT HER LATEST BOOK:  “THE FETUS CHRONICLES: PODCASTS FROM MY MISEDUCATED SELF” ON SALE NOW AT AMAZON!

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR? CHECK OUT HER WEBSITE: www.eleanortomczyk.com

***

ADDITIONAL READING ON WHO TO BLAME FOR ALL OUR PAIN

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2017/09/10/theres-no-one-else-you-can-point-to-how-disasters-elicit-talk-of-gods-wrath-and-end-times/

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 September 10, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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ONE FAMILY IN GOD’S EYES

Do you know what I discovered this week?  Charlottesville and Houston had similar “aha” moments for me.  I’ve basically been sitting in sackcloth and ashes for several weeks—unable to pray to God or write a blog—ever since the hate-filled murderous march of the KKK/Neo Nazis/Alt-right in Charlottesville.  Back when I was a child, they wore hoods to hide their faces—now they are unashamed to commit murder with open faces and lit torches to illuminate their visceral hate.  I have been numb ever since—barely able to breathe and scared stiff for every Jew, African-American, Latino, and anyone with the slightest melanin in their skin.  Worried sick that this hatred would wash up on the shores of my children and grandson’s lives.

At first I just put on a shapeless, itchy, sackcloth dress (think burlap coffee sack) while still wearing full diva makeup to signify my mournful state, but when Trump refused to issue a full-throated rebuke to the KKK/Neo-Nazis/Alt-right demons who proclaimed their racist hatred in his name, I stripped my face of makeup and smeared my body with ashes like the old biblical characters.  I also expected to hear a loud thunderous rebuke from the Christians who support Trump about his lackluster rebuke of our domestic terrorists, but all I heard were crickets.  White Christians I once knew who once upon a time said they loved me “in the Lord” were now justifying the actions of the White Supremacists on their Facebook pages.  I was so hurt that I sat down on the ground and proceeded to engage in an African death ritual.  In the dust I mourned the passing of truth, the manifestation of the love of Jesus, as well as my naïve concept of our national unity.

Trump and his many sides rebuke Daryl Cagle CagleCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Daryl Cagle, CagleCartoons.com

Then Hurricane Harvey struck, and I really started crying.  Not just crying, but sobbing—that ugly hysterical kind of crying, which turns you into a Tammy Faye Bakker replica.  I cried because I couldn’t see God anywhere in all this horrible devastation.

But on the third day, I noticed something that gave me hope that he might be on the move:  American men and women of all stripes risking their lives to save people of all stripes and not one of them asked if the other were something they weren’t or didn’t like.  Christians rescuing non-Christians, straight rescuing gay, immigrant rescuing life-long Texans, Blacks rescuing Whites, and vice versa.  They all were elated to help and be helped.   It was then that I got up out of the ashes, and started writing letters of observation to God because it looked as if he had showed up in the storm.

National Uniy Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Cartoon used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

DEAR JESUS:

It’s me—Eleanor.  You know, the one who is constantly nagging you day and night about the sorry state of our human affairs.

I’ve been wondering where you’ve been.  The scientists are saying this situation in Texas is a 1,000-year flood event unprecedented in scale, and places in and around Texas may never recover.

You’ve been awful quiet of late.  Were you dealing with the severe flooding in Asia which I hear has caused a couple thousand deaths, and there may be more to come in the monsoon season?  Or were you preoccupied with the despair in Africa over the severe famine that may starve out 20 million souls before all is said and done?  Oh, I almost forgot about Syria—maybe you were there.   I feel kind of wretched having barely noticed those other tragedies, but when it comes to my own country, I can’t sleep over the devastation in Texas.  I know I should be more global thinking and feeling, but these are my countrymen and women, and it is in the country where I live.  Right now the devastation in Texas is breaking my heart.  The police don’t know how many still haven’t been rescued and the poor (who always seem to bear the brunt of these disasters) may not be able to recover—ever.  Please help, please save, please deliver, and please restore my sisters and brothers—my human family—in Texas!

Houston Flood Bob Englehart CagleCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, CagleCartoons.com

DEAR JESUS:

It’s me again.  I’m sitting here scratching my allergic reaction to my burlap bag and wondering why you allow so much suffering to happen to us.  I know that humans have been asking their gods this since the evolution of man, and it has always remained a very squishy topic and a mystery.  It would be a lot simpler if you sat down for an interview on CNN or with the NY Times and did a Q&A on the subject.  You could start out by making yourself visible (not being able to see you creates more problems than you can possibly imagine) and letting us know that you are more than our pathetic miniature concepts of you as a god.  Maybe we could withstand the trauma of the journey better if we understood the “why” of the destination.  There are a lot of precious people in Texas who are never going to be able to put their lives back together again.  The rich might be able to, but the poor won’t.

Before I fled Oz (the Christian Church), I used to glibly look at disasters like Texas and equate it to your will—your judgment for some sin that had gotten on your nerves—as if you were a petulant Greek god.  (I’m sure you’re appalled to hear that attributed to your character, just as I am horrified to admit it.)   Let’s just say I had been taught about the essence of your character by some very ignorant people, which is why I no longer attend church.  At least I’m “woke” now.  Now I know you are a God of love and spewing destruction is not in your wheelhouse.

But do you know what will probably make you vomit?  When Hurricane Sandy hit the New York area, Christian leaders like Dobson, Robertson, Franklyn Graham (and many Texan Mega-Church Christians) blamed it on your wrath for the liberal ways of those “northern elites” who supported abortion and gay marriage.  Two Texas (born-again Christians) Republicans tried to block relief and recovery aid to New York and New Jersey.  When Hurricane Katrina practically wiped out New Orleans, those same folks blamed the gay and lesbian communities.  Houston has at least 37 mega churches and 53,525 Christian adherents per every 100,000 persons.  Yet, I haven’t heard one Christian conservative call Hurricane Harvey—the worst disaster in American history—an act of God’s will because of some perceived sin(s) committed by the Texans.  Isn’t that ironic?

People of Houston David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

DEAR JESUS:

Okay, I did find an egregious sin in Houston that warrants your immediate smack down.  There’s this dude who claims to know you and speak for you.  His name is Joel Osteen.  He has a church of 43,500 attendees and a facility so huge that you could show up one Sunday in all your glory surrounded by 10,000 twelve-foot angels, and no one would ever notice you were there—that is, if you ever deigned to set foot in the place.  His church is the biggest in Houston.  Osteen is reportedly worth $40 million and lives in a $10 million mansion in Houston’s River Oaks neighborhood, and all of it gotten by trying to sell access to a prosperous life via you.  (Is this bringing up shades of you ridding the temple of the money lenders back in the day?)

Anyway, I’m writing to squeal on Osteen’s behind.  While furniture stores were opening up their businesses to house refugees, sporting goods stores were housing entire emergency rescue teams, and ordinary people were taking in strangers in their homes, this dude shuttered his church (your so-called house) doors.  Twenty-five mosques opened their doors immediately upon the onset of the storm to become centers of refuge for their fellow citizens—regardless of religion. Meanwhile, down in the flooded streets of Houston, people were using whatever would float to rescue others, and I even saw a couple guys wearing hats with the NWA logo (“Niggas with Attitudes”) carrying a little ol’ White lady through the flood water to safety.

Now Osteen says he didn’t really close the church (there is a video that shows otherwise). His church is open now, but only because Twitter went all, “Hell to the no, Joel Osteen–you should have been the first in line to rescue your fellow Houstonians after all the money you’ve soaked them for.”   HOWEVER, he later contradicted himself and said he didn’t initially open his church because he was never asked to open it as a rescue center.  (FYI—none of the thousands of volunteers who showed up were asked, they were simply being human.)

May I suggest you talk to your boy, Lord Jesus, and get him to straighten up and fly right. Cause if you don’t, Houston is getting ready to open up a can of whup ass on him for being so “un-Christlike.”  While you’re at it, would you mind schooling Osteen on the fact that the “prosperity doctrine” he pushes in your name (God will make Christians rich if they give at least 10% of their money to people like him so he can have a house the size of a hotel and a private jet) is pretty obscene, and it has nothing to do with you?  Osteen and all the rest of that prosperity gospel gang (most of whom are ardent supporters of Donald Trump) are really giving you a bad rep.  By the time they are finished, you won’t be able to pay people to become Christians.  Just looking out for your reputation.  Love and Kisses, Eleanor

Joel Olstein Meme

Joel Osteen, Christian Empathy Award Winner of the Year

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ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA”) REGARDING GOD IN THE MIDST OF PAIN

I am discovering that the spirit of Christ is always in our midst no matter how dark the night or how deep the pain—if we choose to acknowledge that presence.  If there is anything good, or lovely, selfless or kind, there Jesus is. That’s what I got woke to years ago, and I hope and pray that if I am ever caught up in a disaster such as the one in Houston, or Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, or September 11th, that I’ll be one of the people God can count on to administer his love, his grace, his mercy, and his comfort to those around me regardless of who they are and without hesitation.

Melania had right idea RJ Matson CagleCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: RJ Matson, CagleCartoons.com

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES

 “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”John 15:13

“Nature is value-free. It can’t tell the role between the deserving and the undeserving. God’s role is not to decide where the hurricane goes and how severe it is. God’s role is to motivate people to help neighbors and improve methods to predict hurricanes. God is found not in the problem, but in the resilience.”Rabbi Kushner, author of “When Bad Things Happen to Good People”

“You, me, and the citizens of this country carry a special burden in 2017. We have to do what our president has not. We have to uphold America’s values. We have to do what he will not.”Vice President, Joe Biden

***

WANT TO READ MORE OF THE AUTHOR’S WORK?  CHECK OUT HER LATEST BOOK:  “THE FETUS CHRONICLES: PODCASTS FROM MY MISEDUCATED SELF” ON SALE NOW AT AMAZON!

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR? CHECK OUT HER WEBSITE: www.eleanortomczyk.com

*** 

REFERENCES

http://www.thedailybeast.com/joel-osteens-prosperity-gospel-made-him-houstons-hurricane-pariah 

http://www.cnn.com/2017/08/29/opinions/joel-osteen-hypocrisy-harvey-filipovic-opinion/index.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/joel-osteen-lakewood-church-houston-harvey_us_59a6ac7fe4b084581a148cef?ncid=inblnkushpmg00000009

http://www.salon.com/2017/08/30/religious-leaders-like-joel-osteen-are-a-big-reason-why-americans-are-dumping-religion/

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 September 1, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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RECLAIMING MY TIME

Do you know what I discovered this week?  #1.  Trump is here to stay for a very, very, very long time (no matter how much I try and wish him away)—he ain’t never gonna change, and his supporters’ support for him ain’t never gonna change.  #2.  Trump does and will occupy our media cycles 24/7 until he leaves office, probably through 2024.  #3. No matter how much I try to remain vigilant against what columnist Ruth Marcus calls this “one-man assailant against the rule of law,” I still can’t get through to the people I know who are supporting Trump, because they think I’m—at best—a purveyor of “fake news”—at worst—a spawn of the anti-Christ.

I sure do miss President Obama because you really don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Missing Obama sign seen in DC

Recent sign pasted to street post in Washington, DC

Everyday there is some stupidity visited upon us by “President” Trump, and as I spend hours upon hours trying to decipher what this all means in the scheme of things—the end of the world as we know it—I am made painfully aware that his reign could outlast my life, and then what good would all that worry and fretting get me except an early admittance ticket to the grave.

This was brought to my attention by my ophthalmologist just the other day.  I am 69 years old and have to get my eyes checked every six months to see if I have glaucoma (an inevitable rite of passage for someone with African/Cherokee Indian heritage roller blading through old age).   Apropos to nothing, my sanguine 45 year old eye doctor started spewing his views about aging.

DOC:   You know, I don’t want to live past 75.

ME:  Oh, why not?

DOC:  Because nothing good really happens to your body after 75—like nothing good happens after midnight, so you might as well leave the club, go home, and get some sleep.  Most of my patients are 65 and older.  The ones up to 75 seem to be treading the water of life very well, but the ones between 75 – 80 start disintegrating on all sorts of levels.  They wake up one day and suddenly they need a hip replacement here, a knee replacement there, or a quadruple bi-pass here, maybe a prostrate extraction there, a cataract surgery here or macular degeneration therapy there, not to forget a touch of dementia here or full-blown Alzheimer’s there . . .  It is not a pretty sight.  Generally, my patients tell me that by the time a person turns 85—95, their best friends are usually their doctors because they are the people the octogenarians/nonagenarians see on a regular basis, since most of their social connections are usually dead by the time they are in their late eighties.  Obviously, there are exceptions to the rule, given one’s DNA and all.

ME:  You know I’m 69 right, and you’re telling me this scary shit?  You don’t know my life.

DOC:  How long did your mother live?

ME:  Mom died at 70 and her sister died at 75.  So what are you saying to me?

DOC:  Hum . . .  I’m not a fortune teller, but if I were you, I wouldn’t waste your life because it is probably going to be shorter than you think.

Shakespeare Wasted time

By the time I left the eye doctor’s (eyes so dilated from five different drops in my pupils I could barely drive home), I felt like I had been in an underwater episode of Scrooge with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come as my spirit guide of things yet to behold.  It really made me think:  If it is true that I probably have only six good, strong years ahead of me before body parts go spinning off in different directions like the wheels of a poorly made go-cart (I’ve already lost a uterus), I better start changing my ways—no more wasting time.

So I started making a list of things that are time sucks in my everyday routine:

#1.  Scary news about Donald Trump 24/7

#2.  Abscessing about scary news about Donald Trump 24/7

#3. . . .

Just as I was about to type in my third example of a Trump time suck, my cable system imploded.  I promptly got on the phone, waited 20 minutes for someone to answer at my local cable company, told them my problem (“My internet is down for the 20th time since the beginning of the new year when one of your incompetent installers didn’t put in the most up-to-date modem”), at which the operator on the other end promptly replied:  “Yeah, he was an independent contractor—not one of our ‘real employees.’  You’re going to need our new super-duper, panoramic WiFi system which is guaranteed to solve all of your internet needs.  A ‘real’ technician is scheduled to arrive sometime between 8:00 – 10:00 a.m.  If the tech doesn’t arrive within that time frame, we will reimburse you $20.00.”

Waiting for Cable Man

My local cable company arrived thirty minutes late.  “J,” originally from Barbados, was very nice and fed me the script that I learned must be part of the cable company handbook:  “I will definitely get everything running—not going to leave before I do.”  After two hours, “J” had installed a new fancy-dancy WiFi system and made sure I understood that when I got the survey about his work performance that I gave him all “10’s” because anything less was considered a failing grade in the company.

When husband returned that night, he discovered that his computer could no longer receive WiFi, both TVs could no longer access Netflix, and, although the company would send us a technician the next day (between 10:00 – 12:00), we could not get our $20.00 late-show fee because we needed to phone it in at a certain time which happened to NOT be the time we were phoning it in.

The next day, the technician “R” from Mexico arrived 30 minutes late.  I could speak better Spanish than he could speak English, AND I CAN’T SPEAK SPANISH!  He could say the prerequisite:  “I will definitely get eberything runnin’—not goinna leave befo’ I do,” but little else.  It was his first day on the job.  After much hemming and hawing, he announced:

“Oder tech not do good job.  Ju need (how ju say it?) a stender and two new ebrything.”

“Is that going to cost me any more money?  I’m already paying extra for upgraded Wifi.”

“Asck billin’—I jes tech.”

Tech stayed all day, then finally fled five hours later in complete frustration, promising to return with his supervisor to finish the job, but had to get to next jobs or he’d get fired for not completing his tech log that day.   I skipped three errands, cancelled one appointment, researched nothin for my next book, never meditated, and almost blew a gasket from frustration.

The cable tech never returned.

Somewhere between the entry into Cable Company Hell and the fourth level of Dante’s Inferno, a cheery customer service person called:

Good afternoon, Mrs. Tomczyk.  This is your local cable company calling to see how our service was today.  Did everything get completed to your satisfaction?  You know, service is our game, and excellence is our aim!”

“ARE YOU SHITTIN’ ME!?!”

Cable Company Screwng Me

Husband returned home that evening expecting everything to be in tip-top shape and made the mistake of asking me how my day had gone.  I assaulted him with a stream of dragon fire, turned the cable company files over to him, and before abdicating my position as Internet Project Manager, I informed him that “R’s” manager (“M”) would arrive between 6:00 – 8:00 that night to fix the debacle his “first-day-on-the-job-non-English-speaking-employee” had left behind.

Sometime during dinner, “M” from Virginia by way of Morocco showed up and Hubbie and I threw up our agitated, frustrated word salad all over him which basically came down to the meaning of four words:  “FIX IT, CABLE DUDE!”

“Absolutely, Mr. and Mrs. Tomczyk.  I am the supervisor of 15 techs.  If I can’t fix it, no one can.  I will definitely get everything up and running—not going to leave before I do!”

Two hours later and two cold dinners left uneaten, after “M” extracted a promise that we’d give him all “10s” because “anything less is a failing grade,” he left the scene of the crime.  Ten minutes after he’d gone, I discovered that the phones (land lines), which run through the cable system, didn’t work.   After staying on hold for thirty minutes (thank God for cell phones), Hubbie was told by the cable company, not to worry about our phones, it was an outage in the area (not our specific problem) that would be corrected by them in a couple hours.

They lied.  None of our neighbors’ phones were dead.  Only ours.  AAUUUGH!

Dead Cable Guy

The next day, “A” from Russia, by way of California arrived and said that all the rest of the techs had screwed up the repair job.  He was a senior technician and announced that the cable company should never have sent a novice employee—the job was extremely complicated.  The entire system was not getting enough signal, parts that had been added had to be removed, and parts that should have been included were added.  Hours later and several drilled holes into my newly painted house siding previously not there, the Russian tech left after pleading that we’d give him all 10s because anything less would mean a failing job.  He then added:

“The survey’s first question will be what you think about my cable company.  Although you’ll be tempted to give them a zero rating after the experience you’ve had over the past several days, PLEASE, PLEASE give them a 10, because even though I wasn’t the tech that caused your previous problems, they will give me a failing mark for not convincing you to give the company a stellar grade.”

Two hours after the tech left, I noticed my back-up laptop couldn’t receive a wireless signal.

Recalling all the previous machinations I’d observed from each of the cable techs over the last several days and unwilling to waste any more of my precious time, I fixed it myself!

Cable company laughs

ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA” MOMENT) ABOUT WASTING TIME

I am discovering that I have a new heroine:  Maxine Waters, The International Finance System Committee’s ranking Democrat.  She’s Black, she’s old (78), and she suffers no fools.  Recently when Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin was testifying before the committee about why he had not responded to a letter from her regarding Trump’s financial ties to Russia, he tried to “play” her and not answer her questions by slathering her with platitudes and compliments, apparently trying to run out the clock since each committee member only gets a strict amount of time for questions.  Girlfriend was having none of that bullshit.  She kept repeating— ad nauseam —“reclaiming my time, reclaiming, my time, reclaiming my time . . .” Auntie Maxine Waters kept repeating her declarative statement until the committee chairman silenced Mnuchin.

Maxine Waters Reclaiming My Time

Congresswoman, Maxine Waters “Reclaiming her time!”

I am reclaiming my time from all things that are wasting it—especially from things that I can’t control.  I have become a slave to the 24/7 news updates as I comb the Internet for any indication that Trump is going down in flames and that his supporters finally “got woke,” as the kids say, and are abandoning him—relieving us from this national nightmare that this cartoon of a President has thrust upon us.  I realized the other day that none of this may happen anytime soon—if ever.  I have no doubt that Trump will go down in history as the worst president we’ve ever had, but even when his supporters are completely scandalized and demoralized by him, the majority of them will never admit they were wrong because their identity is so tied up in his success.   In the meantime, my life is rapidly moving toward the exit door.

I will continue to pray and fight the good fight, BUT, I have put reading, viewing, and listening to the news on appointment:  a couple hours in the a.m. while I exercise and then shutdown.  No responding to pinging news updates on my phone or bedtime news updates that rob me of my sleep.

As to my local cable company’s time sucking enterprise, the next time my Internet implodes, I’ll go sit in one of the bucolic areas of my house or deck and read a wonderful book—knowing that my local cable company is incompetent and will be here for days, so I might as well chill and reclaim the time by improving my mind.

Wasting Time I

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ABOUT WASTING TIME

“If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be the greatest prodigality.”—Benjamin Franklin

“There’s no good way to waste your time. Wasting time is just wasting time.”—Helen Mirren

“I’m not a big sleeper. It just feels like wasting time. If I wake up, and it’s after 5 A.M., I stay up.”—Margherita Missoni

“Ditto, Margherita Missoni!”—Eleanor Tomczyk

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THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK:  “The Fetus Chronicles:  Podcasts From my Miseducated Fetus Self” is on sale now at Amazon!

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST MAINSTREAM ARTICLES:

“What Humans Need to Know Before Being Born”

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

***
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 6, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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