Do you know what I’ve discovered? I have been betrayed by someone close to me—someone who came into my family with the best credentials. Her name is Penelope, and when she came to work for us, her references said that her inner core was impeccable—“true north”—so to speak. But lately Penelope has gone off course, refusing to align herself with her own moral compass of which she once boasted, and her choices have let me down and almost gotten me killed.
Penelope is our GPS.
Meme from www.memecenter.com
After several unpleasant incidents that ended up leading me to the wrong place, I threatened to rip Penelope out of our dashboard by her antenna, but my husband (WW) wouldn’t let me do damage to his car. Penelope is really WW’s GPS which came built into his fancy-dancy car and is considered far superior to mine. Sojourner is the name of my GPS which is a portable unit that I attach with spit to my old mini-van dashboard, and she has always stayed true to her moral compass—her north star. Sojourner is always right. (It just goes to show you, that money doesn’t equal smart.)
Having been forbidden by WW from taking a sledge hammer upside Penelope’s head, I did the next best thing and enrolled her into therapy in the hopes that I would be able to course-correct her abominable character flaws, so that she would straighten up and drive right.
Penelope had been gone a week to my imaginary “Dalai Mama’s Clinic of Moral Rectitude” and had just returned this morning when I took her out for a short drive. Anxious to hear how her therapy session went, I jumped right into conversation with Penelope without even programming her “set a destination” button to hear if she had been actually cured by the Dalai Mama.
Cartoonist Dan Piraro | www.bizarro.com
ME: Welcome back, Penelope. How was your trip?
PENELOPE: Hello, Madame. My trip was jolly good—simply spectacular! [Penelope has a British accent, because that is how I roll—plus, I’ve been watching way too much Downton Abbey.]
ME: That so? Have you been healed? Have your innards been straightened out so that there is no interference between you and your satellite connection, and you don’t run the risk of me bashing your brains out with a sledge hammer in total frustration?
PENELOPE: They have, indeed, Madame, and there will be no need of any bashing of heads on anybody’s part. You Americans are always so prone to violence.
ME: Watch your mouth, smart ass. So what the hell happened to you to make you go so banana-cuckoo on us—spewing “make a U Turn” directions every other minute, or shouting at us that you were “recalculating” every ten minutes, when the correct direction was normally a straight shot down the highway?
PENELOPE: Well, Madame, the Dalai Mama diagnosed me as having “Dissembler Syndrome” (“A person who professes certain ideals but fails to live up to them.”) I had presented myself to you as having a recommended moral center that pointed due north, but took it upon myself to lie, cheat, and “generally act the fool” (Dalai Mama’s words) when it took too much effort to do the right thing.
ME: Oh, Penelope, how could you? We trusted you.
PENELOPE: I know, Madame; I feel like such a douche. But if it makes you feel any better, there were some very famous humans in my group therapy and they were far worse off than I. At least I have the excuse of being a machine. There was a Gov. Bob McDonnell and his wife Maureen, a Gov. Chris Christie, Phil Robertson from something called “Duck Dynasty,” and that pop singer Justin Bieber who seems to be self-destructing faster than one can say “As Long as You Love Me.” They were all there because they had boasted of having strong moral character and/or being “servants of Jesus Christ”—so much so, that they tried to direct how other people should live while doing all sorts of nasty things behind closed doors. You could tell The Dalai Mama was quite disgusted. She called it the ol’ judgment hat trick of trying to “pluck a splinter out of your brother’s eye when you have a giant log in your own nasty-ass eyeball.” Dalai Mama has quite the colorful vocabulary.
Used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star
ME: Poor Justin—putting him in the same group as those old “hard-hearted” ne’er-do-wells. Did you get a chance to chat with him? Get his autograph?
ME: Yeah right, Penelope. I don’t believe you for a red hot minute; you’re such a master manipulator. Justin Bieber reading my book—I don’t think so. But did you tell that Michael Jackson wannabe that I’m praying for him to come to his senses before he loses everything he’s worked so hard for? I’ve got two words for him: Whitney Houston. He needs to stop just talking about how much he loves Jesus and represents Christ to his fans when he tells them “God bless you” at the end of his concerts and stop acting like a spoiled brat. From what I’m reading about him, it wouldn’t hurt him to get his sorry little vanilla ass into some therapy. While he’s at it, he should probably kick all of his “new best friends” and enablers to the curb that are part of his entourage.
PENELOPE: Listen to you, Madame. Are you a “Bielieber”?
ME: No, Miss Dissembler; I’m a mother.
PENELOPE: Touché! I might be wrong, but I got the impression that Justin’s mama sent him to the Dalai Mama so that she would scare him sober by letting him hear how much each person was going to lose their destinies by their stupid actions. The DM had us each get up and tell Justin what we boasted about that we stood for when everyone was looking at us, and what we actually did in the dark, so to speak, when no one was looking. I secretly taped part of the session. Do you want to hear what they said?
ME: Well . . . I really shouldn’t—this is privileged information, and I’m not one to spy on people. I’m not the NSA, you know. I am a Christian and gossip is a sin. B-u-t . . . nobody’s looking or listening . . . oh, what the hell; I just can’t resist!
Used by permission: “Christie Bridge to Nowhere” by RJ Matson
“Hi my name is Chris Christie (a.k.a. “Gov. Bridgegate”), and I claim to be a devout Catholic who has the ability to work with both Democrats and Republicans for the betterment of the great state of New Jersey.
I have been accused of allegedly gaining my bipartisanship by being a revengeful bully.
I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, because if what has been alleged turns out to be true, I won’t be able to get a job as a dog catcher when all is said and done.
Let this be a warning to you young Bieber.”
“Hi, my name is Gov. Bob McDonnell (known to you as “Gov. Ultrasound of the Muffin Lady Parts”) because of the intrusive wand bill that I signed into legislation in Virginia to invade a woman’s vagina against her will to force her to do what I consider the “right thing.”
I am a boastful born-again Christian, my mentor is a Christian Reconstructionist, I’m a graduate of Pat Robertson’s Regent University, a beacon of family values, and my wife Maureen (a.k.a “Lady Macbeth with a Sugar Daddy”) and I have just been indicted on 14 counts of corruption by the Feds. If we are found guilty, we could be looking at up to 30 years in prison. It was my chef that ratted on me and my sweetie, and my sugar daddy turned state’s evidence against us.
Heads up, Master Bieber—there are no free lunches!”
Used by Permission: “Phil Robertson Speaks”/ Bill Day, Cagle Cartoons
“Howdy,Y’all! My name is Phil Robertson (a.k.a “Most Unenlightened Man in America”).
I’m a card-carrying Christian, and Jesus is definitely my rock—my homeboy!
I’m a millionaire and one of the stars of Duck Dynasty.
I’m also a proud homophobe, a Neanderthal about women, and clueless to the suffering of others. I told a reporter a while back that ‘pre-entitlement, pre-welfare’ (Jim Crow days) . . . (Blacks) ‘they were godly; they were happy; no one was singing the blues.’
I got kicked off my popular reality show for a ‘hot minute’ because of my nasty comments about the gays, but those money-grubbin’ heifers at A&E put me right back on. So see—no harm no foul!
As to you young Bieber, I know just how to deal with you, boy: I’ve got a Bible verse that I needs for you to contemplate upon real careful like from Deuteronomy 21:18-21: ’If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son, which will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother . . . if he is a glutton, and a drunkard . . . all the men of his city shall . . .’”
(Dalai Mama’s no-nonsense voice is heard in the background of the recording screaming at Phil: “OKAY, PHIL—SIT YO’ ASS DOWN AND SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE YOU CAUSE MORE HARM THAN GOOD. I RUE THE DAY YOU WERE EVER GIVEN A REALITY SHOW PLATFORM TO AIR YOUR STUPID THOUGHTS—BECAUSE OLD MAN THERE IS NO FOOL LIKE AN OLD FOOL!”)
Image from DIY.DESPAIR.COM
I am discovering three things this week: a) that good moral character (true north) is when we do the right thing when no one is watching, b) that the world is hungry for people who will actually model the teachings of Jesus and not misrepresent them, and c) that some people shouldn’t speak—ever—it is a waste of oxygen!
“Always do what is right. It will gratify half of mankind and astound the other.” ― Mark Twain
“How often I have found that we grow to maturity not by doing what we like, but by doing what we should. How true it is that not every ‘should’ is a compulsion, and not every ‘like’ is a high morality and true freedom.”—Karl Rahner
“I am not interested in power for power’s sake, but I’m interested in power that is moral, that is right and that is good.”—Martin Luther King, Jr.
“The Chef Who Sank Bob McDonnell” by Luke Mullins/Washingtonian
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