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OPENING OUR SOULS INSTEAD OF HARDENING OUR HEARTS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

 
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Posted by on January 31, 2021 in Uncategorized

 

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

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

EVICTION NOTICE

TO:         Loser, Donald J. Trump

                1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

                Washington, DC            

  a.k.a. The White House

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

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

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

YOU ARE BEING ASKED TO LEAVE FOR THE FOLLOWING REASON:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOW GET OUT!!!

Yours in total disgust and disrespect,

80,962,077 of the American electorate

On behalf of the new inhabitant of the White House—

Joe Biden, 46th President of the United States

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

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

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

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

 
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Posted by on December 2, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But folks were nervous that come the new day,

The Trump nightmare would still be there.

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

The Democrats were anxious as they snuggled in their beds,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Down to my knees I dropped like a flash,

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

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

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

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

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

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

More rapid than eagles, his flying gargoyles they came,

As he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Now Putin! Now Giuliani!

Now Lindsey and Fox News!

Come Hannity, and McConnell,

Come Repubs, and Laura Ingraham too.

“Back into the belly of the Oval Office!

And into the cowardly hearts of the Senate.

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

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

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

But then in my nightmare, I heard on the roof

A stampede of angelic sandal-clad hoofs.

I ran to the window as thousands flew down

And trampled scary Trump

Into the Halloween ground.

They were led by Archangel Michael—

that champion from stories back in the day

His glorious Halloween costume was

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

“Don’t let my outfit fool you,”

he said with a beatific grin.

“No evil is a match for me,

given my sword, wings and fabulous glam trim.”

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

He spoke a few more words before vanquishing Trump:

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

Tell all your frightened Dem friends

To have hope—Angels’ honor.”

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


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

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

And laying his finger aside of his nose.

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

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

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

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

“2020 will not be like 2016!”

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

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

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

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

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

 
2 Comments

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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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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HALLOWEEN CANCELLED DUE TO THE INABILITY TO COMPETE WITH THE SCARINESS OF THE NOTION THAT TRUMP MIGHT WIN REELECTION IN 2020

Cartoon Used by permission: 217461 Scary times by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian

END-TIMES GAZETTE (The Tomczyk Satirical Report)—In an appearance at a recent Trump rally, Satan held an impromptu press conference outside the convention center hosting the event.  The Prince of Darkness announced that he was going to add his signature to a newly launched petition from “stopthemadness.org” which is calling on the citizens of America to cancel Halloween in 2019.  When asked by one of the local reporters why he, Beelzebub (a.k.a. “Sneaky Snake”), would petition against his favorite holiday, he said with deep sadness: “’Cause I can’t deal with this shit!  I can’t out-scare the antics of your sorry-ass president and his demons.  That dude is bat-shit crazy—even by my standards, and I ain’t got nothin’ in my arsenal that can out horrify the mind-debilitating reality that Trump could win the election in 2020—thus leaving you all in a permanent hell of your own making.  Sorry Earthlings…but Halloween is no fuckin’ fun anymore.  I hereby declare Lucifer is out-of-here and will participate in the ‘pretend scariness’ of Halloween when and only when the real evil in the White House has been impeached. ‘Cause even the Kingdom of Hell can’t fathom four more years of a President Cheeto reign. Ciao Goblins!”

Photo Credit: E. Tomczyk/Busch Gardens Hallow Scream Decoration 2019

It seems that the petition to cancel Halloween 2019 is rapidly growing.  This reporter caught up with one of the more surprising signatories who is a founding father of Halloween—the Imperial Jack O’ Lantern, formerly known as “Stingy Jack” when he lived in Ireland. I asked him why he had signed a petition that would sacrifice his one celebratory day, and if he would live to regret his action.  “No, I don’t think so,” said an obviously demoralized Jack.  “I hate it, of course.  I’ve been a part of Halloween in America since the beginning, but I’ve got to do something.  First of all, I need to reclaim my image.  My calling card is orange and round.  Trump has usurped that look.  When I started out in Ireland, I didn’t have the issue of someone stealing my thunder.  In leprechaun land I inhabited hollowed out turnips, gourds, rutabagas, beets, and any other tuber that could be found.  Pumpkins did not exist in the land of the Irish.  It’s only when I moved to America that I lusted after a bigger, better, roomier home to inhabit.  And now the patina and the roundness of my precious pumpkin has been stolen by President Cheeto’s spray tan addiction and his obese fondness for Kentucky Fried Chicken causing his face to resemble a pumpkin and eclipsing my signature collector’s item.  I am truly undone,” sobbed Mr. O’Lantern.

Cartoon used by permission: 231052 Make the pumpkin great again by John Darkow, Columbia, Missourian

Mrs. Colleen O’Sullivan of the Irish Halloweensonian Museum was very responsive to this reporter’s query for more background information on “Stingy Jack.”  She said, “Our records report Mr. O’Lantern was quite the evil character back in the day.  Irish historians have noted that ‘Stingy Jack’ was an extremely parsimonious and mean human being (thus the name, ‘Stingy Jack’).  He used to play tricks on everyone—including the Devil.  Irish lore has it that one time he tricked the Devil into climbing an apple tree and then planted numerous crosses at the bottom of the tree.  It is well known that the Devil can’t touch a cross without being fried to a crisp, so Jack forced the Devil to enter a bargain with him: If Jack removed the crosses, the Devil had to promise not to take Jack’s soul to Hell upon his death.  Obviously, the Devil accepted the bargain and Jack removed the crosses.

“Eventually, ‘Stingy Jack’ did die and marched himself right up to Heaven’s gates as most people do who don’t have an ounce of self-awareness.  A horrified St. Peter refused to let Jack into Heaven and sent him down to Hell.  However, upon ‘Stingy Jack’s’ arrival at the gates of Hell, the Devil sardonically reminded him of their bargain and refused to allow Jack to enter his domain. The Devil consigned him to the dark netherworld between Heaven and Hell for all eternity where there is not a scintilla of light.  Mr. O’Lantern had such a hissy fit over his fate and the huge trick the Devil had played on him that Beelzebub took a modicum of pity on him and threw Jack an ember of coal from the fires of Hell to light his way through the netherworld.  Jack always carried some type of gourd with him and quickly carved out the tuber to shield his fiery ember.  The superstitious Irish adopted the tradition of setting out carved tubers with candles inside on their doorsteps on Halloween which they hoped would scare ‘Stingy Jack’ from trying to take up residence in their homes and playing tricks on them.  With the great Irish migration to America, the pumpkin became the permanent home of Jack O’Lantern and a fixture that no Halloween would be complete without.”

Photo Credit: Herbie Gill/Comic https://www.herbiegill.com/ Night of a 1,000 Jack O’Lanterns Presented by “Rise of the Jack O’Lanterns”

One source who asked not to be named, due to fear of being turned into a frog or a Trump supporter, said that the witches did go on record to announce that although they had no new cauldron chant that would be scarier than the curse of The Donald winning the 2020 election, they had posted a well-worn chant from Shakespeare’s Macbeth—Act 4, Scene 1, on the dark web just for grins and giggles and old times sake.

THE WITCHES CAULDRON

Fillet of a fenny snake,  

In the cauldron boil and bake;  

Eye of newt, and toe of frog,  

Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,  

Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, 

Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing,  

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.  

     Double, double toil and trouble;  

     Fire burn and cauldron bubble. 

When asked if the source thought the Witches of the World were encouraged that Trump might be destroyed before or during the election from all the damaging impeachment inquiry testimonies, the source replied that the Witches were heard to have said: “Meh…we’re beginning to think that asshole can survive anything.  He can shoot someone on 5th Avenue and…well you get the drift.  Even WE don’t have that type of resilience.”

Cartoon used by permission: 231145 Trump the Survivor by Kevin Siers, The Charlotte Observer, NC

The petition to cancel Halloween includes the likes of Ghosts Anonymous, Skeletons: Have Bones Will Travel, Black Cats and Graveyards Consolidated, and the exclusive Zombies and Brains Gourmand Club to name a few.  The Halloween Mask Labor Union had not yet signed the petition but when reached for comment said that even though Halloween is a huge revenue time for them, their organization would join in solidarity with their sisters and brothers because they saw no other option than to go on strike since they could not compete with the horrible gut-wrenching thought of a Trump 2020 victory.  The thought was sheer terror even for those who are used to the terrorization business. To date, at least 50 percent of the American population has signed the petition to stop Halloween until the great evil in the White House has been impeached and banished to Hell.  At that time, said Mr. Everyman who I approached on the street, “We can go back to pretending to be scared by the benign.  But right now, the Trump evil is just too real.”  All Mrs. Everywoman had to say when asked what she would do if Trump won reelection in 2020 was, “Oh, the horrors!” as she started to cry and scream uncontrollably.

Cartoon used by permission:  230458 Rudy Rudy Rudy by Bruce Plante Tulsa World

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:  216955 Saudia Arabia Halloween by Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch OH

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Many thanks to facts about pumpkins from Pumpkin Nook http://www.pumpkinnook.com/facts/jack.htm

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REFERENCES

https://www.salon.com/2019/10/26/trump-will-win-again-easily-liberals-simply-dont-understand-what-he-represents/

https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2019/10/24/the-fantasy-of-republicans-ditching-trump-229879

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/progressivesecularhumanist/2019/10/pro-life-christians-celebrate-death-of-pro-choice-rep-elijah-cummings/

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 27, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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PUTTING MY BODY WHERE MY MOUTH IS

“STOP THE RAIDS AND DEPORTATION.

IMMIGRANT LABOR BUILT THIS NATION!”

***

“NO TRUMP.

NO KKK.

NO FASCIST USA!”

“DO YOU SING IN A CHOIR—CAUSE IF YOU DO, YOU’RE OUT OF TUNE!” shouted the cane-leaning old White man in a MAGA hat at the protesting Democrats, of which I was one.

“OH REALLY! IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT, OLD MAN”—THERE’S THREE OF YOU, AND HUNDREDS OF US!” I screamed back across the political and moral abyss that divided us. (I don’t know why I answered with that particular quip, but the phrase popped out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying—two septuagenarians shouting smack against each other—one White, one Black.  If the stakes weren’t so high—the soul of our country—I would have keeled over in laughter at the absurdity of two old farts verbally going at each other and bought the old man a drink after all was said and done.)

Author at Democrats’ Protest of Trump/Jamestown Beach 2019||Photo Credit: Eleanor Tomczyk

“GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM YOU FUCKIN’ ASSHOLES,” yelled a Trump supporter from a pick-up truck as he whizzed past us.  All I could think to yell back at the ass of the truck of the foul-mouthed Trumpster was “YOU…YOU…YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER WITH THAT MOUTH?”

Looks like I’m going to have to up my game in the retort department if I’m going to continue in this public protest battle against stupidity, lies, racism, and craziness.  Just sayin’.

This week was a start though.  I’ve been protesting and resisting Trump via my blog since the first moment he came down the escalator in Trump Tower, but this week I got to join with others and tell this President to go back to the sewer in New York from which he sprung.

It felt good.  Encouraging.  The First Amendment at work—the first of many steps to bring this aberration down in 2020.  It was Democracy in action.

Democrats Protest Trump/Jamestown Beach 2019||Photo Credit: Elizabeth Wiley

I almost didn’t attend this protest.  I mean, for Pete’s sake, I’m an old woman.  I got no business putting myself in those types of volatile situations. (What if I had a stroke?) Besides, the temperature was supposed to be in the high 90’s, no bathrooms would be provided AT ALL within the protest area (which meant I couldn’t drink any water), and due to the high level of security for #45, we would be confined to a specific area until the buses returned to pick us up.  (What if I peed on myself and three other protesters? OMG!)  But I went anyway. (When I got home, I tried to write a blog about the experience, but I promptly fell asleep on top of my open laptop and slept that way the rest of the day until my husband came home from work. Looks like I need to go into training before the next protest.)

Democrats Protest Trump/Jamestown Beach 2019||Photo Credit: Eleanor Tomczyk

It was a conversation I had with an octogenarian Trump supporter in my Canasta group that really pushed me into action.  I had been toying with the idea of going but probably could have been easily talked out of it (due to my age and unpredictability of potential violence) when a cute little eighty year old learned that a couple of us were interested in attending the protest against #45 when he came to town.  I’ve always thought of this woman as adorable and kindhearted.  She is an ardent church goer, a tireless volunteer for the down-trodden, says “gee-williker-wiz” (instead of “oh, shit!” when she’s frustrated) and “gosh-darn-tootin’” (instead of “hot damn” when she’s won the lottery), and I’d be willing to bet butter doesn’t melt in her mouth—and her shit doesn’t stink.  But then she said the magic words that drop kicked me into the protest: “Oh no!  I just knew something like this would happen when the President came to speak! Why can’t you just support our President? He’s doing a great job.  The economy is fabulous, my taxes have gone down—I just need to understand why you dislike him so! I mean, I wish he’d stop tweeting, but other than that, look at all the good he’s done!”   

That is when I knew my sweet little octogenarian and others like her would be our country’s downfall because she was not horrified by the words and antics of Satan himselfone Donald J. Trump.

Democrats Protest Trump/Jamestown Beach 2019||Photo Credit: Eleanor Tomczyk

Our local newspaper reported some of Trump’s speech to the Jamestown General Assembly that caught my attention:

“In August 1619, the first enslaved Africans in the English colonies arrived in Virginia. It was the beginning of a barbaric trade in human lives. Today, we honor, we remember every sacred soul who suffered the horrors of slavery and the anguish of bondage. More than 150 years later, at America’s founding, our Declaration of Independence recognized the immortal truth that all men are created equal.

Yet, it would ultimately take a civil war, 85 years after that document was signed, to abolish the evil of slavery. It would take more than another century for our nation in the words of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. to live out the true meaning of its creed and extend the blessings of freedom to all Americans.

In the face of grave oppression and grave injustice, African-Americans have built, strengthened, inspired, uplifted, protected, defended, and sustained our nation from its very earliest days…”

Two hours after returning from Jamestown where he gave his scripted speech on the history and virtues of African-Americans, Trump admitted that he’d pulled the previous racist attacks against the Congresswomen of Color, Cummings, and Baltimore out of his buttjust because! (Trump to reporters about racist statements: “I have no strategy. There’s zero strategy. It’s very simple.”)  In other words, it is even worse than I thoughthis racism is cynical, calculated, and cold, and he was just reading a script at Jamestown.

Democrats Protest Trump/Jamestown Beach 2019||Photo Credit: Eleanor Tomczyk

It’s too bad Trump’s tweets, actions, and rallies speak of a different reality than his staged teleprompter speech at the Ceremony Commemorating the 400th Anniversary of Jamestown Colony.  If his words in front of the Assembly were matched by his actions, I would not have felt compelled to gather with 349 other people on a hot July day to protest his sorry-ass and would have stayed home to binge watch the final season of “Orange is the New Black” while sipping mimosas.  Since I know that speech was not written by Trump nor does it reflect his true feelings (“by their fruits you shall know them,” the Bible says), looks like I’m going to have to stock up on Geritol (which was extinct but somehow made a miraculous comeback) to help sustain me for the long protest marches ahead to 2020.

Until then I’ll keep fighting this battle for the Left side—the humane side—because right now, they are the only political group that seems to have a clear understanding of the evil in our midst cultivating darkness in our countrymen’s hearts and minds.  And that includes sweet, little old ladies who would rather go to their graves saying “Gosh darnit, gheez, son-of-a-gun” with blinders on their eyes rather than open their eyes and call a racist, lying, abusive, cheater of a President the son-of-a-bitch that he is and vote him out of office in 2020.  It’s up to those who can see the truth to keep protesting, to keep trying to wake up our sweet friends, neighbors, and relatives to the truth before it is too late.

Democrats Protest Trump/Jamestown Beach 2019||Photo Credit: Eleanor Tomczyk

WANT TO READ MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR’S LIFE AMONG WHITE CHRISTIAN CONSERVATIVES FOR 45+ YEARS AND THE INSIGHTS GAINED:  Check out “Fleeing Oz”—on sale now at Amazon!

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WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at http://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 July 31, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Skyfall (No Spoilers; I Promise)

Do you know what I’ve discovered?   Some of my fellow citizens (way too many) almost lost their freakin’ minds over the recent presidential election.  (I never thought I’d live to see the day that a black man could have so much power he’d be considered both the Anti-Christ as well as the leader of the most powerful nation in the world—twice over).  Both sides (liberal and conservative) were guilty of being obnoxious in their over-the-top verbiage surrounding said black man’s re-election, but some (not all, thank God) of the extreme right wing arm of the conservative party seemed to win the prize for out-and-out nastiness and racism.

The Internet was aflame with accusations from the Right that people who voted for President Obama were “pimps, whores, and welfare brats” (thanks, has-been rocker, Ted Nugent), some threatened to secede from the nation while guaranteeing that the rest of us were going to Hell on slip-and-slides ordered up by “freeloading ni@%ers, sluts, and fa%@ots” (thanks crazy-ass Texas), and one Christian ex-SNL comedienne tweeted:  “I can’t stop crying. America died . . . Thanks a lot Christians for not showing up. You disgust me” (Birther, pro-life advocate Victoria Jackson).  Yikes!

And that was the “mild vitriol.”  There were companies who fired employees for voting for President Obama, southern college campuses that burned our President’s body in effigy as they hurled racial epithets, and misguided souls who took to Facebook to call for President Obama’s assassination, convinced that our country will implode under his leadership.  I’ve got to confess that as an African-American, Independent, Born-Again Christian, pro-choice and pro-life (yeah you read that correctly; there are more of us than people realize), intelligent female, tax-paying citizen, I seriously thought about becoming an ex-pat in Canada because this racist shit had gotten so bad, but my husband (who is white) refused to move.

After kicking a particular snarky hater off my Facebook page into FB-Blocker Hell (really Biotch, I don’t even remember who you are—wouldn’t recognize you if I passed you on the street—and you try and hate on me on my own FB page—seriously?), my husband (WW) said he wouldn’t move to Canada but he wouldn’t mind wallowing in a little escapism for a day to wipe away all the political vomit out of his psyche.  I chose a marathon viewing (second time around) of the first two seasons of Downton Abbey, but WW said:  “Shoot me now!  If I have to sit through that damn chick’s flick soap opera again I’ll definitely move to Canada—but without you!  Take me to see the opening of the new James Bond movie, Skyfall, if you want to save our marriage.

Produced by Eon Productions and distributed by MGM and Sony Pictures Entertainment

I started to protest but then WW reminded me that I made him sit through last week’s episode of Glee does Grease the Second Time with me in which he broke out in hives at the end of the show and needed three gin and tonics to get over his mind-numbing boredom.  So at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning (having had no breakfast because my husband thought we wouldn’t get a seat), armed with a huge bag of popcorn and no liquids (the movie is 2 ½ hours and I have the bladder the size of a pea), WW and I settled into the middle section of a packed IMAX theater and were immediately transported.

Even I will admit it—it’s  the best Bond movie ever!  The action is non-stop, the story doesn’t have any holes in it, and up until Sam Mendes’ Skyfall (wait until you find out the meaning of the title) I always thought Sean Connery was my favorite Bond.  Move over Sean because Daniel Craig has stolen my heart!  Up until Skyfall, I thought Dr. Julius No was my favorite villain, but Javier Bardem as Raoul Silva makes Hannibal Lector look like child’s play—you will pee your pants (I certainly would have if I had had any liquids in me)!

Javier Bardem as Raoul Silva in Skyfall|Produced by Eon Productions and distributed by MGM and Sony Pictures Entertainment

Dame Judi Dench as “M” is the character I would have most liked to play if they had asked me (well, actually I would have liked to have been a Bond girl but, hey, reality is a bitch!), and she is AWESOME!  I agree with the critic, Donald Shanahan from the Chicago Examiner, that “the last five minutes of the movie is the best five minutes of any movie you’ll see this year,” and I love the life lessons he cites in his review, although our conclusions about those lessons are slightly different:

LESSON #1A moving target is hardest to hit (I for one don’t plan to slow down enough for the haters in life to hit me with their slime—what doesn’t stick to me can’t hurt me.)

LESSON #2:  Losing a step (None of us has the entire picture of who God is or what he is about, so all of us miss a step or two trying to make our way through life, and the older we get the more we realize that we don’t know as much as we thought we did.)

LESSON #3Think on your sins (Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.)

http://www.examiner.com/review/movie-review-skyfall-cements-the-brilliant-new-direction-of-james-bond

Dame Judi Dench as “M” | Produced by Eon Productions and distributed by MGM and Sony Pictures Entertainment

And then there is the theme song co-written by Adele.  That baby tears this song up!  It’s new, it has flavors of earlier Bond themes, and it grabs your heart.  Ms. Adele will definitely win a Grammy for this.

Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

Oh yeah . . . all in all, WW and I agreed that this movie experience was better than church!  We felt re-born and revitalized!  We returned home free of all the political nastiness, partisan crappiness, and religious self-righteousness that had washed over us during the election cycle.   We shook off all the Ted Nugent quips, Victoria Jackson hissy-fits, and Internet trolling racist barbs of the world, and we are going to treat others like we want to be treated and keep on rollin’.   (We also stopped reading any comments from trolling haters.)  I, for one, think the next four years are going to be fabulous!  How about you?

Theme song banner|image from bestmoviesevernews.com

I am discovering that I actually learned a great deal from Skyfall and I’m glad I saw it.  We (Americans) have an enemy but it is not each other, unless we chose to make it so.   We really are on the same team.  Our common enemy is hatred of our way of life that strikes at us through the form of terrorism that owes allegiance to no country and no people group other than its own raw ambition and meanness.   To paraphrase President Obama, we are not Red States or Blue States, religious or non-religious, Black or white, rich or poor, gay or straight—we are citizens of these United States.  We all see in bits and pieces; we all have portions of truth; and we all could be wrong about so much that we are willing to kill each other over today.   We need each other if we’re going to make this democracy work.  What say we wash the bile out of our mouths, find the things we can agree on, and let’s get to work, because yesterday it was 9-11 and al-qaeda, the next day it was Katrina and oil destroying the Gulf, today it is a hurricane ravaging NYC and New Jersey, tomorrow it may be you and your town being decimated.  We will all need each other, at one time or another, and in our hour of need, we won’t give a damn about our differences just so long as we are lending a hand to help each other survive.

Image from wheelingsoup.org

“We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

 “The Destiny of Man is to unite, not to divide. If you keep on dividing you end up as a collection of monkeys throwing nuts at each other out of separate trees.”― T. H. White, The Once and Future King

“Pit race against race, religion against religion, and prejudice against prejudice. Divide and conquer! We must not let that happen here.”― Eleanor Roosevelt

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 November 11, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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When Trouble Comes a Knockin’ at My Door

Do you know what I’ve discovered?  We are born, we die, but everything in between is usually one pratfall after another, which can be embarrassing and mortifying and seem like the most insurmountable problem at the time, until we actually run up against real trouble knocking at the door of our lives (mixed metaphor intended).

Image courtesy of flatrock.org.nz

A few days ago, my husband (WW) and I had just hunkered down in preparation for Hurricane Sandy to hit.  Expecting 80 mile an hour winds and living amongst obscenely tall trees, we had put away anything that could turn into a flying missile, cleaned out the gutters, primed the sump pump, gathered the emergency lights and hand-cranked radio, and descended into the basement to stand guard through the night against something
we couldn’t even begin to fathom or control.  What made the waiting worse is that one of our daughters and our only grandson were in the storm’s direct path in New York City.  Worry about and for them was so debilitating
that I was practically near a nervous breakdown.  During times such as these, WW is steady as a rock and I am a whirling dervish of frenetic talkative energy and planning.

Whirling Dervish|image from mysacredcircle.blogspot.com

THE MOTHER (Me):    Honey, did you tell our daughter to get cash from the ATM in case the electricity goes and get tons of non-perishable food like tuna fish, peanut butter, crackers, and applesauce?  Did you remind Boo to pack an emergency backpack for her and the baby and keep it by the door in case they have to evacuate?  Oh and what about flashlights, battery-powered radios, and a security rape whistle in case the metropolis turns into Gotham City and anarchy ensues?  Oh, and she should probably get duct tape (no emergency is complete without duct tape) and an ice chest full of ice for perishables and her friend’s insulin medicine.  Did you tell her about filling the bathtub full of water to flush the toilets in case the city sewer pump gives out at the water station?  Huh, huh, well did you tell her?

THE FATHER (WW):    No, you told her all that and more during the 10 text messages, 14 phone calls, and 20 emails you sent her over the past two hours.  In fact I just got a call from our daughter that I couldn’t understand what was being said through our grandson’s screaming and our daughter’s yelling because your last suggestion about filling the bathtub with water caused mass hysteria in her house.  The new kitten, Jo-Jo (used to jumping into the tub to play with the baby’s bath toys) didn’t realize the tub was full of water and took a flying leap off the side of the tub into what quickly started becoming his watery grave.  Our grandson got hysterical because Jo-Jo was drowning, the shower curtain got ripped to shreds because the kitten tried to use it as a ladder to climb out of the tub, both our grandson and our daughter have kitty scratches from head to toe, and now the kitten has gone into hiding and refuses to surface—all this before Hurricane Sandy has even shown up.  I just got a text message from our very frustrated older daughter that says:  “Dad, contain your woman; she is driving me freakin’ crazy!”

“Soggy Pissed-off Kitty”|Google Image

THE MOTHER (Me):  Well, excuse me for just trying to get everyone prepared for what the weathermen are calling the “storm of the century”!

THE FATHER (WW):  Honey, you know that most things we obsess about never come to past, but when they finally do knock on our door the best we can do is be prepared and the rest is in God’s hands.  You’ve done your part, now let God show up.  Why don’t you take your mind off obsessing about the safety of our grandson and do something constructive.  What’s the theme of next week’s blog?

THE MOTHER (Me):  Oddly enough—worrying about stupid shit we have no control over.  Isn’t it ironic?  We could be blown away at any minute, and I’m still being plagued by an embarrassing incident that happened to me on the elevator at my company the other day.   I’m actually mortified at the thought of what people must be saying about me behind my back, and the irony of it all is that it wasn’t my fault!

THE FATHER (WW):  All righty, now.  This story sounds like one for the family scrapbook.  Pass me the popcorn, and let her rip.

THE MOTHER (Me):  (You have no idea how much of a pun that is!)  Well, you know what an impeccable diva I am?  How everything has to be in place and just so?  The other day, I was really struttin’ my stuff (black and white “to-die-for” ensemble with gobstopper pearls, Coach bag and gorgeous Stuart Weitzman pumps) when I got on the elevator on the executive floor of my company (picture badge and name prominently displayed for all the world to see), and a building services man that I recognized didn’t speak when I spoke to him, but gave me a rather chagrined expression as he sped past me to exit onto my floor.  Once the elevator doors had closed, I instantly knew why his expression was so tortured:  he had left behind a fart of biblical proportions!  It was so rank that the paint seemed to be peeling off the elevator walls. I have no idea what that guy had had for lunch, but it smelled as if something had died in there.   I was the only one on the elevator, and as I tried my best not to breathe, I pushed the next floor’s button hoping I could escape before anyone else got on (I should have reopened the doors and gone back the way I came but I was too flustered to think—I think the funk had addled my brain).  As Murphy’s Law would have it, a gaggle of chattering new college hires (all shiny and new and dressed to the nines on a tour of the Executive floors) flooded the elevator and blocked my ability to exit before the doors closed.  Like magic—within five seconds—all of their chirpy voices screeched to an immediate halt as they all turned and looked at me in wide-eyed horror as they grabbed their noses and exclaimed in a unified Greek chorus shout-out:  EEUUEW!  At the next floor they all fled the elevator like a flock of magpies being chased by a skunk—leaving me alone with a shattered reputation in the midst of a funk not of my own making.   I wanted to go running after them to plead my case:  “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me; I’m too cool to fart in public,” but I was so mortified, all I could do was hang my head as the doors closed and the elevator car descended to the first floor. How can I show my face again at work?  Every time I get on the elevator now I feel as if people I don’t know are pointing and whispering:  “That’s her—that’s the chubby Pépé Le Pew we were telling you about.”

That’s what I want to blog about.  Why did something (not my fault) cause me such chagrin and mortification, and why can’t I shake it off?  Nobody got hurt, no property was lost (last time I looked, the elevator car had not imploded), and nobody died.

“Elevator Fart”|image from gomauri.com

THE HUSBAND (WW):  Well, in light of a very real tragedy that is about to descend up our heads, you might just get some perspective about how in the scheme of things, a smelly ol’ fart is no big deal.  If our family lives through this storm without loss of life or property, a misguided fart in juxtaposition to Hurricane Sandy will be a great story for your readers.  Ask them what nonsensical things trip them up that should be simply shaken off on any given day, because at some point, real tragedy comes a knockin’ and we need all the courage and strength we can muster to conquer those “real” trials!

****

I am discovering that the playwright Jean Kerr of Mary, Mary was correct (and I paraphrase here):  “It is no use making up troubles that don’t exist because trouble will come knocking at your door soon enough.” When WW and I woke up the next morning, our house was not flooded, the tall trees were still standing, and my daughter and grandson were unscathed in Queens.  But what is fast becoming legendary is that millions of others from the Caribbean to Maine lost electricity, lost their homes to fire and floods, and some lost their lives trying to escape the mayhem of what turned out to ironically be called the “perfect storm.”

Trouble had indeed come a knockin’ at many of our “neighbor’s” doors in New Jersey and New York, and now it is up to us and every other American of all stripes and colors, political persuasions, and religious ideologies to get over our petty and nonsensical selves and our entrenched ideologies and lend a helping hand to our neighbors, relatives, friends, and strangers far and wide so that they may recover as soon as possible.  No state government can stand alone in times like these (no matter what the Republicans tell you), no federal government can do it all (no matter what the Democrats tell you), and none of us can exist without each other (no matter what the various ideologues preach to you).   As we approach the presidential election, Hurricane Sandy has made it abundantly clear for those who have eyes to see that now is not the time to elect a rich,
heartless, corporate raider
whose mantra is, “I’ve got mine, too bad you never got yours,” but now is the time to RE-ELECT a brilliant man who has the Christlike heart of a community leader and understands that if the United States of America is going to make it in the future when trouble comes knockin’ at our door, we will all need to underscore the united part of our country’s title and pledge allegiance to the fact that we are all our brother’s keepers and all in this journey together.

Our thoughts and prayers are with all those who have been harmed by Hurricane Sandy and suffered loss of family, friends, and property.  We pledge to come to your aid as brothers and sisters and fellow Americans until you can stand on your own two feet again!—Image from homeless.samhas.gov

      “Above all things let us never forget that mankind constitutes one great brotherhood; all born to encounter suffering and sorrow, and therefore bound to sympathize with each other”—Albert Pike (American Lawyer, Journalist and Soldier, 1809-1891)

“If you really believe in the brotherhood of man, and you want to come into its fold, you’ve got to let everyone else in, too”—Oscar Hammerstein II (American musical comedy Author, Lyricist and Producer influential in the development of musical comedy. 1895-1960)

      “People ask me all the time, ‘What are you, a Democrat or a Republican? A Catholic or a Muslim…’ What am I? I am none of these. I belong to nothing but the human race. Why isn’t that ever enough?”— Kate Miller

THE WORRIED MOTHER (Me):  “WW, did you tell our daughter that she needs to get the largest mallet she can lift and carry it with her at all times because I just read an article on Huff Post that millions of rats have been washed out of the sewers of NYC, and they will be roaming the streets in gangs (you’ve heard of the Crips and the Bloods—well, these will be the “Rats”) because they can swim and climb.   Huff Post says that there is a good chance that our grandson could be exposed to ‘leptospirosis, hantavirus, typhus, salmonella, and even the bubonic plague.’”

OUR DAUGHTER (Boo):  “Daddy, your wife is driving me insane!”

“My inner self—The Eternal Worry Wart”| image from iwillassistyou.wordpress.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 November 1, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Do You See What I See?

Do you know what I’ve discovered?  It has taken me until my sixties to become completely self-aware and to realize that I’m just a little bit nuts.  I don’t mean that I’m bat-shit crazy like my mother who was paranoid-schizophrenic; I simply mean that I finally recognized that I see the world from a different angle than the people I used to hang with and I now realize that’s okay—either that or I’m lying to myself which would be self-denial and not the same thing as self-awareness at all.

Pinned by Cassandra Bond on Pinterest

“Self-Awareness is having a clear perception of your personality, including strengths, weaknesses, thoughts, beliefs, motivation, and emotions. Self-Awareness allows you to understand other people, how they perceive you, your attitude and your responses to them in the moment.”—Gary van Warmerdam  (pathwaytohappiness.com)

****

I’m getting ready to make another major life transition in the next six months (retirement), and it is imperative that I have a “clear perception” of who and what I am—warts and all—if I am to successfully turn the page to the next chapter.  I haven’t always been in a place of prime self-awareness.  I mean I thought I was one of the most self-aware people around when I was younger, but I had hoodwinked myself into believing that because I was religious.  Now that I am old, I have found that religious people (people who follow a specific set of stringent rules to define their lot in life) tend to think they are better off than they are—that the people they hate are more sinful than they really are—and it usually takes a spiritual or emotional earthquake to shake off the cataracts from the “holier than thou” person’s eyes to plunge him or her into a deeper level of self-awareness.

****

I’ve found that sometimes it’s hard to tell self-denial and self-awareness apart.  There’s nothing like the obese woman who visualizes that she’s the embodiment of the Right Said Fred song and thinks she’s “too sexy for her shirt, too sexy for your party, too sexy for Milan, or too sexy for her cat.”

Cartoon version of “self-awareness fail” by Collins||image from networkedblogs.com

Real life self-awareness fail|image from blogtosh.comedycentral.com

And for God’s sake don’t even get me started on the man who sports the Tea Party hat, screams the Tea Party epithets as he commits his life to take back America for God from the socialists, the baby-killers, and the fags but treats his wife and kids like shit.

Carl Jones Cartoon from the Free Lance-Star||image from loonpond.blogspot.com

But the best self-awareness fail was the one that woke my husband and me up from our right-wing Christian stupor and probably saved our destinies and our souls—it certainly saved our minds.  There’s nothing like getting up every morning, looking in the mirror and confirming to one’s self that you are the epitome of a great father and mother while handing out the WWJD bracelets to your kids before they march out the door to high school (“protect those choices, babies”).   There’s no greater Christian turn-on than reminding your offspring of their D.A.R.E. pledges (taking a stand against drug abuse) they made at the beginning of middle school and calling to mind their abstinence letters still to be signed on the dining room table.  However there is no deeper despair than to later find out that all the platitudes you believed in were a bunch of shit and none of it worked.  There’s absolutely fucking nothing like having one of your kids temporarily lose her mind that forces you to reexamine what you believe, why you believe it, and how your life should change to properly demonstrate that new belief system.

Cartoon by Mike Luckovich for the Atlanta Tribune-Constitutional

Fortunately, if you wake up in time (which we did), your self-awareness brutally course-corrects itself (it did), and the errant kid gets to correct her destiny before it capsizes (which she did) and you continue as a family, stronger and more loving than ever.  As the parent who thought I was “all that and a bag of chips,” I gained a self-awareness that made me more compassionate, more loving, and more tolerant toward others—walking along side them without judgment as they try to overcome the vagaries of life.

***

The only people who seem to have unadulterated self-awareness seem to be small children, but it has to be because they don’t know anything except “what is.”  The “smalls” have an amazing ability to be comfortable in their own skin and this doesn’t change until they are made to feel “less than” or “other than” by ridicule and abuse.  The other day my three-year-old grandson was walking with his mother to the subway station via a rather rough inner-city street in New York.  As they passed quite a few nefarious looking characters that my daughter didn’t plan on giving the time of day, each one broke into a smile of recognition and greeted my grandson with a high-five and a—“Hey there, little dude, how’s it hangin’?”  “So little man, what you been up to—long time no see!”  “Where you off to today, buddy?” To which my grandson graced each person with a beatific grin that could melt the ass off a snowman and saluted each greeter with a miniature toddler high-five.  As he walked on down the street while holding his mother’s hand, he said rather matter-of-factly and without the least bit of irony:  “You know what, Mama—people luv me!”

Image from thepunch.com.au

The good news for our “little dude” is that we have shielded him from the people who won’t love him for quite a while, and that is a good thing.  But children soon leave behind their naïve self-awareness and grow into adults who see a false image of themselves in their mind’s eye, and start believing their own press, where they project themselves in such a way that they lose touch with the reality of what actually “is.”  Consequently, we have to constantly be on the lookout for epic self-awareness fails—not only in our personal lives and our family’s lives but in the greater arena at large.  Learning to recognize self-awareness bombs will keep us sharp and give us the tools to adjust our own growth.

SELF-AWARENESS FAILS IN THE NEWS LAST WEEK

SELF-AWARENESS FAIL ~(Republican party the true bastion of morality and ever the guardian of the WWJD slogan): Black CNN reporter gets pelted with peanuts by Republican Conventioneers who proudly boast of being ‘church-goers’ and told the devastated reporter, “This is how we treat the animals.”  IMP. NEWS FLASH QUESTION:  Republican, Christian Tea Party members—Are you shittin’ me?

SELF-AWARENESS FAIL ~(Good Catholics uphold the 10 Commandments, especially the 9th Commandment because “bearing false witness” is a major character defect):  Staunch Catholic, PAUL RYAN, Republican VP Nominee, receives the “Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire Award” for what the New York Times calls a “litany of falsehoods” in his convention speech.  He is accused of lying about everything from President Obama not requiring “Welfare recipients to work anymore” to his final speed of a marathon (said he ran it in 2 hours and something when it actually took him over four hours).   Joan Walsh of Salon.com in the article titled: “Paul Ryan’s Marathon Lie” says that this was no slip of the tongue.  Ryan “boasted about the feat with specificity and swagger.”  (Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, go wash your mouth out with soap and come back and write on the blackboard 1,000 times: ‘I will never, ever lie again because I am a Christian and I must never, ever break the 9th commandment’ because in doing so, you’re making the God you supposedly serve a laughing-stock.  Dude, do you really think you’re going to get away with this?)

SELF-AWARENESS FAIL ~Ralph Reed (Former Christian Coalition head WHO USED TO ATTEND THE SAME CHURCH AS WW AND ME—YIKES!) IS BACK—living an upstanding stellar Christian life (NOT!) by initiating and underscoring a plank on the Republican platform that is trying to defeat the minimum wage in the Mariana Islands [territory owned by USA since WWII] again.  Reed’s epic fail that almost destroyed him in the past was a “partnership” with the lobbyist crook, Jack Abramoff, to defeat the Federal Government’s effort to clean up the sweatshops and bring in minimum wage in those islands, thus cutting into the profits of factory owners and shareholders.  Reed convinced Alabama residents to urge their Congressmen to vote for no restrictions in wages on the premise that imposing minimum wage on the imported Chinese workers would keep them from getting hired by the Mariana Islands’ businesses, and that would mean (horrors!) the workers wouldn’t hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ, wouldn’t get Bibles to save their souls and they wouldn’t take those Bibles back to China to save the rest of their peeps’ souls.  What Reed failed to mention to his Alabama pawns is that the Chinese women worked in horrible conditions and were “forced to have abortions, forced to engage in prostitution, and forced to produce garments for pennies that said ‘Made in the USA.’”  The revelation of these truths cost Ralph Reed the Republican nomination for lieutenant governor of Georgia in 2006 and now “he’s back!”  Oh God, deliver us from your people! (Ralph Reed, where you gonna’ run, where you gonna hide, sinner man?  Did you ever hear the slogan:  God is not mocked?)

“Reed’s was a monstrous lie by one of the monumental hypocrites of our time. Yet he marches on, Christian soldier to the end, turning the temple of faith into one big ATM. There’s a word for this in the Bible: Abomination.”— By Bill Moyers and Michael Winship, BillMoyers.com [THIS STORY WAS ORIGINALLY REPORTED ON BILLMOYERS.COM.]        http://www.salon.com/2012/09/01/ralph_reed_rises_from_the_ashes/)

A Mike Keefe Cartoon for the Denver Post||Punditkitchennews.icancheeseburger.com

****

I am discovering that being self-aware is probably one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves.  Unfortunately, it isn’t a one-time deal; it is a constant and diligent examination—kind of like a yearly breast examination of the soul.  Every new crossroad in life demands a poking and prodding and an x-ray of who we are to see if what we think we are is what others see.  Without that revelation, there is no successful move into the next phase of life—there’s just one giant epic fail.  Stay tuned—retirement transition to be posted in March 2013.

******

“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength.”—August Wilson

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”—Carl Gustav Jung

“[I]t doesn’t matter whom you love or where you move from or to, you always take yourself with you. If you don’t know who you are, or if you’ve forgotten or misplaced her, then you’ll always feel as if you don’t belong. Anywhere. (xiii)”― Sarah Breathnach, Moving on: Creating Your House of Belonging with Simple Abundance

“We judge others instantly by their clothes, their cars, their appearance, their race, their education, their social status. The list is endless. What gets me is that most people decide who another person is before they have even spoken to them. What’s even worse is that these same people decide who someone else is, and don’t even know who they are themselves.”― Ashly Lorenzana

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 2, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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