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THANKSGIVING IN THE AGE OF THE APOCALYPSE

DEAR READERS:  In case this is your first time stopping by my place, let me catch you up to speed.  This is an ongoing blog about trying to reach God via phone because I can’t seem to get a face-to-face meeting with him during these chaotic times.  When I was an Evangelical Christian, I used to think he chatted with me all the time—like eating lunch on a daily basis with a chummy, gossipy gay hairstylist.  Then many years ago, I realized it probably wasn’t God—just my schizophrenic DNA mixed with false teachings by very silly preachers.  Be that as it may, I still believe in God and need to get some answers before I truly lose my mind over the chaos-ridden, apocalyptic era currently turning our planet into a living hell.  I mean, who else can I ask?  This is my “Waiting for Godot” moment:  “Is this all there is? Do you really care? Does God exist?  If so, why have you abandoned us?  Why are the liars, robber barons, and the NRA winning?  Is Trump the Anti-Christ, and is this the Apocalypse?  Will all of California have to completely burn to the ground before the Republicans acknowledge man-made climate change as a major culprit to our global instability?”

I’ve yet to hear from God.  If you need to catch up on my anxiety-ridden train of thought, you’ll find my other “prayer” messages filed under: “Are you listening (or paying attention) God?” via a series of “Voicemail Messages to God” which are essays of fanciful (sometimes heartbreaking) queries in my past blog posts.  This is my fifth installment:  “God, is this the Zombie Apocalypse?  You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?  Should I cancel Thanksgiving?  What’s there to be thankful for if the entire world’s going to hell in a hand basket at the speed of light?  Jesus, you have my digits—please call me!  Inquiring minds really need to know if this is the end!”

GOD’S VOICEMAIL GREETING:  “You’ve reached the voicemail box of GOD at 1-800-PRA-TOME.  So glad to hear from most of you with a few exceptions.  If this phone call is from that pest, Eleanor Tomczyk, who has been nagging me day and night with the same prayer regarding Donald Trump (“Save us oh God, deliver us, oh God”), I called you the other day and you didn’t pick up the phone.  (What’s that old saying: ‘If you snooze, you lose, Baby?’)  Do you think you’re the only human I love who is panicked, horrified, and at their wits end regarding their circumstances?  Next time—keep your phone on you.  Right now, California is burning and needs my grace.  In the meantime, Thanksgiving is coming and you should count your blessings and cut me some slack with your incessant complaints.  As blessed lives go, you’re doing okay.  For all others, please leave a message at the end of the Hallelujah Chorus and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Trust me…I’m God, and I’m on the job!”

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com

HI GOD:   This is Eleanor T.  It’s just a few days before Thanksgiving and I need to know whether I should skip it this year.  I mean…what’s the point.

By the way, I can’t believe you answered my calls the one time I wasn’t near my phone.  You’re omnipresent—didn’t you see that I was in the hospital doing a procedure and there was no cell service there?  Even if I could have gotten cell service, they made me leave my phone in a locker.  You didn’t see that mortifying procedure I was having that my ass doctor dubbed a “small bowel follow-through”—a procedure the hospital warned me could take up to eight hours?!  I was praying to you like crazy because I knew I was going to embarrass myself beyond all recovery.

Oh, the humiliation!  They made me strip down to my under pants, socks and sneakers, and stuffed me into a hospital gown.  They forced me to drink 32 ounces of a nasty white chalky liquid and walk in a loop through the hospital halls for ONE HOUR at a pace that resembled a mouse being chased by a feral cat.  My tits were hanging down to my waist (you know I haven’t gone without a bra since I was ten years old—I even wear one to bed), and I could feel the breeze blowing up my ass as my hospital gown flapped slightly open at every turn.)  Every once in a while, a Nurse Ratched-type would jog alongside me to make sure I wasn’t going to bite the dust or she’d snatch me into a room for a drive-by x-ray of my innards (“Get back out there, Kiddo…the dye has only gotten through half of your small intestine—you know it’s twenty-three-feet long, don’t you?!”), and then she’d put me back on the track before I could say, “WTFI hate you!”  Didn’t you see me zooming past bored doctors, horrified patients on their way to be operated on, and a not-too-bright security guard who wondered where in the hell I was going half naked and slightly crazed?  (I told him I had escaped from the psyche ward and wanted to get in my morning constitutional before I blew that Popsicle stand.  Ever notice how rent-a-cops never have a sense of humor?)

That was two days ago and the aftermath has not been pretty: I’m bloated, constantly farting, and have been popping out snow ball colored poops every other minute. I can’t leave the house. God, I think you hate me.  What did I ever do to piss you off to garner such suffering and humiliation?

Anyway, enough about me.  At least you answered my prayers about the mid-term elections—I think.

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star-Tucson, AZ

The day after the mid-terms, it looked as if the Blue Wave all kind-hearted people had prayed for was barely a ripple, and that the Trump madness would continue to go unchecked.  I was so disappointed and depressed that you hadn’t answered my prayers, which is when I called up my ass doctor and scheduled the bowel follow-through, an endoscopy, and a colonoscopy.  I mean, what the hell.  (I know it doesn’t make any sense, but it was my childish grown-up version of threatening to go sit in the dirt and eat worms since I didn’t get my way.)  Did you get my voice-mail message that I was canceling Thanksgiving also because I didn’t feel there was much to be thankful for in our new-normal apocalyptic state?

But then things started to turn…and they are still turning.  You showed up (or I should say, you answered my prayers by making the voters show up).  Trump doesn’t know it yet, but your fist of righteousness mingled with our boots on the ground and “woke” crusades, will continue to expand the Blue Wave every day until he is undone.  That dude’s going down.  I can feel it in my bones.  I just don’t know when or how.

Cartoon used by permission: Kevin Siers, The Charlotte Observer, NC

In the meantime, Dear God, I’m going to roll into Thanksgiving with my “praise on” because people are beginning to get “woke” and are figuring out how to handle that awareness.  Bad things are still happening each and every day with Trump in office, but I do believe there is hope for us.  I know that I’ve got a lot to be thankful for in my own life.  I promise you that I’ll stop whining and lend my hands, heart, prayers, and resources to those who have less because that is what you’ve called us all to do for our fellowman in hard times.  Besides, the thing I’m truly grateful for is my state of mind and the fact that I am no longer deceived by my religion or my politics because in the words of H.L. Mencken, what I’m most thankful for is:

“In this world of sin and sorrow there is always something to be thankful for; as for me, I rejoice that I am not a Republican.”

Oh, and God, hopefully we can have a real in-depth conversation soon.  I just got a transcript of the message you left for me the day I was in the hospital for my ass procedure, and it is a tiny bit concerning.  The message said:  “Be grateful for what you’ve been given each and every day because things are going to get far worse before they get better for both your ass and the country.”  Jesus, do you know something I don’t know?  Is that a warning about my upcoming colonoscopy and endoscopy exams?  Is Trump going to be re-elected in 2020?  OH GOD, SAVE US (SAVE MY ASS); DELIVER US (DELIVER MY ASS)…

Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle, GA

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

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS:  Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, The Fetus Chronicles on sale now at Amazon!

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Cartoon used by permission: Daryl Cagle, CagleCartoons.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 17, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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T-Day Hugs and Kisses/REDUX

I decided I’d take off this week and not post a story, but I wanted to at least say hello and add to the general goodwill in the turkey air and let you know what I’ve discovered this Turkey Day:  I’m grateful to be alive and happy—I am so blessed as a human being.  The miniature post below is an updated Thanksgiving greeting from a couple of years ago.  Enjoy and may your Thanksgiving time be filled with love, joy, gratitude, and peace.

Rockwell Poster

Norman Rockwell Poster

Do you know what I discovered this Thanksgiving week?  None of my “wobbly bits” of my body is on the level where they used to be and many of my old relationships have been shot to smithereens, but I’ve never been happier.   I’m so much more aware of who I am now and where I’m going in life—even if it means some things are dragging on the ground and some relationships that I thought would last a lifetime have had to be kicked to the curb.

So before I get stoned on tryptophan and vodka gimlets with my family, I just wanted to say that I am grateful to have discovered that I’m part of a “we” and not an “us and them” in the family of man.   That may not sound like much, but if you’ve ever spent time in the conservative Evangelical circles I’ve escaped from, you’ll recognize why this is such a major distinction for me.  And if you’ve been listening to the hateful, over-the-top rhetoric of Donald Trump against our American Muslim brothers and sisters, then you will also understand why I am pursuing brotherhood over hatred and fear—grateful to live in a pluralistic country where religious freedom (for all) is part of the Constitution.

Because I am a “we” on a journey with every other human on the planet, I’ve fallen in love with the universal mandate that every religion has at its core but rarely adheres to.  I’ve made it one of my daily meditations and mandates (not just for people who think like me but for everyone I encounter):  “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

So let’s all step away from the things that divide us . . .

Thanksgiving John Darkow Columbia Daily Tribune Missouri

Cartoon used by permission: John Darkow, Columbia Daily Tribune-Missouri/Cagle Cartoons

. . . and thank God for all the blessings we have living in the greatest country in the world.

Eat, drink, and be merry, and let’s all thank God for who we are to each other.  If you are a Christian—hug a Muslim; if you’re straight—hug someone who is gay; if you’re White—hug someone who is Black (and vice versa); if you’re a Republican—hug a Democrat, and if you’ve got a warm home and food, reach out to someone who is homeless and hurting.  Let our only enemy, during this holiday season, be the turkey whose ass we plan to hunt down and roast (or deep fry) for our culinary pleasure.

Oh, and try not to strangle your uncle who only watches Fox News 24/7 and your ex-hippie aunt who quotes everything Rachel Maddow from MSNBC says as you come together for a delicious Thanksgiving family dinner!

Thanksgiving Dinner Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Cartoon used by permission:  Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle

 “At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.” — Albert Schweitzer

 “Gratefulness is the key to a happy life that we hold in our hands, because if we are not grateful, then no matter how much we have we will not be happy — because we will always want to have something else or something more. — Brother David Steindl-Rast

 “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” — Albert Einstein

QUOTES COURTESY OF www.brainyquote.com

Thanksgiving Coma David FitzsimmonsThe Arizona Star

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star/Cagle Cartoons

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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 24, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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“FOWL” CONVERSATIONS (A Thanksgiving Tale)

Do you know what I discovered about Americans recently? We need to shut our pie holes, if not for a year or two (preferred by the blogger), at least during the holidays. We just need to give our mouths a rest because the brains have clearly not caught up. That way we might learn to cultivate better conversations during our upcoming family holidays, or else there are going to be wars upon rumors of wars in our dining rooms across this great nation of ours.

A couple cases in point: Recently former Gov. Haley Barbour called President Barack Obama’s policies “tar babies” (pejorative term for African Americans and every southern white knows it).*  When confronted on his racist slam (not the first time he’s stepped over this line), Mr. Barbour gave the obligatory apology in his best Mississippi drawl (“Well, if I’ve offended anyone . . .”). Then Rep. Charlie Rangel (D-N.Y.) was questioned about an incident that happened a year ago when he called members of the Tea Party “white crackers,” (pejorative term for whites and every black person knows it). When confronted on his horrid choice of words, clueless Rep. Rangel said: “I thought [cracker] was a term of endearment.”** (Yep, Charlie, just like the “N” word is a term of endearment to you and me.)

Cartoon people fighting wallpaper

Google Image: Fighting Wallpaper

After angrily meditating on what these two knuckle-headed elected officials had vomited onto the public airways, I went to bed that night dreaming of what it would be like to live in a world where people talked pretty to each other all the time. As the night wore on, I dreamt that Congress passed a law that proposed a moratorium on foul speech until January 1, 2015. They said: “Given the vitriol that is coursing from sea to shining sea since the election of our first black president, we, your elected officials will come up with an approved list of bi-partisan, conversational recommendations that we could all engage in during the upcoming Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays in order to keep the peace and foster good will across the land.” I got so excited about this endeavor that in my dream I sent out my first tweet:

@blogger.com—looking for T-Day non-confrontational topics to send to Congress to help us act like civilized people #FowlConversations

But alas, alack, nobody was interested, and everybody ignored my request except the birds.

Bird Tweets Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

In my dream, I got tweets galore from millions of turkeys but absolutely no humans. No human wanted to give up their right to free speech, but every turkey in the land (those still alive) wanted to suggest that Turkey Liberation be the topic sent to Congress.  As the dream wore on, I entered a breakfast scene with my husband (WW), and we spoke about the almost Messianic vision of my quest for Turkey Liberation talking points.

ME: Babe, something amazing has happened. Nobody tweeted me back except birds—turkeys to be exact. I have millions of turkey tweets.  #FowlConversations is trending. I’ve become a celebrity! The turkeys want me to champion them as a topic for Thanksgiving dinner conversation before Congress. I’m so honored.

WW: What? You don’t even like birds and I don’t think they like you. As a matter of fact, some of your funniest Lucille Ball antics have happened from the attacks of birds.

ME: You sir, are not telling the truth!

WW: Oh really now. Let’s see, there was the time the pigeon took a rather sizeable dump while in mid-air on your brand new wig as you walked across campus, and you spent the rest of the semester plotting his demise—can the Greek chorus sing “rat poison peanut butter balls”? Then there was the blue jay that used to attack you every day for six months while you were jogging until you were forced to change your route. Do you still have that homemade sling shot? Oh, and what about that giant turkey who chased you around Old Man Henry’s poultry shop when you were just four years old? If anybody has seen you tear into a turkey leg, they would easily surmise you were engaging in a vendetta against an old foe.

ME: Poppycock! I like birds better than snakes and that’s all my turkey fans need to know. Besides I’ve become a vegetarian since learning that I had “The Sugar.” I’m a perfect champion for the turkey cause.

WW: You are a vegetarian who eats a little fish, some chicken once a week, and attacks a rare rib-eye steak with the passion of a vampire when you can’t stand the sight of another bean. I’m not judging, I’m just saying that the turkeys could get a better rep. Besides, weren’t you trying to recruit human input? What happened?

ME: I got all kinds of responses from humans on my author website: death threats, trolls threatening to turn me into a garroted turkey, and others claiming that I was trying to squelch their free speech. Screw them. I’m going to help the less fortunate—The Birds! Did you know that it isn’t just turkeys that are eaten on T-day? No bird is safe from our American knives and forks and gluttony.

Turkey Snoopy

Peanuts by Charles Schulz/Universal Uclick

ME: The way I figure it, if we as Americans can’t discuss politics, religion, racial equality, gender equality, marriage equality, and women’s reproductive rights (to name a few) with our families without coming to blows then we still need a subject that has passion, pathos, intrigue, and human, I mean animal, interest.  Do you know that the turkeys have tweeted me that as many as 46 million of them will be slaughtered this year to grace our Thanksgiving Day tables?

WW: Might I remind you, that you are a quasi-vegetarian and you ordered a turkey for T-Day—albeit free range—as soon as our frou-frou grocery store put out the list. Ergo, you are a hypocrite. May I also point out that people will not want to discuss Turkey Liberation of abused fowls while sucking the marrow out of a giant turkey leg dipped in giblet gravy? And Heaven forbid if you invite a real vegetarian to dinner, turkey shit will really hit the fan.

TD Massacre David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

ME: Well, fine, Mr. Know-it-all. What’s your suggestion as a safe Thanksgiving dinner topic?

WW: Gratitude—everybody genuinely discussing what they love about each other and what they love about their lives. You and I are on our last lap around this rodeo. We don’t need to fight with any relative or non-relative about anything. And if our guests can’t abide by our rules of shutting their pie-holes when things could go postal at the dinner table than they need not attend. I actually don’t think we hang with people like that anymore—they have long since been weeded out of the Tomczyk guest list. We just need to discuss what we are grateful for in this moment and time and bask in the wonder and glory of it all. After all, we could all live in Nigeria. And then maybe to fall asleep from an overdose of tryptophan on the couch after a second piece of pumpkin pie with my grandson in my arms. Yeah, that would be Heaven.

Thankful David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

***

I am discovering that staying away from topics that would anger and hurt each other may not be a discipline we can master as Americans. Let’s be honest with ourselves. We are a nation of people who ferociously guard our rights and opinions, and whoever screams the loudest considers themselves to be right on whatever the topic. Facts are of little value, but as my husband teaches his students: “passion does not equal being right.” Having a love-filled, laid-back, gracious Thanksgiving dinner—basking in each other’s presence—takes a lot of love, a lot of sacrifice, a lot of forgiveness, a lot of listening, and a lot of “letting go” of things that just don’t matter in the scheme of life. Wouldn’t it be great if we could discuss serious topics from different viewpoints and treat each other as we’d like to be treated?

Of course if having civil conversations can’t be done, I suppose Christmas shopping on Thanksgiving may not be a bad option if it keeps the peace (definite sarcasm).*** Or if push really comes to shove, some of you could sit around the Thanksgiving table and discuss Kim Kardashian’s bounteous bootie breaking the Internet as a trending topic—just so it doesn’t descend into a cacophonous argument and pistols drawn over the definition of who has the most bootylicious bottom, Kim Kardashian or Beyoncé (definitely, sarcasm . . . definitely).

TDay Shopping John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune

Used by permission: John Cole, The Scranton Times Tribune

***IF YOU MUST SHOP, WHY NOT BUY MY BOOK (MONSTERS’ THROWDOWN) ON AMAZON.COM?

***

I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land.”Jon Stewart

“I hate turkeys. If you stand in the meat section at the grocery store long enough, you start to get mad at turkeys. There’s turkey ham, turkey bologna, turkey pastrami. Someone needs to tell the turkey, ‘man, just be yourself.”Mitch Hedberg

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.”Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“I like football. I find it’s an exciting strategic game. It’s a great way to avoid conversation with your family at Thanksgiving.”― Craig Ferguson

“Thanksgiving was nothing more than a pilgrim-created obstacle in the way of Christmas; a dead bird in the street that forced a brief detour.”Augusten Burroughs, You Better Not Cry: Stories for Christmas

ONE OF MY FAVORITE T-DAY CARTOONS FROM MY 2013 T-DAY BLOG

Thanksgiving Dinner End Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle

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

REFERENCES

*http://www.clarionledger.com/story/news/2014/11/10/haley-barbour-tar-babies-obama/18798143/

**http://talkingpointsmemo.com/livewire/charlie-rangel-white-cracker-term-of-endearment

http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/15-conversation-topics-to-avoid-at-thanksgiving-dinner/

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/11/11/kim-kardashian-bares-her-shiny-bounteous-butt-breaks-the-internet.html

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 12, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Jive Time Turkey: A Satire

Do you know what I’ve discovered?  When I don’t get enough REM sleep, I tend to have crazy dreams.  I’ve been working night and day to get my book, Monsters’ Throwdown, ready to launch during the second week of December (the cover is finished and it is soooooo fantastic), but when I finally got some shut-eye, I had dreams about a turkey.  Not just any turkey, but the one that is being pardoned by the President next week.  He kept screaming:  “I DON’T WANT TO BE PARDONED.  I WANT TO DIE!  I HATE THIS PLACE—HUMANS ARE A DISGRACE.”

He was in a psychiatrist’s office—lying on a couch and chatting with my alter-ego who was his therapist.  Even though what the turkey said sounded like gobbledygook to me, Dalai Mama understood him perfectly because he’s a “jive turkey” and she has spoken “jive” for years.  (For the uninitiated, a Jive Turkey is, “One who speaks as though they know what they’re talking about…though they do not—a bullshitter,” Urban Dictionary, and Jive is, “a form of slang associated with black American jazz musicians.”)

Turkey Quiting America Cagle

Used by Permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle||Cagle Cartoons

In my dream, Mr. Turkey was dressed in the disguise of an owl and was thrashing back and forth in an agonized state.  The Dalai Mama was trying to calm Jive Turkey down and get him to tell her what was so agitating.

DALAI MAMA:   Yo’ Jive Time Turkey, how’s it hanging—what’s the word from the herd (the other turkeys)?

JIVE TURKEY:     I’ve escaped, dag gobble—that’s the word!  I’m on the lam from Farmer John’s place in Badger, Minnesota.  I just found out that all the extra food and fluffing of the tail that I’ve been getting was so that he could bring me to Washington, DC next week to be pardoned by the President.  Then I’m to be sent to Mt. Vernon to live out the rest of my days.  But I don’t want to live, I tell you!  I hate people—they are the scourge of the Earth.  God should start all over again with a new batch.

DALAI MAMA:   Seriously, Jive Turkey, it’s not that bad—we’re not that bad.  Are you in the know about this pardon or are you a solid bringer-downer (a person who worries about nothing)?  This just doesn’t jive” (doesn’t make sense).  Usually they pick a turkey from much closer to home.

JIVE TURKEY:     Of course it jives!  I saw Farmer John flip the grip (shake hands) on the deal with some Lothario from Ontario (a fast worker or charmer) who flew out from DC a couple of weeks ago to check me out.  Once I knew it was a done deal, I concocted this owl disguise and flew the coop.  Pretty clever, if I do say so myself.  Bet you’ve never heard of stuffed owl for Thanksgiving.

Turkey in Owl disguise cheezburger dot com

Meme from Joanhascheezburger.com

DALAI MAMA:   You mean that Farmer John doesn’t know you’re gone?  This isn’t hep (cool) Jive Turkey.  I could get into a lot of trouble for not turnin’ you in to your farmer.  Besides, Farmer John must have thought you had the chops (ability, skill set) to do this gig, or he wouldn’t have chosen you.  It’s true that America has a few bad apples, but for the most part, we’re a decent people—I’m just layin’ it on you straight (telling it like it is).  Have you ever been to a Thanksgiving dinner at the home of an American family?

JIVE TURKEY:     Yes, I have, as a matter of fact.  I got a sneak preview of an upcoming family Thanksgiving dinner from looking into a crystal ball.   I was a voyeur to what I thought was going to be a swellelegant (wonderful, marvelous) event, but it turned out to be a blood bath.  They were all buckets from Nantucket (heavy drinkers), and it didn’t take long for the family of ten to descend into chaos.  All I could think was:  is this the reason 46 million of my peeps gave up their lives—so that people could treat each other like Turkey ca-ca?

DALAI MAMA:   What??  What happened?

JIVE TURKEY:     My friend Bernice was the sacrificial poultry for the family I observed.   The sister-in-law insisted on cooking the dinner—it being her first.  I suspect she was awfully jealous of her husband’s wife’s monopoly of the holiday.  She didn’t thaw Bernice in time, forgot to take out her guts, and overcompensated by turning the oven up to 500 degrees—charcoaling Bernie’s hide while undercooking her insides.  Everyone got food poisoning, but before they all ended up in the hospital, I almost solid blew my top (went crazy) at their family ideology and communication skills.

The mother kept picking on her adult daughter about her weight and alluding that maybe the size of her tits and ass was the reason she didn’t have a husband yet.  The daughter burst into tears and locked herself in the bathroom for the rest of the dinner.  The brother’s new girlfriend was a good for nothin’ clueless mop (no good woman) who asked:  “What do Jewish people eat on Thanksgiving?”  The brother’s lesbian sister almost hit the girlfriend up side her stupid head with a gourd, but she got distracted when the grandmother’s teeth fell into the mashed potatoes.  The mother’s sister announced that she only likes Thanksgiving for the Black Friday sales, and since stores like Target, Wal-Mart, and the like had opened early that morning and nothing seemed to be going on here, she was going to go shopping.  “Nice visiting with you all—let’s do it again next year!”

Thanksgiving shopper David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Used by permission: David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

The nasty-ass uncle that everyone knows is a pervert (doesn’t every family have one?) started antagonizing his niece and her wife about the Kenyan in the White House and the Obamacare website disaster, because if we had simply asked him (in all his wisdom, having completed one year of a two-year community college), he would have told you that the Kenyan doesn’t know a goddamn thing about what he’s doing and should go back to Africa where he belongs and leave the running of the country to white people.  He made sure we all knew that he respects the office of the president—just not this president.  The aunt (the uncle’s wife) agreed and boasted about their new Facebook “like”:  “Never Apologize for Being White” because agreeing with the contemptible ideology of this group didn’t make her a racist.  The aunt went on to brag about how they were helping people like Ted Cruz and Sarah Palin take back their country for the real Americans.  Which is why, when they took the family out to dinner after church last week and racked up a bill for $95.46 for nine people, they did not tip their lesbian waitress.  They did, however, leave her a note on the receipt that said they were purposely not leaving her a tip because it would be a sin to use God’s money to support her abomination of a lifestyle.   At that point, the aunt’s black adopted sister (also a lesbian) pulled out a pistol from her purse (after all, this was Texas) and shot her sister between the eyes, as the word, “bitch” entangled with the smell of burnt turkey.  The mother started screaming like a banshee and fainted as the dentureless grandmother gummed the words:  “Dis ith dey worth Danksgivin—eva!”

On that note, I had to exodus (flee, make tracks, beat a retreat).  It was then that I made up my mind that I don’t want to live on this planet with you people.  If you can’t get along with your own Jive family then how in the Hell can you get along with the rest of the world.  I hit the in and outer (the door) and left those drips (horrible people) in the dust.  Since then I’ve been reading every news article and watching every media outlet about the situation of man on this planet, and you people don’t get any better. And now I just want to die along with my comrades and be done with you all.

(A special shout out to 25-legit-words-hepcats-jive-talk-dictionary for the Jive words and definitions.)

Thanksgiving The Real Truth

Cartoonist: David Horsey/http://editorialcartoonists.com

I am discovering that there are no other holidays like Thanksgiving.  It is one of the few holidays where we can celebrate without regard to religion, race, or status.  We just need to grab a turkey (or some tofu) along with a deep pint of gratitude, and we’re good to go.  I am also discovering that there are no Norman Rockwell perfect family portraits of Thanksgiving dinner in real life, either.  The problem is, we all try and recreate those fantasies during the holidays, and therein lays the heartbreak:  the more we try to make our families perfect, the more they come undone.

There should be a sign over all of our door frames this Thanksgiving that says:  Relax. Today is detente!  None of us is perfect.  I know you probably resent your mother for all sorts of things, and she thinks you can be a little shit from time to time, but let’s declare this a day of extreme gratefulness and thanksgiving for all our family members—just as they are—(unless it’s Uncle Chester, the family molester, and he shouldn’t be invited, anyway; there is a limit to our hospitality).  Leave your egos at the door and your age-old animosities at home. We will not think about what we don’t have, what we haven’t been to one another, or what we won’t become in the future.  We will praise God for bringing us into the world, we will thank the Lord that we have friends, siblings, children, and grandchildren—imperfect though they may be—and that we are not alone on this Earth.  If we are mourning the death of loved ones, we will still grieve but give a shout out to the Almighty that we woke up alive this morning and can breathe—ready to conquer a new day and to heal a little bit more from the ravages of this world.  And for God’s sake—for your sake—for your family’s sake—remember to forgive with abundance and laugh . . . a lot!

Thanksgiving Table Jeff Parker

Cartoonist:  Jeff Parker|| Florida Today

“It wasn’t easy telling my family that I’m gay. I made my carefully worded announcement at Thanksgiving. It was very Norman Rockwell. I said, ‘Mom, would you please pass the gravy to a homosexual?’  She passed it to my father. A terrible scene followed.” –Bob Smith

“The funny thing about Thanksgiving, or any big meal, is that you spend 12 hours shopping for it then go home and cook, chop, braise and blanch. Then it’s gone in 20 minutes and everybody lies around sort of in a sugar coma and then it takes 4 hours to clean it up.”― Ted Allen, The Food You Want to Eat: 100 Smart, Simple Recipes

“Thanksgiving, when the Indians said, ‘Well, this has been fun, but we know you have a long voyage back to England’”. –Jay Leno

***

May your stuffing be tasty

 May your turkey plump,

 May your potatoes and gravy

 have nary a lump.

 May your yams be delicious

 and your pies take the prize,

 and may your Thanksgiving dinner

 stay off your thighs!

Unknown

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, MY FELLOW AMERICANS: WE HAVE SO MUCH TO BE GRATEFUL FOR!

Thanksgiving America Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Used by permission: Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

REFERENCES

http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2013/11/21/news/turkey-presidential-pardon

http://www.oprah.com/omagazine/Dealing-with-a-Dysfunctional-Family-During-the-Holidays

http://mentalfloss.com/article/51801/25-legit-words-hepcats-jive-talk-dictionary 

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 21, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Angry Birds, Randy Men, and Dog Whistles

Do you know what I’ve discovered?   I’m still exhausted from the election and have to get an eyeball operation (don’t ask—it’s too gross for words), and I’m looking forward to some much needed rest this Thanksgiving holiday.  Because my brain is so fried, I couldn’t think of a thread for a full humorous story to save my life.   But as I read the major headlines this week, I suddenly found myself wishing I were God so that I could chime in with some type of supernatural act of retribution regarding some of the news events that made me chuckle, caused me to be horrified, or made me really, really sad.

If I were a goddess, I’d tell turkeys to form a labor union, go on strike, and hide out in caves somewhere—never to return—until their consumers repent. I have become convinced this week that we Americans aren’t holding up our end of the bargain that would make it worth the turkey putting his head on the chopping block for us.  If I were a goddess, “The Petraeus Affair” would prompt me to initiate a recall of all the men who lived in America from ages two to ninety-two (that includes you too WW, just to be safe) to redo my initial design and implant in each and every one of them an automatic shut-off valve for their thingies when they start lookin’ to make a booty call on any other woman besides their wives.  If I were a goddess, the multitudinous racists acts that have flooded the news cycle since our President was reelected (i.e., “Kids Hate-tweet Obama, Echoing What They Hear at Home”), would make me want to open up such a can of whup-ass that the world would have to come to an end so that I could start all over with a new batch of people.  (Aren’t you glad I’ll never be endowed with any supernatural powers—I’d be an absolute terror?)

Image from boysrockbr.blogspot.com

EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT:  Turkeys Revolt in Reaction to Black Friday Creep!

This would be my first agenda item as a goddess:  solidarity with the turkeys!   Target, Wal-Mart, Toys-R-Us, Best Buy, and Sears are starting the “Black Friday Creep” at 8:00/9:00 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day!  People already started lining up at Best Buy a week ahead of schedule (camping out in tents), and Kmart plans to open at 6 a.m. on Thanksgiving Day!    At this rate, why do the turkeys need to lose their heads for a dinner that will probably take place while standing in line in front of a retail store?  It is one thing for turkeys to sacrifice their lives for family bonding and communication (even if most of the time it is an illusion, at least people are trying), but if Black Friday gets to creep all over T-Day, then if I were a goddess, I’d snatch up all the turkeys and redistribute them to places like Africa, Haiti, and all the starving places beyond the realm of all the discount stores.  (I’d keep the turkeys in New York and New Jersey because somehow I think the victims of Hurricane Sandy could care less who is selling what this T-Day, and they’d give anything to sit around a bountiful table with their families and houses intact, while thanking God for their blessings and tripping all over each other to tell the world what they are thankful for:  survival.)

Summers Cartoon|Image from Orlando Sentinel

BREAKING NEWS:  Sound Judgment No Longer a Function of the Male Brain—Has Moved South

Let’s see nowWith the “Petraeus Affair” we’ve got two disgraced four-star horny generals, two possible femme fatales, one shirtless FBI idiot who doesn’t know when to cease and desist (start with keeping your clothes on, bucko), and a scorned and publicly humiliated wife who should attach an umbilical cord to the likes of Gloria Allred, because if I were counseling her as a goddess, there would be no forgiveness for little horny General-man, and he’d be gifting me bling until the day Jesus returned!

(Now do you see why I don’t deserve to have supernatural powers, and why I should remain a mere mortal all my life, even in storyland?  How can a world exist without forgiveness?)

If I were a goddess, I would be ripping right now because everybody is mostly blaming the femme fatale and not the man who was thinking with his one-eyed monster instead of his head (you know, General, you can always “just say no”).  In the meantime, America has lost strategic talent at a time when we most need it because brilliant men let their brains travel south to permanently take up residence below the belt, and sound judgment on multiple counts got flushed down the toilet.

A Mori Cartoon|Image from The Miami Herald

NEWS FLASH:  Black President Reelected—Racial Dog Whistles Still Selling Like Hot Cakes

If I were a goddess I wouldn’t be able to contain myself against the “haters” and I would fricassee each and every one of their asses.  Can I go on record here and state how absolutely fucking pissed I am as an African-American Christian that so-called “good Christian people—in the name of Jesus” (yeah, I’m talking about you Mike Huckabee, Newt Gingrich, and Franklin Graham) are blaring racist dog whistles with words that the Stop Dog Whistle Racism blog helped me list as “welfare queen,” “uppity,” “lazy,” “illegal alien,” “doesn’t think like an American—secretly prays to Allah,” “Kenyan,” “Communist,” “Socialist,” “takers” (the list is endless), as if the words were rabid dogs and those dogs informed their political choices.

***

“Who can forget the Sarah Palin rally in 2008 when a woman clearly shouted, ‘Kill the n——!’ (speaking about Barack Obama) while the vice-presidential candidate blithely went on; not only did Ms. Palin go on with her speech, but she also wink-wink courted this kind of ‘passion’ in subsequent rallies.”By Marie Myung-Ok Lee “Kids Hate-tweet Obama, Echoing What They Hear at Home”|salon.com

***

Who can forget when I pointed out the debacle at the Sarah Palin rally to a white Christian friend and what her response was?  At first, adamant denial that something like this had ever happened (as if I were lying or exaggerating the event), and then a glib dismissal:  “Oh, well so what—she blew it!  There’s nothing she can do about it now.”  Actually, Sarah did do something about it almost immediately—she let the race-baiting dog whistle blow and blow and blow, and then she passed it on to other members in the Republican party, because she knew exactly what type of dogs she wanted to respond to its pitch.

Google Image

All too often, images, symbols and language are used intentionally and unintentionally in our political elections and policy debates. These trigger unconscious racial stereotypes. The viewer or reader isn’t even aware that he or she is responding to unfounded judgments based on stereotypes rather than facts.”stopdogwhistleracism.wordpress.com

DeRosier Cartoon|image from Time Union

I am discovering that no one is immune to the racist’s dog whistles of our culture.  We must be ever
vigilant or our ears will tune into their whistle’s pitch while we adamantly insist that we, ourselves, are not racist.  Sometime ago, an African-American woman who was a friend of a friend, whose home I was visiting began to blow a dog whistle which played the tune:  “the Holocaust is a myth which was made up by the Jews to manipulate others in their quest to take over the world.”  I was horrified, I knew better, I pushed back (gently and with a sense of humor so as not to offend the hostess), but at the end of the day, I laughed it off and let it slide because I didn’t want to create a scene.  Shortly after that scenario, I went to live in Israel and for three years, stood with the entire country to annually memorialize the Holocaust with a moment of silence, I toured Yad Vashem in Jerusalem (the Holocaust museum)—uncontrollably sobbing from beginning to end—and I encountered several survivors from afar who still had the concentration camp number tattooed on their forearms from the Holocaust that “never existed.”  No one will ever get away with blowing a racist dog whistle against the Jews in my presence again, because I was given the privilege of touching their horror—if ever so distantly and momentarily—and it sensitized me to the racist whistles they hear that call out the dogs of destruction against them as a people.   I want that same sensitivity for every people group who is unlike me but suffers from similar contempt and disdain (we all suffer).  And the next time someone—a person who boasts of being a believer in Jesus, no less—refers to a group of Muslims as “diaper heads (true story),” he better be prepared for the tongue-lashing of a lifetime, because I’m not putting up with that racist shit anymore from Christians.  We of all people should know better, because it is not “what Jesus would do.”

******

“I still smart a little at the slight.  When you’ve suffered a great deal in life each
additional pain is both unbearable and trifling.”—Life of Pi by Yan Martel   

“I have strong doubts that the first Thanksgiving even remotely resembled the ‘history’ I was told in second grade. But considering that (when it comes to holidays) mainstream America’s traditions tend to be over-eating, shopping, or getting drunk, I suppose it’s a miracle that the concept of giving thanks even surfaces at all.”Ellen Orleans

“When Romney thinks he’s behind closed doors and he’s just telling other people like him how politics really work, the picture he paints is so ugly as to be bordering on dystopic.  It’s not just about class, but about worth, and legitimacy . . . Romney doesn’t voice these opinions in public.  He knows better.  But so did the voters.  That’s what you see in the overwhelming rejection Romney suffered among African-Americans, Hispanics, Asians, and young voters.  They sensed that Romney fundamentally didn’t respect them and their role in the economy, and they were right.”—Ezra Klein, rom the 47% to “gifts”: Mitt Romney’s ugly vision of politics|The Washington Post

Don’t take any plug nickels and don’t respond to any dog whistles—except to render them ineffective!

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 19, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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