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Tag Archives: Trump

GIFTS OF HUMOR IN A HUMORLESS TIME

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

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

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

EFFECTS OF THE CORONAVIRUS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cartoon used by permission: 237469 The Promise by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ

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

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

 
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Posted by on April 8, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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TOILET PAPER COULD GET A PERSON KILLED

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BIDET MEME: Pin by Jonathan Friday on Custom Memes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cartoon used by permission:  236414 Spring Break morons COVID 19 by Dave Granlund PoliticalCartoons com

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

Cartoon used by permission: 236377 TP Treasure by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN

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

 
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Posted by on March 19, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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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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KEEP LOOKING UP

Cartoon Used by Permission: 228305 Some Pig by Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT

THE NATIONAL CONSCIOUSNESS POST—MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR TRIBUTE

By Eleanor Tomczyk (Satirical Columnist)

8:41 p.m. Saturday, January 18, 2020

As the nation prepares to celebrate the birthday of one of our greatest heroes, the Washington Post-Ipsos poll was just released that states 8 out of 10 African Americans (83% of those polled) blame President Trump for the inordinate increase in racism in our country, and 65% say it is a bad time to be Black.  Our newspaper wanted to follow up on these jarring statistics in the shadow of the celebration of Martin Luther King’s birthday.  We were able to get in touch with quite a few WWMD clubs across the nation to interview them about their reaction to the Post-Ipsos poll.  Usually a secretive club (I learned about them just several days ago through a friend of a friend), they were very transparent with me as a reporter because they felt that so much of what Dr. King worked for is being destroyed and all good people need to come out—front and center—and do the right thing.  What follows is a conference call interview with one particular club in Virginia.  It best encapsulates fears of African-Americans from sea to shining sea during these post-Obama years.

REPORTER:   First of all, I want to thank you for doing this interview on such short notice. I understand that you are a group of African-American septuagenarians who meet together on a regular basis to pray for our country.  Maxine Reynolds, my research notes indicate that you are the President of this local chapter.  Can you give me an overview of what you stand for?  For instance, what does WWMD mean?

MAXINE:      Yes, I am, and welcome! Good to have you here, my friend.  WWMD stands for “What would Martin do?”  We started meeting on an informal basis right after President Trump asked the Black community “what do you have to lose by voting for me?”  We were so alarmed after 8% of the Black community did vote for him, that those of us who still had our common sense intact said a collective “Oh Shit!” and formed this club.  We did so to illuminate what Dr. King lived and died for before the country got consumed by Trump’s hatred.  Our fears regarding the damage Trump could do were really underscored when the tikki-torch, Confederate flag waving White Supremacists murdered that sweet young protester, and Trump didn’t disparage them but declared that there were “good people on both sides.”

Cartoon Used by Permission: 228472 Trucking in Hate by Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT

REPORTER:  Why did 8% of African-Americans vote for Trump? Surely they are not that gullible as a race.

BARBARA:  Barbara Wakefield speaking.  I’m the VP of our local chapter of WWMD.  No, we’re the least gullible of America’s people.  In fact, given our history, Black folks are very sharp politically.  I suspect 8% voted for Trump because they always voted Republican and couldn’t bring themselves to vote as a Democrat (we are not monolithic, you know), or they just downright hated Hilary.  You surprised?  You think White Republicans are the only ones who can’t stand the Clintons? 

MAXINE:  As an African-American, I voted for Hilary, but I have to tell you, I held my nose when I did it.

REPORTER:  Interesting… how many members in your group?  How many nationwide? Are they all in their seventies?  Charles, you’re head of the membership drive, can you field my questions?

CHARLES:  Sure.  In the beginning, the group was made up of those who were part of the Civil Rights Movement and marched with Martin back in the day.  We’re the generation that gained the most from Dr. King’s sacrifice and courage.  We’re the ones who first got college educations in our families, first to become captains of our industries, and the first group of Black folks that lived better than our parents. As to membership, we had a hard time in the beginning getting people to join.  A lot of our folks got lulled to sleep by the election of our first Black president.  We were so busy patting ourselves on the back that we swallowed the lie that racism was dead now that a Black man was in the Oval Office.  What we didn’t realize was that the racism was just in hiding underneath the veneer of a polite society, and the sight of a Black family in the White House made a large percentage of White America’s blood boil.  By the time Trump came along and started his birther nonsense to discredit the legitimacy of President Obama, he whipped the haters into full White Supremacist frothy hysteria.

Cartoon Used by Permission: 92443 Birther Reality COLOR by Monte Wolverton, Cagle Cartoons

REPORTER:  Of late, I’ve heard that you’ve had a membership surge and most of the new members to the WWMD club have been White.  Do you think the birther issue woke them up to the danger of the eroding of Dr. King’s movement?

GEORGE:  I can speak to that since I’m White and a new member. First of all, not all White people are racist. That really burns my cookies when people lump all White people together.  We are not a monolithic group either.  The way I figure it, only about 30% of us adhere to that racist BS.  Most of us suffer from the sin of cluelessness.  We figure if it hasn’t or isn’t happening to us than other people are fine also.  We are clueless as to the daily racial sufferings (especially the micro aggressions) that Black people go through.  I can drive by a Confederate flag, and I might not like it but it doesn’t affect me on a visceral level. I might even buy the bullshit that the flag represents my White neighbor’s heritage.  On the other hand, my Black friends (notice I have more than one Black friend, thank you very much) tell me they get violently ill when they see that “in your face” marker of White Supremacy because it definitely represents their heritage—one of bondage, brutality, chains, and lynchings.  I don’t want my grandchildren to inherit a Trump world and ideology that hurts people.  I want them to love all races and be aware of what causes others pain.  I joined after the debacle in Charlottesville, the wide-scale voter suppression in the Black communities in 2018, the growing revelations of police brutality, and the awareness of the growing income and educational disparity in the Black community.

Cartoon Used by Permission: 212482 Voter Suppression by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star-Tribune, MN

MARY ANN:  I’m White and a Born-Again Christian.  I joined WWMD because I realized much too late that Trump was the leader of a cult and he had sucked out the soul and the brains of so many of my family and friends.  The more Trump’s immoral character showed itself, the more my friends and relatives turned a blind eye and started imbibing the hate talk-radio rhetoric of the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Alex Jones.  Many of them wear the bracelets WWJD (“What would Jesus do?”), but by the way they worship at the feet of the Liar-in-Chief, the answer is:  Jesus would do absolutely nothing in response to Trump’s blatant immorality, and therefore neither will I.   When the Christian Trumpers anointed him as the “Chosen One,” I joined WWMD to save my soul and find a place that honored good character, truth, and integrity before it was too late to find it in the public square or at the church altar. 

Cartoon Used by Permission: 208900 MLK by Milt Priggee Oak Harbor, WA

REPORTER:  Well, that’s a fascinating twist.  Are there other White Christians in the room who can elaborate on that?

AMBER:  Yes, I can.  My name is Amber.  I grew up in Evangelical Christianity.  My parents were part of the Jesus Movement, and I thought I could ride out the stupidity of Trump idolatry when it hit our Pentecostal/Charismatic church.  I figured the Church would wake up sooner or later and get back to enacting WWJD.  But the more I waited, the more I noticed our collective soul and any intelligence we may have had slip-sliding away.  I belonged to one of those mega churches who I now suspect support Trump because they lust after his money, the men lust after his fake-tit wife, and the women lust after the fake-tit wife’s glamorous life. 

Anyway, I had halfway divorced my parents and had one foot out the door when I heard a woman on a “Christian” radio program who had called in to protest the fact that Michelle Obama had been named the most admired woman in the world for the second time in a row.  The woman was apoplectic over what she perceived was a miscarriage of justice. She falsely accused Barack Obama of being a pedophile (in cahoots with the Clintons) and both the Obamas of being money launderers (because how else could they possibly have such nice stuff).  The “Christian” prayer warrior proceeded to pray that God the Father would reveal the true identity of Michelle (who she knows for certain is a man whose name is Michael and Michelle secretly has a penis), and that God would further reveal that the Obama children are not theirs but Barack’s best friend (apparently, the kids are on loan to promote the ruse that the Obamas are a heterosexual, loving, Christian family).  The woman could not understand how her fake-tit goddess (Melania Trump) could be overlooked by the world for a man in drag (i.e. Michelle Obama) when Melania is so beautiful, classy, and speaks seven languages.  It seems the Jesus lover forgot about Melania’s butt-naked pictures that are all over the Internet and that she’s done nothing significant except plagiarize Michelle Obamas speech when she first came on the scene, and express to the world her callousness and disdain when visiting the traumatized children at the border.*

I screamed, “I’M OUT!” and I haven’t looked back.

Cartoon Used by Permission: 212191 Melania fashion statements by Dave Granlund PoliticalCartoons. com

REPORTER:  Unfortunately, I know that conspiracy theory.*   It’s been bouncing around Right-wing talk radio for years, and Trump’s base believes it hook, line, and sinker.  The racism is mindboggling, but if so-called Christians can’t do what Jesus taught them to do, how can emulating Dr. King help you get beyond the anger and fear these types of conspiracy theories must engender?  I mean, Dr. King said that he wanted African-Americans to be judged on their character.  Who has demonstrated more outstanding character than the Obamas?  Yet, when the haters can’t find any blemish in their character, they make up stuff.

MAXINE:  Please… that crap doesn’t have anything to do with Jesus and he ain’t listenin’ to their idiotic prayers.  My visceral reaction is to pummel this woman and everyone like her.  But if I did that, my heart would turn to stone and I’d become as stupid as that woman.  Martin (and Jesus—the God who Martin loved and served) would tell us to not embrace hatred but to love our enemies.  So I pray for people like her.  It ain’t easy, but I do it anyway.

BARBARA:  I think loving the Trump supporters is a tall order.  I’m just not there yet.  What I can do and am doing to recoup Dr. King’s legacy is that I’m dispensing kindness to each and every person I meet along the way.  Whether it’s a genuine smile to a stranger, helping someone in need, writing a note of encouragement or just not returning evil for evil—I know I’ve done something significant to push back the hatred that divides us as a country.  Every time I hear of some hateful racist story against my people, I make an extra effort to be kind to those I know and don’t know.  Maybe someday I’ll be like Martin and Jesus, for that matter, and learn to look into the darkness, fear not, and see the love emanating from my heart illuminating the dark hearts of the haters.  That’s what Martin would do.

Cartoon Used by Permission: 205175 Keep Looking Up by Jeff Koterba, Omaha World Herald, NE

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ABOUT KINDNESS

“I shall pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”—Stephen Grellet

“I make mistakes daily, letting generalizations creep into my thoughts and negatively affect my behavior. These mistakes have taught me that the first step to successfully choosing kindness is being more mindful about it, letting go of impatience and intolerance along the way.”—Daniel Lubetzky

“Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.”—Og Mandino

ALL QUOTES COURTESY OF BRAINYQUOTES.COM

Cartoon Used by Permission: 189869 MLK statue COLOR by Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

*The conspiracy story and the prayer that was spoken is true and the author of this blog vomited her lunch when she heard it. In fact, she’s still vomiting…

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 18, 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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YES, CHRISTIAN TRUMP SUPPORTERS, YOU ARE RACISTS BY DEFAULT

Last night in bed my husband and I were discussing which country we should move to, given the racist screed emanating from the President of the United States’ mouth, the muted response of the GOP who surround him, and the Christian voters who adore him.  We fell asleep to the news of Trump’s latest racist rally chant—“Send her back”—and both of us wondered whether Trump’s most recent tweets warranted a move to Canada or Antigua and Barbuda. Neither one of those countries are our country of origin—we just love vacationing there.

Cartoon used by Permission: 227750_600 Dave Whamond, Canada, PoliticalCartoons.com

When I woke up there was a Facebook feed from a Born-again Christian from my distant pass who was frothing over “Dear Leader’s” godliness, Melania’s golden beauty (“most beautiful First Lady EVER!”), Obama’s “heathen otherness,” and “The Squad’s” (US Reps: Omar, Tlaib, Pressley, and Ocasio-Cortez) dark underbelly evilness.  This woman was virtually lifting Trump in “worship” as she racially disparaged these four congresswomen of color.  No mention of Trump’s thousands of lies, no mention of his womanizing, no mention of the Access Hollywood tape confession of molestation and copious accusations of rape, and no mention of his blatant racism. This was a woman who constantly told me for years how much she loved Jesus and how much she loved me.  At first, it hurt me to the core, and then it pissed me off.  When I last I saw her, she was not stupid and she was college-educated, but it seemed since Trump entered the scene, she had chosen stupidity, lies, and hatred over God’s love in order to be a cheerleader for the Racist in Chief.

That’s when I knew:  This chick had lost her fucking mind—along with a whole lot of other Christians I used to know!  They’ve sold their souls to Donald Trump.  And I knew what I had to do—pray!  Or else, a whole lot of people “talkin’ about Heaven wouldn’t be goin’ there.”

Cartoon used by permission: 227613_600 Dave Whamond, Canada PoliticalCartoons.com

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OPEN LETTER TO GOD

DEAR GOD:

It’s me, Eleanor.  Hope all is well in your neck of the woods. I have a special request today. I’m here to intercede on behalf of the many Christians in America who are going to Hell if you don’t do something to set them free from Donald Trump’s choke-hold on their hearts and minds.

Once again, I just woke up to a cacophony of silence from a sizable portion of your Church in response to something heinous that Trump has said and done.  I’d like to remind you that the immovable core of Trump’s base are mostly White, Right-Wing Conservatives, and they claim to have your best interest at heart.

I am gobsmacked at how many conservative Evangelical Christians have sold their souls to Trump and support him no matter what he does!  I am horrified how many of these Christians I thought once possessed your love and grace and were going to spend their lives making the world a better place, now worship at the altar of Trump.  Because of this, I think they may foment the next civil war and get a ton of innocent people killed.

Cartoon used by Permission: 227664_600 Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com

Oh my God, there is no reasoning with these “good Christians” of yours—I’ve tried! They think they are on a “mission from God” like the “Blues Brothers,” and they are convinced you are answering all their petitions for Trump, seeing that none of his loathsome, vile, lying, racist actions seem to cause him any negative, lasting consequences.  They think all of the truthful accusations against Trump are “fake news.” By the time these Christians find out that what they thought was your support of Trump was just an illusion, they will be slip-sliding into Hell along with him. At the end of their lives, they’ll be all like, “Lord, Lord, didn’t I support Trump in your name, and you’ll be showing them the back of your hand while saying, “I never knew you!” Yikes!

Cartoon used by Permission: 202857_600 Milt Priggee, Oak Harbor, WA

Jesus, as you recall, I was born in Ohio and WW (“White and Wonderful”) was born in Connecticut.  WW is a direct descendant of Governor Bradford of the Mayflower with the historical papers to prove it.  My relatives were kidnapped from Africa and sold into slavery to the Wimbishes of Hayfield, VA (thanks Ancestory.com) before they hooked up with a Cherokee Indian or two, and my ancestors were riddled with the curse of mental illness caused by the immoral stain of slavery to prove it.  (Jesus, I really need to talk to you about this someday.  Was this horror really necessary in the scheme of things?)

Correct me if I’m wrong, but the Cherokees were a nation that occupied Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, and Alabama before they were so rudely encroached upon and rounded up by gunpoint to be imprisoned on a reservation in Oklahoma.  After being cheated out of their homeland, three thousand Cherokees died on the Trail of Tears in the forced march to Oklahoma. If anything, I have more right to complain about the brutality and inequities while still claiming America as my home than Trump and his relatives because my relatives were here first.  If any person should heed the chant of “Go back to where you came from,” it is any White person in America.  Just sayin’.

Dear Lord, do you remember the first time I heard a racist chant against me and mine?  It was during the Civil Rights movement in the 60s when I was told to “Go back to Africa!” just because I marched and complained that a country my enslaved ancestors were forced to build was not allowing Black folks the ability to live where we wanted, be educated where we needed to learn, and be paid as we deserved.

Cartoon used by permission: 227680_600 Adam Zyglis, The Buffalo News, NY

Oh God, I can barely sleep at the tormenting thought that Trump may get reelected in 2020.  It’s the misguided prayers of Christians who are fasting night and day to make it so, against the sane Christians’ prayers who do not, cannot, and will not support Trump that are freaking me out!  Christian Trump supporters think people like me are evil, and I think they are going to take us all to Hell with them if their idol is allowed to rule much longer. 

So I am praying for two things for my misguided sisters and brothers:  give them balls to stand up and tell the truth to Donald Trump and keep them from going to Hell (or causing anymore hell on Earth—maybe they are one in the same?) before they finally wake up and discover it is too late to repent.

Cartoon used by permission: 227731_600 John Darkow, Columbia, Missourian

Well, I am almost finished with my prayers.  Jesus, did you see the quote by Karel Coppock, written in an article by Peter Wehner in the Atlantic (“The Deepening Crisis in Evangelical Christianity: Support for Trump comes at a high cost for Christian witness”)?

Karel Coppock “lamented about the affect this moral freak show [under-girded by Christian Trump supporters—insertion and emphasis, mine] is having on the younger generation.”  He said:

“We’re losing an entire generation. They’re just gone. It’s one of the worst things to happen to the Church.”

Dear God, I am mortified that the blind, deaf, and dumb Christian Trump supporters are going to Hell (I wouldn’t wish Hell on the Devil), and I beseech you to save them before it is too late—for their sake, for mine, for the Earth, and for the world.  (After all, some of my best friends used to be White Evangelical Christians.)

Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.

Cartoon used by Permission: 206607_600 Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT

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INSPIRATIONAL QUOTE: HOW CHRISTIANS ARE SUPPOSED TO ACT

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”  Matthew 5:14-16

Cartoon used by permission: 227613_600 Dave Whamond, Canada PoliticalCartoons.com

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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!

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

***

REFERENCES

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2019/07/evangelical-christians-face-deepening-crisis/593353/

https://www.thedailybeast.com/christian-right-ditches-values-hooks-up-with-trump

https://time.com/5615617/why-evangelicals-support-trump/

https://www.cnn.com/2019/07/16/politics/white-supremacists-cheer-trump-racist-tweets-soh/index.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/trump-supporters-newest-rallying-cry–send-her-back-reverberates-across-a-nation-fraught-with-racial-tension/2019/07/18/6ee96ede-a99d-11e9-9214-246e594de5d5_story.html?utm_term=.a722f889eb2f

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 18, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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LIVIN’ MY LIFE LIKE IT’S GOLDEN

ESSAY ON MINDFULNESS DURING THE REIGN OF TERROR BY TRUMP, EPISODE #2

Remember how I told you recently that The Donald had given me an Easter gift of mindfulness, and I will be eternally grateful to him for it?  How life was passing me by because I was so wrapped up in #45’s 10,000 lies that they were robbing my peace and joy? In fact, I was acting like God had died and bequeathed the United States to Donald J. Trump.  It was driving me INSANE!  Well, I got set free during the Easter season. No kidding! In order to not go crazy from his highness’ unrepentant evil, I’ve cut down the news to 2 hours a day (1 hour in the a.m. and 1 hour in late afternoon) to keep me abreast of whether Armageddon has started in case I have to move to my bomb shelter and start bartering the wine from my wine cabinet for food with my neighbors. The rest of my day is spent smelling the roses—being grateful for what I have at almost 71 years old (in June) and opening up my life to new experiences.  I am currently living in awakened, grateful mindfulness while engaging in the world around me.  It’s been absolutely awesome!  I’m so cool, calm, and collected these days.  I’m so happy and full of joy!

Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT

It isn’t just the antics of the toddler-king that cause me great anxiety, it is the entire 24/7 news of how badly we’re treating each other as human beings that is killing my spirit (from mass shootings in schools and houses of worship to individual meanness in our homes (some old fart in my town [75 years old] shot his wife of 54 years in front of his grown kid the other day and announced to the judge that he did it because “the bitch just wouldn’t shut up”. Oy!) 

The thing that really breaks my heart is every time I read or hear about Christians blatantly selling their souls to the altar of Donald Trump (yes, I’m talking to you Jerry Falwell, Jr. and Franklin Graham), I’m crushed in spirit, and the anguish of their deception overwhelms me.  (I’ve always wondered how those that fought evil in the past were able to keep their hearts and minds from exploding when they saw the majority of Germany’s Christians applauding Hitler and carrying out his instructions to annihilate the Jews, or South African Christians trampling on the rights of Black South Africans in the name of “divine” Apartheid, or Southerners preaching from the church pulpits that slavery of the Negro and the subsequent Jim Crow Laws were warranted and justified in Jesus’ name.  How did the minority who knew that the evil swirling around them in Jesus’ name had nothing to do with Jesus maintain their sanity?

It had to be mindfulness (dwelling in the moment on gratitude, hope, beauty, and love) that kept them holding on until the TRUTH showed up and out and set the enslaved free.


Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT

In my new state of mindfulness this week, I discovered that my home state of Virginia is celebrating 50 years of love.  Apparently, Virginia’s Tourism Board started the campaign that “Virginia is for Lovers” some 50 years ago, which is really ironic since Virginia is the state that was sued by the interracial couple, Mr. and Mrs. Loving (I know, talk about irony!) 52 years ago to allow them to live in Virginia as a married couple which broke the miscegenation laws at the time when they won the Supreme Court case.  Because of the Lovings, John and I can live in Virginia as an interracial married couple who have been married 40 years without the local sheriff dragging us out of our home in the middle of the night and throwing us into jail.  For 50 days, the Virginia Tourism Corporation has led an active campaign around the word “love”—“50 years of love—Virginia is for Lovers.”

I almost didn’t go for my six-mile walk the other day, because I had allowed some negative criticism of some MAGA hat Christians to seep into my thinking (why are they always so obstinate and mean-spirited?).  But I reminded myself that the “new Eleanor” was a slave to mindfulness now and needed to go about her day as an instrument of God’s peace.  So I prayed the prayer I’ve made up for myself and set off on my walk:

“I have no plans today for my life—only sketches.

Reveal to me your path—where I should go, who I should meet, what I should do.

May I be slow to anger, quick to listen, and slow to speak.

Grant me courage, wisdom, grace, mercy, and above all love for those I encounter along the way.”

Halfway through my walk as I meditated on what a fabulous man I’d ended up with to journey through this life (I call him “WW”—“White and Wonderful”), I came across a giant display of the word “love” in the central area of my community.  It was a manifestation of the Virginia Tourism’s “Love” campaign throughout the state.  And I knew exactly what my mindfulness action was supposed to be that day, and I hope the Lovings were looking down on us from heaven and grinning from ear to ear.

Photo credit: Marilyn Mason
Photo credit: Marilyn Mason

In keeping with the spirit of how mindful we should be for the love WW and I have been given (blessed with two children and one grandchild), we are not going to stop at the “love” sign.  We are going to go celebrate that love in Spain, Portugal, and England on a brand new cruise ship called the Celebrity Edge (I’ll also be celebrating my 71st birthday).  All of this is a month early (we were actually married in June on my birthday), but so what? I’m old—I can do just about anything I want.  For the entire time we’re traveling, we are going to ignore any and everything about Trump, his mayhem, and his minions’ chaos (no bad news will cross these eyeballs or infiltrate these ears).  Consequently, I will be taking a break from blogging and rolling from the spa to the dance floor, to the gourmet restaurants, and through the vineyards and cathedrals in each port on one of the loveliest ships I’ve ever seen.  I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories to tickle your funny bones and lighten your hearts about mindfulness when I return because I plan to take my journal with me.

In the meantime, wallow in mindfulness while I’m gone—it will make your day!

Celebrity Edge Poster Photo

(They say that one of the five restaurants on this ship is one where you can build your meal via hologram—hot diggedy-dog!)

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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!

***

Photo credit: Marilyn Mason

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

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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COLONOSCOPY HILARITY

My New Year’s resolution is to bring more humor into my life and into the lives of others, to try not to worry about things I can’t control (Donald Trump), and to take control of the things that are mine to master (i.e., my ass).  As a 70-year-old celiac disease patient, periodic maintenance is a must and not to be ignored, if I don’t want to be wearing Depend’s diapers any time soon.  Therefore, The Donald goes on the back burner this week while I devote a post to my sorry ass as I march off to the gastroenterologist’s office singing to the tune of “How do you solve a problem like Maria,” from the Sound of Music.

How do you solve a problem like my bottom?

How do you sneak a pizza without pain?

How do you find a cure that gives you bread?

My gut is really-a-bitch! A pain-in-the-ass—a drain…

C O L O N O S C O P Y   D I S C O V E R I E S   T H I S   T I M E   A R O U N D

~~THERE ARE THINGS CALLED COLONOSCOPY FACTORIES~~

This is my fourth colonoscopy.  Given my gastro problems, it probably should have been my tenth, but I really, really hate doctors, so I avoid them as much as possible because they have often been wrong in diagnosing my health issues.  Case in point, it took twelve years to discover that the gastro issues I had been suffering with were all celiac related.  Why?  Because supposedly Black people don’t get celiac disease. Don’t even get me started about how often White doctors misdiagnose African-Americans’ health issues. That’s a blog for another day.  In the meantime I keep looking for a doctor who looks like Denzel Washington, has the intelligence of Stephen Hawking, and the bedside manner of Jesus. 

Well, I’m in a new town now and need a new butt doctor.  I thought I’d go with an Asian woman this time since my last three White male doctors were nothing to write home about.  The last one made me so angry with his rudeness, inability to answer my questions, and lack of kindness (he barely knew my name, never smiled, had a disdainful air bordering on racism, and explained absolutely nothing to my satisfaction). I almost gave him a colonoscopy right then and there in his office with my golf umbrella. 

In my search for a new butt doctor, I have discovered that many colonoscopies are no longer done in hospitals, but most of them are done in doctor-owned and doctor-run assembly-line factories.  In other words, they line patients up by the hour, roto-router their asses in less than 30 minutes each, move them though like an “in and out” burger-type joint, and then send them home with a bill that is about the cost of a Caribbean cruise for two (unless the butt patient is lucky enough to have insurance).  According to some sources, gastroenterologists (on average) earn $380,000 per year. (I was definitely in the wrong profession.)

~~THE INSTRUCTIONS ARE A PERFECTIONIST’S NIGHTMARE~~

My doctor seemed fine enough this time.  She was personable, seemed to know her stuff, and was very respectful.  But it was her butt factory that caught my attention and spawned this post for my blog.  After my consultation with my lovely new doctor, I was handed off to an office manager (not even a nurse—what happened to all the nurses?).   I was given a colonoscopy packet which contained what seemed to be 100 pages of instructions, looked like a dissertation, and I was convinced there was a pass/fail test at the end of it. The problem with me is that I’m a perfectionist and a colonoscopy is like the test of my nightmares—miss one step and you’ll a) shit all over yourself during the prep or b) shit all over the doctor during the procedure. There are so many obstacles that if you trip up on any one of them, you’re toast.  I can’t take that kind of pressure—especially at my age. 

AUTHOR’S DIARY: RECAP OF BUTT FACTORY AND COLONOSCOPY

As I pulled up my chair in front of the office manager’s desk, she began reading me my prep package while highlighting the pertinent aspects with a highlighter—which turned out to be every line in the instruction packet.

“The following instructions are VERY important.  Please read thoroughly and follow instructions as outlined.  If you have any questions, please call our office. NOTE: PLEASE BE AWARE THAT YOUR ARRIVAL/PROCEDURE TIME MAY CHANGE DUE TO REASONS BEYOND OUR CONTROL.”

ME:  Excuse me, excuse me, Nurse, I mean office lady, if I have to wait for my procedure to start, does it mean the doctor has punctured someone’s colon or perforated someone’s bowel and they are outfitting her with a colostomy bag?  

O. MANAGER:  No, it doesn’t mean that.  Where on Earth did you come up with that?

ME:  I googled “what’s the worst thing that can happen when getting a colonoscopy” and almost didn’t show up today after I read the Google answer.

O. MANAGER:  Do a favor for all the doctors in the world—stay away from the Google, Mrs. Tomczyk, when it applies to health matters. 

ME:  Can you guarantee the doctor won’t puncture anything once I’m conked out and she’ll be all up in my ass?

O. MANAGER:  (Sigh) No, I can’t guarantee anything.  I’m just the office manager.  But if it makes you feel better, I had my colonoscopy last month and everything went swimmingly.  I’m sure everything will be fine.

ME:  Can you, Mrs. Office Manager—can you?  No disrespect, but you’re not even a nurse.  No offense—but I TRUST nurses even more than doctors.

O. MANAGER:  Well, I’m not a nurse, but you can trust me.  Let’s move on to the next section, shall we?



“5 DAYS PRIOR TO THE PROCEDURE STOP THE FOLLOWING MEDICATIONS: Aspirin, Ibuprofen, Aleve, blood thinners. 3 DAYS PRIOR TO THE PROCEDURE: Purchase One 238 gram bottle of Miralax, two 32-ounce bottles of Gatorade (NO RED OR ORANGE), four Dulcolax tablets (laxative).  2 DAYS PRIOR TO THE PROCEDURE: Stop salads, fruits (raw, cooked, and canned)

 “ON THE DAY BEFORE THE PROCEDURE, FOLLOW A CLEAR LIQUID DIET ONLY.  You may have black coffee, tea, clear soups, clear fruit juices (NO RED), Crystal Light (NO RED), Jell-O (NO RED), Sprite, Ginger Ale, and Gatorade.  DO NOT EAT SOLID FOOD.  Do not ingest anything by mouth 4 hours prior to your procedure.  This includes water, gum and hard candy.  If you do, we may not be able to perform the procedure.” 

At that point, Office Manager sent me on my way (I think I had gotten on her nerves) with the rest of my instructions highlighted in yellow, and a stern warning to do everything exactly as the instructions said.  I could have sworn I heard her say under her breath, “and for God’s sake, stay away from the Google machine.”)



~~NO TWO COLONOSCOPY PREPS ARE THE SAME~~

I obeyed the Office Manager and followed the colonoscopy instructions down to a T.   I made it through the first day of the two-day prep with flying colors.  I was very hungry, but I got through it without a struggle. There are so many stored fat cells on my body that I could go without food for weeks and still function at full throttle, although I kept moaning to my husband (WW=”White and Wonderful”) about how hungry I was so that he would pamper me.  It worked.

On the day before the procedure the games began.  The last time I had a colonoscopy, the prep took all day, and the prep mixture tasted like cremated dead people ground up into Gatorade.  This prep mixture appeared to be a newer method which required that I exist on clear liquids and Jell-O (no red!) until 4:30 p.m, and then consume the colonoscopy mixture starting in the late afternoon.  (The green Jell-O is a bitch, by the way!  Either they’ve changed the formula from when I was a kid, or I only ate the cherry flavor way back then.) 

At 4:30 p.m. I took 4 Dulcolax tablets (laxative) with a full glass of water, and I felt nothing—not even a tummy rumble.

At 6:30 p.m. I mixed 119 grams of Miralax into a full bottle (32 ounces) of white cherry Gatorade. Still nothing, although the white cherry Gatorade was quite tasty.  I was managing this colonoscopy prep very well, indeed.  My husband kept telling me how proud he was at how my body was handling it all.  (Still nothing but a urine spritz up until that point.)

At 8:30 p.m. I mixed another 119 grams of Miralax into a full bottle of lime Gatorade and went back to the couch to watch TV with WW.  Our favorite pastime is to cuddle while we watch TV.  I snuggle while he rubs my back and makes my life all right with the world.  He kept reminding me to keep chugging my Miralax so that I’d be finished before bedtime, and I kept telling him that he need not worry because I was handling this colonoscopy prep like a boss! At one point, something hilarious happened in the movie we were watching and I laughed.  I felt what I perceived to be a fart emanating from my body due to my spontaneous laugh.  I had forgotten that when one is doing a colonoscopy prep, one should never, ever trust a fart….




My poor husband, my poor couch, my poor throw pillows, my poor rug…  As to my clothes, they have been burned!  No washing machine in the world could salvage those garments.  As to my bathroom toilets and floors—let’s just say, hazmat suits were needed to clean them.  I am spry for being 70 years old, but I don’t move as fast as I used to when I was a lot younger and a long distance runner.  It really showed this time around.  Out of twenty-two bathroom sprints, I barely made two of them.  The rest I just let my ass explode at will.




~~YOUR ASS CAN MAKE YOU A VIDEO STAR~~

My check-in time was 9:00 a.m. the next day.  I had explosive diarrhea until 8:45 a.m. By that time, all that was coming out of my butt was Miralax foam.  I was so worried that I wouldn’t make it to the colonoscopy factory without destroying my husband’s new Lexus (which might have been cause for a divorce—I’m not going to lie) that I literally made a make-shift butt-plug out of tissue paper to try and put a stop to the onslaught.  And then I prayed for God to have mercy on my sorry-ass.

Fortunately, God hears my prayers and everything stopped at exactly 9:00 a.m. (With the old system, all elimination stopped by midnight the day before.  I think the colonoscopy people need to rethink this new plan.  Just sayin’!)  Nothing more came out of my body after I was told to strip off everything except my shoes and slip into a backless hospital gown.  (Shoes—WTF!?)  No one could explain that juxtaposition to me.

Everything from 9:00 a.m. became a blur because everything happened so fast:  An actual nurse gave me a ream of papers to sign which basically said they could kill me, sell my soul to the Devil, and I could not hold them responsible.  One of the pages required my permission for my procedure to be used for teaching purposes which seemed okay, at the time. (WW said, he didn’t see anything wrong with it—young doctors have to learn somehow, right?)   The nurse hooked me up to an IV, the anesthesiologist explained he’d be putting me “under” with the drug “propofol” (the drug that killed Michael Jackson—oh my God!), and the nurse’s assistant explained that my intestines would be pumped full of air and not to worry if I experienced a lot of farts when I woke up after the procedure.  The head nurse showed me the instrument they’d be using:  something that looked like a garden hose with a GoPro camera at the end of it.  Then the anesthesiologist wheeled me in my bed down the hall through a traffic jam of several beds coming to and from operating rooms to something that looked no bigger than a closet. 

My doctor was there looking a little worse for wear.  She had laryngitis, and she looked like she hadn’t slept all night.  Apparently, she’d already performed two procedures before me. I wasn’t feeling confident in her, given her harried appearance.  I really should have fled right then and there; after all, I still had on my shoes, but I was hemmed in by two guard rails and hooked up to a giant oxygen tank. The anesthesiologist announced that the “propofol” he would soon pump through my IV would sting “a little” just as I experienced a burning sensation in my veins so hot that it felt like someone was administering liquid fire through my IV.  I sat straight up in the bed, reached for my IV to snatch it loose from my hand, as I shot the anesthesiologist a look that said:  “If I come out of this alive, your ass is grass, Negro!” At that moment, I heard my doctor say, “Thank you for letting us film this procedure for classroom purposes—I assure you, your face will not appear on camera.”  I screamed (or so I thought I did)—“NOOOOOO, WHAT?  DOES THAT MEAN MY ASS AND MY HOO-HAH WILL BE ALL OVER YOUTUBE?” I collapsed without managing to rip out my IV and awoke 30 minutes later in the recovery room to the sound of a rather large Elephant farting with abandonment while a nurse called my name:  “Wake up, Mrs. Tomczyk—it’s all over!”

THE AUTHOR: POST COLONOSCOPY PROCEDURE

All jokes aside, according to the American Cancer Society:

“Colorectal cancer is the third leading cause of cancer-related deaths in men and women in the United States. It’s expected to cause about 51,020 deaths during 2019. The death rate (the number of deaths per 100,000 people per year) from colorectal cancer has been dropping in both men and women for several decades. There are a number of likely reasons for this. One is that colorectal polyps are now being found more often by screening and removed before they can develop into cancers or are being found earlier when the disease is easier to treat. In addition, treatment for colorectal cancer has improved over the last few decades.”

My doctor found three tiny polyps in my colon.  I am waiting to see if they are pre-cancerous or not.  If you’re 50 years old and over, please get your colon checked out.  It isn’t fun, but it may save your life. At the very least it will give you a story to regale your friends with for years to come.

I  KNOW, I KNOW…I SAID I WOULDN’T POST ANYTHING ABOUT TRUMP, BUT I JUST COULDN’T LEAVE HIM OUT OF THE CONVERSATION WHEN TALKING ABOUT ASSHOLES!

***

IF YOU’D LIKE TO READ OTHER STORIES ABOUT MY PREVIOUS COLONOSCOPIES AND “LUCILLE BALL” ESCAPADES IN LIFE, CHECK OUT MY LATEST BOOK THE FETUS CHRONICLES AT AMAZON.

***

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

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

 
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Posted by on January 10, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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MOTHER-OF-THE-BRIDE MINDFULNESS

Do you know what I discovered this week?  In a little over a month’s time, I will turn seventy years old.  (Say what?!) I know—how the hell did I end up here?  Friends of long ago are beginning to die off, hip and knee replacements are de rigueur among my set, and most women my age and older would like to strangle the man who discovered Viagra because we all thought “The War Against our Dry Desert Nether Regions” would end in our septuagenarian years (original joke tribute to the great Robin Williams—God rest his soul).  I’m not sayin’ me and my man are there yet; I’m just sayin’ what the 70 plus sistas are confessing to me after a couple glasses of wine.

Anyway, my life is slip-sliding away and what consumes my waking hours?  Donald Trump.  No, that’s not completely true.  What is consuming me is the way certain factors of the Christian church (Evangelical Right-Wing Christians) have gone all in for this devil and placed him at the right hand of God—just a little lower than Jesus Christ as they daily shout: “Trumpee,  Trumpee, you’re our man—if you can’t save us, no one can.”

Evangelical worship Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley The Salt Lake-Tribune, UT

They seem willing to excuse any egregious behavior on Trump’s part, assuring that his base will keep him in political power for the long haul rather than call him into accountability.  In the meantime, I keep watch and pray that God will save us—deliver us from this man and his minions.  But it is beginning to dawn on me that, like all the other times the Christian church has been on the wrong side of history (Crusades, pogroms, slavery, Civil War, segregation, Nazism, Apartheid, Jim Crow, Rock-and-Roll, and Elvis Presley), God is on holiday and this is not going to end soon—or well—because Evangelical Right-Wing Christians wouldn’t know the real Jesus if he came back and shared a fish sandwich with them by the River Jordan.

Evangelicals 1 Bob Englehart Middletown CT

Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT

In the meantime, the chaos caused by our Liar in Chief (2000 false or misleading statement in first 355 days in office according to the Washington Post) consumes my every waking moment.  It does so because I’m addicted to the news.  I claim it is because I need to keep in the “know” in order to write my blog.  In reality, I’m trying to maintain control by looking for the moment my fellow believers “get woke” and do the right thing by abandoning the Trump ship. Unfortunately, this is not a Hollywood movie, so my chances of seeing an immediate and conclusive happy ending is pretty nil, and I’m not getting any younger.

Therefore, I’ve put myself on a news “diet.”  (I know I’ve said this before, but this time I mean it!)  I’ve relegated the news to an hour or so via the TV in the morning to catch the headlines, and then I’m done.  (Have you ever noticed how the news keeps featuring the same headlines all the damn day long while coupling them with the reporters’ conjectures and fears, which causes me such anxiety that it gives me endless heart palpitations?)  If anything happens after my morning download, I’m sure I’ll hear about it eventually because “good news can wait; bad news will refuse to leave.”  I need to do this because my obsession with the sell-out of my faith is causing me too much anxiety and I’m missing the best parts of my life while inching closer to the grave every day.  I keep waiting for God to show up, but the dude really seems to be on vacation in a universe far, far away.

I’m returning to meditation (5 to 10 minutes a day) and I’m turning my heart, soul, and mind to the family event that deserves all my Trump-free attention:  Baby-girl is getting married this summer!  I want to live in every minute of this momentous occasion because who knows how long I get to hold onto my short-term memory as I start the slip-n-slide into the grave (May it not be anytime soon, thank you Jesus, hallelujah, amen).  I already know I’m going to be an emotional wreck at the wedding, so I need to put plans into gear that will help me absorb everything about the occasion.

MOTHER OF THE BRIDE CRYING

Cafepress.com/funny wedding invitations

First and foremost, my mother-of-the-bride dress is being made next month (it was supposed to be constructed in May, but I put it off another month), and I’ve been so focused on the stupidity happening with Trump and my sell-out fellow Christians that I’ve fallen well behind my weight-loss goals.  So I added kettle bell weight lifting (a form of torture invented by the Russians in 1704) right after my daily meditation to hasten my slenderizing quest.  I just started the kettle bells and I will not tell a lie:  it is not going well.  At each session, I start out with the best intentions but half-way through I lose interest or energy, and I don’t know why.  Wanting to live in the moment and keep it 100%, I decided to record my sessions so that I could analyze them and course-correct myself.  I exercise along with a DVD that is headlined by a seven-foot Nordic blond bimbo who doesn’t have a fat cell in her DNA, but I keep telling myself if I just keep on keeping on, I’ll look like her in time enough for the wedding this summer.  I refuse to be a fat mother-of-the bride. Below is a transcript of what I recorded—maybe you can figure out where I’m going wrong.

BIMBO:  Let’s get started with some basic warm ups. Suck in that core; tuck in that butt, and let’s get this party started!

ME:  Bimbo-lady, I am ready to do this thing.  I relegated Morning Joe to one hour—tops.  I’ve meditated on all my blessings for ten minutes, and I’m going to call Baby-girl later today to find out how her wedding dress fitting went so we can savor that moment together.

BIMBO:  Alrighty then…Lift up your smaller kettle bell and swing.  Squeeze that booty.  Lift those knees!  PUSH IT!  Count of sixteen, then eight, then four.  Now repeat!

ME:  Ah, excuse me…Bimbo lady, I hear a “ping” on my cell phone.  Could be my grandson.  Maybe it’s an emergency.  Let me put you on pause for a moment.  I’ll get right back to you ASAP—I promise.  What’s this?  It’s not my grandson…it’s a news alert:  EVANGELICALS STUBBORNLY CLINGING TO SUPPORT OF TRUMP WHILE WALKING A TIGHT ROPE OVER THE FLAMES OF HELL.

Evangelicals John Cole PoliticalCartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: John Cole, PoliticalCartoons.com

ME:  Sorry, Bimbo-lady, it won’t happen again.  I’ll try to concentrate.  I really did think it was an emergency message from my darling boy.

BIMBO:  Let’s pick up our heavier weight and start to swing between our legs and up over our heads.  This should feel really good right now, so let’s go for broke.  JUMPT IT! MOVE IT! GET THAT BODY MOVING!!

ME:  (God, this feels like torture.  Help me, Jesus!)

BIMBO:  Don’t give up on me now.  Up and down—down and up. The lower you go, the more muscle you’re building, and the more calories you’re burning.  Swing from the hips.  How low can you go?  Squat that butt—squeeze those glutes.  MOVE THOSE HIPS, PEOPLE!

ME:  [Gasping for air] Wait a minute, Bimbo lady.  I heard another “ping” on my phone.  This could be one of my kids needing my sage advice.  Let me put you on hold.  Oh, noooo!  It’s another news flash:  KANYE WEST OPENLY DECLARES HIS LUST FOR DONALD TRUMP—SAYS TRUMP IS WORTH LOSING HIS SOUL TO DO SO.  UPDATE TO FOLLOW AS WE GATHER MORE DETAILS OF A BLACK MAN GOING ROGUE.

Kanye West Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle GA

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

ME:  Sorry, Bimbo-lady.  It won’t happen again.

BIMBO:  Are you slouching those shoulders?  How low can you go?  Don’t quit on me now.  4 more, 3 more, 2 more, 1 more…This feels soooo good, doesn’t it?  LET’S GO AGAIN!  I COULD DO THIS ALLLLLLL DAY!

ME:  Shit! Uh, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow Bimbo-lady.  I just got a Charlie-horse in my ass from the last squat. I think I’ll crawl over into a corner and meditate some more or maybe grab a snack if I can ever walk again.

Living in the Moment FB

Courtesy of the FB page of Melanie Mayo-Laakso

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ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA”) MOMENT

I am discovering that I need to turn off the news notifications on my phone as well as the TV because just when I think I’ve gotten out of the news madness and calmed my mind, those phone “pings” suck me right back in.  We are in our current national madness for the long-haul with all of its chaos, lies, and delusional Christian sycophants.  I fear that there are no easy solutions, no instant answers, and no quick comebacks.  This is a war that will leave our country damaged for a very, very long time, and me constantly, maniacally obsessing over that fact isn’t going to heal us any sooner or make it go away any faster.  I’m finally waking up to that fact.  In the meantime, how then shall I live:  purposefully, with deep gratitude for all the goodness that I do have in the moment—savoring that time before it too will be snatched away by death.  Just because I’m living in the moment though, I while never cease to fight the good fight.  The issue is knowing when, where, and how to fight that war, because there is a time and a season for everything, and the current season for me is to relish in the preparation and celebration of joining my family with another incredible family through the sacrament of marriage.

“There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance…

ECCLESIASTES 3:1-4

TRUMP AND THE WORLD’S MADNESS CAN WAIT BECAUSE NOW IS THE “TIME” FOR A WEDDING IN THE TOMCZYK HOUSEHOLD.

Wedding is coming meme

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INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ON MINDFULNESS

“The best way to capture moments is to pay attention. This is how we cultivate mindfulness.”Jon Kabat-Zinn

“The present moment is the only time over which we have dominion.”Thích Nhất Hạnh

“Mindfulness isn’t difficult, we just need to remember to do it.” Sharon Salzberg

 “The way to live in the present is to remember that ‘This too shall pass.’ When you experience joy, remembering that ‘This too shall pass’ helps you savor the here and now. When you experience pain and sorrow, remembering that ‘This too shall pass’ reminds you that grief, like joy, is only temporary.”

– Joey Green

***

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

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

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

REFERENCES

https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2018/01/04/575167967/meditation-for-fidgety-skeptics-offers-practical-advice-for-stressed-out-cynics

https://www.brookings.edu/blog/fixgov/2018/04/13/trumps-lies-corrode-democracy/

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

 
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Posted by on April 29, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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