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A NEW YEAR’S WISH: AMAZING GRACE

Do you know what I discovered today? I’m baaaaack, and I’m feelin’ good. My Christmas break was awesome! It was full of joy, lots of love, and tons of laughter marred by only one event: the theft of Black Baby Jesus from the crèche on the day before Christmas Eve. Since the six-inch-high crèche resides on one of the end tables, I was able to narrow the theft down to three possible culprits. CULPRIT #1: a six-year-old boy (my grandson) who has been trying to abscond with Black Baby Jesus ever since he was three-years-old (the one-inch baby fits so very nicely in a little boy’s pockets or his diapers at an earlier stage). CULPRIT #2: a three-month-old Maltese named Chuck (grandson’s new pup), who chews on any and everything he can get into his mouth, and doesn’t know the first thing about Xmas protocol (we caught him playing box-the-ornaments-on-the-tree with his front two paws while standing up on his hind legs as if he were training to be the next Muhammad Ali. CULPRIT #3: A wizened older Shorky dog named Wednesday Addams (Chuck’s cousin), who is too cool for school and has no tolerance for pups who don’t know the Christmas rules. (Although I didn’t think Wednesday was guilty of the theft, I wouldn’t put it past her to have set Chuck up for the kidnapping of Black Baby Jesus just to get him punished with a timeout in his crate, thus giving Wednesday some peace and quiet.) But nobody was talking, or barking, as the case may be. (I looked to the heavens and prayed: Lord Jesus, give me grace and help me find Black Baby Jesus because I really liked that crèche!) So I accused all three of these little hooligans of the dastardly deed, and I threatened to withhold all doggie treats and presents until the baby was returned. I put all the adults in my house on high alert as well:

“I’m not superstitious or anything, but it can’t possibly be a good thing that Black Baby Jesus has been kidnapped before his birthday. You are all on poop patrol and are responsible to check out any suspicious ‘meadow muffins’ coming out of these three that might be in the shape of a one-inch Savior of the world.”

Day After Christmas RJ Matson

Cartoon used by permission: RJ Matson

Black Baby Jesus was not found until the day after Christmas (underneath the couch) when we were disposing of enough Christmas wrapping to stuff a giant landfill. That morning before the revelation of said whereabouts of you-know-Who, we sang “Happy Birthday, Jesus” to an empty crèche, and Little Dude blew out the candles to the Jesus cake on Christmas morning to an absent Baby King—assuming he was making his way through somebody’s intestines. None of the culprits confessed (personally, I think they were all in on it), but it did get me thinking about 2014 and the visibility—or lack of visibility—of God in the everyday scary-ass mayhem of our lives.

2014 had been a good year for the Tomczyk family and we felt the grace of God all throughout the year (meaning, basically we got the things we hoped and wished for, or better), and for that I am extremely grateful because some years we have not been so fortunate. Like every other family in the world, we have seen our ups and downs and experienced our fair share of pain which I wrote about in my first book, Monsters’ Throwdown, and will continue the story in my second book that will hopefully be released this year.

We took all day to leisurely open presents (interrupted by meals and eggnog, the reading of the Christmas story from Grandpa to Little Dude while the rest of the clan solemnly participated in the tender moment, and cried as we shared what made us most grateful about 2014—mostly each other).

But we also acknowledged that on a domestic and global scale 2014 had been a bitch!

2014 I cant breathe Cam Cardow Cagle Cartoons

Cartoon used by permission: Cam Cardow, Cagle Cartoons

We had friends whose marriages had crumbled, friends whose funerals we had attended, friends whose children we had helped bury, and friends who were no longer friends because they had broken our hearts. On a national and international level, we were all horrified about the murder of Dr. Huxtable by Bill Cosby, heartsick over the kidnapping of hundreds of young girls by Boko Haram and our impotence to do anything about it, devastated at the beheadings by ISIS, worried for the millions of refugees roaming the Earth due to war, heartbroken over the slaughter of Syrians by their own government, sickened by the racism that seems to be rearing its ugly head in America again, angry over the treatment of our Vets, demoralized by the killing of young black men by law enforcement, disheartened by the murders of innocent policemen, disquieted by the emergence of Ebola, but furious that a certain ersatz news agency had whipped up so much hysteria around Ebola that people practically lost their minds in the United States where only one person had died of the disease (less than 10,000 have died from Ebola worldwide while an estimated 39 million people have died from AIDS and an estimated 35 million are living with HIV worldwide). We (who am I kidding, “I”) resolved to be a more disciplined consumer of the news so as not to end up being manipulated by them (left, right, and independent) and causing me more fear than necessary, and thus, destroying my mental health.

Fox News Hysteria Bill Day Cagle Cartoons

Cartoon used by permission: Bill Day, Cagle Cartoons

As we talked about looking forward to what we hoped 2015 would bring to the individual members of our family and the resolutions we would make (knowing that some of them would be kept but most of them would be broken), it occurred to us all that in our personal goals, family quests, national and international dreams, a great deal of grace—amazing grace—would be needed for the new year and beyond. On the global scale, anything could happen (or continue to happen) as 2015 unfolded, and we would never know when vestiges of our global problems might roll up on the shores of our lives. But as long as we stuck together and bolstered our friendships and family with love while we maintained our utilization of God’s grace during the hard times, we’d triumphantly make it through 2015.

Year In Review FB  David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

I am discovering that life has always been volatile for humankind. And even though the 21st Century can sometimes seem to be the worst of times, it really isn’t. I wouldn’t want to be a black woman in any other time, but this one. I can’t imagine not having control of my own destiny, and yet in America just a couple hundred years ago that would have been the case for me. Even though it seems that the wheels are coming off the racial harmony bus, we have come a long way, baby, we just have to keep on keepin’ on until that old generation of racists has gone on to their “great reward” (currently occupying the Tea Party).  And the thing about living is that no one ever knows when a good year will turn into a bad year or vice versa stripping a person bare of everything except the grace that infuses and covers us making us overcomers and survivors. *Check out the murderous mayhem that happened in the 20th Century, which looked like God had gone on vacation to another universe and left the devil in charge of ours, and our current time period will reveal itself as the longest period of peace and prosperity known to man—which is really saying something. It’s just that our 24/7 news cycles, Twitter, Facebook, cell phones with cameras, and Blogs make the world seem more accessible and thus more threatening than it really is. (Suggested 20th Century reading for perspective: Books on influenza and polio deaths in 1912, WWI, the Dust Bowl, the Great Depression, WWII, the Holocaust, Pearl Harbor, the Atomic Bomb, WWII refugees and displaced persons, Apartheid in South Africa, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Jim Crow Era with its random beatings, rapes, lynching, and systematic racism, the Cold War, Rwanda—just to name a few terrors from 1900-1999!)

In 2015, I’ll keep searching for hope that started in the crèche in Bethlehem and culminated on the cross at Calvary and take delight in the little things on Earth that bring me joy as I journey in God’s amazing grace. Like the Ohio State Buckeyes kicking Alabama Crimson Tide’s ass (42-35) in the Sugar Bowl on January 1, 2015.  I’m told by people in the know (I don’t know a thing about football), that Ohio State came into the game with a 9-point underdog label against the Alabama machine (again words of my friends–I know nothing!).  Even when it looked like Ohio State was getting its ass kicked, they kept fighting as if it was not an option to do otherwise.  Oh yeah!  Being an Ohio girl, this brings me great joy and inspiration, and I’ll take joy and inspiration for 2015 wherever I can get it!

Ohio vs Alabama Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

Who in their right mind . . . could possibly deny the 20th Century was entirely mine. All of it . . .”—The Devil from the Devil’s Advocate by Andrew Neiderman

“We spend January 1st walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives…not looking for flaws, but for potential.” ― Ellen Goodman

“Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every New Year find you a better man.”Benjamin Franklin

“Let our New Year’s resolution be this: we will be there for one another as fellow members of humanity, in the finest sense of the word.”Goran Persson

QUOTES COURTESY OF www.brainyquote.com and www.goodreads.com

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

DON’T LET ANOTHER YEAR GO BY WITHOUT READING THIS AUTHOR’S MEMOIR—MONSTERS’ THROWDOWN

Welcome 2015 Blog

Courtesy of mapsofindia.com

REFERENCES

http://www.miamiherald.com/living/liv-columns-blogs/dave-barry/article4940373.html

*http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/foreigners/2014/12/the_world_is_not_falling_apart_the_trend_lines_reveal_an_increasingly_peaceful.html

http://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/colleges/2015-sugar-bowl-ohio-state-beats-alabama-42-35-to-advance-to-title-game/2015/01/02/441608b8-91fe-11e4-ba53-a477d66580ed_story.html

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

 
22 Comments

Posted by on January 3, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

ELECTRICITY IS NOT A HOBBY

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Due to the urgency of the subject matter, I am rerunning last week’s story to include an update about Eric Garner (Staten Island Man killed by NYC policemen in apparent chokehold for selling loose cigarettes) and Tamir Rice (twelve-year-old murdered by Cleveland police in possession of an airsoft BB-gun). The subject matter of judicial imbalance, racial injustice, and an overall “come to Jesus” meeting needed in America about racism in general is much too important to abandon just yet for the fluff Christmas post that I originally intended for this week. New dialogue and cartoons have been added to the storyline.

Do you know what I discovered this week? While I was away cheating on my vegetarian diet with stuffed turkey and the works, three conspiracy theories from the “man on the street” were texted to me by my roving news hounds who send me blog ideas each week:

#1. Bill Cosby accused of murdering Dr. Cliff Huxtable. A dear, sweet, African-American actor has been set up by “The Man” (a.k.a. white people) who don’t want black folks to be rich and famous.

#2. Ferguson Grand Jury decision purposely delayed from 2:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. to give time for media incitement from both the Left and the Right to ignite bad behavior to fire up dull news cycle (puns intended): (“Ferguson is a powder-keg! Will it blow tonight? Will people manage to stay calm in all their pent-up anger, frustration, and disappointment?), proving once again that “The Man” doesn’t want black folks to have nice things.

#3. Eric Garner Grand Jury refused to indict Police Officer Daniel Pantaleo for allegedly using a chokehold on an overweight black man for allegedly selling loose cigarettes because they hate fat people and love cigarette taxation. Also, it is clear that Obama is trying to start a race war.

#4. Cleveland Police Officer Timothy Loehmann (white), who shot and killed twelve-year-old Tamir Rice (black), is said to have been a “righteous” policeman who resigned from the Independence, Ohio police department for what CNN cites as a “dangerous loss of composure during live range training.”  The Cleveland Po-Po—always a model of law enforcement across America (I know because I was born and raised there)—hired Officer Loehmann without checking his previous employment records. Why?  The conspiracy theory is that this is Cleveland’s way of endearing itself to its minority population and maintaining its title of “The Mistake On the Lake,” and once again, Obama is trying to start a race war, people!

#5. Husband of author of Monsters’ Throwdown lodges a complaint with the Homeowners’ Association and his wife that his house is trying to assassinate him. He says his house is no longer a home because it has joined in conspiracy with his car, the appliances, the plumbing, the electricity, and the gas to eat up his retirement funds and rob him of all peace and joy.

Hell Greets Cosby Daryl Cagle CagleCartoons com

Used by permission: Daryl Cagle, CagleCartoons.com

I’ve got to tell you that the conspiracy theories brought to my attention within the past twenty-four hours have really done me in. I’m horrified on all accounts, and I really don’t know what to think or how to deal with them. One would think that the conspiracy theory that is close to home—my husband WW’s agitation with our home and its inanimate objects—would be manageable. I thought so too until my very intelligent but not-so-handy-handyman decided to take matters into his own hands.

I had just settled down at my desk to put together an outline for my blog, and as I sometimes do, had set up a list of four words that randomly popped into my head (three had come to mind, but I was still searching for the fourth) to focus my mind on the subject matter that I wanted to explore:

Integrity

Justice

Humanity

__________?

At that exact moment, I saw my husband (WW) march past my office door replete with a fully-stocked tool belt, workman’s glasses, a workman’s hard hat, and a pneumatic nail gun. Curious, I stopped typing mid-sentence…

ME:        Babe, where you going looking like one of the Village People?

WW:      Installing a dimming switch for the dining room chandelier for the holidays. I thought we could use more ambience.

ME:        Really? Okay. But it looks as if you’re going to singlehandedly build a three-story house with all those tools while simultaneously dancing to “YMCA.”   I don’t know much about nail guns, but I never heard of one being used to install a light switch. Don’t you use that particular tool to lay down wooden floors? Are you sure we shouldn’t call an electrician?

WW:      Why? Any idiot with half-a-brain can do this simple task. I’m Mensa, I speak four languages, I’m college-educated, and I can read the damn instructions on how to install a dimmer switch. If I call an electrician, he’ll charge me an arm and a leg. I’m tired of being ripped off.

ME:        All right, Honey. I need to get back to my blog. But yell if I can lend a hand.

With a great deal of trepidation, I returned to the outline of my blog. As I researched the stories of Bill Cosby and the alleged rape allegations (cried a bit at the betrayal of my trust by an idol) and Ferguson’s Grand Jury decision and subsequent riots (screamed and yelled a great deal on both accounts), I suddenly heard a piercing scream (“AAUUGH”) from my husband followed by a string of swear words in four different languages:  “Khayim ba-zevel [Hebrew], yup tvayoo materi [Russian], merde [French], skurwysyn [Polish], goddamnit!” When I ran to see if WW was okay, I could smell the fried hair and see the smoke emanating from his head. He had gotten an electric shock and actually lived to tell about it.

Electric Shock Cartoon Stock

Google Image: Respect Electricity Cartoon Stock

Any wife that has been married as long as I have, knows that watching her husband’s head smolder from his electrical misstep is not the time to say “I told you so.” But as I returned to writing my blog, I suddenly realized I had a fourth word to form the arc of my story: electricity. Integrity, Justice, Humanity, and Electricity. There was a story revolving around those four words with Bill Cosby and Ferguson, but I just couldn’t see it yet. Just as a light bulb flashed within my head with an idea, an actual light bulb in the ceiling fan exploded above my head. This time I was the one who did the screaming!

My resident handyman with blond electrical-spiked hair came running, took out a pair of tweezers-plyers from his tool belt, and began to advance toward the offending light socket with bold determination.

“NOOOOOOOO,” I screamed. “Call an electrician!” (It turned out that the entire fan needed overhauling—not just a socket change—and if I hadn’t spoken up when I did, WW would have destroyed the entire computer board in the fan and the remote with his limited knowledge of electricity and his do-it-yourself plan.)

When my husband came back from scheduling the electrician, I asked him if he’d told on himself about his electrical mishap and what the electrician had said. WW said that he had—with chagrin—told on himself, and all the electrician could say was: “Electricity is not a hobby, Mr. Tomczyk.”

*

EUREKA! That was the storyline for my blog: Integrity, and justice, are like electricity which equals humanity. These character qualities are not to be engaged in casually—they are not a hobby! It was with that clarity of purpose and mind that I set out to unravel the things that bothered me about two of our most recent American tragedies.

Truth Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle

THE ELECTRICITY HEARING OF THE FERGUSON DEBACLE

INTEGRITY: To the members of the Grand Jury, my fellow prosecutors and I are here to bring clarity to the actions of the players in the recent Ferguson insanity. Why are very few of our blogger’s peeps (African-American and liberal commentators) talking about the thuggish actions of Michael Brown (captured on a security camera) robbing a convenience store in his community of cigars and shoving the store owner who tried to stop Mr. Brown before his encounter with Officer Wilson? The eighteen-year-old was someone’s son, but he was not Trayvon Martin, innocently walking back home after purchasing Skittles and iced tea and gunned down by an overzealous, wannabe cop with a racist mindset. Treating Michael Brown like a hero is a mischaracterization of the truth.

HUMANITY: Hold on Integrity. Brown’s misbehavior didn’t justify him being gunned down in the street and left there for four and a half hours while residents of the community walked by in horror and children burst into tears at the sight of a man lying in a pool of his own blood and policemen sauntered back and forth contaminating the crime scene. Why didn’t Officer Wilson aim for the knees if he felt threatened—why the “kill shot”? Why didn’t other officers get an ambulance to the scene ASAP?

INTEGRITY: True, true. But Humanity, why didn’t the prosecutor recuse himself from this case coming from a home whose father-cop had been murdered by a black man when the prosecutor was twelve years old? That would have been the righteous thing to do because no one could be impartial given those very personal circumstances—no one. Why did it appear that the prosecutor shredded his integrity by acting as Officer Wilson’s defense lawyer rather than a prosecutor guiding the grand jury to take the case to trial? Maybe the outcome would have been the same, but at least it would have appeared to be unbiased.

JUSTICE: Why were protestors burning, looting, and destroying their own community? What does a 70-inch looted TV, a trashed bakery shop, and a torched beauty supply establishment in a place where you live have to do with justice not served? The President called for calm. The grieving parents of Michael Brown called for calm. That was all that needed to be said or done that night. There is a battle of integrity ahead against the realities of a middle-class area that has slipped into poverty and an out-of-control police force (replicated across America), but the integrity of the rule of law must be obeyed or we’re all screwed at some point.

Ferguson Grand Jury Mike Keefe Cagle Cartoons

Used by permission: Mike Keefe, Cagle Cartoons

JUSTICE: Most policemen are good peeps, but we have a problem with too many of them who act as judge, juror, and executioner—especially against minorities. Our blogger is a chubby-ass, upper-middle-class, educated, sophisticated black woman married to a white man. But she never leaves home without identification and looking like a million bucks—even to take out the garbage. Why? Because she has been questioned by white policemen more times than she can count for being in the “wrong area” at the “wrong time” in multiple states. During each encounter with a white policeman, she was where she was supposed to be—either checking into a five-star bed and breakfast, or she just lived a few houses away and had gone out to smell the roses. And yet, not one of her white friends or acquaintances (including her husband) has ever, ever suffered these types of indignities—not even once. And yet it is commonplace for her as a black woman. The pain of this degradation runs deep amongst African-Americans, and it is not something that should be ignored or trivialized by their white brothers and sisters. Work still needs to be done for all races in America to feel as if they are treated equally.

HUMANITY: I want to know why did the policeman, Darren Wilson, not show one shred of humanity toward the Brown family for the loss of their child when he was being interviewed by George Stephanopoulos for ABC? I think it would have gone a long way to ease a tiny bit of pain in Ferguson, if when asked by the interviewer if he had any regrets, the officer had conveyed remorse at having killed a child of grieving and devastated parents. Instead, Officer Wilson said matter-of-factly (as if he had simply squished a bug), “no—I did what I was trained to do.” He said his conscience was clear and he would do it again. Really? I speak as the world’s humanity, and I state that the taking of a life should always give humans pause—even if it’s within their purview as a soldier or a policeman. If humans are graced with even a shred of humanity, killing another human should never be matter-of-fact and comfortable.

INTEGRITY: I tell you one thing: This is anything but Martin Luther King’s dream.

Cosby Allegations John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune

Used by permission: John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune

THE ELECTRICITY HEARING OF BILL COSBY’S MURDER OF DR. CLIFF HUXTABLE

INTEGRITY: To the members of the Grand Jury, my fellow prosecutors and I are here to establish clarity surrounding the recent allegations of Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable’s assassination by Mr. Bill Cosby. There must have been agents, managers, producers, other comics, actors, directors, and even Cosby’s wife who knew or suspected Bill Cosby’s Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde split personality and turned a blind eye. (I know the comedian is innocent until proven guilty, but there is much too much smoke for there not to be a fire here—a reported 19 and counting 21 and counting rape accusations.) Where was the integrity of “good people” who kept this sordid tale so well hidden for so long—somebody besides the victims knew something? Cosby’s integrity seemed to be shoved up in a place where the sun don’t shine when he self-righteously preached to young black males to “pull up your pants,” “read a book,” “fix your grammar,” and “stop having babies out of wedlock” on his big papa lecture tour after writing his infamous book Come on People: On the Path from Victims to Victors? (As if droopy pants are the equivalent of drugging and raping women.) The Associated Press once credited Cosby with a great line about integrity:

“For me there is a time … when we have to turn the mirror around,” he said. “Because for me it is almost analgesic to talk about what the white man is doing against us. And it keeps a person frozen in their seat, it keeps you frozen in your hole you’re sitting in.”

I say, Mr. Cosby, I think it is time to turn your own goddamn mirror around!

JUSTICE: Integrity—that was a bit much. Cool it, Sista! Remember, the demise of the beloved Dr. Huxtable by the hands of his creator is simply hearsay until proven otherwise. I will say though that justice deferred is definitely justice denied, but in the scope of eternal justice, be sure human sins will find them out. The rape allegations against Bill Cosby may have skirted the Statute of Limitations, but they are not beyond that of public opinion—thus the recent cutting of ties between Cosby and his alma mater (University of Massachusetts Amherst), the halting of lucrative projects with NBC and Netflix, his forced resignation from Temple University’s Board of Trustees, and the Navy’s stripping of Cosby’s honorary title as chief petty officer. I suspect there will be more.

HUMANITY: You think!? (That’s sarcasm in case you didn’t notice!) We all should be furious. Even if those women were misguided or naïve, the at least 19 and counting 21 and counting rape allegations were someone’s daughter, sister, cousin, aunt, or niece. In another place, in another time, these could have been any of Cosby’s four daughters and the alleged rapist some other man who had turned his back on basic humanity.

INTEGRITY: Well, I have to admit that I am pissed and hurt, and it will take a long time for me to get over it. Another one of my torch bearers bites the dust!

Eric Garner Mike Keefe Cagle Cartoons

Used by permission: Mike Keefe Cagle Cartoons

THE ELECTRICITY HEARING OF A LOOSIE CHOKEHOLD AND A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD TAKE DOWN

JUSTICE: To the members of the Grand Jury in NYC, my fellow prosecutors and I have come before you with broken hearts. You had a tape, you saw and heard an innocent man without a weapon say “I can’t breathe!” eleven times. Yet you failed to indict the police. I ask you Grand Jury of NYC, how much is a man’s life worth in loose cigarettes? I, justice, have come undone.

INTEGRITY: You’re undone? I can’t stop crying over the death of a twelve-year-old who goes outside to play with a toy gun (maybe not the smartest move on the part of his parents to allow him to do this—still, did he deserve to die over a slip in judgment?), and he is shot within minutes of police arriving on the scene after they were warned that the gun might be a toy by the 911 caller. And get this: Twelve-year-old Tamir was shot by Police Officer Timothy Loehmann who had resigned from another force for what CNN cites as a “dangerous loss of composure during live range training” and an “inability to manage personal stress.” Deputy Chief Jim Polak’s review gave this final assessment: “I do not believe time, nor training, will be able to change or correct these deficiencies.” But, hello! Cleveland hired Officer Loehmann anyway without a thorough background check. WTF?!

HUMANITY: Yikes! Looks like America the beautiful has a problem! It is time for all good people in the land to come together and admit there are racial inequities that must be addressed instead of turning a blind eye and allowing the miscarriage of justice to sweep them under the proverbial carpet. The question that must be asked is “if that had been a twelve-year-old white boy with a toy gun, would he still be alive today? If the answer is yes, then America, you do indeed have a major humanity problem!

Eric Garner II Milt Priggee www miltpriggee com

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

***

I am discovering that integrity and justice are like electricity, and electricity equals our humanity. Without the illumination of a clear sense of humanity coursing through our society, there can be no cohesive and compassionate community, and there will never be a post-racial environment in America. Ignoring these righteous qualities will cause us to constantly be at each other’s throats because of inhumane miscarriages of justice and threatening to burn the motherfucker down at every turn.

If we continue to undervalue individual integrity married to humanity, men will continue to rape women with impunity while society and the law turns a blind eye, and justice will be something that we only read about in fairy tales.

I am also discovering that integrity, justice, and humanity are not hobbies—they are the electricity of life.

***

“Goodness is about character – integrity, honesty, kindness, generosity, moral courage, and the like. More than anything else, it is about how we treat other people.”Dennis Prager

“Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe.”Frederick Douglass

“For me, forgiveness and compassion are always linked: how do we hold people accountable for wrongdoing and yet at the same time remain in touch with their humanity enough to believe in their capacity to be transformed?”—bell hooks

“We forget just how painfully dim the world was before electricity. A candle, a good candle, provides barely a hundredth of the illumination of a single 100 watt light bulb.”—Bill Bryson

*

WANT TO READ THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK (Monsters’ Throwdown)? BUY NOW AT AMAZON!

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

*

REFERENCES

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/bill-cosbys-legacy-recast-accusers-speak-in-detail-about-sexual-assault-allegations/2014/11/22/d7074938-718e-11e4-8808-afaa1e3a33ef_story.html?hpid=z1

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/11/28/prosecutor-used-grand-jury-to-let-darren-wilson-walk.html

http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/bill-cosby-and-my-dad-a-bond-now-broken/2014/11/21/120c024c-71af-11e4-ad12-3734c461eab6_story.html?hpid=z6

http://www.cnn.com/2014/11/27/showbiz/bill-cosby-umass-amherst/index.html?hpt=hp_c2

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jim-wallis/a-sad-night-for-america_b_6219540.html

http://www.salon.com/2014/11/26/a_hallucination_of_your_worst_fears_legal_scholar_patricia_williams_on_what_darren_wilsons_testimony_reveals_about_racism_in_america/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/12/06/nationwide-protests-eric-garner_n_6280366.html

http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2014/nov/24/boy-fatal-shooting-cleveland-police-replica-guns-marked

http://www.cnn.com/2014/12/04/justice/cleveland-police-officer-timothy-loehmann/

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.

 

 
31 Comments

Posted by on November 28, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

SASHA’S MOM

Do you know what I discovered recently? Our world is awash in opinions, and most of them aren’t worth the used toilet paper they should be printed on. I’ve decided that it isn’t the actual bad news that is on 24/7 media blast that bothers me as much as it is the opinions regarding the justification of everything from rude cat-calling (seriously knuckleheads, WTF: when you become verbally and sexually abusive with your comments, that’s somebody’s daughter, sister, mother, aunt, or grandchild) to the 4 billion dollars in dirty money* spent on the mid-term elections to manipulate our opinions and thus our voting choices.

Cat Calls Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Used by permission: Cat Calls, Pat Bagley, Salt Lake Tribune

“Don’t Take Anything Personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.”Miguel Angel Ruiz

**

Nowadays we don’t know who is trying to influence our opinions, and they are good—really good at what they do. One day, you could be born a poor black child, struggle through all the ravages of what it meant to suffer through the Jim Crow era in these here United States, and the next moment you could wake up as a Black right-wing Christian conservative who doesn’t give a shit about anybody who “can’t pull themselves up by their boot straps as I did” (I’m talking about you Dr. Ben Carson)—all because you weren’t paying attention to the inordinate influences of others. Trust me, it happened to me.

Is there a school or something where people take a course on manipulation to push their will and opinions on others to get what they want? Or is this a skill we learn as children?

I was meditating on the concept of personal opinions and the ability to get people to bend to our wills when I overheard a conversation in the aisle of my local drugstore. While I was filling up my shopping cart with the latest shipment of #117 Adele Feathered False Eyelashes (don’t judge, just know that at age 66 I still get respectable cat calls—I’ll take a construction worker’s opinion of “Damn Baby, you sho’ is lookin’ good” any day of the week). Anyway, I couldn’t see who was talking in the next aisle where the cards and toys were, but I quickly ascertained that it was a young mother and her five-year-old daughter whose name was Sasha.

SASHA: Mommy, can I have this doll?

MOM: (only half listening) No Sasha. You already have a gazillion dolls.

SASHA: But MOOOOOOOOOOOOM, I don’t have THIIIIIIISSSSSSS doll!

But Mom

Google Image

MOM: (The mom still only half listening) The answer is still no, Sasha. Now stop your nagging. You didn’t skip kindergarten today to go shopping for toys. You are sick, and I have to figure out what type of medicine you need to get over this cold. We need to get out of here and put you to bed before you get sicker, or I lose my mind from your constant whining. Why is that pharmacist taking so long to fill our prescriptions?

SASHA: Because the pharmacist wants you to buy me this Elsa doll, that’s why. He’s just waiting on you to make the right decision. Even the pharmacist knows how well I’ll sleep with Elsa and how much better she’ll make me feel.

MOM: Shush, Sasha! I can barely hear myself think.

SASHA: Moooooom, you’re being so mean! What will it take for you to buy me this doll?

MOM: The Messiah to come—in the middle of CVS, in this aisle, singing “Let It Go” from Frozenwith a back-up choir of black angelic beings.

SASHA: What’s a “themessiahtocome”? Is that some kind of tooth fairy for sick kids whose mommy won’t take pity on them and buy them a doll that they really, really, really, really, need?

MOM: (The young mother chuckled and became more conciliatory) Honey, you just had a birthday, and if I recall, you got three dolls from your grandparents. Three! Now zip it!

Tatrum

(There was barely a five-second pause before I heard another little girl’s voice chime in to try and melt the young mother’s resilience. This kid was good. Sasha had called in reinforcements.)

LITTLE GIRL’S VOICE: Sasha’s mom . . . look at poor, sick Sasha. How could you do this to her? She’s such a good little girl. Look at her poor, pitiful face. You’ve made her so very sad. What kind of mother are you to treat such an angel so poorly. Please, Sasha’s mom. P-L-E-A-S-E be a good mommy and buy Sasha an Elsa doll. Everybody else in her kindergarten class has one.

(At this point, I couldn’t take the suspense any longer and had to see who Sasha’s opinionated, manipulative, little friend was, so I abandoned my shopping cart and quickly whipped around the corner to see this wunderkind with my very own eyes. But there weren’t two children: there was only Sasha and her mom. Sasha (one of the cutest little girls I’ve ever seen) was holding the Elsa doll (still in its package) in front of her face and doing one of the best ventriloquist acts on record. Sasha was having Elsa, the Disney Snow Queen, plead her case with her mom. If all else fails, bring in the inanimate objects, right?)

SASHA’S MOM: (clearly at her wit’s end) I tell you what, Sasha and “Sasha’s friend.” Rosh Hashanah is coming. Maybe if Sasha is a good girl and stops getting on Mommy’s every last nerve, Sasha might be able to get Elsa as a Rosh Hashanah present.

You could see Sasha mulling this over in her mind, and finally she acquiesced, thinking she had won the day. But even I knew as a black Charismatic Christian that Rosh Hashanah was September 24th, and it was now October 15th. As the pharmacist called Sasha’s mom’s name to come get her prescription, I gave her a high-five from one mom—now grandmother—to another for the victory she had won over Sasha’s manipulaton. As I turned the corner, I heard Elsa/Sasha’s voice scream out as she ran after her mom with the Elsa Snow Queen tucked under her arm:

“Wait a minute, Sasha’s mom! You tricked us.

We just celebrated Rosh Hashanah with Saba and Savta. It doesn’t come back until next year!

Oh, man . . !”

Kid Pouting

Not the real Sasha but a close enough imitation

***

I am discovering that after meeting the delightful Sasha, I suspect opinions come as part of the soul-package when we’re born, and all it takes is the onset of language skills. I also suspect that the ability to manipulate others to bend to our will is part of the original-sin passport we get as a citizen of planet Earth. Just ask any mother.

I once read that we spend 50% of our time resisting the efforts of other people who try to push their agendas on us and the other 50% of our time trying to push our agendas on them. We’re all a bunch of opinionated manipulators, but when one side’s agenda brings great harm to another, then that manipulation must be resisted at all cost—whether it is a friend that is taking advantage of our good will or it is our fellow citizens spending 4 billion dollars in dirty money to steal an election. Our elections are being influenced and bought by dark money, voter suppression, gerrymandering, defaming campaign ads, bigoted cable news channels, and out-and-out lies.

Dark Money and Democracy David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

The problem is voters really don’t know who is trying to influence their votes on Election Day and who is trying to influence the elected officials who are going to take office after Election Day.”— Ian Vandewalker of the Brennan Center for Justice (What Americans could have bought instead of a $4 billion election) by Chris Frates, CNN investigative correspondent*

*

I am also discovering that I am going to lay my opinion on you right now, right here: Are you planning to vote? If not, why not? There are people trying to push their agenda on your lives that don’t want you to vote, and they think you won’t because they are of the opinion that Blacks, Latinos, women, poor people in general, and young people overall don’t vote in off-years—not sexy or exciting enough it seems. The problem is that all politics are local, and you’ll get screwed over more by your state and local politics than you ever could by a presidential election. There are people who died so that you could resist that type of evil by being able to vote (see blog FiftyFourandAHalf). The GOPs opinion is that the Senate is theirs for the taking. Is it true? Until voting day, it is only their opinion. What is your opinion? Express it in the voting booth!

P.S. Someone told me that in Australia, Brazil, Ecuador, Paraguay, Uruguay, and Peru it is against the law to be a citizen and not vote. It is my opinion that I should try and get a similar law passed in the United States.

Get Out the Vote Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Used by permission: Get Out the Vote, Pat Bagley Salt Lake-Tribune

***

“Nobody will ever deprive the American people of the right to vote except the American people themselves and the only way they could do this is by not voting.”Franklin D. Roosevelt

“If American women would increase their voting turnout by ten percent, I think we would see an end to all of the budget cuts in programs benefiting women and children.”Coretta Scott King

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.”Steve Jobs

“Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are even incapable of forming such opinions.”—Albert Einstein

REFERENCES

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/11/01/election-day-is-scarier-than-halloween.html

*http://www.cnn.com/2014/11/01/politics/4-billion-expensive-election/index.html?hpt=hp_c2

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/10/31/mary-landrieu-race_n_6082990.html

Vote Now

THAT’S MY SASHA OPINION!

WANT TO READ A GREAT BOOK ABOUT THE AUTHOR’S JOURNEY IN OVERCOMING THE MANIPULATIVE POLITICAL AGENDAS OF THE JIM CROW ERA IN AMERCA? CHECK OUT: MONSTERS’ THROWDOWN.

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR? 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.

 
24 Comments

Posted by on November 1, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Bad News Just Keeps On Coming

Do you know what I discovered this week about my sorry-ass body? It’s falling apart! I suppose I should have expected it since it seems to happen to everybody if they don’t die young. But here’s a news flash for you: It is a terrible thing to get old. (WARNING: don’t do it—don’t ever do it!) The worst part of the aging process is that stress seems to accelerate the wear and tear on the body costume, both inside and out. And in case you haven’t noticed, stress is everywhere in the world—it’s totally unavoidable. You can’t go anywhere without hearing about some imminent disaster, some caustic disease rolling your way, some major terrorist plot, or some public humiliation. (Naked pictures hacked from the iCloud . . . really? Seriously? Oh, my God, I just had a horrible thought: TSA, what have you done with my orgasmatron airport security pictures throughout the years—the ones I know you’ve been laughing about behind my back? Don’t you even think about uploading my chunky-little ass into The Cloud, or I’ll call your mothers and tell on you!)

TSA RJ Matson

Used by permission: TSA, RJ Matson

My job as a blogger is to keep up on the news (I read twelve online news sources a day plus Time Magazine via the mail), and I think all this bad news is really taking a toll on me. By the time I had my annual physical last month, my doctor was apoplectic over my weight gain (I tend to nosh when stressed), blood pressure elevation, cholesterol numbers, and glucose levels. She was so pissed at me that she threatened to fire me as a patient if I didn’t straighten up and fly right. She gave me one month.

Stress Test Maxine

Feeling rather blue, I plunked down some hard-earned cash to get myself a massage to see if it would relieve some of my stress and promptly did what I always do when someone is working their magic on my epidermis: I fell asleep and dreamt about my organs, digestive apparatus, chromaphil and cortical systems, et al, holding court and trying to decide if they were going to abdicate my body in protest of the way I had been taking care of it over the past 66 years.

***

BRAIN: Hear ye, hear ye, this meeting will now come to order. Mouth, sit down and shut up. You can talk all you want after the meeting is adjourned. We have exactly 90 minutes before our host wakes up. On trial is the author of Monsters’ Throwdown and the blogger Eleanor Tomczyk for gross negligence of her temple—mainly due to severe stress. I’ve called this meeting to see if we should just give up on her or give Ms. ET one more chance to get her shit together.

BLADDER: Ooh, ooh, ooh, can I go to the bathroom before the meeting starts?

SMALL AND LARGE INTESTINE: Bladder, you’re such a wuss! The older you get; the leakier you become.

BRAIN: Stop it you two. Sometimes I think you don’t have the brains you were born with. Absolutely no eliminating while our host is on the massage table! While the author is asleep we have a full agenda to get done in a limited amount of time. So behave—all of you.

BLADDER: Can I help it if she’s getting old and slightly incontinent? I wasn’t built to last forever, you know.

THE KIDNEYS: You think you’re worn out. Word on the street is that she’s got what Black folks call “the sugah.”

LIVER: What the fuck is that?

BRAIN:  Type II Diabetes. Just got the diagnosis a month ago. The good news is that it was a wake-up call. She’s already changing her ways (says she’s eaten enough gourmet meals and drunk enough wine to last a lifetime). After a last supper of the best wine her money could buy, the best steak she could find, and the finest chocolate cake to be had, she became a dark leafy-green veggie, bean eating, sugar denying, dairy scorning, pasta/rice eschewing queen, and it is working! Consequently, her glucose numbers are almost down to normal, and she’s even shaved off a few pounds.  I say let’s give our girl a round of applause.

ALL ET’S INNARDS: Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!

L&S INTESTINES: Yeah, we know. More beans have passed through us in a month’s time than she has eaten in her entire lifetime. What a gas! Get it? What a gas . . . .

LIVER: [groan] Don’t quit your day job, Intestines.

PANCREAS: Not so fast, y’all. Half of me is only producing insulin. Our girl becoming a vegan now is like locking the barn door once the horses have escaped. Tried to send her distress signals of tingly hands and feet and an onslaught of dizziness as a warning that I was shutting down, but did she listen? No! Kept on trippin’ the light fantastic, so to speak. Sometimes she can be so obtuse.

GALL BLADDER: Oh, come on now; don’t be so hard on our girl, Pancreas. This is mostly hereditary. It’s part of her DNA. Did you know African-Americans, Native-Americans, Hispanics, Asian-Americans Asian Indian, and Pacific Islanders are at the highest risk of getting diabetes? Need I remind you that she is ¼ Cherokee Indian and ¾’s African-American?  Need I also remind you that she was born into one of the worst ghettos in America in the Jim Crow era and still bears the heartache and the scars which took a toll on her body before she even knew what was happening?  Twenty years of poverty can give you such a body ache! Just the racism she has had to endure in her lifetime would send a body into tilt eventually. Just be happy she doesn’t have cancer. You read her book, Monsters’ Throwdown. Haven’t all you organs suffered in some way due to the abuse in her life?

ALL ET’S INNARDS: Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course we’ve suffered from being her black person innards in America. And every time I hear some well-meaning white person yearning to turn back the clock to the “good ol’ days” in America (i.e., the 50s), I want to send them back in time as an African-American and immerse them in a saturated pool of slavery DNA, Jim Crow terrorization, and debilitating systematic poverty. Then we’d check out their vitals and see if they still longed for the “good ol’ days.”

John Stewart on Racism

BRAIN: Which is why I’ve called you all here for this meeting. Conquering the diet is not the primary issue with this one; it is her daily stress level. We have to help her lower it.

HEART: Don’t I know it! I get it that she has to keep up on the news to stay informed so as not to come off as an idiot in her blog, but can’t the sistah cut me some slack? I am stressed all the time because of the news she consumes! If it isn’t the story about the Chinese chef who was making cobra soup with the body of the snake whose detached head bit and killed him, then it is the nine-year-old girl who was allowed to shoot an Uzi and accidentally killed her instructor. I’ve got to tell you that just sent ET over the edge. I thought I was going to succumb to a “me attack” at the NRA’s chilling announcement two days after that horrid abuse against that poor child’s mind. Did you all hear about it? The NRA released an article on “7 Ways Children Can Have Fun at the Shooting Range.” WTF! Did you hear our author/mother/human being screams? And don’t even get me started on Ferguson, Missouri.

EYEBALLS:  Well, I don’t know if I can take any more news articles, period. You’ve got your Ukraine, Ebola, Gaza, Afghanistan, and now your ISIS. Not one more decapitation can I witness. God, my eyes, my eyes . . .   Chaos, murder, and mayhem is everywhere for my orbs to feast upon. Evil has always been here—it will always be until the end of time. I say ears, mouth, and me should make a pact: hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil.

LUNGS: Seriously, Eyeballs? There have always been bad times (there will always be bad times)—there just wasn’t any cable news or the Internet to overwhelm the senses with the revelation of them all 24/7. The best we can do is: Stay calm and carry on.

EARS: The best thing we can do is teach her an empowerment song against all the evil forces assailing her psyche that she can use as a mantra: “Let it go, let it go. . .”

BRAIN: No . . . I swear to the God who created us, Vocal Chords, if I hear you sing that song one more time, I’ll rip you out by the throat and flush you downstream through the bowels. Do you hear me?

World Falling Apart Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Used by permission: World Falling Apart, Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune

VOCAL CHORDS: Fine! Then you come up with a better idea of calming her down because I just heard from Mr. TV News that NASA’s “Near Earth Object Program” estimates there are thousands of asteroids that could threaten Earth. Wait until our blogger finds out about that. She’s already on the edge—she’ll flip out. She doesn’t even know that one of them passed by the Earth on Sunday, and that in 2013 a 60-foot-wide meteor flung itself into our atmosphere and exploded over a city in Russia with the strength of 30 nuclear bombs. It injured 1,500 people! You know the first thing she’s going to think? When will it hit the United States—specifically, when will it hit where her children and grandchild live so she can take them to Europe for an extended holiday and out of harm’s way?

EARS: VC, you made that shit up.  Who did you hear that from? Nasty-ass Spleen?

SPLEEN:  Hey, hey, hey, there’s no need for name calling!

VOCAL CHORDS: Amanda Barnett from CNN (“Newly found asteroid to pass close to Earth on Sunday”). Nanni-nanni-booh-booh! Take that and stuff it in your ear canal.

BRAIN: Shut up, everybody! She’s waking up. The last thing she needs to hear is all her organs and whatnots kibitzing. She’d truly have a heart attack then. Back to your stations, and may the force be with her!

Nine Year Old Guns Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Used by permission: Pat Bagley, Salt Lake Tribune

I am discovering (again and again) that bad news just keeps on coming. It does so because, for the most part, we are human, and we have free will to choose between good and evil. Even if you could get half the planet to “do the right thing,” the other half would probably reject the coercion of the “do right” group and scream bloody murder: “Fuck you—you’re not the boss of me!”

Then there are the things none of us can control like tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, asteroids, auto-immune diseases, and cancers that come along and kick our asses when we’re on our way doing something else.

If bad news will keep on coming, how do we live without debilitating fear? How do we find a modicum of peace from the terror of the unknown? I’m beginning to think that we can do so by recognizing life for what it is instead of as the fairy tale we’ve been taught as Americans that we can control our lives:

Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult-once we truly understand and accept it-then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”—Scott Peck

Then all that is left is a trust and belief in a power higher than ourselves who can help us through the damaging effects of a difficult life and give us the grace to endure—hoping that it all sums up to equal strong character that can influence a better society. Of course, one should be free to not believe in God (no one should ever be coerced), but as for me, I can’t imagine my innards being able to survive the onslaught of the stress of living on this planet without a holy presence infusing my being with courage and grace.

sales-quotes-mlm-direct-selling-amway-herbalife4-830x466

Nelson Mandela reflecting from his prison cell of 27 years

***

“Reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it.”Jane Wagner

“If you don’t think your anxiety, depression, sadness and stress impact your physical health, think again. All of these emotions trigger chemical reactions in your body, which can lead to inflammation and a weakened immune system. Learn how to cope, sweet friend. There will always be dark days.”Kris Carr

“If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.”― Amit Ray, Om

“Chanting and Meditation I was a little excited but mostly blorft. ‘Blorft’ is an adjective I just made up that means ‘Completely overwhelmed but proceeding as if everything is fine and reacting to the stress with the torpor of a possum.’ I have been blorft every day for the past seven years.”― Tina Fey, Bossypants

WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE AUTHOR? Check out www.eleanortomczyk.com

WANT TO READ AUTHOR’S BOOK, MONSTERS’ THROWDOWN? BUY NOW AT Amazon.com

REFERENCES

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/03/decapitated-snake-bite-man-dies_n_5755416.html

http://www.cnn.com/2014/09/04/tech/innovation/asteroid-flying-close-to-earth/index.html?hpt=hp_t2

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/08/27/nra-children-gun-range_n_5725674.html

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

 
31 Comments

Posted by on September 7, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Back to School

Do you know what I discovered this week along with the rest of the country? Ferguson, Missouri. I never heard of this town before, but like any decent human being, I am in pain for it and the family who lost their son. Even though my gut tells me that there is a racial component to this shooting (I am praying for peace and grace to envelope all the citizens in Ferguson), I am cautious as to the use of my limited platform to rile up my readers until I’ve heard all the facts. I am disinclined to believe all the details I’ve read thus far being promoted by the extremes of the media on both the right and the left side of the fence. I will not add insult to injury until the whole truth and nothing but the truth is revealed and confirmed. I owe the victim (Matthew Brown) as well as the police officer (Darren Wilson) that respect as human beings.

Consequently, I’ve decided to write on something completely innocuous this week that is a common denominator amongst most if not all Americans: going back to school. (I’m hoping a little levity might bring joy in the midst of these trying times as I connect the dots that show our commonality.) We all either have kids that we need to rip out of the throes of summer fun into the discipline of formalized school days, or we’re teachers, or we have grandkids, sisters and brothers, nieces, nephews, or cousins who are filing into classrooms all over the nation within the next two weeks with varying degrees of angst.

Summers over Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

I have been on all three sides of the “back to school” triangle as a teacher, a parent, and a student. If some well-meaning teacher asked me to do written assignments about my reentry into school throughout the years as all three of these actors, my essays would all be comedy pieces, because going back to school is a set-up for Saturday Night Live skits no matter what role you’re fulfilling in response to the brick and mortar places that shape one’s mind and destiny. Below are three essays (all true) as experienced by me in the roles of teacher, parent, and young student.

Back to School Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle

***

WRITING ASSIGMENT: BACK TO SCHOOL STORY AS A TEACHER

I was a music teacher for a few years in a private school and the worst class I ever had was made up of six 5th grade boys who would have preferred a year-long trip into Hell over participating in the learning of music theory. Even though this was a Christian school, I knew that I had my hands full the first week when the pastor’s son led four of the boys to try and get the sixth boy to drink his urine out of a soda bottle. After threatening to string them all up by their ears, I finally got them to settle down and start to learn an ascending and descending minor scale when urine boy (UB) raised his hand:

UB:        Mrs. Tomczyk, I hate this. My pop-pop says I don’t need to learn no music theory ‘cause I’m a farmer’s boy, and learnin’ funny notes never harvested no plants. Pop-pop says I ain’t never gonna need this stuff in life.

TEACHER: Randy, Randy, Randy, where do I even begin: the use of the word “ain’t,” “stuff,” or your refusal to have your mind expanded. What if you’re meant to be a country music star? Don’t you think a little music theory might help? Think of notes as a farmer’s musical fruits—waiting to be plucked.

UB:        My pop-pop says I can’t carry a tune, so yo’ class is a waste of time. Pop-pop says my talents are better suited for other things.

At that moment, in a closet-like interior classroom with no windows, six boys coordinated their farts to explode at the same time—continuously—for at least five minutes. (I swear it sounded as if they were farting in harmony, and the smell was as noxious as a sulfur plant.) Urine Boy had brought in containers of baked beans from his farm for each of the boys, and they concocted a plan to stuff themselves with the beans at the end of their lunch hour which was right before my class. As their little asses exploded over and over again, I had to evacuate the class and take them outside to finish the lesson. Of course, they were uncontrollable because every time I tried to seriously talk about half notes as nature’s musical fruits, they fell over in gales of laughter. Although two of them did grow up to be quasi-musicians, one became a juvenile delinquent, and two of them became leaders of a cult. I wonder if my lack of musical connection to their hearts had anything to do with their life choices—yet again, I was a very young, immature teacher, and I may have prayed a curse on their little asses for the year of Hell they put me through. (Just sayin’!)

***

I’m not going to lie—I was always glad when school started. I was never Miss Sesame Street as a mother. Don’t get me wrong, I love my children more than life itself, but I could never have home-schooled them, of which they are eternally grateful. They knew my limitations as much as I did.  They barely survived me as an ex-teacher/helicopter mom, as it was.

One of my children had trouble focusing when she was in middle school, and I was very concerned that she wouldn’t catch on to all the details of the various subjects being thrown at her. Her social studies teacher would complain that when my kid should have been concentrating on what was being lectured, as the teacher passed by my child’s desk on any given day, my urchin would whisper-shout something to the effect of:

“Psst, hey Mrs. Poindexter, how YOU doin’?”

[Or if my darling child was feeling especially talkative]

“I like your dress—Is that new? You’re lookin’ good today, with your bad self.”

This particular child was quickly getting on Mrs. Poindexter’s nerves and rising to the top of her shit list. So when a major social studies assignment was sent home (worth ¼ of my kid’s grade), I figured this would be the perfect opportunity for my very smart, albeit, chatty-Cathy kid to redeem herself with just a “tiny bit of help” from her ex-school-teacher mom.

Middle-School Homework Assignment

10 page report on Capitalism vs. Communism

Assignment turned in by kid with helicopter mom’s proud help: “The Integration and Rule of the Bolsheviks vs. the Robber Barons as Compared to the Bonobo Monkey Colonies . . .”

Teacher’s Grade and Comment: B+++++++++. “To the mother of my pupil, I have given you a B-plus times nine. One more ‘plus’ would have gotten you an ‘A’ if you had included a comparison to the government utilized on the Star Trek Enterprise.”

Helicopter Mom’s chagrined “sotto voce” reply: “Bitch!”

First Day of School John Darkow Columbia Daily Tribune Missouri

Used by permission: John Darkow, Columbia Daily-Tribune Missouri 

***

WRITING ASSIGNMENT: BACK TO SCHOOL STORY AS A STUDENT (A HUNDRED YEARS AGO)

I loved school. I counted the days until I could return to school in order to escape the Hell I lived in as a child that is highlighted in my memoir Monsters’ Throwdown.

My kids had to be dragged back to school kicking and screaming.

I learned to love Shakespeare, Dickens, and the Harlem Renaissance writers, to name a few.

My kids learned how to take tests about Hamlet, David Copperfield, and Langston Hughes, to name a few.

I learned how to problem solve and strategically think in an inner-city school in the 60s.

My kids learned how to take tests in one of the best suburban schools in the nation and promptly forget what they learned while studying for the next set of tests. Memorize, test, and dump, memorize, test, and dump was their high school chant.

I learned how to absorb history and have it make an imprint on my psyche. I love history and I remember most of what I learned even though it was over fifty years ago. It is one of the reasons I was able to contextualize my memoir, Monsters’ Throwdown, into the timeline of the exciting history of the 60s and 70s without too much effort.

My kids learned to ignore anything about history that didn’t enable them to ace their AP History courses. They were considered honor-roll students by their school. I blame their teachers for teaching to the tests. I blame our Board of Education for putting that pressure on our teachers. My kids were taught to test well—not to learn. As an ex-teacher, I am in mourning for their lack of sustained knowledge.

Testing Daryl Cagle CagleCartoons com

Used by permission: Daryl Cagle, CagleCartoons.com

I am discovering that, besides love, a solid education is the greatest gift a person can be given. (It’s how I got out of the ghetto.*) Without it, one is a virtual slave, but with it, one can do almost anything the heart desires. Fear of this empowerment is why slaves were forbidden an education in our country, why women and girls are thwarted from attending school in barbaric countries, and why there is such a growing economic divide in America today. The arguments over whether the President’s “Commoncore” educational assessment is a communist plot, or President Bush’s “No Child Left Behind” is a failure, or whether charter schools are the end all and be all, are pointless if none of these “systems” grant us quality teachers and our kids excellent educations as they march back to school this year and in the years ahead. Maybe we should spend a lot less on political campaigns and a lot more on our teachers’ salaries, quality classrooms, and excellent source materials. Maybe we should stop the bi-partisan bullshit and join together to build the best public school education in the world. I bet we could do it if we tried, and if we thought of each kid in America as our own—no matter what race, creed, or color. Oh, and it would be great if our kids could be taught critical and strategic thinking—I’m just sayin’!

Testing Mike Keefe Cagle Cartoons

Used by permission: Mike Keefe, Cagle Cartoons

***

“He who opens a school door, closes a prison.”Victor Hugo

“Much education today is monumentally ineffective. All too often we are giving young people cut flowers when we should be teaching them to grow their own plants.”John W. Gardner

“The illiterate of the future will not be the person who cannot read. It will be the person who does not know how to learn.”Alvin Toffler

 

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR? Check out: www.eleanortomczyk.com

*BUY NOW: Monsters’ Throwdown

BACK TO SCHOOL MONKEY

My worst nightmare as a student

REFERENCES

http://www.longislandpress.com/2014/04/07/thousands-of-long-islanders-opt-out-of-common-core-testing/

http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/15/health/avoid-school-germs/index.html?hpt=hp_bn13

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/06/business/a-rich-childs-edge-in-public-education.html?pagewanted=all

http://www.yesmagazine.org/issues/education-uprising/the-myth-behind-public-school-failure

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.

 
24 Comments

Posted by on August 20, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Do you know what I’ve discovered this week about taking a vacation? I can’t figure out a place to go on the planet where there aren’t any people. I’m sick of people. If you scan the globe much of the brutality that is happening around the world is caused by bullies. Bullies are everywhere. No matter where you go—from your workplace to the Middle East to Congress to your place of worship—there’s always a bully trying to mess with you.

If the world were the audience of the old Oprah Winfrey show, you could almost hear her proclaiming: “WELCOME W-OOOOOO-R-L-D! Have I got a surprise for you: YOU get your ass kicked by a bully today, and YOU get your ass kicked by a bully tomorrow—go anywhere in the world, and you’ll get your ass kicked by a BUUUULLLY!

World in Chaos Gary McCoy Cagle Cartoons

Used by Permission: World in Chaos by Gary McCoy, Cagle Cartoons

In my disgruntled state of mind, I ran across an article on the “It Gets Better” Project by Dan Savage who birthed this campaign to try and encourage teens who were being bullied. I’ve supported it through my blog in the past and initially thought it was very good. But recently, I realized that as thoughtful as that project was, I don’t think it does get better. Can kids learn not to bully when the adults in the world own the franchise on fucking with people who they deem weaker or less than? Every religion has a major component of compassion within its ethos, yet history has proven that religious people can be some of the worst bullies. It got me to thinking that maybe we are all just six degrees of separation from a bully tango, even in situations that should be considered safe (houses of worship, marriage, friendships, the grocery store).

But what if we had the ability to call bullshit on the bully within ourselves and others? What if an Anti-Bully App were invented (adults only) that would sound an alarm when we or others stepped over the line of compassion no matter how right or empowered we thought we were in the situation? The more I thought about this, the more I wanted to explore the germination of bullying in adults. So I asked my alter ego, the “Dalai Mama” (sees all, knows all) to query her advice column readers for weird, quirky stories of bullying in which my proposed app would have been a handy aid. Below are some of those stories and the Dalai Mama’s response.

(Please note that even though the Dalai Mama is imaginary, the stories are all true. Only the names and the locations have been changed to protect the innocent.)

***

Dear Dalai Mama:

I used to attend a church where the pastor’s wife and two of her ladies in waiting had a three-way conference call with me and told me I should not leave home without a full coat of makeup. The pastor’s wife said I was being unkind to the neighbors. I have laughed about that for years, but it did affect me deeply. It is only in the last year that I can let people see me with no makeup. And when they do see me, no one has killed themselves. Go figure! I sure could have used your Anti-Bully App—if only I had realized I was being bullied. (Would it surprise you to know that the wife, who considered herself a “prophetess,” sold “Fancy Me Lovely” makeup?)—signed: Jezebel from Tennessee, age 63

Dear “Jezebel”:

I checked out this sorry-ass woman’s Facebook page—thinkin’ she must be all that and a bag of chips to say somethin’ like that to you. Guess what? She is no Halle Berry; she is what my mama used to call havin’ a face only a mother could love. Does yo’ man like how you look? Then that is all you have to worry about. Go on and strut yo’ stuff with or without makeup and act like you own the world, girl, because you only have this one life to live. Also, next time you see “Miss Thang,” tell her that I said, God don’t like ugly—hearts, that is.

Hey Dalai:

Zuckerberg + Facebook = bullying!  I avoided “the Book of Face” for years and only signed up to promote my book, Monsters’ Throwdown. My kids made me do it. They said if I didn’t, no one would buy my book. They said it would be fun. Well, they lied! The Facebook is not fun. People came out of the woodwork wanting to “friend” me that I didn’t remember. I barely could tolerate them if I did know them in the past, and could have cared less about chatting with them in my old age. If I thought they were stupid before my encounter with them on the “Book of Face,” they became verifiably ignorant after reading their inner-most desires and thoughts on their page. As quickly as some of them “friended” me, they “unfriended” me during the presidential election and left attack-dog Tea Party messages on my “liberal” page—“just tryin’ to set you straight.” When I changed my privacy settings, I’m told by Michael Hiltzik of the LA Times* that Zuckerberg kept changing them to less privacy without my knowledge. The Zuck kept demanding to know my business (how old I am, what schools I went to, what type of relationship I am in), and when I wasn’t forthcoming, he kept on and is keeping on demanding I cough up the goods. (I changed my birthday three times to protect myself from identity theft since Facebook insists on broadcasting to the entire freakin’ world that I am an old fart, and Zuckerberg had the nerve to indicate that he would only allow me to change it a total of three times, and then I would be stuck with the last age chosen. I am currently 85 years old according to Facebook.) Now I hear that Zuckerberg tried to categorize and study my responses by manipulating the news feed on my page to make me sad.* When I sent him a nasty note about messin’ with my mind, he said I gave him permission when I agreed to his data use policy. (It is 9,123 god-damn words—I never read all that crap!) I need an anti-bullying gun with Zuckerberg and all my ex-trolls (ex-“friends”) engraved on it, and I’m calling for a rumble on the Facebook campus in the fall.—signed, “So Over the ‘Book of Face'” from Somewhere USA, age 50, 71, or 85

Dear “So Over the Book of Face”:

You sound familiar. Is that you, Eleanor the blogger? Girl, go away. This is a conflict of interest. Plus, I only have one thing to say to your clueless behind: “Whoever writes the contract, gets the gold.” Or another way of putting it is “Whoever gets a free online service will get all her shit exploited—so deal with it.”

Bullies Types David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Used by Permission: David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star 

Dear Dalai Mama:

I know a couple that fought like cats and dogs and took home the first place trophy for bullying each other. To meet them as individuals was to love them, but together they were like two rabid demons from Hell. If they were invited to your house for dinner, before the soup course was served the woman would cut her man down for how he talked, how he chewed, how stupid he was, what a piss-poor man of God he was, and what a poor provider he had been. He would volley with how fat she’d gotten in recent years, what a bitch she had become, and how she got on his every last fucking nerve. In the past, she threw a pan of hot grits in his face, and he retaliated by slashing her craft room into shreds with his chain saw. The man died of a heart attack over a year ago, and the strangest thing happened. The woman was inconsolable. She threw herself over his coffin—weeping and wailing as if she had lost the love of her life. I had to leave the room when she and her pastor tried to raise the man from the dead through prayer and the laying on of hands as she screamed: “Rupert, come back, don’t leave me . . . I need you, baby!” Last month, the woman died. She left behind a daughter. Why is it that somehow I think the woman and the man are still trying to kill each other in eternity? There isn’t an anti-bullying app that could ever be made that would have cut through all their loveless crap. Some people are beyond the pale.—signed, “The Daughter, a.k.a, I’m Never Getting Married” from Honolulu, age 30 

Dear “I’m Never Getting Married”:

I don’t even know what to say, Baby-girl except I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. Some people will never change.

Israelis vs Palestinians Daryl Cagle CagleCartoons com

Used by permission: Israelis vs Palestinians, Daryl Cagle, CagleCartoons.com

I am discovering that if rearing kids has taught me anything, it’s that “what monkey sees, monkey will definitely do.” If we want our kids not to become bullies, we have to be on guard against the slightest trait of this within ourselves and model that behavior.

When I first started blogging, I was trying to find my voice, and I did a humorous puff piece on flesh-colored tights being worn as leotards with sort tops, thus causing major ass display whenever the wearer bent over. I found a picture on the Web of the back of a very obese cashier exemplifying exactly why this was a fashion no-no as her seemingly naked ass was causing people to cover their eyes and flee in horror every time her shirt hiked up. Some stranger had taken her picture without the young woman’s knowledge or consent and uploaded it on the Web. It had a million clicks as people laughed at her over and over again. I used the picture in my blog. Two years later a troll left a comment about my “ass-holy-ness” as a Christian towards this girl. I never answered the troll, but I did repent for my momentary bullying and deleted the post because the troll was right. I called bullshit on myself. We are all just six degrees of separation from becoming a bully, and the children are watching.

Bullies et al Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Used by permission: Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

“A religious man is a person who holds God and man in one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers harm done to others, whose greatest passion is compassion, whose greatest strength is love and defiance of despair.”Abraham Joshua Heschel

“For me, forgiveness and compassion are always linked: how do we hold people accountable for wrongdoing and yet at the same time remain in touch with their humanity enough to believe in their capacity to be transformed?”Bell hooks

If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.”Dalai Lama

“One’s dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered.” ― Michael J. Fox

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

REFERENCES

http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/parenting/wp/2014/07/18/are-you-raising-nice-kids-a-harvard-psychologist-gives-5-ways-to-raise-them-to-be-kind/?tid=pm_lifestyle_pop

*http://www.latimes.com/business/hiltzik/la-fi-mh-facebooks-user-20140630-column.html#page=1

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.

 

 
21 Comments

Posted by on August 7, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

Everybody Hurts

Do you know what I discovered this week? I could get in touch with Santa Claus (formerly known as “Sandy Claws” in my neighborhood) in July. You see, I need a little Christmas in the middle of summer. Why? Because the people on our planet seem to have collectively lost their ever-lovin’ minds (yeah, I’m talkin’ about you—all you Satan’s little helpers who are instigating murder, mayhem, and chaos from the Middle East to Chicago). Have you (the rest of us who are sane and loving) read the news lately? Can you read it without fainting from horror and fear? Even if mayhem is not happening in your neighborhood, how long before it seeps in and grabs you by the throat? Did you know the Ebola virus is on the loose, and Boko Haram, Putin, and ISIS have their own hashtag: #FUWorld?

I live in a suburban town that is unusually peaceful and bucolic. I earned the ability to live in this spot, in what Time Magazine calls one of the ten best places to live, because WW and I worked our asses off to get here! I was born a poor black child, and I finally crawled up out of the sewer into a comfortable life accompanied by the assist of helping hands. But after reading the news all week while sitting in my lovely hibiscus garden and sipping mimosas, I think I have survivor’s guilt—feeling real bad that others are suffering, and knowing there is nothing much I can do about it except pray. Maybe it was mimosa number two or three, but I had a brain fart that I thought would bring some clarity. I made a call to “Sandy Claws” (located him in Vienna) to see if he could make a mid-year visit to my area to provide a personalized pick-me-up.

Hot Christmas Wishes from Vienna Marian Kemensky Slovakia

Used by Permission: Marian Kemensky Slovakia

The connection wasn’t an easy one. Apparently, Claus goes AWOL from January through November and goes full throttle on the Keebler addiction. I put the word out on the street amongst all the hardcore cookie dealers that I needed “a little Christmas” and would appreciate it if the fat man would make an appearance to help me out. Yesterday, I got a call from a muffled voice that identified himself as Claus’ assistant, MJ.

MJ:        Yo, you ET?

ET:         Yeah, you bet your fat ass I am.

MJ:        I’m not the one with the corpulent ass ma’am—that would be my boss. You were sent a packet with some security information in it. We’re pretty sure we know you’re you, but these days we can’t be too careful with our protective services. Claus has had several robbery attempts in the past as well as countless identity thefts. Would you please tell me the alias we assigned to you?

ET:         Auntie Mame.

MJ:        Password song line: (cut time, one-and-a-two).

ET:         “For—we—need a little Christmas, right this very minute . . .”

MJ:        Excellent. Hold please while I connect you with Santa Claus.

I’m not gonna lie, I was nervous as all get out. This would be my first time meeting the great Mr. Claus. Santa had never made an appearance in my poor Cleveland neighborhood when I was a child—ever. Trust me, if he had touched down (white man, bright red suit, sleigh full of goodies in the middle of the night) the Cleveland Plain Dealer would have led with the most salacious headline of its history the following day: “Santa Claus robbed and stripped of red suit by swarm of Coloreds; sleigh stolen, reindeer carried off (the police suspect hungry residents have eaten the sleigh pullers), and Claus left unconscious and naked while clutching a red nose of a reindeer in his hand and whimpering, ‘I’m getting too old for this shit.’” As I was thinking about the juxtaposition of my life then and now, I heard Sandy Claws’ voice on the line.

SC:         Hello ET, long time no see. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!

ET:         Very funny Sandy Claws . . . I mean, Santa Claus. How you doin’ with your chubby-ass self?

SC:         Well, give or take a few years, since I’m 1,744 years old, I can’t complain. But I hear you’ve got a few complaints that you think a visit from me might help. I’m more than willing to drop by in July if you think I might be able to lift your mood. Having skipped your entire childhood, I feel I really owe you this request. So sorry for the no-shows in the past—it was complicated. Deal?

ET:         Deal.   What you got in that giant red tote bag that will take away the fear and anguish of the troubles of this world, Santa Baby?

SC:         Well, the pickings are really slim this time of year, but I set aside a few gifts that might distract you from the terrifying news of the world. How about an advance copy of the movie 50 Shades of Grey—complete with the commemorative boxed book set?

ET:         Sandy, you so nasty!   I never knew that about you. Does Mrs. Claus know how nasty you are? First of all, I’m way too old to be teaching my husband this woman’s weird porno fantasies—WW would faint dead away, if the truth be known. Second, what little I’ve read of this trilogy, I think the writing is really piss poor, and there are still too many good books to read and movies to see without me wasting my time. Besides, torture—be it sexual or intelligence gathering—by any other name is still antithetical to love. What else do you have in that bag?

SC:         Well, I’ve got this new book on the market about a poor little black kid born in the ghetto who faced the monsters of her past and lived to tell the story. How about that book to take your mind off your troubles?

frontcover

Buy now: Amazon.com 

ET:         Seriously, Sandy Claws—you didn’t know I wrote that book?

SC:         Ho, ho, ho, ho—just checking to see if you were paying attention.   (By the way, Mrs. Claus turned me on to 50 Shades of Grey—so stick that in your pipe and smoke it!) I bet I have just the item in my bag of goodies to engage your mind on happier thoughts—to lose you in the realm of amazing possibilities of things that mean so much to so many: the Kim Kardashian: Hollywood game! It is all the rage this summer. It’s the top App in the Apple App Store with tens of thousands of 5 Star reviews about ways to advance up through the levels by “striking a pose,” “putting on makeup,” “getting a drink,” or “dazzling the crowd.” If you don’t believe me, check out Jessica Winter’s review: “The Kim Kardashian Game Is So Good I Had to Stop Playing It!” Mrs. Claus and I are only halfway through the game so we don’t know if one of the game requirements is to produce your own sex tape and have it inadvertently “slipped” to the public or not.

ET:         That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? No offense, Sandy baby, but these gifts are pathetic (except for my book, of course). No wonder you never showed up in my neighborhood. There is nothing you could have given me that I could have used against the demons trying to destroy my life. I don’t want this shit in your bag. I’m worried about real terrors, dude—here, there, and everywhere. I want the gift of security. I want insurance that none of this murderous mayhem will affect me and those I love. Do you understand what I’m trying to get across to you old man?

SC:         Not in my pay grade, kiddo. You can certainly bump your request for uninterrupted security to my boss, but I doubt he’ll grant it. Can’t see him answering your prayers for that one. There is no adventure without risk, and no strength of character without suffering. I’ve got one more gift in the bottom of my bag that might help. It’s a bottle of Calamine Lotion.

ET:         What on Earth do I need a bottle of Calamine Lotion for?

SC:         You’re going to need it because in about 10 minutes you will get a call from your daughter who will inform you that your five-year-old grandson has contracted the Coxsackie virus at summer camp—commonly known as the foot, hand, and mouth disease. There has been an outbreak amongst the five and six year olds in their town. He is covered from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet with oozing blisters, and he is highly contagious. You do remember he’s coming to visit you in a few days, correct?  Welcome to planet Earth!

Santa Gift of Grownups in Congress David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

I am discovering that there is no totally secure place on Earth. If my poverty-ridden upbringing in Cleveland taught me anything, it taught me that. But I don’t want to believe it. I am an American, and I think I can “insure” my way into supernatural security against everything that could harm me and mine. Provide me with enough insurance for safety and prevention, and I can control what affects my peace on Earth—so I desperately hope.

The other day I attended the funeral of a close colleague’s only child. He was twenty-five years old, and he lost control of his car coming around a curve, hit a tree, and died after several days in a coma. It was a fluke accident, and it shouldn’t have happened. He was a beautiful boy with a lovely girlfriend. He was brilliant, and by all accounts he was a joy and a delight to all who knew him. I can’t wrap my brain around this tragedy. As I looked into the destroyed eyes of his mother as she whispered to me, “we’re never supposed to bury our children, Eleanor”), I kept retracing the storyline to see if there could have been some insurable way her only son could have survived the curve on a road he’d driven a hundred times in his short life. I wanted to roll back the time, and let him take that drive again with the knowledge of what to do right before that moment came into play. But I can’t because I don’t have that power—none of us do. I can only pray for grace through the valley of tears for this young man’s parents and his girl. I can “show up” with the power of compassion and the healing balm of grace as a mother who mourns with them. And when I get those intermittent moments of peace on Earth in my garden, I can embrace them with gratitude and thanksgiving while using my circle of influence to finance, vote for, and work with agents of change in the areas that have been decimated by evil. In the meantime, I will continue to pray for peace in the Middle East, around the globe, and in my own back yard.

Middle East Peace Talks Patrick Chappatte

Middle East Peace Talks: Cartoonist Patrick Chappatte, International NY Times

“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.”—Helen Keller

“You’ve gotta dance like there’s nobody watching,

Love like you’ll never be hurt,

Sing like there’s nobody listening,

And live like it’s heaven on earth.”

― William W. Purkey

“Pain is a pesky part of being human, I’ve learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can’t be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing.”― C. JoyBell C.

 

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

REFERENCES

http://www.slate.com/blogs/moneybox/2014/07/24/kim_kardashian_hollywood_it_s_so_good_i_had_to_stop_playing_it.html

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/history/42-the-answer-to-life-the-universe-and-everything-2205734.html

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

 
14 Comments

Posted by on July 27, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

Baby Daddies

Do you know what I discovered about Father’s Day?  When you had a sperm donor as a father, as I did, I pretty much wish I could put the recognition day on a remote and fast forward through it.  I talk a lot about searching for my dad as a child in my book, Monsters’ Throwdown, and my one encounter with him being the stuff horror movies are made of.  My father was not worth the carbon used to form him.

Fortunately, I’ve had the opportunity to meet some great dads (my husband included in the mix), but I must admit that I’ve met some real deadbeats, as well—“players” who needed to have their thingie put on lock-down before being allowed to get near a woman’s vagina.  When I weigh the absentee dads against the stand-up dads, it seems as if the former outweigh the latter by four to one.  Why is that?  Why did God put baby-making on automatic pilot without some type of mandatory fatherhood training classes that required a license to operate their ignoble member?

I’m going to chill out from blogging for a short break while I celebrate my 35th anniversary and 66th birthday with my babies’ daddy.  While I’m sipping gin and tonics in my garden with him, take an adventure with me into a dystopian society, that I’ve often imagined—where penises have to register and get educated as fathers before “releasing the kraken.”  See you soon!

 

A DYSTOPIAN FATHER’S DAY TALE, by Eleanor Tomczyk

In the not too distant future, there exists a society where there are no fatherless children because I am the god of that planet and all penises must be registered before becoming operational.  Below is a brief example of the application process and a random interview with Mr. Player.

FUTURE ME:  Hello, Mr. Player.  Welcome to TBDASSS (Thwarting Baby Daddy Abandonment Syndrome—Sperm by Sperm).  Let’s get your registration started.  Name of penis?

PLAYER:  Dick.

FUTURE ME:  Right, that’s the moniker you wish for your stretchy toy for all eternity? Not.  I think you can do better than that, buster.

PLAYER:  Well, when I was five years old, I called it the “whoopee stick.”  And then at fourteen, I named it “Krull the Warrior King.”  How about one of those names?

FUTURE ME:  Ei-yie-yie!  I don’t have enough entry spaces for those names.   Let’s assign your one-eyed monster a temporary name, or we’ll never get through the application process.  You can always change it later. How about Peter?

PLAYER:  Whatever.  Let’s just get this over with.  I just sent out a text to some girl for my first booty call, and I don’t want to be late.

FUTURE ME:  Some girl?  A girl that is somebody’s daughter, sister, cousin, or niece—that some girl?  Player, you are something else.  Let’s get started here before I lose my objectivity about your case.

QUESTION #1:  So you want to deploy Peter.  Does the applicant realize that in so doing, a baby may be formed in the process?  Should you become a father, do you know what it means to take responsibility and “show up,”—not just for the initial moment to kiss your baby-mama’s ass goodbye—but to show up for the rest of your kid’s life?

PLAYER:  Show up?  Yeah, I know how to show up; that’s what I’m tryin’ to do with my first booty call tonight.  That’s why I don’t want to be late.   I got a rep to maintain, woman.  As for becomin’ a father—that ain’t  gonna happen to me.  I’m too young for that, shit.  Besides, havin’ a kid would blow my mojo.

QUESTION #2:  Do you know the lyrics to “I’m a little teapot, short and stout?”

PLAYER:  What does that have to do with anything?  I want to knock boots, not drink tea.  Besides, I drink only Grey Goose or Ketel One.  Just ask me.   I now everything there is to know about vodka.

QUESTION #3: Can you play cops and robbers for hours on end?”

PLAYER:  Is that a sex game?

Father's Parental Leave Tab, The Calgary Sun

Used by permission: Father’s Parental Leave/Tab, The Calgary Sun

QUESTION #4:  Define long-suffering.

PLAYER:  Long, as in the size of my . . .

QUESTIONS #5, #6, AND #7:  How do you handle anger?  Have you ever hit a woman? Do you love your mother?

PLAYER:  What the fuck does this have to do with doin’ the wild thing?

QUESTION #8:  Fill in the blank:  I will do whatever it takes as a father to__________

PLAYER:  Ride my lady all night long!

FUTURE ME:  That’s it, player—you failed the test!  The answer was “I will do whatever it takes as a father to make sure my kids have whatever they need to succeed in the world: I’ll work my ass off, show up to any and every thing they appear in (no matter how out-of-tune or mind-numbingly boring it is); I’ll tell them that I love them on a consistent basis, and let them know how proud I am to be their dad until the day I die.”  If you could have answered the last question, player, you would have been forgiven all the wrong answers to the previous questions because you could have learned how to figure them out as you grew into fatherhood.  Question #8 ascertains whether you have a father’s heart.  Obviously, you do not.

I’m stamping your application:  VAGINA ACCESS DENIED!  COME BACK IN SIX MONTHS TO A YEAR.

PLAYER:  Wait . . . wait . . . you’re gonna turn me down—just like that?  Was it because of the unimaginative names for my penis that I submitted?  I can do better.  How about “Schlong-dong-a-doodle,” or “The Amazing Schmekel”?  Ooh, ooh, ooh; I’ve got the perfect name: “The Single-barreled, pump-action bullock—the fun stick that keeps on giving”!

FUTURE ME:  NEXT APPLICANT FOR FATHERHOOD—THIS WINDOW IS OPEN!

Live in Father Bob Englehart, The Hartford Courant

Used by permission: Live in Father Bob Englehart, The Hartford Courant

***

I am discovering that a good father is really hard to find.  When I meet people who have grown up under the tutelage of a faithful, steadfast, adoring father, I am so jealous.  Those people tend to wreak confidence, ooze self-esteem, and radiate courage.  I, however, have always walked with a limp and always will because of the lack of a good father.

To all those wonderful men (my husband included) who determined to show up, be present and accounted for, and sacrifice their lives for their children—HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!

“America used to live by the motto “Father Knows Best.” Now we’re lucky if “Father Knows He Has Children.” We’ve become a nation of sperm donors and baby daddies.” ― Stephen Colbert, I Am America

 “Dads.  Do you not realize that a child is what you tell them they are? That people almost always become what they are labeled? Was whatever your child just did really the “dumbest thing you’ve ever seen somebody do”? Was it really the “most ridiculous thing they ever could have done”? Do you really believe that your child is an idiot? Because she now does. Think about that. Because you said it, she now believes it. Bravo.” ― Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

REFERENCES

Thanks to NCFM (National Coalition for Men) for their collection of 174 nicknames for the one-eyed monster

http://www.fatherhood.org/the-father-factor

http://www.thedailybeast.com/witw/articles/2013/06/28/fatherhood-manhood-and-having-it-all.html

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

 
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Posted by on June 7, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Graduation Speaker: At Your Service

Do you know what I’ve discovered about the May/June season that has become more problematic than pollen?  Previously scheduled graduation speakers are dropping like flies due to protests of a very vocal minority—sometimes started by alumni with too much time on their hands.  Rutgers invited and then lost Condoleezza Rice, Smith wooed and misplaced Christine Lagarde, and Haverford pursued and finally said good-bye to Robert Birgeneau (Bush’s Secretary of State, Head of the International Monetary Fund, and previous Chancellor of the University of Berkeley, respectively).  Now, none of these “off-with-their-heads” speakers do I agree with politically or ethically, but they have led interesting lives that I might learn something from, if only how not to live.  Let’s just say that if I could listen to a graduation speech by Mitt Romney at Liberty University in 2012 and come away with something positive (“after hearing that speech, now I know he’ll never get my vote”), I think the Rutgers, Smith, Haverford crowd could have engaged in the same act of openness in the vote for educational toleration.

Commencement Speaker Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Used by Permission Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

After the brouhaha over the choosing of the First Lady as the graduation speaker for a high school in Topeka, Kansas and Puff Daddy (Sean Combs) as a speaker for Howard University (he knocked it out of the park, by the way), one commentator noted that soon only Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy will meet the standards of acceptable graduation speakers in the future because you’ll always run the risk of pissing somebody off.   It was upon reading the commentator’s assessment that I had a brain fart:  Why don’t I become a substitute graduation speaker?  I used to be a substitute teacher so I’m used to turning on a dime.   I’d be the kind that could slip into place when a school, college, or university loses a former Secretary of State or a FLOTUS as a speaker, and they need someone at the last minute.  I could use a seasonal job now that I’m retired, and since I’m nobody, I could crawl in under the PC wire.  Plus, the selection committee could get me cheap, and I wouldn’t even ask for an honorary degree.  Condi Rice was charging $35,000 and a degree—I’d settle for considerably less (just my weight in bling).

Upon thinking it over for a couple of days, I pulled together a standard graduation speech, and I have started shopping it around: so far no nibbles.

Commencement Speech David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Used by Permission:  David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

***

ELEANOR TOMCZYK’S ONE-SIZE-FITS-ALL GRADUATION SPEECH

CURRENT STATUS:  RETIRED/LIFE SURVIVOR

AUTHOR OF: MONSTERS’ THROWDOWN

***

President (FILL IN THE BLANK), Chairperson (FILL IN THE BLANK), Distinguished Guests, Faculty, Staff and Graduates of the Class of 2014:  It is such an honor to stand before you today and humbly share my view from the top of the last drop off the roller coaster ride of life because that is what recommends me to you.  I will be sixty-six-years-old in two weeks, and I figure—if I’m lucky—I’ve got about twenty good years left in me and then it’s goodnight Irene.  I am nobody, but I am a survivor and an overcomer, and I’ve learned some things about this crazy-ass life along the way.

To the Graduates:  Take a good look at your parents.  Right now your moms and pops, who haven’t slept easily since you were born, and who mortgaged their souls to educate you, look as dumb as rocks to you.  They just got comfortable posting pictures on Facebook, Twitter is barely navigable, and most of them are asking you, “What the Hell is Vine—I just got used to Instagram?”  But ten or twelve years from now, on the roller coaster ride of life, you will look back at them six cars behind you with great appreciation for their courage and wisdom (unless you’ve been raised by wolves—then all bets are off).  Because you’ll begin to realize that making your way on the planet Earth is some scary, Freddy Krueger shit [if high school graduation speech, substitute the word “stuff”].

To the Parents:  Do not let these people back in your house.  It’s time to have sex again without falling asleep in the midst of it because you’re so tired from being cook, counselor, coach, chauffer, play-date event planner, laundress, and housekeeper for them.  It’s time to reclaim their bedroom as your office and your “besides” (what you are besides being a mother or a father) while your mind is still functioning and your body remembers how to do the wild thing.  Don’t get me wrong:  help them with rent and groceries if needed, and invite them to dinner once a week so they won’t starve if you want, but if you become the default position when times get a little hard, they will be 55 before leaving home and will never become what you are:  overcomers and survivors.  You must help them stand on their own two feet ASAP because after the final roller coaster dip toward the great beyond in your life, you won’t be here to rescue them anyway.  Then what are they going to do?

Graduates Beginning Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Used by Permission: Pat Bagley, Salt Lake Tribune 

To the Graduates:  To openly steal from Scott Peck of The Road Less Traveled fame, recognize that life is hard (very, very hard), but once you make peace with that truth, you’ll be okay, and you’ll be able to handle the suffering that is sure to come your way on both an individual and a national level.  On the other hand, there is no use worrying about what type of suffering will be your portion in life because none of the things we usually obsess about actually happen to us.  I know—it’s one of life’s conundrums.

To the Parents:  I’m not going to lie to you—worries about the suffering that our children might face on their journey as adults (debilitating loneliness and assault being two of the worst fears) is the stuff that will turn you gray overnight and keep you awake for days on end.  As parents, we secretly hope we’ve given our kids all they need to secure their mental health so that we never get one of those awful phone calls telling us our children have self-destructed or harmed another human being.  Unfortunately, there is no escape from these feverish nightmares (did we give them too much, did we not give them enough?).  Prayer helps a great deal, but the burden of worrying about their safety was all part of the owners’ manual we received when they were born—Taking Responsibility for Your Kid (Section 2B)—and it doesn’t stop when they turn eighteen.  (I know—I was surprised as you!)  It is what it is.  Sleeping aids help.

To the Graduates:  Don’t be afraid of making mistakes or making a fool of yourself, for that matter—it happens to the best of us and it is—by-and-large—survivable.  Think of the most embarrassing thing that could happen to you at this age (cutting the cheese while giving a presentation before the head of the department of your new job, perhaps, because you’re a nervous wreck and you mistakenly ate a questionable hot dog with sauerkraut before the meeting).  Remember that “this too shall pass” and you will live.  Should this happen, learn how to laugh at yourself as quickly as possible, realize that you will not die, and make a vow to never, ever, eat anything from the shady guy who owns the mystery meat stand outside your building.  Don’t worry—this will only happen once, because the lesson will be so engrained in your psyche that you’ll never repeat the humiliating mistake of eating said hot dogs again. That is how life lessons are learned.  Also, this may be a destiny sea-change—your segue into stand-up comedy, maybe.  Know that everything happens for a reason. Humor is a must and not taking yourself too seriously is a vital key to your success in life.

Graduate Jobs John Darkow Columbia Daily Tribune Missouri

Used by Permission: John Darkow, Columbia Daily Tribune, Missouri

To All the Teachers, Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, Friends, and extended family:  Thank you!  The cliché is worth repeating: It really does take a village.

To the Graduates—A final word:  You are part of something bigger than yourselves and making it your personal quest to explore your individual spiritual journeys will make the difference between a life well lived and one that is not.  You were also born for this time and place—you have a destiny.  Don’t let anyone steal that truth from you.  Even if you were born in a toilet—your life is valuable and needed to complete the tapestry of those who will lead us on into the next phase of our history as a nation.  You’re not a mistake and you’re not an accident.  But you do have choices and none of them will be insignificant.  Choose wisely, grasshopper!  Be brave, be courageous, and know that you’ll receive everything you need to fulfill your destiny as you travel to all the places you will need to go to have a thrilling purpose-filled life.

HAPPY GRADUATION YOU MARVELOUS GIFTS OF GOD!

Dr. Seuss Oh the places you'll go

Dr. Seuss’ Oh the Places You’ll Go

***

SNIPPITS OF GRADUATION SPEECHES

“Death is very likely the single best invention of life. It’s life’s change agent; it clears out the old to make way for the new…. Your time is limited so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice, heart and intuition.”—Steve Jobs/Stanford 2005

“Be compassionate to everyone. Don’t just search for whatever it is that annoys and frightens you — see beyond those things to the basic human being. Especially see the child in the man or woman. Even if they are destroying you, allow a moment to see how lost in their own delusion and suffering they are.”Alice Walker, Author of The Color Purple, Naropa University in 2007

This day is the final test of your college years. What you do is what you WILL do. I ask you to approach this day with grace, grit and gratitude. This is not preparation for life, THIS IS LIFE.”– Wynton Marsalis/University of Vermont 2013

Graduates Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Used by Permission:  Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star Tribune

REFERENCES

http://www.cnn.com/2014/05/26/opinion/zelizer-commencement-speech-lbj/index.html?hpt=hp_t4

http://thehill.com/blogs/blog-briefing-room/news/204285-michelle-obama-scraps-graduation-speech-after-protests

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 29, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Private? Moments

Do you know what I’ve discovered this week?   I’ve lived two-thirds of my life in relative obscurity (first third as a poor black child, another third as a housewife/executive assistant/sometimes singer-actress-voice-over-artist), and now as my closing act, I think I’ll do the famous writer thing.   I want to be rich and famous, and why not?  I don’t see a down side to it.  I’m too old to let the fame go to my head, and the royalties from my first book, Monsters’ Throwdown, will be just what I need to fulfill my dream of making my moniker a household name (thinks every writer, everywhere, every time).  I was listing the pros and cons of becoming a famous storyteller the other day, when the phone rang and interrupted my fantasy.

It was Solange Knowles (Beyonce’s sister and Jay-Z’s sister-in-law).

Jay Z Song Cartoonist Mike Luckovic Atlanta Journal Constitution

Cartoonist: Mike Lukovich, Atlanta Journal-Constitution

ME:  Hello, Baby-girl.  How’s life?

SOLANGE:  Hey, Mrs. T.  Word is you thinkin’ of goin’ all baller status with your book.  Thought I’d drop by and school you on how fame ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Spose you heard about my elevator ride?

ME:    Who hasn’t?  Kind of lost your temper and went all kamikaze on your in-law.  What was that all about?

SOLANGE:  I’m not talkin’ about it, ‘cause I don’t want strangers all up in my business.  I can’t trust nobody—not even you, Mrs.  T.  Who knew there was a camera in that elevator, and who knew some asshole would sell the tape of me goin’ off on Jay-Z.  Is there no place private anymore?

ME:   Excuse me, Baby, but there’s someone on my other line.  Hello?

DONALD STERLING:  Is this the Dalai Mama?  This is Donald Sterling, owner of the Los Angeles Clippers.

ME:  No, this is the creator of the Dalai Mama.  How the hell did you get my phone number?

D. STERLING:  From the Internet.  You can find everything about everybody on the Internet.   I called to talk to the Dalai Mama to see if she could advise me on how to do damage control after the leak of my very private conversation with my ho.  I need to get back in good standing with the Black community or I’m gonna lose my plantation . . . oops, I mean my basketball team.  You know I was set-up, right?  I’ve gotten two NAACP Achievement awards for my work amongst the ni . . . I mean Colored people, and I don’t want to lose that street cred.

Don Sterling Bated Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

Used by permission: Don Sterling “Bated” by Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

ME:  Well, I think it is a little too late to worry about your street cred.  Anyway, I’m not talking to you, asshole.   The release of your taped racist phone conversation showed me who you really are—and to paraphrase Maya Angelou—I believe you, sucka!  Wait a minute:  There’s another call.  What is this—Grand Central Station?  My phone number is unlisted.  Hello?  Who is this?

MIMI FAUST:  Mimi Faust.

ME:  Mimi what?

DONALD STERLING:  Ooh, ooh, ooh I know who she is. She’s the broad from the reality television show Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta. She made a sex tape with her boyfriend Nikko Smith, and it was “accidentally leaked to the public.”  The things she did hanging from that shower rod would make an old man beg for mercy.

ME:  Oh course you know who she is, you low-life.

SOLANGE:  Oh, please Sterling, a lot of people think that the entire thing was staged and purposely leaked.  Those in the know could tell by the high quality production values and the timing of its release with the beginning of her reality show.  I’m not sayin’ it.  I’m just sayin’ that’s what other people are sayin’.

MIMI FAUST:  Oh yeah, well, I could say the same thing about your little “leaked elevator” incident, Miss Beyoncé wanna be.

ME:  Hey, don’t be nasty. Don’t you have a four-year-old, Miss Thang?  Why would you put something like a sex tape out there on the World Wide Web?

MIMI FAUST:  Yeah, that’s why I’m here.  I heard about your dialogue on privacy concerns and wanted to get in on the conversation.  How do I block my sex tape from being seen by my kid in future years?

ME:  Heard about my dialogue on privacy concerns from who?

MIMI FAUST:  It’s trending on Twitter.  #Guardyourprivacy

ME:  Oh, for Pete’s sake!  Is nothing secret?   Oh good Lord, here comes another call.  Yes?  The President of the United States?  Of course, I’ll hold.  (Quiet everybody, it’s the Prez.)

PRESIDENT OBAMA:  Hello, ET.  How’s everything?  Thank you for your continued support.  Heard you were having a summit on privacy concerns today from the NSA.  I just wanted to let you know that we have instituted some strong guidelines regarding the NSA’s ability to invade the American public’s privacy going forward.  I think you will be pleased.  Also, if what I hear about Mimi is true, I hope she has private health insurance because Obamacare does not cover injuries caused by shenanigans.  Doesn’t she have a four-year-old?  Ask her what was she thinking when she made that tape.  Anyway, I’ve gotta go run a country.  Besides, it looks as if a Google rep is trying to get through to join in on the conversation.

 

ME:  What?  Mr. President, how did you know a Google rep was trying to reach me?   Hello . . . hello, who is this?

GOOGLE GLASS:   Hello, future users.  So glad to hear such an illustrious crowd gathered here.  Google heard about your convention and wanted to enlist you as beta users of our Google Glasses.  Your demographic spread would give us a great overview of our technological capacity and just think of the people you could surreptitiously film and heap revenge upon (you didn’t hear that from me) as you go about your daily tasks while we collect data.  Don’t worry about privacy concerns.  Google Glass’ awesome technology outweighs any privacy issues that may arise.  As for you ET, we can guarantee Monsters’ Throwdown fame if you wear our glasses and constantly get into altercations with people who think you’re invading their privacy.  It’s a win/win situation.  We get unlimited data and you get great exposure.  Sell us your soul, blogger, and you’ll be on your way to glory.

ME:  Huh?

Google Glass David FitzsimmonsThe Arizona Star

Used by permission: Google Glass David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

I am discovering the definition of privacy from Webster’s:  “the state or condition of being free from being observed or disturbed by other people.”  My local paper cited a story about a Mississippi Tea Party blogger who was arrested because he allegedly snuck into a private nursing home and photographed a bedridden woman suffering from dementia without her or her family’s consent.  She is the wife of a candidate that the Tea-Bagger blogger opposes.  The scumbag allegedly posted her picture online in a political attack ad for his own derogatory purposes.  He has been arrested and his bond has been set at $100,000.  As far as I’m concerned, there is no hole deep enough in Hell for this man.

Whether we serve up our private moments for misguided reasons or someone steals them from us, it is as if we’ve been raped. I think that Donald Sterling is a complete asshole, but I am horrified that something he said in a private phone call was allegedly sold to a gossip site.  Where does that type of invasion stop?  Can any of us stand up to the glare of the light of day when our private thoughts are exposed?  None of us is perfect, although, I reiterate that I do not defend that S.O.B. Donald Sterling—he deserves to be roommates in Hell with the Tea Bagger blogger.  As to the Google Email-Plus-Glass, the Facebooks, the Vines, the Twitters, et al that are demanding our personal information to stay connected or plugged in so that they can sell our info to the highest bidder, how much longer before we stand up for ourselves and for our relatives, friends, and neighbors by shutting down and tuning out the slave masters.  We have the power.  Or do we?

***

“Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip.”Will Rogers

“Gossip needn’t be false to be evil – there’s a lot of truth that shouldn’t be passed around.”Frank A. Clark

“I’m kind of a gossip hound, but watching the media whip the small fires into giant forest fires so that they can cover the result is infuriating.”—Anne Lamott

“All human beings have three lives: public, private, and secret.”― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Gabriel García Márquez: a Life

“When it comes to privacy and accountability, people always demand the former for themselves and the latter for everyone else.”David Brin

References

http://thegrio.com/2014/05/15/solange-video-person-fired-leaked-footage/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/04/26/donald-sterling-racist_n_5218572.html

http://www.salon.com/2014/05/15/big_brother_teams_up_with_tmz_how_celebrity_culture_is_hastening_privacys_digital_demise/

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/post-politics/wp/2014/05/17/man-arrested-for-allegedly-photographing-thad-cochrans-wife-in-nursing-home/?tid=hpModule_ba0d4c2a-86a2-11e2-9d71-f0feafdd1394&hpid=z11

http://mashable.com/2014/02/26/google-glass-assault/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/cierra-lockett/mimi-faust-sex-scandal-re_b_5194713.html

http://money.cnn.com/2014/05/19/technology/security/privacy-policy/index.html?hpt=hp_t2

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.

 
16 Comments

Posted by on May 19, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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