Cartoon used by permission: 268934_What Are Thankful For by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
Thanksgiving! I don’t think I have ever had a Thanksgiving that I will appreciate more than the one that’s coming up this week. What am I most grateful for? OUR DEMOCRACY WAS SAVED!
Good people all across America (especially Gen Z, people of color, women, and men with good hearts) went to the polls and said: “OH, HELL TO THE NO!—YOU’RE NOT TAKING MY DEMOCRACY!” And God chimed in on that sentiment with a resounding: “NOT TODAY SATAN!”
Did you know that even though George Washington issued the first presidential Thanksgiving proclamation, it was President Abraham Lincoln who made it a National holiday? You may not have known (I didn’t) that Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a national holiday on October 3, 1863 when we were on the verge of losing what our democracy was supposed to become—every man created equal with no room for slavery as part of that democratic picture. It was after the decisive Union Army victory at Gettysburg that Lincoln declared:
“I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, …to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving… And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him …, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to his tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.”
Cartoon used by permission: 257298_Thanksgiving Holiday by Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com
When I used to go to church before its nationalist, science-denying, heartbreaking antics drove me from its compromised altar, one of the things I most enjoyed at Thanksgiving was belting out T-Day songs with the rest of the congregation. As I looked through my old hymnal, I came across one of my favorites. It’s an old Dutch hymn from the 1600s (author unknown) which celebrates the harvest. I repurposed the lyrics to fit my jubilation of our country having (once again) escaped the immoral path of bowing down to lies and inhumanity, and I’ve been singing it for days. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you,“We Gather Together to Ask the Lord’s Blessing” as seen through the eyes of E. Tomczyk, a democracy lover.
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
God chastened and hastened His will to make known;
The midterm crazies have ceased from distressing;
Sing praises to God’s Name; He heard our freaked-out groans.
Cartoon used by permission: 268960_Election denier Thanksgiving by John Cole, Tennessee Lookout
Gen Z showed the courage, their elders were lacking,
So Pink, Black, Brown, Green, and Rainbow could thrive;
To election deniers, God set their butts on fire;
‘Cause God took Freedom’s side, all glory be Thine!
Cartoon used by permission: 268923_Return to Sender by Bart van Leeuwen, PoliticalCartoons.com
I haven’t stopped praying, our nation’s still tumbling,
I pray that God’s still Truth’s Defender will be;
Let Thy great nation flee the MAGA’s machinations;
From Walker to M. Greene, O Lord, please set us free!
(My apologies to the unknown song writer who must surely be turning over in his grave.)
Cartoon used by permission: 268835_Herschel Walker runoff by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
We Americans dodged a political earthquake in the midterms, but just like the uncertain outcome of the Civil War, when Lincoln first proclaimed T-Day a national holiday, our war to protect and defend democracy is not over. However, we can call a truce with our friends and families this Thanksgiving and remember the biblical meaning of true love:
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
I hope you do celebrate the amazing victory of the midterms with me, but more importantly, I pray that as you sit down to the table with your loved ones from all different walks of life and political leanings that you will remember the biblical prayer that I recite on a daily basis: “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.” HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!
Cartoon used by permission: 257339_Thanksgiving Survival Guide by Dave Whamond, Canada, PoliticalCartoons com
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Last night I had a Halloween nightmare from Hell. I dreamt that Satan had set up a gigantic haunted house in which all Americans were invited to enter—just for the hell of it. More than half of the country was lining up to check out the exhibit, and most of the people in line were psyched with a Rocky Horror Picture Show “anti-ci-PA-tion.” Each room of the house was said to feature extremely scary scenes of our democracy in peril, and if you managed to make it to the end without a shred of your integrity and soul left, you were rewarded with a red baseball cap that bore the initials: CYJFD (“Congratulations, you just fucked democracy”).
I suspected this haunted house was going to be a real doozy, but I just had to see what had turned so many of my friends and neighbors into the walking dead. However, I wanted to survive and not lose my heart and brain. I needed a costume, though. Something invincible. What to do? Who should I masquerade as? After much thought, I went back home, grabbed a blond wig, some pearls, a pair of glasses, some comfortable shoes and a badge that read, “Liz Cheney, Jan. 6 demon killer.”
I had no idea that that haunted house would almost prove to be my undoing.
Cartoon used by permission: 267930_Trump Subpoena by Rick McKee, CagleCartoons.com
As I approached the door, a couple of Satan’s helpers collected tickets (one dressed as the Big Lie and the other dressed as Hershel Walker). I cringed a little as they snarled at me, but whispered to myself, “be still my heart,” and pushed on through the doorway, praying that my courage would see me through.
The first room on my left was labeled, THE ELECTION DENIERS, and as I peeked into the darkness, I couldn’t see much, but I could distinctly hear two ghostly voices that sounded like the Grady sisters from The Shining seductively whisper a version of The Shining tagline: “Hello, Americans, come and play with us…forever, and ever, and ever.”
Oh shit, I thought. I know what this means. I had read enough Stephen King to know my ass would be grass if I stepped into that room. I resisted the siren call and scurried on down the hall to the next room.
Cartoon used by permission: 268230_Democracy’s Fright Night by Christopher Weyant, The Boston Globe, MA
The room on the right side of the dark, crowded hallway featured a broken-down version of the Capitol. Windows were busted out, excrement was smeared all over the walls, a Confederate flag was perched on the dome, and hundreds of its inhabitants were staggering about while shouting incoherently as Marjorie Taylor Greene led her fellow legislators in a political version of The Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett:
Hey America:
I was working in the House of Reps, one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
My Monster of Lies from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise
He did the congressional take-over monster mash
(The monster mash) It was a political smash
(He did the mash) It caught on in a flash
(He did the mash) He did the Big Lie mash
From my laboratory in the Capitol east
To the chambers where the congressional vampires feast
The Republican ghouls all came from their self-righteous abodes
The guests included Alex Jones, Trump and his sons
The scene was rockin’, all were digging the sounds
Tucker Carlson on chains, backed up by Fox’s baying hounds
The democracy killers were about to arrive
With their vocal group, ‘The Truth-Killer Five’
They played the monster mash
Out from his coffin, Dracula McConnell’s voice did ring
Seems he was troubled by just one thing
He opened the lid and shook his fist and said
“Whatever happened to that Constitution Twist?
Oh, Marjorie G replied:
It’s now the monster Big Lie Mash
And it’s a graveyard smash
It’s caught on in a flash
It’s now the monster mash
Cartoon used by permission: 268244_Haunted House and Senate by Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com
“Oy vey iz mir,” I screamed, “America, we truly are undone!” I fled down the hall to try and find an exit, but the place was so crowded with Americans who were rapidly turning into brain-dead zombies that I could barely move. I was petrified! All around me were Americans who had sold their souls, and they were seeking live human flesh to eat. I could be turned into a zombie at any minute if I continued to linger in America’s Haunted House.
I zigged—I zagged, and I ducked into a room that looked like it might be a safe haven. Over the door frame was a sign which said: CHRISTIAN NATIONALISTS—WE ARE THE TRUTH AND THE LIGHT—ONLY WE CAN SAVE AMERICA. Whew, I thought. I am safe! These are my Evangelical peeps. I’ve been a Born-Again Christian for 50 years! They must follow Jesus’ creed of love, truth, and mercy. They’ll save me. They’ll save America! They’ll destroy Satan’s haunted house and set us free from our madness.
However, as soon as I entered the room, I knew I was grossly mistaken.
Used by permission: 256844_Devil Dems by Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT
The room was the most unwelcoming place I’d ever been in. It was freezing cold—some 40 degrees below zero. The room was a stark bedroom, and in the middle of it there were a bed and a teenager impersonating the 12-year-old actress Linda Blair who played Regan MacNeil in the 1973 film The Exorcist. On one hand she looked like an angelic, beautiful child, but on the other hand, she looked completely demon possessed. A recording of her voice began to play on a loop: I am a Christian Right-Wing Nationalist and I worship God and his right-hand son, Donald Trump. Bow down to my Christian Sharia laws. Worship who I tell you to worship, think what I tell you to think, love only who I tell you to love, hate who I tell you to hate, surrender all choice over your body, and pledge allegiance to only our MAGA leadership. If you submit to me, all will be well with your soul.
At that moment, just like in the Exorcist, the girl’s recreation of Regan levitated several feet off of her bed, and her head turned 360 degrees while she spewed what looked like pea soup which recreated the infamous vomit scene from the movie. Many in the room bowed down, others fainted, a couple had heart attacks, and I projectile vomited as I fled the room looking for the exit and some modicum of hope. In my inner ear, I could hear the words of the Exorcist’s, Father Merrin trying to sooth me: “I think the point is to make us despair. To see ourselves as… animal and ugly. To make us reject the possibility that God could love us.”
Cartoon used by permission: 265333_Religion in Government by Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT
I woke up—completely undone—singing disjointed lyrics from the Animals’ song, “We’ve Got to Get Out of This Place,” as if they were lyrical rosary beads. It was the same song used in my favorite Halloween movie (Rocky Horror Picture Show). Remembering that fact, I got myself a strong glass of whiskey with some cinnamon toast, pulled up the movie on my TV, threw toast and toilet paper at the screen (it’s a 70s thing—you had to have been there), started to dance the “Time Warp,” and belted out “We’ve Got to Get Out of This Place,” as if my very life and future depended on it.
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Cartoon used by permission: 264798 Looming Catastrophes by Monte Wolverton, Battle Ground, WA
“Where have you been? Are you still writing? You haven’t posted a blog in two months? You haven’t called me in three months. DID YOU DIE, CHICA?”
These are the types of texts and phone calls I’ve been getting lately from family and friends. I had no idea that when I stepped back to assess the survival of my sanity due to the constant chaos assailing our lives on this Earth, that it would cause such consternation on my behalf. Shit! I’m not dead. I’m just worn out from fear and worry that I am losing control, that my grandchildren will grow up having been thrown back into the 1950’s living in a racist Handmaid’s Tale, part deux. Plus, I don’t know how to live in the midst of seeing our country circling the giant toilet drain in the sky. Tik-Tok—waiting for the flush. Am I depressed? Not completely, but am I a very, very sad 74-year-old? Girl, you don’t even know the half of it!
Cartoon used by permission: 266080_1290 America Gone Mad by Christopher Weyant, The Boston Globe, MA
That’s why I had to shut up, sit down, and ponder the sad state of affairs in our country. The problem is that I believe in God. Unfortunately, I’m wondering if he believes in me/us anymore? The “Big Lie” perpetrated by Trump and the hateful tentacles of it keep mushrooming and calcifying, while the presence of God (goodness, love, truth, mercy, hope, joy, grace, righteousness) seems to be drowning in the sewage of the malcontents.
My sadness comes from the deep-down sensation that maybe “my country tis of thee” is not going to survive its own hubris and major stupidity because so many of the grownups in the Republican party seem to have sold their souls and left the room. I am an optimist by nature and a god-fearing woman by default. Until recently, I believed in prayer and that my prayers were heard. Silly? Maybe. But “I’ve come this far by faith, leaning on the Lord,” I definitely don’t want to renege on my faith when I’m getting so close to death. No matter how horrible things get, I’ve always tried to end on a note of hope—especially in what I write. At least I did up until recently, which is why I’ve been incommunicado of late. My hope has been in freefall. I sense a religious civil war on the horizon, led by people who claim to love Jesus and who worship at the altar of Trump, and I don’t see God fighting back on our behalf or his reputation.
I’m resurfacing now because, just recently, I caught a tiny glimmer of hope of our survival. I started hopscotch reading through the history of mankind, and rediscovered as I have before, but temporarily forgot, that mankind has always existed on the fragile line of destruction—from outside marauders as well as enemies from within. Many times, the enemies from within were the “Jesus” believers of their time (Crusaders, Nazis, slave owners and traders, Apartheid rulers, KKK cross burners, Rwanda massacres, American pioneers slaughtering indigenous people…the list is endless). Mankind has always thought they were better than they actually were—carrying the flag of believing in Christ while trampling on his character. What seemed to save the human race each time was a remnant of good, courageous, and dedicated people willing to fight back with every bit of love and moral clarity they could muster. It is always the “few” who become the resistance movement—the heroes: the David vs. the Goliath or a Martin Luther King, Jr who lift up the lantern of righteousness to set ablaze our moral code to save us all. In my meditations on the fragility of mankind, I ran across one of Dr. King’s quotes—one of my favorites, and I felt strengthened:
“When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” —Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Cartoon used by permission: 209657_Evangelicals by Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT
I have hope again, in spite of the current landscape that surrounds us. I’m brushing off the ashes from my sackcloth, and I’m joining the remnant that will fight the lies and hatred for the rest of my life and my grandchildren’s lives. I’m also waiting—praying again for God to show up!
Cartoon used by permission: 249932_1290_There is always hope by Stephane Peray, Thailand
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
I ain’t gonna lie. I’m a Black person—been a Black person for 74 years—and I never heard of Juneteenth until two years ago. Juneteenth celebrates June 19, 1865 when Gen. Gordon Granger informed Texas slaves they were free for almost two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation. (Now, ain’t that some evil shit? President Lincoln declared all the slaves in America emancipated, but Texas refused to comply. It has been noted that Texas had some Africans enslaved for more than five years or more after the Emancipation Proclamation. Good grief!)
Immediately recognizing the significance of Juneteenth, I tried to figure out a simplistic way to explain it to my grandchildren should I ever be asked:
“Well, Grandbabies, Juneteenth is Black folks Fourth of July—the day the last of our people found out what the White folks had been keeping from us!”
I have a mentor who I met when I was 16 years old—the year the Civil Rights Act of 1964 passed. She is African-American, and as soon as the bill passed, we put on our finest Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes with freshly pressed hair, polished shoes, and white gloves, and each month she took me to many of the places Black folks had never been allowed to frequent in our town: certain restaurants, theaters, parks, museums. Each time she would say, “Today, we are going to visit one of the many places White folks have been keepin’ from us.” When I look back on her courage and foresight, I am blown away. People didn’t always welcome us with open arms or with grace, but we forged ahead anyway and step-by-step I learned that just because certain White folks had ignored the memo in 1964 that Black folks were free to go wherever we pleased, it didn’t mean we had to obey them. White folks had always had privileges—Black folks now had rights to those same privileges.
As I meditated on the meaning of Juneteenth these past couple of years, I realized something significant: Juneteenth symbolizes both joy and horror. The joy of Black folks being told that we were “free at last,”—free from the sin of an inhumane bondage from Hell. But also, the celebration of Juneteenth is the recognition of the horror that the Proclamation and the revelation of Black freedom would not be settled law but would be fought ad infinitum by a great number of White folks who refused to hear the truth then and even to this day. (Yeah! We’re no longer slaves; Yikes! We can never rest on our laurels—we must fight to gain and maintain our rights as human beings until the end of days.)
I’d tell my grandkids that Juneteenth means they are created in God’s image and can freely venture into places and spaces “the White folks have been keeping from us,” but they should know that they will have to continuously fight for their right to do so (from the voting booth to the marketplace), as I did just the other day when I boarded a plane to claim my first-class seat (bought and paid for by my hard-earned money). I had to confront a White man who hadn’t gotten the memo that I deserved the privilege of the seat next to him which he was trying to co-opt. He thought I belonged in the “back of the bus,” but I knew otherwise (“Did you pay for this seat?” challenged the racist White Dude). As a child of God, I stood firmly, I spoke boldly, and I won! My racist seat-mate crawled into his corner and fell asleep for the entire trip while I sipped my champagne with delight and snuggled into my first-class accommodations and mediated on what Juneteenth means to me.
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
“There is a saying in the Black American community that we must work twice as hard to get half as far. What we do not often say out loud is that for those of us who reach great heights we have not only worked twice as hard but we have also been hurt twice as much, and probably more. For Jackson to reach this place, she has had to weather a lifetime of this treatment and not let it stop her.”—Mikki Kendall/TIME
Cartoon used by permission: 261302_Ketanji Brown Jackson by Bob Englehart, PoliticalCartoonscom
OPEN LETTER TO JUDGE KETANJI ONYIKA (means “lovely one”) BROWN JACKSON
Dear Confirmed Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson to the Supreme Court of the United States:
Congratulations, My Dear!
I hope my greeting is not too informal, but I feel like every Black woman in America must feel right now—that you belong to me as a daughter, a sister, and a role model to my granddaughter. I am old enough to be your mother and anxiously prayed you through that evil circus-level Senate hearing you endured as if you were my own.
As many of the Republican Senators called you everything but a child of God, I downed a half bottle of antacids as I interceded in prayer while I watched you keep your composure and earn your spot on the Supreme Court. My blood pressure went through the roof, and if I could have had Lindsey Graham, Josh Hawley, Marsha Blackburn, Tom Cotton, and Ted Cruz within my reach, I probably would have gone all Will Smith on their asses! But you played it right. As you said, “It has taken 232 years and 115 prior appointments for a black woman to be selected to serve on the Supreme Court of the United States,” and you showed that not only are you worthy but you deserve this appointment, blessed Ketanji.
Cartoon used by permission: 261370 The GOP We All Live With by Christopher Weyant, The Boston Globe, MA
When I researched your life, I learned that you have always cultivated a “thick skin” against racists and horrid people, and that you have devoted a lifetime to the philosophy of not letting haters distract you. It truly showed during the hearing. I want both my grandchildren to memorize your mantra and learn to emulate your actions:
“I just want to be clear about how I envision thick skin. As a professional of color, there will inevitably be times when you will feel singled out, challenged, questioned, undervalued, and misinterpreted, and you will very much want to call out or cancel people who say and do discriminatory things. But doing so takes time and effort, and if we are going to get to where we belong … we can’t keep stopping and fretting over random ridiculousness!”—Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson
Bravo, our persevering, uber-intelligent, hard-working, kind, beautiful Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson! You stayed the course. You broke the glass ceiling (no, let’s call it for what it is: you broke the lead ceiling). You’ve given all good and righteous people in America (no matter what their race, gender, creed, or religion) hope that we can eventually—someday—fulfill the vision of a multicultural/multiracial governing body for which our great nation has been called to represent.
Cartoon used by permission: 261851_First Black Woman SCOTUS by Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
“Holocaust graphic novel ‘Maus’ banned in Tennessee county schools over nudity and profanity”—Washington Post
“Banned: Books on race and sexuality are disappearing from Texas schools in record numbers”—NBC NEWS
“Missouri school district bans Toni Morrison’s ‘The Bluest Eye’”—TODAY
“Mom Who Tried to Ban Toni Morrison’s ‘Beloved’ Is Now a GOP Star”—Vice
“Book Ban Efforts Spread Across the U.S”—New York Times
CARTOON USED BY PERMISSION: 259385 Banning books by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
IRATE MOTHER STORMS LOCAL SCHOOL BOARD TO BAN THE BIBLE
By Common Sense
February 2, 2022
At the School Board meeting in Anywhere, USA, a White overbearing mother hijacked the meeting to protest her seventeen-year-old being assigned the Bible to read in his AP (Advanced Placement) literature class. According to America’s White Mom, her son’s assignment was to read the Bible from the beginning to the end and write a 500-word paper on why this time-honored book should be considered inspirational, educational and, in some quarters, inerrant. Mrs. White Mom came to the school board meeting to get the Bible banned for its “content,” when her son, said he had “night terrors after reading the Bible one evening”.
“When my son showed me his reading assignment, my heart sunk,” [sic] America’s White Mom said in the Board meeting. “It was some of the most explicit material you can imagine. My baby-boy didn’t get very far in his reading before he encountered stories of extreme cruelty, brutality, gang rape, mutilation, cannibalism, infanticide, and the brutal slaughter of women, so much so, it caused him to vomit all night. The first passage that almost destroyed my innocent Sweetpea was from Judges 19:22-29 about two men traveling on a business trip along with a concubine, when they were invited to stay at the home of a stranger. As the story unfolds, the men of the town demanded to rape the two male guests, but the owner of the house thought that would be inhospitable so his guest offered the concubine to them instead. Listen to this:
‘So, the man took his concubine and sent her outside to them, and they raped her and abused her throughout the night, and at dawn they let her go. At daybreak the woman went back to the house where her master was staying, fell down at the door and lay there until daylight.
‘When her master got up in the morning and opened the door of the house and stepped out to continue on his way, there lay his concubine, fallen in the doorway of the house, with her hands on the threshold. He said to her, “Get up; let’s go.” But there was no answer. Then the man put her on his donkey and set out for home.
‘When he reached home, he took a knife and cut up his concubine, limb by limb, into twelve parts and sent them into all the areas of Israel.’”
CARTOON USED BY PERMISSION: 259473 Protecting our schools by Dave Whamond, Canada, PoliticalCartoons com
America’s White Mom was just getting started, and as she did so, she began to convulse. “When my son (gulp) pointed out the inhumane passages of murder and carnage (gulp), it was some of the most explicit material you can imagine. It caused me to meet with my state lawmakers. They couldn’t believe what I was showing them. Their faces turned bright red with embarrassment.” At this point, Mrs. White Mom went on to lambast the Board for not warning parents of the scenes of genocide that seem to be so prevalent within the Old Testament of the Bible, such as in Isaiah 13:16:
This reporter noticed that everyone was stunned into such silence that you could hear a pin drop in the room. The Board members began to squirm as the Head of the Board finally asked the others in the room: “Aren’t we all Christians in this here town, and don’t we all have Bibles in our homes—maybe multiple copies of them? Not that we read them as much as we should, of course (ha, ha, ha), but that is neither here nor there. The point of the Bible is to introduce our kids to the Little Baby Jesus. . . to show them that the Christian God is love, and the only way to eternal salvation. That’s the main point of the Bible. Just ignore that other stuff America’s White Mom is quoting, which I don’t remember from my reading of the Bible back in the day. Are you sure your son was reading the Bible and not the Koran, which we banned ten years ago, by the way, for its Shariah law, Moslem-pushing hatred against Christians, and its brutal violence? I don’t think we even have a copy of the Koran in our city library, that’s what a great job we did in getting it banned.”
“Oh really,” replied agitated White Mom. “Well, my son can certainly tell you all about it if you speak to him. Do you know what he said to me? He said the passages in the Bible he had read were ‘disgusting and gross’. It was hard for him to handle, and he almost gave up on his reading assignment right then and there, especially after reading Deuteronomy 25:11-12:
‘When two men are fighting and the wife of one of them intervenes to drag her husband clear of his opponent, if she puts out her hand and catches hold of the man by his privates, you must cut off her hand and show her no mercy.’
“Auugh, what the hell is that? My little guy has been shielding his wee-wee and sack with his hands ever since reading that passage. And another thing (this really hurt his heart), my nephew, who my son loves very much, has Down Syndrome, and when my impressionable boy read Leviticus 21:18-19, he threw the Bible across the room in total disgust:
‘The Lord said to Moses, “Say to Aaron (the High Priest): ‘For the generations to come none of your descendants who has a defect may come near to offer the food of his God. No man who has any defect may come near: no man who is blind or lame, disfigured or deformed; no man with a crippled foot or hand, or who is a hunchback or a dwarf, or who has any eye defect, or who has festering or running sores or damaged testicles. No descendant of Aaron the priest who has any defect is to come near to present the food offerings to the Lord. He has a defect; he must not come near to offer the food of his God. He may eat the most holy food of his God, as well as the holy food; yet because of his defect, he must not go near the curtain or approach the altar, and so desecrate my sanctuary.’”
CARTOON USED BY PERMISSION: 259391 Banning books by Dave Whamond, Canada, PoliticalCartoons com
“Now, now America’s White Mom,” exclaimed the Head of the Board. “You really must calm down. Tell the boy to give the Bible another try. How bad could the Holy Bible be if every Christian church around the world preaches from it and encourages studying it on a consistent basis? Do you know what type of headache it will cause us if we ban the Holy Bible? We’ll be run out of town on a rail. Surely, you can ignore the brutality of our nation’s most sacred book for the higher purpose of what it’s trying to teach us. It’s about God’s love. It’s about caring for each other. It’s about doing the right thing at all times.”
“Nope—no can do,” replied America’s White Mom. “After reading the verse sanctioning cannibalism in Jeremiah 19:9, my boy ran away from home still holding his hands over his gonads, and I haven’t seen him since. He sent me a text which said if we ban the Bible, maybe he’ll think about coming home, but as a kid it just didn’t seem safe to stay around Bible-reading adults anymore, and he says that there are scores more horrifying passages in the Bible that support his decision”:
“I [God] will make them eat the flesh of their sons and daughters, and they will eat one another’s flesh because their enemies will press the siege so hard against them to destroy them.”
Given the evidence that America’s White Mom presented, the school board in Anywhere, USA had no choice but to ban the Bible for its wanton cruelty and potential pollution of young minds.
CARTOON USED BY PERMISSION: 253353 Wrong History Book by Pat Byrnes, PoliticalCartoons com
ELEANOR’S SELAH ABOUT BOOK BANNING
In 2013, a White suburban, Christian mother, and GOP activist (Laura Murphy) fought to get Toni Morrison’s Beloved removed from her senior-level high school son’s AP class in the largest school system in Virginia (the school system in which my kids attended) on the grounds that it gave him “night terrors” because it was so explicit in nature (brutality and rape committed against the slaves by their “masters,” and bestiality committed by the slaves who had been reduced to beasts by the slave owners’ treatment of them). Some of the dialogue used in my satire of “banning the Bible” were the actual words of cross-wearing Laura Murphy and her son Brett, which were found in print and in the Virginia Republican Governor’s ads in 2021 that handed the election to Republican Gov. Youngkin because it scared the shit out of Virginia’s White voting moms. (BTW: It was very obvious by the strategic placement of the cross on Ms. Murphy’s neck that Gov. Youngkin’s campaign ad featuring her was completely, shamelessly, and totally directed to White, Christian moms of Virginia who swallowed the fear she was peddling hook, line, and sinker.)
Upon taking office, Gov. Youngkin of Virginia immediately set up a “hot-tip line” for Virginians to call if they see, hear, or even suspect teachers teaching CRT (Critical Race Theory) which has never been taught in Virginia (it’s an academic theory). CRT is being used as a bogey-man to squelch teaching the truth about the negative effects that slavery, the Jim Crow era, and structural racism have on African-Americans today.
BEFORE WE BAN ANYMORE BOOKS LET’S CHAT ABOUT SOME FACTS….
Beloved, by Toni Morrison is based on the true story of a Black slave woman, Margaret Garner, who in 1856 escaped from a Kentucky plantation with her husband, Robert, and their children. Even though it was the end of the Civil War, they were recaptured and were going to be returned to their owners, but Margaret who had been systematically raped and brutalized for years by her slave holders feared that the same would befall her daughter. So, she slit her throat and actually tried to kill her other three kids but failed. The book is brutal, terrifying, and heartbreaking. The Pulitzer Prize winning author Jane Smiley has noted the graphic violence in Beloved and has said: “Harriet Beecher Stowe was accused in her time of exaggerating the cruelties in Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and she replied that in fact she whitewashed events to render them publishable. Morrison is her heir, in the sense that she dares to discuss and publish more (though certainly not all) of the truth.”
Beloved won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1988.
Maus, by Art Spiegelman, (most recently unanimously banned by 10 school board members in McMinn county, Tennessee as an 8th grade reading selection) is a graphic novel based on true stories about Spiegelman’s Jewish parents living in 1940s Poland, their Nazi concentration camp horrors, his mother’s subsequent suicide, featuring interviews with his father about his dad’s experience as a Holocaust survivor. Maus was banned from the eighth-grade curriculum in a county in Tennessee, due to parental concerns about eight curse words, the sketch of a nude woman with the head of a mouse and body of a human (the Jews are mice and the Nazis are cats, Poles are pigs, Americans are dogs, the English are fish, the French are frogs, and the Swedes are deer), an aunt who poisons herself and her kids (mice) to help them escape capture by the Gestapo so that they won’t die in the gas chambers of Auschwitz.
Maus won the Pulitzer Prize for a graphic novel in 1992 (to date, the only graphic novel to do so), and Maus has been used for years to help teenagers wrap their heads around the evil of what can happen when man ignores his humanity.
Now here’s the thing: I am and always have been an over-bearing Christian mother (may God forgive me). The term “Helicopter Mom” doesn’t even begin to describe my parenting—try “Velcro Mom” or even yet: “Super Glue Mom”. (My kids say I’m getting better with age—one can only hope.) Would I have concerns if my 8th grader was assigned Maus and my 12th grader was assigned Beloved to read as part of their advanced and college-level English classes? Honestly? Yes!
Both books are horrifying in the description of the depth of cruelty that humans are capable of, and I would be afraid I had coddled my children much too much for them to handle such reality in print or any medium for that matter. Would I encourage the banning of the books for my kids? I’ve thought long and hard about this: No! (Unless my kids were extremely fragile and mentally unstable, then that’s an entirely different discussion and course of action.) As a parent, I would read the books along with my children (gulp!), have very embarrassingly open discussions about the “offensive parts” while constantly pointing toward the higher purposes and truth of both books, and I’d help them navigate the world of the past which could become their future if the history is never learned. In the words of Spanish philosopher George Santayana,“Those who don’t know history [or ignore history=my words] are destined to repeat it.”
Would it be emotionally difficult and very embarrassing? Hell, yes! It would probably be the hardest parenting I’d ever do because of the discomfort of it all—but these types of books are meant to make the reader feel deep, deep discomfort and pain. They are meant to hurt. Why? So that each new generation will dig deeper into their souls to find the solutions to keep humans from slip-sliding away into the darkness of man’s inhumanity to man. That each new generation will learn that they too are capable of doing great harm if they don’t protect Truth. Nothing offensive in Maus and Beloved (or other great literature like it) can even begin to come close to the reality of the history of the Holocaust and American Slavery. Man’s inhumanity to man has happened in the past, is still happening all over the globe, and we see evidence of it rearing its Satanic head in America during our present day. I would hope that because my kids had learned about the past, they’d be able to protect the future. Truth, via books and all the arts, will be our children’s best weapons to guard against and defeat the evil that rears its demonic head long after their parents are dead and gone*.
*In the past several years, the vehement complaints of White people who tour plantations have greatly increased when the history of the plantation’s slavery is presented during the tours. Even while standing in front of the slave houses or the markers of their graves, the visitors get disgusted and proclaim: “We are on vacation! We came here to be entertained—not to be grossed out!”
*Since the rise of Trump Republicanism, more and more school districts are trying to squelch not only the teachings about the truth of slavery and anti-semitism, but the books about LGBTQIA+ youth (All Boys Aren’t Bluehas been targeted for removal from schools and libraries in at least 14 states). And don’t even get me started about the continued erasure of the abuse and murder of millions of Native Americans from our textbooks. The book First Nations of North America: Plains Indians is on a list to be banned in Tennessee’s Williamson Countybecause it “paints White people in a negative light.”
CARTOON USED BY PERMISSION: 253222 It’s Only Offensive by Pat Byrnes, PoliticalCartoons com
“As the New York Times reported, the relentless flood of proposed book bans is dizzying in both scale and overtly political animus. The Daily Beast reported this week how a 10th grade English class in North Carolina is no longer allowed to read the acclaimed book Dear Martin, about a teen’s experience of racial profiling, after one parent complained that it contained profanity.”—Tim Timman, DAILY BEAST
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
The holiday remembering your birthday is upon us again, and I ain’t got nothin’ to say about you that hasn’t been said before. Not that I don’t regard you as one of my all-time favorite heroes, but the nation you tried to save from its shameful sin of slavery spouts a bunch of your quotes as platitudes every year, and yet, it is 2022, and we are in the midst of a major shit-show. Voting rights are slip-sliding away, and even White racists are quoting you to undergird their theft of democracy and truth. It’s as if you lived and died for nothing.
“Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can’t ride you unless your back is bent.”—Martin Luther King, Jr.
Cartoon used by permission: 258904 Voting Rights 2022 by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ
What? What’s that you say, Dr. King? Keep fighting? Don’t tell me I just need to persevere and keep the faith, Sir. I’ve been persevering for 73 years. I’m tired! And even though we’ve made some progress, it seems as if many White Republicans are trying to turn back the clock for Black folks, erase voting rights, and whitewash America’s true history. So as not to hold America accountable for its sins, they’ve created a bogeyman called “Critical Race Theory,” and many White parents are freaking out about the prospect of their children possibly learning the full truth of our American history of slavery and apartheid that little Black girls and boys’ souls and psyches have been branded with from birth. They’ve kicked that old adageto the curb that if we fail to remember history, we’ll be sure to repeat it.
“I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.”—Martin Luther King, Jr.
Cartoon used by permission: 256183 For the History Books by Pat Byrnes PoliticalCartoonscom
Dr. King, you sound like Jesus. I am tired of turning the other cheek. I just want to smack somebody—actually a whole bunch of somebodies—especially MAGA, Big Lie spouting, anti-vax crusaders, and anti-mask Christians who are trying to treat me and mine like second-class citizens in the name of Jesus. As harsh as this may sound, sometimes I wish they’d all get the Covid and die! Many people are saying we’re headed for another civil war, which is freaking me out! They’ve got the guns—all I’ve got is prayer. I’m thinking maybe I need some guns too because words and reason aren’t cutting it anymore. Who and what is going to protect me and mine from the haters? You can’t talk to these people. They refuse to listen.
“Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.” —Martin Luther King, Jr.
Love?! Did you rip off that Jesus quote: “Love your neighbor as yourself?” What are you trying to tell me, Dr. King?
Cartoon used by permission: 247613 Wisdom for the Right by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ
Okay, okay…I didn’t really mean that nasty stuff I said about wishing my enemies dead. I was just spouting off. I’m sorry! I’m just so frustrated that good seems to be losing and evil seems to be winning. I do wish we had another Martin Luther King to lead and guide us, though. We really could use another hero. Too bad you can’t come back.
“Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.”—Barack Obama
President Obama? How did you slip into this conversation? Are you two ganging up on me? What are you saying to me? That Dr. King birthed the dream but now it is up to me, my children, and their children to complete the dream together with all the good-hearted people in America—no matter what their race, creed, or ethnicity? Oh…well, I guess I knew that all along, Dr. King. So, I better get back to work helping to fulfill your dream. I’ve been knocked down and bruised, but I’m not knocked out!
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
There hasn’t been a time since the evolution of mankind where Earth hasn’t been a scary place to dwell. There has never been a time in Earth’s history when there wasn’t poverty, wars and rumors of wars, intolerance, crooked leaders, slavery, murder, rape, genocide, plagues, disease, premature deaths, refugees, racism, monumental floods, ravaging fires, drought, hurricanes, tornadoes, and tsunamis—somewhere on the globe.
And yet, we are supposed to believe that a baby born in a manger thousands of years ago was/is the hope against all that mayhem. The reason to live. The courage to keep going. It’s almost impossible, and yet, I believe…
There was a time when my life was completely hopeless due to poverty, racism, and abuse—so much so, that I wished every day I had never been born. But somewhere on my journey, the birth of a baby born in a manger gave me hope and vision that saved me from myself and the people who tried to misname me. I was not the loveless prodigy of their concerted evil. I was (and still am) the Eleanor who was not a mistake. The Eleanor who was born to be a warrior, an overcomer, a leader, and a balm of grace through my talents—an addition to the Earth, not a subtraction.
I don’t believe in Santa Claus, but I do believe in the Christmas hope of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
HAVE A HOPEFUL, JOY-FILLED CHRISTMAS, MY FELLOW SEEKERS.
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Cartoon used by permission: 257287_1290_rgb (1).jpg Thanksgiving In spite of ourselves by Monte Wolverton Battle Ground WA
AN ODE TO MR. MELEAGRIS GALLOPAVOS
Thanksgiving is coming. Can I be honest with you? I don’t like anything about the featured guest: Le Turkey. I don’t like cooking it. I don’t like the way it tastes. I don’t like the way its leftovers hang around forever. I don’t like the way the remains keep popping up for months on end in soups, casseroles, burgers, salads, tetrazzini, pot pies, and even tacos! However, I love Le Turkey’s sidekicks: gravy, cranberry sauce, green beans, sweet potatoes (no marshmallows, please), mashed potatoes, stuffing (oh my God, do I love me some stuffing!), pecan pie with tons of whipped cream. I can’t imagine celebrating T-Day without those hip-expanding yummies.
My hatred of the turkey goes deeper than the culinary, however. When I was four years old, my mother took me into a place where they sold nothing but live chickens and turkeys. The room was the size of a one-car garage, the floor was barely discernable beneath the dust and debris, and the birds’ squawking was deafening. The poultry was in wooden cages and they were stacked against all four walls from floor to ceiling with a spillover of cages forming a fowl island in the middle of the store. If you could survive the smell, the patrons would choose a live bird to be slaughtered on the spot, and it would be taken home to be plucked and cooked. On this particular day a turkey, who stood taller than me, escaped his habitat and proceeded to terrorize me by chasing me around and around and around the butcher shop while pecking at my head and chubby legs until it drew blood. My nightmares revisited that hellish scene of turkey-on-chubby-little-Black-girl-violence for years to come.
Recently, I told some vegan friends of mine about my hatred of turkeys and my history with that one bird, and they said, “Oh my God Woman, you have turkey bias! You’re a turkey bigot.”
“Not really. I simply believe that the only good turkey is a dead turkey, but it doesn’t mean I have to like eating them. You don’t eat turkeys.”
“We don’t eat turkeys because we respect the turkey. We don’t eat anything that has a mother. We are all one on God’s great Earth. If you make peace with his animal planet, peace will be yours in return. For Turkey’s sake, Girlfriend, you can’t judge an entire race of turkeys by one bad fowl encounter. You’ve got to get out and get to know a few turkeys—to know them is to love them. Find out who they truly are—not to eat them, but to become one with them. You’re a communicator. Go find some turkeys and interview them.”
Well, that is what I did. It was a tad difficult because it seems the turkeys are on the lam—trying to avoid execution this week. However, I found a rebel group leader (Mr. Meleagris Gallopavos) who agreed to be interviewed via email if I did not reveal his whereabouts. So, I sent him a truncated copy of the Proust Questionnaire (a parlor game from the late 1800s made popular by the essayist and novelist Marcel Proust) that is usually used to access the true nature of humans. I figured it should work just fine on a bunch of jive-time turkeys.
Cartoon used by permission: 257001_1290_rgb.jpg Turkey Supply Chain by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com
PROUST ?: What is your idea of perfect happiness?
TURKEY:Thanksgiving is abolished from the land, and ALL Americans become vegetarians.
PROUST ?: What is your greatest fear?
TURKEY: Celebration of Thanksgiving becomes a monthly holiday.
PROUST ?: What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
TURKEY: That turkeys are such chicken-shits. We should have led a revolution against the eating of our kind as soon as we got wind of this whole Pilgrim/Indigenous People dinner party event back in the day. Nipped this T-Day sucker right in the bud.
PROUST ?: What is your current state of mind?
TURKEY: Shear panic! Every year approximately 45 million turkeys are eaten for Thanksgiving dinner. That’s 675 million pounds! You do the math: it’s only a matter of time before the butchers catch up with me and mine.
PROUST ?: On what occasion do you lie?
TURKEY: Whenever it suits me. I’ll throw a brother chicken into the oven in my place faster than you can say gobble-gobble.
Cartoon used by permission: 187876_1290_rgb.jpg Fake news turkeys by John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune
PROUST ?: What living person do you most despise?
TURKEY: The Farmer in the Dell. He takes a wife, a child, a nurse, a cow, a dog, a cat, a mouse, and even some cheese, but he never once saves a turkey. He had the political power as a farmer to change the genocidal trajectory of the turkey, but he did nothing. Well, I say “Hi-ho, the derry-o” to his sorry-ass.
PROUST ?: Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
PROUST ?: What or who is the greatest love of your life?
TURKEY: Oh Lord have mercy, my babies-mama! That chick heard my matting call from over a mile away and came running. She fell in love with my engorged snood, and the rest is history, Baby.
PROUST ?: What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
TURKEY: Being butchered, feathers plucked, and roasted at 350 degrees for five hours. Not to mention being smothered in a brown sludge that humans call gravy.
PROUST ?: Which historical figure do you most identify with?
TURKEY: Benjamin Franklin. Supposedly, he proposed that the turkey become the national bird instead of the bald eagle. (Actually, that story is a myth, but whatever.) He never slandered the turkey at least, but he sure ripped the Bald Eagle a new one: “…the Bald Eagle…is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living honestly…[he] is too lazy to fish for himself.” So there. Why isn’t the Bald Eagle the juicy choice of slaughter for Thanksgiving?
PROUST ?: What are your most marked characteristics?
TURKEY: My eyes. They can see three times better than humans and I can see in color. My strut. I can run at 25 MPH. My feathers. To date, I have 5, 500 feathers! I am truly marvelous!
PROUST ?: What do you value in your friends?
TURKEY: That we are birds of a feather who flock together. In the wild, we have been known to travel in groups of 200 or more.
PROUST ?: What is it that you most dislike?
TURKEY: That my name is blasphemously used, and I don’t deserve that shit. If something is a dud, it’s a “turkey.” If a Broadway show fails, it’s called a “turkey.” If a human suddenly stops doing drugs, it’s called going “cold turkey.” In the seventies, an entire TV character’s main form of getting a laugh was when he called someone a “jive-turkey”—meaning, a fool. George Jefferson “moved on up to the East Side with a deee-luxe apartment in the sky,” but he ruined my family’s life by using our name in vain.
PROUST ?: Finally, what is your motto?
TURKEY: TLM. Turkey Lives Matter!
George Jefferson Meme/The Jeffersons TV Show (1975-1985)
ELEANOR’S SELAH
Whatever you eat for Thanksgiving, it’s not the meal that matters as much as it is the gratitude of being together. I implore you to put aside the rancor, the resentment, past hurts, and old grievances. What matters are the hugs, the smiles, the hope, the love, and the joy shared over a meal—be it turkey or tofu. Let’s be thankful for each other because if the last two years have proven anything: we are not guaranteed a tomorrow.
Cartoon used by permission: 257376_1290_rgb.jpg Being thankful by Rivers CagleCartoons com
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
If I could have a face-to-face, heart-to-heart talk with Jesus, I’d ask him: why oh Lord, how long oh Lord?
God only knows, I am so tired of trauma and drama that I could just scream! I think I’ve prayed 196,000 one-word prayers (HELP!) in the past two months spilling the tea to Jesus about what is happening here in America. I feel compelled to potentially get on his nerves by constantly bombarding the Lord with tales like: “Did you see that Jesus? White evangelicals have gone bat-shit crazy in your name—consequently they are killing us! A high percentage of White Evangelical preachers are telling their congregations not to get vaccinated because of various conspiracy theories that they are pushing (all attached to you, Lord Jesus) being against the vaccines. The ‘Big Lie’ (Biden didn’t win the presidency) infuses all the other lies: Covid-19 is a hoax, vaccine mandates are a hoax (they aren’t the only ones who believe this but they definitely started the fire), Dr. Fauci is a hoax, climate change is a hoax, science is a hoax, our fair-voting system is a hoax, slavery was a hoax, the mainstream media are a hoax, Black Lives Matter is a hoax, Black people in general are a hoax…. I don’t want to tell you how to run your shop, but in case you haven’t noticed, because of their lies, we’re dying in droves down here!”
Cartoon used by permission: 255677_1290_rgb.jpg Word From on High by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT
I read today that the reason so many Evangelicals believe in the Big Lie is because they said Jesus said that Trump was his anointed man and therefore would win the 2020 election by a landslide. When that didn’t happen (because they made this bullshit up, and slapped a “thus saith, the Lord” on it), rather than stone the prophets who falsely “prophesied” this nonsense (I hear that’s what they used to do back in the day of Old Testament Bible times), Right-wing Evangelicals decided they could never do the humble thing and admit they were wrong, instead they decided the best thing to do was embrace the Big Lie (and all its appendages) that the election was stolen, that God’s will was thwarted, and that they best fight to the death because, after all, “God said.”
Cartoon used by permission: 255437_1290_rgb.jpg January 6th Rally by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ
Now I know God never declared any such thing, but it is my word (and all other sane people) against theirs. Unfortunately, there are so many of them, and they don’t want to hear a word from me or others like me. That’s why I think it would really be so beneficial if God would make a one-time appearance in the sky and simultaneously declare in every language:
“Listen up creation, this is your God. Ignore the Right-wing Evangelicals preachers and idiots in general. STOP THE MADNESS! Here is my mission for you: You’ve got approximately 30 years to save the Earth if you start last month, minutes to stop killing off your family, friends, and neighbors by getting vaccinated with the gift of shots that I sent you through science, and seconds to start loving your fellow woman/man as you love yourself which I modeled for you. But I’m not going to do it for you. That’s why I gave you brains! Over-and-out, God.”
In the meantime, I am almost undone. I don’t know how to live in this world today. A precious new granddaughter was just born into our family, and I can barely enjoy the thought of her without being overwhelmed with sadness about the world I’m leaving her. Call me naïve, but I expected four things to happen in 2021:
that once we got the vaccines rolled out, most of our citizens would do the right thing and get the shots to protect themselves and each other
that the vaccines would not allow any leapfrog of the virus over the wall of the vaccines
that once we pried Trump’s fat fingers off the Oval Office power, he’d sink into a molehill on one of his golf courses and disappear instead of sitting on the sidelines raising hell and planning his authoritarian takeover of the Presidency in 2024
that I’d get back to some type of normalcy in life because all this shit would be done and gone
Well, crap, those things didn’t happen!
Cartoon used by permission: 255511_1290_rgb.jpg Milley Moment by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN
How am I supposed to function in the midst of an apocalypse because I am truly exhausted? Trump is causing all sorts of disgusting mayhem. Rather than go away, he has gotten louder, more demonic, and more dangerous. Apparently, we’re charting 2,000 deaths per day from the Delta variant (one American dies every 43 seconds since March 1st)—IT IS NOT GOING AWAY, PEOPLE! I’ve become very aware that we’re going to be dealing with some variant of Covid-19 for a long, long time, and our country could very well sink into an authoritarian regime in the near future led by good ol’ self-righteous, born-again Christians (can we say American Taliban, anyone?) who reinstate Trump as President or someone even worse. Afghanistan, Haiti, floods, wildfires, hurricanes, lying politicians, and lying preachers! What shall I do? Where shall I go? How shall I live?
The other day my acupuncturist, who sometimes doubles as my psychiatrist, told me that she thinks I have “Pandemic Stress Disorder,” and I needed to snap out of it. My response was: “No shit, Sherlock—do you live on this planet?” She said, “you’re not alone—many, many others feel the same way as you do.” It was after my session with Ms. Acupuncturist that I read an article by Brad Stulberg (Time.com), who said we all are suffering from “collective fatigue.” In Brad’s article—Why You Feel So Tired all the Time—he says we are “replacing excitement with anxiety.” I think what he means is that we all need regular bouts of good excitement in our lives to give us energy and joy, such as vacations, dinners out, family reunions, concerts, sporting events, keeping up with current events, visiting one’s newborn grandchild (my major priority), but none of these things can happen without a lot of stress attached to engaging in these activities due to the pandemic and all the other depressing mess happening in our world (anti-mask folks beating up flight attendants on planes).
“There are, of course, many reasons for our collective fatigue: a year-and-a-half-long pandemic, social unrest and democratic backslide—to name a few. But even beyond these obvious drivers, I think there is something else going on: We are replacing excitement with anxiety.” *—Brad Stulberg, Author of The Practice of Groundedness)
Cartoon used by permission: 255461_1290_rgb.jpg Happily Ever After by Christopher Weyant The Boston Globe MA
I told my acupuncturist about Brad Stulberg’s theory, and I said: “If what he says is true, how am I supposed to live?”
“In the now,” said the acupuncturist.
“Right now,” Ms. Acupuncturist said, “you are on my table, receiving treatment that will hopefully help your physical and mental ailments. There is nothing else happening in this room except that. Trump is not here, and don’t bring him into this room via your thoughts. Preachers misleading their congregations with false information are not here in this room. When Trump or the nutty preachers pop into your brain, kick them out. If your images of them don’t go away, pray for them. You’re a woman of faith, pray that they all will wake up and embrace the truth, and then leave it in God’s hands. Listen to the soothing music, and listen to my voice. We’re both vaccinated and wearing masks, so when thoughts of thousands dying from Covid-19 slip into your brain, let those thoughts go—don’t entertain the fear of ‘what if their selfishness affects my family, and my loved ones die.’ It isn’t happening at this moment, and that is all you can control—now! Then do this exercise in the next moment after this, and the next moment after that, and the next. There will be plenty of time to fight the good fight that you have control over, and when you’re in that moment, do so—fight with all your strength! Other than that, dwell on gratitude and love. It’s not easy, but you’re going to have to do this in order to live because this shit’s not going away anytime soon!”
I took her advice. That is how I’ve begun to live—moment by moment. I can’t control people who refuse to do the right thing, but I will choose to do the right thing and protect my sanity and my health. In fact, I’ve memorized the Serenity Prayer and say it to myself every morning before my feet hit the ground—especially the first six lines:
“God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time…”
(TODAY’S 196,001 PRAYER: Dear God: Did you read the latest Right-Wing conspiracy theory headline? “Breitbart Writer is begging Trumpers to get vaccinated because he claims ‘Organized Left’ uses ‘reverse psychology’ by mocking the MAGA unvaccinated to ‘trick’ people into purposely refusing ‘Trump Vaccine,’ because it will benefit Joe Biden and the Dems if scores of Trumpers simply drop dead.” God, please tell these stupid people to just take the damn shot!)
Cartoon used by permission: 255054_1290_rgb.jpg How can they be so dense by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
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How The Hell Did I End Up Here? is a non-commercial entertainment and social commentary blog about the author's life and a critique of public and political personalities, published news articles, and consumer venues. Any linked-to or reblogged images contained on this website remain the property of their respective copyright owner(s), have been used by contractual permission, are displayed under the fair use doctrine, or are part of public domain.
how the hell did i end up here? 