It just took a brief, horrifying investigation to discover what is wrong—why I can’t seem to reach you at your address. Apparently, your abode of love and compassion has been obfuscated by one Donald J. Trump and his MAGA religion of cruelty and lies. I don’t know if you are aware, but this dude is trying to become the Messiah of Christianity and the King of the world.
To make things worse, Donald “Jesus” Trump has been ushered into place by many of your Christians who see a way to grab hold of power supposedly in your name, but it’s actually in their likeness of dominance, greed, power, and utmost control. They have kicked your compassion and empathy for the poor and the immigrant to the curb, and they have crushed any sense of truthfulness to get their own way. In fact, they push forth a lie when the truth would be more convenient. They’ve co-opted your character and made it a political tool of hate.
Cartoon used by permission: 292299_MAGA Jesus Cures by Pat Byrnes, PoliticalCartoons.com
All this to say: WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO DO SOMETHING?! Don’t you care that your street cred is being greatly tarnished and possibly abolished? I don’t want to tell you how you should be running things, but as I meditate on what Easter means to me, I’m reminded that your love for me and all humans caused you to sacrifice your life on a cross so that we might live free. Although I don’t fully understand why such a sacrifice was needed, I do know that what the idol Donald “Jesus” Trump is flaunting, ain’t it! And yet…so many of your followers—those claiming to be Christians and sporting huge crosses around their necks and on their lapels to prove their loyalty to you—are buying it hook, line, and sinker.
Cartoon used by permission: 283958_Christen Dumb by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
Anyway, I’m trying to reach you this Easter to let you know that those of us that follow the true Messiah—Jesus, of Nazareth—the God of love, mercy, compassion, truth, humility, and forgiveness are still loyal to you but we’re freaking out! Why are you allowing Trump to get away with this madness of blaspheming your character? I’m reminded that nothing is new in history, of course. We’ve been here before when your White Christians have sold you down the river for their own greed and lust for power. Remember the Civil War? Most White Christians had convinced themselves that you approved of slavery and that their Black brothers and sisters were only 2/5ths human and not deserving of freedom, self-rule, education, the pursuit of happiness, or respect.
Cartoon used by permission: 294079_MAGA Heaven by Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT
May I be so bold as to remind you my Lord and Savior about something I read recently from a German historian that nothing exemplifies the selling of one’s soul like the German churches in the 30’s and 40s. By the time the Allies destroyed the Nazis, most of the German churches had aligned themselves with Hitler (that other demon who tried to steal your glory) and his government of hate and lies; Swastika flags draped their churches, and the Nazis had reinvented you as an Arnold Schwarzenegger-type, Aryan body builder who would eradicate all the Jews— “the others”. You must have been overcome with fury whenever a child was baptized in the German churches during Hitler’s reign of terror when the minister anointed the baby with the “blessing”: “May this child grow up to honor the glory of our Lord and our Fuhrer.”
Cartoon used by permission: 292709_MAGA Nation by Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT
In my despair, I would suggest that you not even bother to show up this Easter, but then I can’t shake the definition of Easter:
Easter is celebrated by Christians to commemorate the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. This event, described in the New Testament, is believed to symbolize victory over sin and death and offers hope of salvation for humanity. The resurrection is a central tenet of Christian faith, signifying Jesus’ divinity and his victory over death.
Then I remember that no sin or evil which equals death in the end has ever withstood your resurrection. American Slavery did not stand in your name and crush my people, Apartheid did not triumph in your name and overcome the Black South Africans, and Nazism—murderous as it was—did not destroy the Jews in your name. Your resurrection—your victory over death—destroyed all these anti-Christs. And so, shall it be this time around…. (I do believe, I do believe; help my unbelief, dear God!)—Love, Eleanor
Cartoon used by permission: 294854_HAPPY EASTER by Marian Kamensky, Austria
HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!
HE IS RISEN!
HE IS RISEN, INDEED!
Cartoon used by permission: 283798_Easter Promise by Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com
***
If you’d like a funny, insightful, dystopian romp in the form of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, where the god of that world does thwart the elevation of an “Unholy One” and the dethroning of the Head of Oz’s Religious Faith Office, please check out my latest book House of Oz Undone:
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The first time I heard the term “woke” used in a pejorative manner was a year or so ago when I attended a dinner party as the only Black person on the guest list. Up until that point, I thought “woke” meant “hip” and “open-minded,” which I clearly consider myself to be even at the age of 74 and counting.
All the dinner attendees were over 70 years old, well-educated, mostly Republican, supposedly Christian as to their choice of religion, and well-to-do. A White man boastfully introduced himself during the cocktail hour to my husband (who is White) in the following manner: “I’m retired Superior Court Judge________, and I’m NOT WOKE!” The statement came out of nowhere—apropos to nothing—as if to say: “Aren’t we having lovely weather this week, and oh, by the way, I’m Judge A-hole, and ‘I’m not woke!’” I was not privy to the conversation and didn’t hear about it from my husband until after we returned home. Probably a good thing—no telling how a throwdown between a Black 74-year-old woman who takes no prisoners and a privileged self-serving, racist White man might have upended an innocuous neighborhood dinner party.
“When Republicans use the word ‘woke,’ it’s a deliberate bit of obfuscation, a way to signal bigotry to their fellow travelers while pretending it’s something else to those who call them out for it. But it’s also pretty hard to ignore the bullhorn levels of racism that are often embedded in complaints about “woke” culture. When Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, R-Ga., complains that it’s “woke” to let Black women sing at the Super Bowl, for example, the only rational conclusion is that it’s their skin color that offends her.”—How a Far-Right Think Tank Made Everything Woke by AMANDA MARCOTTE/Salon
Cartoon used by permission: 272329_Get That Man A Mirror by Christopher Weyant, CagleCartoons.com
I had forgotten about that very “unwoke” statement by the retired judge until recently when I dreamt of a room full of people who appeared to be attending a cocktail party outside the gates of Heaven. They were all wearing crosses around their necks or on their lapels, but judging by their costuming they all appeared to be from various times and places in history.
The attendees were adamantly insisting to one another that there must have been some mistake as to why they had been invited to this particular party but not allowed to cross over into the inner sanctum of Heaven. They were demanding an explanation from anyone who would listen and to no one in particular. Although I can’t remember most of the conversations articulated by the thousands of the party-goers now that I’m awake, I do remember a select few that had a profound effect on me. Below is the recreation of those conversations. The statements in quotes can be confirmed in history books and/or recent news articles as to actual statements made by the noted party attendees.
TRANSCRIBED CONVERSATION BETWEEN BLOGGER AND ATTENDEES AT DREAM PARTY
ME: Excuse me, Officer. I got lost wandering around the building looking for the Office of Easter Explanation. I’m hosting an Easter party for aliens who have just landed. They don’t speak much English, so I thought I’d school them on the meaning of Easter in between the ham and the key lime pie at Easter dinner. Given the circumstances, the meaning needs to be very simplistic. However, I seem to be lost. What is this room?
GUARD: You couldn’t be more lost than if you were a snowball at the equator, Lady! This is the waiting room to decide whether these people who think they are going to Heaven—who dedicated their lives to “serving Jesus”—will actually end up in Hell. What’s that old Negro spiritual: ‘Everybody talkin’ ‘bout Heaven ain’t going there?’ I’m an angel, and this is the room of the “Anti-woke” or what my team likes to call: the room of the “Anti-Christ.” The people you see here were invited to this party because of the damage they did during their time on Earth in the name of the resurrected Christ. In some form or another they took great pride in “not being woke” while claiming to love Jesus. I personally don’t get it, since “woke” is merely the past tense of “wake.” He woke up—he is awake—you get my gist! Seems like that would be a good thing.
Cartoon used by permission: 271931_Too Woke by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
ME: Well, no disrespect, Ms. Angel, but from the snippets of conversation I’m hearing, that’s not quite the definition of the “woke” these people are misusing. They co-opted the term. The word “woke” is a political term derived from African-American Vernacular English* meaning “alert to racial prejudice and discrimination”.
GUARD: Hum, you don’t say…
ME: Yep, it’s not a new term. It was derived from the blues musician Huddie Ledbelly (best known as “Lead Belly”) in 1931 from his protest song about the Scottsboro Boys. They were nine Black teenagers falsely accused of raping two White women on a train (the women made up the story). Lead Belly was reported to have said, “I made this song about down there [the Jim Crow South]. So, I advise everybody: be a little careful—best stay woke, keep their eyes open.” **
GUARD: Son-of-a-gun… Anyway, they better get the correct definition ASAP because this is their last chance to wake up before they do a slip-n-slide into Hell. Feel free to take a stroll around the room and engage in some of the conversations, why don’t you? You’ll see what I mean. Maybe you’ll even find the definition of Easter.
As I began to meander, various voices called out to introduce themselves to me since I appeared to be the new kid on the block. I listened as best I could, seeking first to understand before I tried to be understood. As I made the promenade around the room, I approached a man in flowing gowns from the 16th Century.
ME: Hello, my name is Eleanor the Blogger. Who are you?
MAN 1: Hello, I’m Martin Luther from 1533. I’m responsible for the Reformation. I overheard your conversation with the Guard which was most fascinating. I must confess that I was “not woke” during my time, and I kind of regret it now. I thought my “Ninety-five Theses,” which I posted on the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg, Germany, should have paved the way for the Jews to become Lutherans. When that didn’t happen, I’ve got to confess that it thoroughly pissed me off. Consequently, I left final written instructions in my diaries as to what I proposed should be the demise of the Jews, and I quote: ‘First, to set fire to their synagogues or schools and to bury and cover with dirt whatever will not burn, so that no man will ever again see a stone or cinder of them. This is to be done in honor of our Lord and of Christendom, so that God might see that we are Christians…’
ME: What the fuck, Dude! I thought you loved Jesus! Your “anti-wokeness” regarding the Jews’ right to worship their own God unleashed a torrent of hatred that became the bedrock of the German/Lutheran Zeitgeist.
MAN 2: Heil Hitler, Herr Luther. I’m a clergyman from WWII representing at least 20 European countries that tried to eradicate the Jews. I’m here to tell you that because of you we “were definitely not woke” to the Jews’ right to life, and we have you to thank. By 1945 we managed to kill most European Jews—two out of every three to be exact—all in the name of Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior.
Fearing I might start to vomit due to the horror of what I was hearing I ran from the Nazi Christian sympathizers and crashed into an ex-American president…
NIXON: I overheard what you said, young lady. I thought I was ‘woke’ about the Jews, the Blacks, and the Mexicans during my tenure, but given your definition about ‘woke’ I suppose you’re going to tell me that I missed the boat. I disagree, wholeheartedly. I am a Christian—led to the Lord by my best friend who was the Rev. Billy Graham, Jr. I don’t have a racist bone in my body. Take that and stuff it up your woke ass!
ME: Are you kidding me, Mr. Crook? Do you remember what you said about my people when you didn’t know your taped conversations would ever see the light of day? You said, ‘I have the greatest affection for [blacks], but I know they’re not going to make it for 500 years. They aren’t. You know it, too. The Mexicans are a different cup of tea. They have a heritage. At the present time they steal, they’re dishonest, but they do have some concept of family life. They don’t live like a bunch of dogs, which the Negroes do live like.’
You Jerk! You screwed Black folks’ civil rights into the ground. But yet we still rise! BTW A-hole, our 44th President was a Black man.
MAN3: Couldn’t help but overhear your argument with the President. Did you say a Black man became President? Well, I’ll be damned. Roll me over, and call me shorty. I’m Captain Auld, one of Frederick Douglas’ masters from slavery time. I’m a Christian and I think my slaves were lower than my animals and were to be treated as such. Back in the day, I went to a fabulous Holy Spirit-filled revival and got myself born-again, again! Yes, I did—praise Jesus’ name—glory hallelujah! But I never “got woke” because my critics say I returned to my plantation after that Holy Ghost touch from God a lot meaner and more hateful than I ever was. They say I mercilessly beat women slaves to death while I quoted Bible verses.I was only fulfilling the will of God as my divine slave owner right.
ME: I remember you from Frederick Douglas’ Autobiography! Mr. Douglas said that, ‘It [your salvation] neither made him more humane to his slaves, nor to emancipate them…it made him more cruel and hateful in all his ways…but after his conversion, he found religious sanction and support for his slave-holding cruelty.’
AULD: Tis true! I was definitely “anti-woke” then, but I did become “woke” on my deathbed. I even asked Douglas to forgive me—’told him I would have run away just like he did if I’d been in his shoes ‘cause he turned out to be the smartest man I ever knew’. Does that count?
ME: Too late, Slaveholder. The damage you did to Frederick Douglas’ spirit, soul, and body, and to the countless other slaves you tortured can’t be clawed back.
Cartoon used by permission: 272852_Where Woke Dies by Bill Day, FloridaPolitics.com
At this point, I had heard enough, and I ran toward the exit. But I didn’t escape before hearing Congresswoman Lauren Boebert scream after me that she would never be “woke” about guns because as a Christian she believed “if Jesus had had an AR-15, he wouldn’t have been crucified.“
As I exited the room, Governor Ron DeSantis yelled in my direction, ‘FLORIDA IS WHERE WOKE GOES TO DIE!you BLM Coastal Elite!’
Cartoon used by permission: 266362_Desantis Freedom From Woke by Ed Wexler, CagleCartoons.com
ELEANOR’S SELAH ABOUT EASTER
Do you know what I discovered when I awoke from my dream? If I had to explain the meaning of Easter to an alien who didn’t speak much English, I would tell them that the true meaning of Easter is “being woke.” Jesus’ sacrificial love for all mankind, the joy and abundance His truths were supposed to provide to all people regardless of race, creed, gender or ethnicity, and His peace which passes all understanding—all of it—was meant to deliver us from death (loneliness, poverty, enslavement, inequality, hopelessness, abuse, brutality, cruelty, injustice, immorality, etc.). In turn, throughout history, those who claimed to be Jesus’ followers were supposed to live that resurrection life of Easter in such a way that the Earth and its people would thrive with the goodness of God oozing from our Christian pores. But have you noticed, anytime historical Christians have been asleep to the truth of who Jesus really is, what He was crucified for, and why His resurrection on Easter is so precious, evil of overwhelming proportions have inflicted the Earth, and to that end I believe Jesus wept.
So, here’s my rallying cry this Easter: CHRISTIANS, PLEASE WAKE UP! If you claim to be born-again, pro-life, sport a cross around your neck or on your lapels, call yourself a Believer, go to church, wear a bracelet that says: WWJD? (what would Jesus do?), quote Bible verses, and sing praise and worship songs, then give yourselves an Easter present by waking up to the true meaning of the season. Once again, the Earth (especially America) is perched on the precipice of history where our actions as Christians will either bring eons of suffering upon the globe or our “awakeness” will turn the corner of mayhem, destruction, and lies, and point the way to everlasting life.
HAVE A BLESSED EASTER EVERYONE!
LET’S GET WOKE!
Cartoon used by permission: 194302_Easter by Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT
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 of the author’s writing 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. However, the cartoons are under the governance of CagleCartoons.com and cannot be replicated.
Cartoon used by permission: 261846_World Easter Egg cracks by Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com
I’ve always been a human being who could find humor in the worst of situations and times, which is one of the reasons I think my childhood did not drive me mad. This week, as I mourned a friend who had passed from the coronavirus and prayed for two of my friends and two of my enemies who were stricken by this curse, one of the tools that helped me through the morass was finding humor in unexpected places. Like receiving my carefully planned and expensive DIY pedicure equipment from Amazon (complete with top grade foot soaker and massager and lavender-scented Epsom salts) only to discover I can no longer reach my feet due to my 71-year-old chubby-ass body. A bougie problem, I know! Nevertheless it is a problem for me since my husband has not volunteered to give me a pedicure and probably never will. We’ve all been affected by this pandemic, whether by mere inconvenience or debilitating loss—personally and financially. Obviously, I’m still in the “inconvenienced” category by the grace of God. I know this. I am grateful, but I still need to laugh or I’ll turn into a ball of rage because I blame everything from my friend’s death to my inability to maintain my diva nails and toes on one person and one person only: Donald J. (“I don’t take any responsibility”) Trump!
Cartoon used by permission: 237420 Incompetent Trump by Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons com
As I contemplated the absurdity of having seven out of my ten throbbing fingernails wrapped in Band-Aids (the result of trying to perform a DIY acrylic nail removal which gave birth to four punctured fingers and three torn nail beds), my sister-in-law sent me a list of coronavirus laugh lines entitled “Effects of the Coronavirus.” Actually, she got them from her husband who was sent them by his old college roommate, but when I Googled them the published source turned out to be Chuck and Anne Norwood from The Laurinburg Exchange in Scotland County, North Carolina. Chuck and Anne say these coronavirus laugh lines are not originally from them but were sent in by a reader who collected them from God knows where. If these coronavirus quotes turn out to be the brain children of some of America’s gazillion wonderful comedians, please forgive me for not giving you the proper credit…blame it on the COVID-19 insanity or the mind-numbing pain emanating from my bleeding fingers that is slowly eroding my cerebrum and my well-being.
EFFECTS OF THE CORONAVIRUS
Cartoon used by permission: 236678 Here’s toilet paper by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
“I used to spin that toilet paper like I was on Wheel of Fortune. Now I turn it like I’m cracking a safe.”
“Classified Ad: Single man with toilet paper seeks woman with hand sanitizer for good clean fun.”
Cartoon used by permission: 237317 Almost Time To Eat Again by Ed Wexler PoliticalCartoons com
“Half of us are going to come out of this quarantine as amazing cooks. The other half will come out with a drinking problem.”
“I need to practice social-distancing from the refrigerator.”
“PSA: ‘Every few days try your jeans on just to make sure they fit. Pajamas will have you believe all is well in the kingdom.’”
“Quarantine Day 5: Went to this restaurant called THE KITCHEN. You have to gather all the ingredients and make your own meal. I have no clue how this place is still in business.”
Cartoon used by permission: 236749 NATIONAL COVID 19 school closings by John Cole,The Scranton Times Tribune PA
“HOMESCHOOLING REPORT, FAMILY OF THREE—ONE ADULT, TWO KIDS: ‘Homeschooling is going well. 2 students suspended for fighting and 1 teacher fired for drinking on the job.’”
“Day 5 of Homeschooling: One of these little monsters called in a bomb threat.”
“Day 6 of Homeschooling: My child just said ‘I hope I don’t have the same teacher next year’…. I’m offended.”
Cartoon used by permission: 237299 Upside to lockdown by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
“This morning I saw a neighbor talking to her cat. It was obvious she thought her cat understood her. I came into my house, told my dog—we laughed a lot.”
“I’m so excited—it’s time to take out the garbage! What should I wear!?!”
“I hope the weather is good tomorrow for my trip to Puerto Backyarda. I’m getting tired of Los Livingroom.”
“Still haven’t decided where to go for Easter—The Living Room or The Bedroom”
Cartoon used by permission: 237093 Easter Bunny Covid 19 safety by Dave Granlund PoliticalCartoons com
Happy Easter and Happy Pesach everyone! Wishing you all bountiful gifts of gratitude, kindness, and comfort of heart as we reflect on the miracle of Passover and the hope of the Resurrection of Christ. Stay well. Stay safe. Stay kind because we are all in this journey together.
Cartoon used by permission: 237469 The Promise by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
I take back everything I’ve ever said about Donald Trump not knowing what he’s doing for the people of the United States and the image of Christ. He’s an evil genius! Also, I take back every disdainful thought I’ve ever had against the MAGA hats that put Trump in office and are keeping him there. Because of them, I’ve found a new lease on life, a calmer demeanor, and a deeper trust in God this Easter. (Thank you, oh Crazy Orange One and your MAGA hat minions for my Easter present!)
Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT , Cagle
My non-believing sisters and brothers, do you know what Lent is? According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, it is “the 40 weekdays from Ash Wednesday to Easter observed by the Roman Catholic, Eastern, and some Protestant churches as a period of penitence and fasting,” which is to draw one closer to God by the time Easter rolls around because the resurrection of Christ from the dead is so awesome that it is every Christian’s hope that if Christ can conquer death, he can conquer every other type of evil plaguing our lives. The reason we give up things at Lent that have some control over our appetites is because we hope it will be easier to scrub off the veneer of fear and hopelessness that blinds us to the power of Christ’s resurrection help in other areas of our lives.
Well, Eureka! The Holy Ghost gave me a revelation. The messianic imposter in the White House had caused me to momentarily think he was indestructible, invincible, and made of Teflon (none of his sins were ever going to stick to him and bring him down), and there was absolutely nothing I could personally do about his reign and damage done to our country. (If his Evangelical supporters are to be believed, I am not operating in God’s will by opposing the Orange One—in fact, I am a sinful little snot who will burn in Hell.) I was full of fear (not of going to Hell, but of Trump getting away with murder, which seems so much worse than living in Hell), and that led to chronic anxiety which led to eating a gluttonous amount of chocolate-covered bon-bons washed down with buckets of mojitos (not really, but you get my point).
I am seventy years old and counting—I cannot afford to waste
any more of my days on fear and loathing.
So I had a Lenten revelation: I need to give up Donald J. Trump, not just for Lent, but for the end of time. He is like an obnoxious, spoiled toddler who is only happy if he is absorbing all our attention every second of the day. I no longer give him the attention he is demanding. I have replaced thoughts about Trump with gratitude and mindfulness via meditation, and I’m letting the God of the universe fight the things I cannot control—including kicking Trump’s ass.
I have become a
mindfulness aficionado (more about this in the weeks to come).
Carrie on Pinterest
Every morning when I wake up (before I get out of bed), I thank God for what I have—not what I’ve lost. (At this age, one starts losing things, people, and memories on a daily basis as if they were pennies in a pocket full of holes. Trust me, getting old is not for the cowardly.) In other words, if I can still breathe, walk, see, hear, talk, and learn…it’s a good day!
Then I mediate, and the sole script of that meditation is a
prayer to the God of Easter:
“I have no plans today for my life—only sketches.
Reveal to me your path—where I should go, who I should meet, what I
should do.
May I be slow to anger, quick to listen, and slow to speak.
Grant me courage, wisdom, grace, mercy, and above all love for those I encounter along the way.”
It has been amazing! No more stress, no more anxiety, and no more anger at Trump or anything else—I am as cool as an iced cucumber and I’m no longer in search of bon-bons. (I fully believe he’s going to be flushed down the toilet of life, but I’m not worried about the if, when, how, or by whom, anymore.) Consequently, I’ve had the most amazing encounters during the Lent season. As you might expect, I met a Tin Man who needed a heart, a Scarecrow who needed a brain (actually this was a woman), and just recently, a Lion who needed courage.
Let me tell you about the most
significant traveler I met along the way since the beginning of my new
mindfulness journey. The Lion. He was a driver for a car service in New York
City. He was Asian, young, handsome, and
spoke fairly good English. On his dashboard was a miniature picture of the
Dalai Lama. Our driver had shoulder-length
black hair which sported a cocky backwards baseball cap that displayed the
slogan: “Let’s get fucked tonight!” Since I had no intentions of doing anything
that day but get to the airport on time and try to return home in one piece, I
said, “Delta Terminal C, please,” and proceeded to get lost in conversation
with my husband about our magnificent grandson and daughter who we had just
spent a wonderful weekend with. The
driver seemed lost in thought but said nothing except an explosive “sigh” every
minute or so which was very disruptive—each sigh was like the percussive sound
of a steam engine. (It was so unnerving that I almost yelled at
him and said, “What the fuck is wrong with you?
Turn on some music if this is the best you can do for conversation!” But
this is the new and improved, mindfulness Eleanor, so I was not “quick to
anger,” nor was I “quick to speak,”(plus,
if the truth be told, I didn’t want my Uber rating to take a hit—it’s bad
enough as it is!).
I thought the driver was
frustrated with the traffic, and I made a mental note to give him a one-star
rating where it says, “Driver was a good conversationalist” on the ratings form
at the end of our destination. After a
long twenty minutes and about thirty Eeyore sighs later, we finally pulled up
in front of our designated terminal. As
soon as I unbuckled my seat belt and hastily reached for the door, the driver
turned around and said: “If you had a friend whose wife was having
an affair with his best friend, would you forgive her and try to make the
marriage work for the sake of the kids (he has the kids), or would you take the
kids and run?” In the midst of a
traffic jam with horns blaring, in front of an airport terminal, trying not to
be late to catch a flight, my husband and I gave a broken-hearted lion a few
minutes of counseling that I can only hope gave him the courage to let love win
and try to save his marriage. (I’d like to think there was something about our
mindfulness that encouraged him to open his Dalai Lama-loving heart to us…)
But one thing I’m certain of,
ever since I let go of Trump and let God take over my mind and heart, I am
encountering the most amazing human beings and having the most outlandish
conversations. I shall keep you
posted. In the meantime, if all the mess
of Donald Trump and his minions gets you down or your life is one that makes
you mourn and sigh, remember the God of Easter and his amazing resurrection
life makes all good things possible, and in the words of one of my favorite
authors:
“Everything will be all right in the end.
If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end.”
The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel
Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown CT, Cagle
Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Minnesota, Cagle
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.
As you might imagine, given the events of this week, I am sitting Shiva with the rest of my liberal friends—or should I say, sitting Shiva with anybody who has a brain, a conscious, a heart, a soul, or eyes and ears. According to Wikipedia, Shiva means “seven,” and “sitting Shiva” is described as: “the week-long mourning period in Judaism for first-degree relatives.” In this case, my first-degree relatives are my country’s morality, constitution, and soul, and my religion’s core Truth. I know I’m supposed to accept Barr’s assessment of the Mueller report and move on, but I just can’t. In the words of George Conway (conservative lawyer and the husband of White House counselor Kellyanne Conway —talk about irony):
“TRUMP IS GUILTY—OF BEING UNFIT FOR OFFICE”
Cartoon used by permission: Milt Priggee, Oak Harbor, WA/Cagle Cartoons
The aftermath of Barr’s summary has been brutal against anyone who has opposed Trump—led by the mean-spirited bully Trump himself, as he takes his victory lap in the end zone. Every time I hear him attacking someone who has uncovered his lies or stood up to his bullying, all I can do is pray that the God of Easter rescues us from this cretin—SOON. Was it wrong to hope the Mueller Report would be an answer to that prayer of obvious corruption exposed? And why did William Barr give us an interpretation of a potentially 300-plus page report rather than the report itself? What is Barr hiding? Instead, the White Right-Wing Christians who believe Trump was sent by God are hoarse from crowing Barr’s summation that God has protected their anointed one, and it makes me sick to my stomach—so sick, it sent me into intercessory prayer. Below is my most recent prayer—prayed while sitting in sackcloth and ashes cataloged under the title: If Ever There was a God, Now is the Time to Show Up (Again).
Cartoon used by permission: Ed Wexler, PoliticalCartoons.com/Cagle Cartoons
DEAR GOD:
How are you? The last time we spoke, I was praying for healing of a horrible respiratory disease, spring to arrive (sooner than later), and for the Mueller Report to be released, putting a stop to our current reign of terror. I’m very grateful that you completely healed my snot-generating, five-foot chubby-ass body, that spring has finally sprung revealing that not all my plants died over the winter (thank you very much), and the Mueller Report was finally released—kind of.
It looks like I needed to be a bit more specific in my prayers regarding the Mueller Report. I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I thought we had an understanding that the report would be released in its entirety and reveal the complete corruption of Donald J. Trump in such a way that his followers would flee in horror—especially the ones who claim to be your followers. But instead of them repenting in sackcloth and ashes for propping up this egregious sack of sin, they are joining in his revenge victory lap claiming the Bible verse (Psalm 105:15) on Trump’s behalf: “Don’t touch my chosen leaders or harm my prophets! “Just the other day I came across this billboard that was once posted near St. Louis, Missouri from a bunch of your Trump-loving Christian followers equating him with you, Jesus:
A billboard along route I-70 near St. Louis, Missouri in Nov. 2018
(OPEN LETTER TO GOD, CONT.)
I don’t know how I missed this billboard when it first appeared, but my God, doesn’t this just burn your cookies? Seems as if that alone would cause you to make a personal appearance just to set the record straight. Now, how does the Bible verse John 1:14 read again?
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
(The billboard was removed in 2018, but only after a great deal of
hysteria from your “sane” peeps who rallied to confront this blasphemous stupidity.)
Insane, right?!
Cartoon used by permission:Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT/Cagle Cartoons
(OPEN LETTER TO GOD, CONT.)
With all due respect, knowing what you must know, what’s up with letting Trump slide by on the Mueller Report and practically getting away with murder? You of all deities know that he’s guilty. He’s like a giant toddler, and he won’t stop until he’s caught red-handed. He needs a giant ass-kicking by you since I am now convinced that Trump was right—he could shoot someone on 5th Avenue and not lose his supporters—especially his Christian supporters because they believe you sent Trump to save America.
Not that I need to give you any parenting advice, but do you recall the
“Great Toddler Candy Heist of 87” that was perpetrated by one of my children
(no need to name names—you know who Baby-girl is)? Bear with me here.
As you recall, in the beginning, I tried to raise my children in a sugar-free environment. However, one of my kids came to Earth dreaming of lollipops. If upon her arrival the Devil had presented himself to her and said, “I’ll give you all the candy in the world in exchange for your soul, your sister’s soul, and both your parents’ souls,” she would have said, “In a hot baby-poop minute—where do I stamp my baby paw print?” My child had ways of getting candy that I knew not of. All I know is that the minute I turned my back on her (with the specific instructions: “Don’t give this child any candy!”) and returned to pick her up from babysitters, Sunday school providers, mother-in-law, or friends’ homes, I’d find candy wrappers stuffed in her diapers and witness the vestiges of a tummy ache all over my new blouses when I snuggled with her. But no one could ever catch her actually procuring and eating the sweets. No matter how many times I asked her if she’d eaten candy and where she’d gotten it from, she’d look me straight in the eyes and lie through her cute little four-year-old baby teeth. (I think I might have even tossed out a prayer or two to you to help me catch that little barbarian in her lies at one time or another.)
Internet Meme
One day, I think you answered my prayers. I took said candy thief and her sister with
me to a very brief business meeting. I noticed as we passed by a table in the
lobby by the receptionist’s desk that a rather large bowl of grape Jolly
Ranchers was prominently displayed on our way to the elevators. Both girls asked if they could have some, but
I told them “no,” because I was afraid it would spoil their lunch.
After the meeting was over, I strapped the kids into their respective
car seats and proceeded back home for lunch.
About five minutes into the drive, I smelled a pungent grapey odor
coming from the back seat. In fact, the
odor was overwhelming, as if someone had flooded the car with Welch’s Grape
Juice. It was apparent that one of the kids had stolen candy from the office
candy dish. As I whipped my head around
like a cobra to seek out the culprit, I demanded to know who was sucking on a
Jolly Rancher. My older daughter said, “Not I, said the cat.” When I turned to
Baby-girl, she violently shook her head in denial but refused to open her
mouth. Had I not pulled over to the side
of the road, I would not have caught her in the act. But as I stopped the car and looked into the
back seat at my girls, streams of purple ooze poured out of Baby-girl’s
mouth. Apparently, she had stolen as
many Jolly Ranchers as her little fat fingers could handle and squirrelled them
away in her jumpsuit pockets. My toddler
thief had stuffed not one, not two, not three, but at least four grape Jolly
Ranchers into her tiny toddler mouth which couldn’t contain the saliva
overflow. Caught dead to rights, even as I asked Baby-girl if she had Jolly
Ranchers in her mouth, she continued to shake her head in fierce denial while
purple saliva stormed from both sides of her mouth as if she were an overheated
Saint Bernard and consequently slimed both her sister and me in purple ooze.
Lord, the point of this story is that I nipped that little rascal’s lyin’ and stealin’ in the bud by catching her in the act, and today she is a fine upstanding citizen. I thought you were probably proud of me for that bit of parenting stealth, if the truth be known.So here’s the word: you created Donald Trump. Essentially, you’re his first parent. I don’t mean to be impertinent, but why didn’t you let the Mueller Report expose him in all his ill-gotten slime? Instead, he has gotten away with his crimes (again!) and has become an even bigger jerk than ever—claiming to be a martyr on the level of messiahhood, creating a revenge list, and tormenting the sick, the poor, and anybody that crosses him.
Cartoon used by permission: Milt Priggee, Oak Harbor, WA/Cagle Cartoons
(OPEN LETTER TO GOD, CONT.)
Lord Jesus, I know you know everything none of us know and in due time,
all will be revealed, and we’ll all know the truth whether we want to accept it
or not. It’s just that William Barr’s assessment was not the truth. It may have “technically” helped Trump escape
collusion, but he’s got the stain of being a horrible human being in every
fiber of his being and he’s sliming us all with his purple-tainted sins of
lying and corruption.
Anyway, see you on Easter. I could use some hope and proof that you’re in control of this mess. Just sayin’. In the meantime, I’ll keep praying (like a mantra) in the words of Leslie Jones’ recent universal tweet: #LORDHELPUSPLEASE
Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star Tucson, AZ/Cagle Cartoons
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.
Do you know what I discovered this week? Easter and April Fool’s Day fall on the same date this year. What could possibly go wrong that hasn’t already gone wrong in these here United States?
Cartoon used by permission: John Darkow, Inside, Columbia
I’m actually going to go to church on Easter.I know! Can you believe it? Haven’t been in years. I left my religion some time ago (actually, my religion left me!), and, although I never plan to permanently return to a religious corporate structure again, our messed up world—especially our messed up country—has me in need of communion and a corporate hug from God.
I need to confess that I’ve never understood why Jesus didn’t set the world straight the first time he came around. If he wanted us to live a certain way—love thy neighbor and all that—why didn’t he just make it so? Isn’t he all powerful? Hadn’t the world committed enough wars, mayhem, and terror BC to give him a gist of the character of mankind that would inhabit the world in AD? We didn’t get any better once he left, we just got more efficient at torturing and killing each other. Shouldn’t he have known that, being God and all?
Cartoon used by permission: Bob Englehart, Middletown, CT
I don’t even know why I expect to be consoled by going to church on Easter because one of the reasons we have the President that we do and we’re in the mess that we are in is because Conservative Evangelical Christians sold their souls to the Devil in exchange for 30 coins of silver.
Cartoon used by permission: Adam Zyglis, The Buffalo News, NY
But I’ll remedy that and go to a Black Baptist church. Not that they’ve got a corner on the righteousness market, but at least I won’t have to put up with any racism which I seemed to have run into head-long in my community recently while accidentally encountering a bunch of Born-Again/Fox News loving, Trump Luddites masquerading as a “history” club, who feel that it is okay to have their own “alternative facts” with an agenda to mold the world into their racist image (Hillary was right: some of them really are quite deplorable when you get up close and personal). Besides, I’m keeping count, and the White Evangelical pastors who support Trump (laid hands on him and prayed for God’s anointing) far outnumber the Black Evangelicals 20 to 1. I’m also keeping count of the White Evangelical preachers who are biting the dust for grabbing women by the “you know what” (it’s Holy week so I need to keep this clean) and they are dropping like flies (must read article referenced below*). Unlike Trump, they don’t seem to be able to get away with their sexual sins as easily as he can.
Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle, GA
I think the straw that broke the camel’s back was when the likes of Laura Ingraham and the NRA smeared the Parkland School shooting survivors with lies about their character and mocked them on Twitter. I was so angry that if I owned a gun I would have seriously considered using it against those Neanderthals. Fortunately, I don’t own a gun for just that reason: crazy mad can happen to the most mild-mannered person if rubbed the wrong way.
Anyway, I don’t like the state of my heart. It has grown dark with fear, anger, and resentment. (My mother always said, “Don’t wrestle with pigs; you’ll get dirty, but the pigs will love it!”) So I’m getting up out of the slop and dragging my sorry-ass to church before it is too late for my soul.
Courtesy of askideas.com
Who knows: maybe Jesus will show up and stay for good this time.
***
ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA” MOMENT) ABOUT RESURRECTION
I am discovering that there is no belief in a resurrection without wrestling with doubt. Is Jesus real or isn’t he? Did he die as some cosmic sacrificial lamb or didn’t he? And on the third day, when the tomb door was rolled away, was he there or wasn’t he? If he can do that, then why doesn’t he save us from ourselves?
And then I remember that he has.
Resurrection means hope and new beginnings, and like spring, when one is in the midst of winter, it is difficult to imagine that spring, hope, and new life will ever conquer the seemingly permanent deadliness of winter. But I believe in the resurrection of Christ (help thou, my unbelief, oh God when I fail to believe), because it is my only hope for our poor sweet world and my sanity.
HAPPY EASTER AND HAPPY PESACH EVERYONE!
OUR WORLD SURE NEEDS THE GRACE OF BOTH.
Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Minnesota
INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ABOUT EASTER RESURRECTION
“The Resurrection miracle is nothing to you and me if it is only an event of eighteen centuries bygone. Unless we can live the immortal life – unless we can receive God to his own home in these hearts of ours – the texts are nothing to us unless these daily lives illustrate them.”—Edward Everett Hale
“It seems as if, for every dragon head that is lopped off, two more terrible appear. Seems so. But in truth, Life is gaining all the while. Brute force, such power as there seems to be in things, cannot stand against ideas which are eternal.”—Edward Everett Hale
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.
Do you know what I discovered, recently? Mother Nature can’t make up her mind whether spring should come or winter should stay. I live in a golf community, and even though I’d personally prefer to knock myself unconscious with a five-iron rather than play a round of golf, I am feeling a bit sorry for my friends and neighbors who almost froze to death last week just trying to play nine holes. While they muttered and complained about the wind-chill factor, I turned back on the heat and the fireplace, and wrapped myself in a warm blanket with a mug of hot chocolate.
Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com
As I meditated on the concept of why any sane human being would ever want to hit a white ball with a clubbed stick in any type of weather, suddenly the sky grew dark and stormy, the heavens opened up, and rain with hail the size of peas on steroids began to assault my house and property while the trees bent so low, it looked as if they were trying to kiss the Earth. While I tried to determine whether I was in a tornado and should run down to the basement, a rabbit flew across my lawn (propelled by the wind) in search of shelter, but never managed to land on its feet. The hurricane-type winds pushed him down the hill at fifty miles an hour and out of sight. I’m pretty sure he didn’t survive, and I imagine his bunny ass is plastered against one of the trees in the forest behind my house. However, I’ll never know for sure because when I tried to find out what happened to him once the storm was over, a large snake slithered out of the forest towards me, and I ran back into the safety of my house, screaming: “Oh Hell to the no! Bunny. I like rabbits—being it’s near Easter and all—but tangling with a snake to save your sorry-ass is beyond the pale.” (Don’t you ever wonder why we don’t see more animals flying through the air when bad storms happen? Where do they go during hurricanes and tornados? What do they cling to when the winds are moving at a hundred miles an hour? I have a million squirrels on my property—why didn’t I see at least a half million of those soaring through the air?)
I took a nap, fully expecting to dream about that wind-kill-of-a-bunny, but instead I dreamt of the Easter Bunny. Only in my dream scenario, the Easter Bunny wasn’t being hammered by a winter/spring storm against a tree, he was in hiding in a giant cave with a gazillion eggs, hordes of Easter candy with a legion of reporters asking him how he’d lost his faith. I could see them, but they couldn’t see me. As I approached the scene, I heard the Easter Bunny say: “I quit, I quit I tell you! All you people from every country all over this planet are horrid creatures. There isn’t a country that I’ve visited where I haven’t been assaulted, attacked, and arrested. What am I guilty of? What did I ever do but bring happiness, sunshine, and color to your pathetic lives? And what do I get in return? War. Mayhem. Slaughter. Assault. Abuse. BUNNY LIVES—ESPECIALLY EASTER BUNNY LIVES—MATTER, YOU SONS-A-BITCHES!”
Cartoon used by permission: Marian Kemensky, Slovakia
(News organizations represented: RNN=Real News Network, EBN=Easter Bunny News, MNBC=Mayhem Network Broadcasting Corporation, ETWN=End of the World Network)
RNN: Easter Bunny. We just got news via your Twitter account that you’re quitting the biz. What gives?
EASTER B: You—all of y’all. You’re the reason I’m quitting. The entire human race has gotten on my every last nerve. All my bunny partners are quitting, also. From here to China and back through Africa, we are hanging up our Easter baskets and taping down our ears. You beings could care less about Easter and what it stands for. The Bunny Times was delivered to me today, and I almost had a heart attack just getting through the first half-dozen headlines:
The Uranium Underworld: ISIS want a dirty bomb—and it knows where to get one
Famine now threatens more people than at any time since World War II
San Bernardino reels from elementary school shooting that left teacher, 8-year-old student dead
Charleston church shooter Dylann Roof pleads guilty in state court, avoids second death penalty trial
It Took Thieves 30 Seconds to Crash Truck Into Store, Grab Guns And Leave
Approaching “societal collapse”: New equation shows how quickly humans are wrecking the planet
Why the population of Easter Island really died out: Study finds arrival of Europeans brought disease that wiped out inhabitants
EASTER B: I’ve just been hiding out in this cave, getting drunk and sobbing myself to sleep. You people are some nasty-ass mammals. You destroy everything in your wake—from babies to the Earth’s atmosphere. No amount of Cadbury eggs and jelly beans can fix you. You’re broken, and I am at my wit’s end regarding how to fix you.
Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com
EBN: Easter Bunny, is it true that you were shot at in Alabama?
EASTER B: Shot at in Alabama, Tennessee, Georgia, Louisiana, South and North Carolina, Kentucky, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Texas, and of course Florida. Those goddamn “stand your ground laws” will be the death of me yet. What is it with you people and your love of guns? I’ve traveled through war zones and never been shot at as much as I have in the United States. Aren’t you people the ones who claim that the One who Easter is about is the One who loves your nation above all other nations? (It isn’t true, you know; I have it on great authority that my employer loves all peoples from all nations.) But my point is, show me the Bible verse where Jesus said, “I died on the cross so that you might have a life with guns and have guns more abundantly to shoot and kill anybody that looks at you sideways.”
Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com
MNBC: Mr. Bunny, people are saying that you’re exaggerating your plight because in reality you’re just getting too old for the job, but you don’t have the chutzpah to retire. Is it true? Aren’t you 500 years old?
EASTER B: Who is spreading those vicious lies? I’m not a day over 400! I’m as spry as the day I started when I used to be called “The Judge,” and I determined what children had been naughty or nice to leave candy for the nice ones. That is until that fat guy in the red suit took over my modus operandi.
ETWN: Sir, “End of the World Network” here. Is it true that you were on United Airlines flight 3411 at Chicago O’Hare International Airport and saw the entire scene go down when United brutalized the elderly Asian man and pulled him off the plane because they allegedly wanted to give his seat to a crew member? Are the stories we’ve been hearing true?
EASTER B: You’re damn straight the stories are true. Yes, I had just settled into my seat with my basket of goodies (Peeps, jelly beans, chocolate eggs—you name it) stowed overhead when the scene went down. It was just horrific, I tell you—disgusting! The poor man was bleeding and frightened. Children were crying, people were screaming for the United Airlines thugs to stop brutalizing that old man. (He’s a doctor, you know? I kept waiting for the stewardess to announce: “Is there a doctor on board to treat the passenger who we just beat the shit out of?” Then the guy could have raised his hand to treat himself and saved United some money, which seems to be all they care about these days. They certainly don’t care about their customers. Fly the friendly skies with United, my bunny ass!) What you don’t know is that I was the fourth individual who was asked to give up my seat. Well, as you can imagine, I said an emphatic, “Hell to the no!” I had to get to Louisville that night, too. Children were waiting for me. I told the snarky flight attendant that Easter is a priority. Had she no faith?
ETWN: What did she say?
EASTER B: She said, “Yeah, right! If you’re the Easter Bunny, than I’m Jesus Christ. Get out!” And then the United Airlines thugs dragged me out—Easter accoutrements flying every which way but Sunday. It’s appalling the way they treated me! United Airlines actions with the Asian man and with Easter Bunny extraordinaire were devoid of compassion and coldhearted as a snake!
Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle
MNBC: Do you have any proof? Did anyone take pictures and post them on Facebook? You got a YouTube video?
EASTER B: That’s for me to know and for you to find out. All you need to know is that last bit of inhumanity did it for me. Broke my heart and my spirit. I figured if they could do that to “moi” (a revered international figure that is well over 400 years old), then no human is safe in their hands. That’s when I decided to give up the ghost and go into hiding. The Chinese Easter Bunny sent me a text a couple hours ago and said he is also quitting, because he is convinced that the United Airlines debacle was racially motivated since the doctor was Asian that they dragged off the plane. I don’t know anything about that (as far as I’m concerned, their actions towards me were those of rodent racists). All I know is no human being who was just trying to make his way back home deserved to be treated like that. Anyway, you all will have to excuse me. I need to get some rest.
EBN: One last question, Easter Bunny. If you stay in hiding, who will represent the Easter Bunny at the White House Easter egg hunt and roll?
EASTER B: No longer my concern, Dude. Maybe your President will be able to conjure up a replacement. In the meantime, adieu, ciao, adios!
Cartoon used by permission: John Darkow, Columbia Daily Tribune, Missouri
ELEANOR’S “SELAH” (“AHA” MOMENT) ABOUT EASTER
I am discovering that fortunately my hope and trust in Easter has nothing to do with a bunny, so he can be dead for all I care. But the fact that my God did not stay dead, but rose again on Easter morning is the reason I live, breathe, and have my being.
Resurrection = a second chance, and a second chance = hope. Every day I pray as a human being to do right by others—be they family or strangers. Yet, every day I fall short of that goal and betray the life of my good God who gave His life for me that I might have life and have it more abundantly than my birth, race, and social status initially accorded me by the country of my birth. I love spring because no matter how cruel and long winter is or how many missteps I make as an inadequate human, spring never fails to resurrect the Earth and bring forth summer, and Easter never fails to readjust my moral compass.
In spite of all the wintery darkness of the world that swirls around us (wars and rumors of wars, chemical warfare, ISIS, and a President from Hell), the remembrance of the resurrection of Jesus undergirds my soul so that I hope—no, I KNOW—that because of Easter, summer is coming to the hearts of man. Easter is the miracle that life wins over death.
HAPPY EASTER, EVERYONE!
JESUS IS RISEN—HE IS RISEN, INDEED!
Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com
INSPIRATIONAL EASTER QUOTES
“A man who was completely innocent, offered himself as a sacrifice for the good of others, including his enemies, and became the ransom of the world. It was a perfect act.”—Mahatma Gandhi
“I really do believe that God is love, one of deep affection and grace and forgiveness and inspiration.”—William P. Young
“Easter is very important to me, it’s a second chance.”—Reba McEntire
Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle
DO YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS COMING? MY THIRD BOOK! TWO MORE WEEKS—WATCH THIS SPACE!
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.
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? 