It is finally here! My fourth book: The answer to my prayers regarding how to fight the existential crisis that awaits us in November 2024. Two years ago, I prayed the following prayer and posted it on my vision board:
“I want to write a book that is so widely read and seen that it breaks the “Talibanic” stronghold in Evangelical Christianity which is committing adultery with fascism and authoritarianism (an Uncle Tom’s Cabin book, so to speak). I want my words to start a revolution of truth and love in the heart that sets women and men free to live transformative lives of true love, freedom, mercy, grace, and truth instead of the hypocrisy currently masquerading as Christianity.
P.S. Hurry God! I’m already 73—not much time left for the task at hand.”
Well . . . I just turned 76 years old, and House of Oz Undone (a cautionary tale) is my birthday present to myself and to my readers. House of Oz Undone is a bold reinterpretation of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz for our time. It critiques the mix of truth and deception in modern faith. My book is a plea for societal reform against the dangerous mix of extremism and religion.
House of Oz Undone is more than a novel—it’s a call for truth and a catalyst for personal and societal change.
If you like my latest book, please leave a review on Amazon, write a blog about it, and/or take a selfie of you reading my book and post it on your social media accounts.Thank you!
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: 282274_Don’t ask by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
Recently, one of my favorite Sesame Street characters asked an innocuous question that tons of “nice” people ask each other every day in passing one another on the street, in their places of worship, or at the generic opening of a comedian’s show: “How is everybody doing?” The Muppet was unprepared for the overwhelming despair that washed up on the shores of his “X” account (formerly known as Twitter). “Elmo was not expecting it to open a yawning chasm of despair”, as the New York Times so bluntly stated it. In other words, thousands of people across America lost their shit.
“Elmo each day the abyss we stare into grows a unique horror. One that was previously unfathomable in nature. Our inevitable doom which once accelerated in years, or months, now accelerates in hours, even minutes. However, I did have a good grapefruit earlier, thank you for asking,” responded Hanif Abdurraqib @NifMuhammad
“The world is burning around us, Elmo,” mourned Steven @StevenMcinerney
“Anyone else slowly getting anxiety thinking about this year’s election?” asked I AM @AshiaTanay
Cartoon used by permission: 281680_When Trump is back in the White House by Bruce Plante, PoliticalCartoons.com
Elmo posted his revealing query at the beginning of Black History Month just as I was trying to write an essay on Black History and was mulling over the many pieces of evidence that at least half the country would like the entire subject to be erased from the history books and our daily lives in general (I’m looking at you Gov. Ron DeSantis and Nikki Haley).
I wanted to leave a post for Elmo with my own reply of despair over the slip-sliding away of Black History, but I had cancelled my Twitter (now X) account in protest against Elon’s anti-Semitic posts, his outrageous war against DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion), and the alleged pervasive racial abuse against Black workers in his California factory. If I had the energy to re-open my X account, I would have sent the following message to Elmo:
“I’m exhausted, Elmo. I’m 75 years old, Baby-boy, and I can hardly breathe as I watch all the racial barriers and hatred—ones I fought to knock down in the 60s—being re-erected with a vengeance 50 years later and championed by a racist autocrat who is trying to return as President for life.
Recently, one of my very genuinely lovely White neighbors asked me if I planned to move to one of the very exclusive luxury Independent/Assisted Living communities during the final stage of my life—where she and her husband plan to transition to and which I’m entitled to as well, due to my husband’s pre-retirement job. I had a visceral reaction—I threw up into my mouth! My immediate uncensored response was: “Oh hell, to the no, Girlfriend! I’ve never seen one Black person in that place that wasn’t the ‘help‘. I’ve been working, learning, and living in predominantly white groups most my life, and although many of you have been quite lovely—my husband included—others have not, and I am so tired of exerting so much energy code-switching (tampering down one’s appearance, language, humor, fears, and interests to fit into an alien culture) just to go along to get along. It’s exhausting!
“I will not roll into Heaven at the end of my days as a spiritually, emotionally, and culturally depleted Black person who was given the liberty to discuss ‘Downton Abbey’ with understandingly gleeful nods from my White peers, but who get clueless stares at the mention of Issa Rae’s ‘Insecure‘ by me. I will not be worn down by micro and macro aggressions until the day I die and end up bitter and discombobulated. When the time comes, I’m going home to my family, gathering as many Black and Brown people as I can stand around me and end my days living as authentic a life as I can possibly muster.”
Cartoon used by permission: 273877_The Wrong Door by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
If the truth be told, I’m scared to death of the future—wondering where God is. Hope for my country, hope for peace in the world, hope for my people and the acceptance of Black History as American History is pouring out of my soul like sweat on a 100-degree day in the middle of a KKK rally in a Mississippi cotton field. And yet, the Bible says, “hope springs eternal.” Oh really? Well, I can’t see it.
But as in many things in life, God has a way of making himself heard and seen when necessary. The salve for my battered heart came via another two-foot munchkin who helped me see the light of hope via her eternal quest for ice cream.
“Baby-girl”/two-year old granddaughter of Author||Photo credit: C. Tomczyk
My granddaughter (we’ll call her “Baby-girl” for the purpose of shielding her identity), is two-years old and she is brilliant, if I do say so myself. She’s got quite an extensive grasp of the English language for her age and can express herself in sign language to boot. Recently, she was being interviewed by an educator for admittance into a highly competitive school for their three-year-old preschool program (don’t ask). As the teacher began to ask her questions, Baby-girl noticed that her parents (sitting behind an observational glass partition) were kibbitzing—no doubt, nervous about how she was doing during this high-stakes interview. Baby-girl leaned forward, caught their attention and in perfect sign language said: “Shhhhhhh…the teacher is talking!” Hilarious! (There is no reason for the first part of this story except to show you how precocious and intelligent my Baby-girl is.)
At the conclusion of the interview at the baby Harvard, Baby-girl was strolling through the town holding her parents’ hands when her father expressed a desire to get some breakfast at one of the delightful breakfast restaurants in the area. As the parents tossed suggestions back and forth about what they’d like to eat and where to go, Baby-girl chimed in and said that she would like to eat ice cream for breakfast. Her Dad said that would be fine but there were no ice cream parlors in the area (no doubt thinking he could thwart Baby-girl’s unorthodox breakfast request). And as only a two-year-old toddler can respond, she put her foot down and demonstrably stated: “I WANT ICE CREAM!” My daughter said: “All right, Baby-girl, we can get you ice cream for breakfast if we can find it. But I don’t see anyplace that sells ice cream. Where do you see ice cream? If you see it, we’ll get you some.” Without missing a beat, my granddaughter took possession of both her hands and placed them on her head and across her heart and said: “I see ice cream in my head and in my heart.” (Guess who got ice cream that day!)
Two-year old Granddaughter of Author||Photo credit: G. German
I think I am going to post a comment to Elmo, after all. This time the post will be one of hope for our future as a country and a world because my granddaughter reminded me that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” God is not finished with us yet—neither with our country nor with the world, and what we see now is not the end of the story. Black history is a testimony of the resilience of a great people—my people—who, no matter how many times we’ve been knocked down, enslaved, beaten, murdered, raped, cheated, assassinated, and abused…still we rise! It’s a story of a people who believed God would prevail on their behalf, regardless whether that history is buried or ignored by those who refuse to see and learn from the truth of our journey. The history of Black folks is that we will still keep carrying on because we have the foresight to “see ice cream in our heads and in our hearts,” and we’ll someday reach the promised land!
Cartoon used by permission: 259452_Black History Month Every Month by Bob Englehart, PoliticalCartoons.com
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links 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.
“SANTA BABY,” song reworked and truncated to express my holiday angst at a Higher Being who seems to be missing in action on the Earth because “my arms are too short to box with God” about my anxiety over His seemingly MIA status. (Straight up: my apologies to God—forgive my unbelief, My Savior—and Philip Springer, the song writer.)
Cartoon used by permission: 280703_Everyone has been naughty by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
Santa baby, put some Mideast peace by the tree for me
DEAR READER: PLEASE STOP THE SONG IN YOUR HEAD FOR A MOMENT….
(To the uninitiated, “on fleet” is an urban term that means “like a Boss or a cool person who is incredibly ‘fresh’ and has people that want to be ‘fly’ like them.” PLEASE don’t use this term with your grandkids to try and appear cool because it is no longer “au courant,” or you will have to ask Santa for some street cred next year. There you have it—you’ve been warned!)
Santa honey, one little thing I do need
The deed to our Democracy
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Cartoon used by permission: 280664_A Gift to Democracy by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations that are MAGA-free
I really do believe in you
Let’s see if you believe in me.
Cartoon used by permission: 280894_Trump’s complete immunity claim by John Cole, Tennessee Lookout, TennesseeLookout.com
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little note
SOME HOPE! No pie-in-the-sky kinda meme
Santa baby, so come and set my anxious heart free
Hurry down the chimney to me
Hurrrrrry, tonight*
*Songwriters: Philip Springer / Joan Javits
Cartoon used by permission: 280532_It only seems that way by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
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!
Cartoon used by permission: 270109_1290_Re-Post Fragile Globe by Dave Granlund, PoliticalCartoons.com
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links 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: 280046_Christmas Creep by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
(Three weeks before today, when it was still 82 degrees in our area, I declared that I was going to put up my outside Christmas decorations. I would then follow up with the inside house decorations, ASAP. There was just one problem: I can’t do it by myself, and thus the following conversation ensued between my 71-year-old husband, WW (White and Wonderful), and me when I asked for his help.)
WW: Nope, no can do.
ME: What do you mean, no?!
WW: Too tacky for words. What will the neighbors think?
ME: I don’t give a fuck what the neighbors think.
WW: Hum…well, I do!
ME: Sheesh, White people!
WW: I resent that. It has nothing to do with being White. It has everything to do with what is appropriate. We just finished hiding in a dark house on Halloween so trick-or-treaters wouldn’t think we were home, plus we haven’t even celebrated Thanksgiving yet.
Cartoon used by permission: 278119_Pumpkin Spice Christmas Trees by Rick McKee, CagleCartoons.com
ME: Listen, Husband-Dude—desperate times call for desperate means. Have you not noticed that the world has lost its shit? As far as I’m concerned, we might as well hop right over T-Day because there is no way we can host a Thanksgiving dinner with the guest list that I want without people killing each other between eating the turkey and the pumpkin pie.
“For we need a little Christmas, right this very minute
Candles in the window, carols at the spinet…”
WW: Well, we don’t have a “spinet”, but thanks for the serenade. Jerry Herman would be impressed that you’ve still got the vocal chops at 75 years old to sing one of his songs. But I thought we were just inviting our kids, their kids, and your sister for dinner. Last time I chatted with them, they were still the same race as us, same religion, all Democrats (not a Republican in the bunch, thank God), and hadn’t started any wars. Easy-peasy, T-Day breezy!
ME: Of which I am grateful, but I would love to expand upon that very safe, very homogenous guest list this year. I think the world needs it. In a perfect world I’d love to invite Shoshana and David from Fort Lauderdale, Ahmed and Fatima from Little Palestine in Chicago, the Ukrainian waitress from The Country Club, the Russian handyman on my speed dial, and maybe the MAGA couple down the street (although God only knows how I’d survive those two, but I’m working on it). I mean, I know I’m angry, hurt, and scared to death at how our country—our world—is imploding. Love seems to be at an all-time low. But I’m trying personally to do better, and a good T-Day dinner served with “Mema” love could go a long way.
WW: Really? How so?
ME: It would be in the invite that I’d broadcast on all the social media platforms. I want to cry out to the Jews everywhere and say: “Never again! My home and heart are safe havens for you. As someone who once lived in the now evacuated town of Kiryat Shemona, Israel for several years, and whose youngest child was born in Haifa, Israel, whose history I have studied, almost extensively as my own African-American history—I GET IT!” I want to rock the Palestinian children of Gaza in my arms and nurture them to health while I sing them a lullaby that says, “I SEE YOU! You also have a safe place with me in my heart and home. I hear your cries of wanting a place to belong on this Earth, and as a human I am devastated by your pain.” What kind of God do I worship if my faith isn’t deep enough to connect the humanity in me with hurting human beings over a meal in an atmosphere of thoughtful belonging, good food, love, and healing—where the only side of the struggle I take on this Earth is on the side of humanity? Does my ability to love only extend to those who love me or agree with me? Don’t you ever wish that we were spiritually mature enough that we could actually…
“Reach out and touch
Somebody’s hand
Make this world a better place
If you can…”
Cartoon used by permission: 280147_Hamas Snake by Pat Bagley, The Salt Lake Tribune, UT
WW: All this at Thanksgiving dinner?! Oh, my! We’re going to need a bigger house. I’m not so sure Thanksgiving dinner with warring family members, at the very least, or war in the Middle East at the very worst was what Ashford and Simpson were thinking about when they wrote “Reach Out and Touch Somebody’s Hand”. By the way, who is Shoshana and David and Ahmed and Fatima? Did I meet them last year?
WW: Anyway, as our First World problems would have it, we have more pressing needs than world-peace fantasy Thanksgiving Day dinners or upsetting the neighborhood harmony by stringing up Christmas lights while it’s still 82 degrees and 48 hours shy of Halloween past. I just discovered that we need a new washer and dryer. Let’s go do something practical and agree to disagree on this subject. I’m never going to agree with you and participate in Thanksgiving eradication by celebrating Christmas in conjunction with Thanksgiving, and Peace in the Middle East is going to take more than eating T-Day dinner at Mema’s house. That just ain’t happenin’!
“No, you’re never gonna get it (ow!)
Never ever gonna get it (no, not this time)”
ME: Oooh, I’m tellin’ En Vogue on you. Can you imagine the clapback you’d get, using their song to deny a “sista” her Christmas wish for world peace?
(It was at this point that WW and I tabled the conversation and scurried down the road to one of those large home improvement retailers to replace a simple washer and dryer—little knowing that we’d both see a local example of why we truly need a little Christmas right this very moment.)
ME: Psst…Honey, did you see the huge sign on the sales guy’s stand?
WW: No…I’m too busy trying to figure out why we’ve had to go to two different stores, wait in line for 45 minutes, and still are no closer to purchasing a washer and dryer than we were two hours ago. Plus, I’m starving! Not interested in errant signs. Just need our new washer and dryer.
ME: The sign says: PLEASE RESPECT OUR EMPLOYEES! Don’t curse at them, don’t yell at them, don’t threaten them, don’t terrorize them, and don’t abuse them. Thank you, The Management.
WW: Does it give the customer an exception to the rule if the employee disappears in thin air with your money while pretending to see if a certain set of washers and dryers exist “in the back”?
ME: Hum? What’s going on in this store? We just came here to replace a broken appliance—not participate in a WWE match. I thought we lived in retirement heaven, albeit mostly Republicans, but a haven, no less. Most of the population here is a bunch of old farts who can barely get out of their own way. How do they have the energy to bitch-slap an appliance salesperson?
WW: Soooo true. Although, it looks like our missing salesman, who I strongly suspect got “raptured,” might be the reason they had to post the sign.
ME: This sign would lead one to believe that 70-and 80-year-olds are throwin’ down in huge home improvement stores in our little town over the fact that they can’t get their latest appliances in the style and color of their dreams before they croak. That’s so weird! Oh, wait a minute… This sign wasn’t posted when we were here before—this is fairly recent. I bet I know what it is: Didn’t Trump just label half the population, “vermin”? Oh my God! This is it! The first outbreak of the Civil War in America is starting in our hometown. Didn’t I tell you that the world has lost its shit?! Come on, Buddy. Let’s get out of here! We’ve got to fight this hateful spirit on the home front. Whether you like it or not, we’re going home to string up some Christmas lights, command Alexa to play our Christmas playlist nonstop, and put a couple of turkeys in the oven to feed the homeless, because if this isn’t a sign of the apocalypse starting in our small town, I don’t know what is!
“What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some, but for everyone.”
WW: Amen, Hal David and Burt Bacharach. From your lips to God’s ears!
Cartoon used by permission: 280129_Good Neighbors by Pat Byrnes, 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!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING, FROM THE TOMCZYKS!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING! MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Whatever causes love to blossom and overflow in your hearts towards your fellow man—let us celebrate in one accord as if there will be no tomorrow if we don’t reach out and “…make this world a better place”!
Cartoon used by permission: 257427_True meaning of Thanksgiving by John Darkow, Columbia Missourian
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.
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.
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
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: 247756_RGB_1290.png Page Turner by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN
January 20, 2021—Joe Biden and Kamala Harris’ Inauguration day that almost wasn’t. I’ve got to tell you that I was so nervous about the fulfillment of the promise of that day that I could barely breathe. (It didn’t disappoint.) I plopped my chubby ass down on the couch in front of my TV at 11:00 a.m. (along with a husband, a bottle of champagne, caviar, cheese and crackers) and didn’t move (except for a few quick bathroom breaks—after all, I am 72, and my bladder is the size of an apricot) until the last bombastic explosion during the climax of Katy Perry’s “Fireworks” song at 11:00 p.m.
Somewhere around the middle of President Biden’s inaugural speech I started to bawl like an abandoned baby just wanting to be held, and when the President got to this passage in his speech, I heard what he was requiring of me as a good citizen—a good Christian, and it resonated loud and clear:
“But the answer is not to turn inward, to retreat into competing factions, distrusting those who don’t look like you do, or worship the way you do, or don’t get their news from the same sources you do.
“We must end this uncivil war that pits red against blue, rural versus urban, conservative versus liberal. We can do this if we open our souls instead of hardening our hearts. If we show a little tolerance and humility.
“As my mom would say— just for a moment, stand in their shoes. Because here’s the thing about life. There’s no accounting for what fate will deal you. There are some days when we need a hand. There are other days when we’re called on to lend one. That is how we must be with one another.”
Cartoon used by permission: 247799_RGB_1290 (1).jpg History is watching by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ
At the end of the inauguration, I raised a glass in tribute to hope, healing, and unity in America, and posted my congrats on my Facebook page:
“CONGRATULATIONS PRESIDENT BIDEN AND VICE PRESIDENT HARRIS! For the first time in four years, I am able to exhale. You both are truly an answer to a culmination of prayers for restoration of sanity, truth, and righteousness. God bless you both, and God bless the United States of America as you lead us in healing, unity, and restoration of integrity to the Presidency and our nation.
P.S. I wore my pearls today in honor of you, Madam Vice President. I am so very, very proud of you!”
Author’s Toast to Biden/Harris: Photo credit: J. Tomczyk
It didn’t even take 24 hours before my first hater struck. He was MAGA, he was White, he was male, he was self-righteous, he was angry, and he was entitled. He felt he had every right to attack my faith and my intelligence as an educated, accomplished 72-year-old Black woman, and every fiber in my being wanted to “clap back” on Facebook and rip his face off while simultaneously puncturing his butt with a new a-hole. And then I remembered something significant about my attacker:But for the grace of God, go I.Instead of attacking back, I blocked that White man’s assault (sent him into Cyber Hell). Rather than let him draw me into an argument on Facebook (each hidden behind the manipulative algorithm skirts of Mark Zuckerberg), I have chosen to answer my hater in a more controlled space.
Cartoon used by permission: 247696_RGB_1290.jpg Franklin Graham and the One Commandment by John Cole ncpolicywatch com
Dear MAGA White Man (a.k.a, “Hater just be hatin’ cause he thinks he can”):
I know you! I haven’t seen you or talked to you in over thirty years, but I do remember you. In fact, we used to belong to the same cult, back in the day—some fifty years ago. We weren’t close or anything, but we did enjoy each other’s company when our paths crossed.
You were different then—full of hope and promise that we were going to save the world in Jesus’s name. You were shy and unassuming, but your eyes always twinkled with joy. I remember, unlike most people I meet, I was always glad to encounter you.
About ten years after our initial church affiliation together, I ran into you in another town while visiting a mutual friend. You and your lovely wife invited my husband and me to your home for an evening of great food and wine. It was a lovely dinner, full of laughter and sharing of artistic endeavors. As we ate dinner on your deck under a perfect starlit night, I remember being in awe of your talent as you proudly displayed your most recent artwork. At one point, late in the evening after much wine, you confessed that since our youthful adventure in a church we attended some ten years before, you had suffered much pain and sorrow. You spoke of how you had struggled financially for years just trying to make ends meet, and it had been a great strain on your wife and children. But a miracle had happened! You had come into a windfall of a large sum of money a year before, and thought you and your family were finally going to be able to participate in the American dream.
Cartoon used by permission: 224270_RGB_1290.png Easter by Milt Priggee Oak Harbor WA
But life has a way of fucking with us—as I know all too well. At this point in the story, you began to cry and your wife took up the telling of your Odysseus journey. She couldn’t explain the “why” of your choices, and no one who had not walked a mile in your shoes could ever possibly apprehend your decisions over that previous year. Your mother had died unexpectantly, and your wife’s body was diagnosed to be riddled with cancer. You did as we were taught to do: pray for another miracle. After all, bad things didn’t happen to good people—or so we thought. Somewhere in your fog of grief, your wife said you started assuaging your pain and lack of control over the vagaries of life by carousing the dark dens of crack and heroin in a neighboring city, and in less than a year, your newfound wealth—your children’s education and your wife’s medical treatments—was snorted up your nose and shot into your emaciated arms.
Then your wife said something to me I will never forget: “We had suffered the death of his precious mom, the threat of cancer plagued us, and we had lost all our money—we were at rock bottom. But I decided that I was not going to lose my man like this. There was no future without him. And so, I—a White woman from a small town, scared of my own shadow and shaking like a leaf in the middle of a gale storm—combed every crack house in the city looking for him—frantically searching for him—until I found my wasted husband and dragged him home to heal.”
I remember saying something stupid like, “I grew up in the heart of the ghetto, and I wouldn’t have had the courage to do what you did.” Your wife said something I will never forget: “Oh yes, you would have found the courage because ‘perfect love casts out all fear.’” At the end of the evening, we prayed together. Prayed for your continued recovery and for the healing of your wife. Prayed that what the “canker worm had eaten would be restored.” Prayed that all our lives would be blessed in the future.
Cartoon used by permission: 191272_RGB_1290.png Valentines Lasting Love COLOR by Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com
That was thirty years ago. We lost touch after that. I’d seen your profile on Facebook once, but I didn’t follow your posts. Saw just enough to notice that you were still clinging to the false doctrines of our cult days, which I had summarily rejected*. I also noticed you were a real MAGA Head and Trump worshipper. I gave you grace by not attacking you (never commenting—not even a horrified emoji face) for your beliefs on your FB page. Imagine my surprise when you attacked my faith on my FB page—accused me of not believing in Jesus—simply because I congratulated President Biden and Vice President Harris on their election win. You did so not knowing what I’ve been though in life and not having spoken to me in several decades. At first, in my anger (I ain’t gonna lie—I really wanted to smack you upside your head and rip off your testicles), I didn’t remember our dinner of years ago. All I could think about was coming after you with both guns verbally loaded. But before waging my attack, I contacted a few old mutual friends to “kvetch.” They told me that they had lost touch with you now that you’d become such an anti-truth, Trump idolizer. However, they did mention that they heard you had fallen back into drugs for a while, lost everything again, and the cruelest cut of all was that your lovely wife had died. They said that you’d gone nuts (their words, not mine).
Cartoon used by permission: 247327_RGB_1290 (1).png MAGA Hatters by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT
That is when my reactive anger against you dissipated, and I felt great sorrow for you. All I could think about was: “But for the grace of God, go I.” We both entered that church 50 years ago needing a place to belong in the calamitous, cacophonous, driftless years of the 70s, but never realized that it would turn into a cult and that that cult would make your mind a fertile ground for the MAGA doctrine. We were full of so much hope and expectations. Both of us had and have suffered great losses and disappointments since then. I fled the religion of our youth* losing my best friend and church home, but I feel it has made all the difference in the grace with which I see the people of the world who don’t look like me, don’t worship the same god, and who don’t belong to the same political party.
I’m sure you think I’m as blind as a bat at noontime, given your political and religious bent. I only ask that you remember our shared humanitybefore you write me off—when we cried together, prayed together, and hoped for the best in each other’s lives all those years ago. There was no disdain for my “liberal” beliefs on your part, nor was there any knee-jerk reaction of horror for red ball caps at the mere sight of their appearance on my part. We were just humans trying to find our way back home.
Cartoon used by permission: 247872_RGB_1290.jpg New Reality For Republicans by Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons com
Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit back and bask in the hope I see for us all (you and me) as Americans in this new administration—not to mention the possibilities from Kamala Harris’ win for my future granddaughters. I know you’re pissed, old acquaintance, because you think the election was stolen from you. And I think if your group had managed to overturn a free and fair election, my vote would have been stolen from me. You think your man was chosen by God, and I think he’s on a mission from Hell. There you have it! We’re at a stalemate here—never to agree, I suspect. But we are in the middle of a war against an unseen enemy that is ravaging our nation and could kill us all if we don’t drop our ideological weapons and band together. Our only chance of survival is to unite on the fertile grounds of our shared humanity and give this new administration a chance to lead us to higher terrain and healing. Anytime you’re available, I’m ready to call a truce and to speak of love found, love lost, and hope that springs eternal. Maybe, just maybe, we might find common purpose and incentive to coexist.
God bless—From: Someone you once broke bread with.
Cartoon used by permission: 247921_RGB_1290.jpg Be like Kamala by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
*If you are a victim of a church or a religious experience gone nuts, I have walked a mile in your shoes. Check out my second memoir, Fleeing Oz. It might be of help, and if it is, please drop me a note and let me know.
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.
Cartoon used by permission: 247093_RGB_1290.png 2020 Won’t change by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
Did anybody else lapse on their “dry-wine January resolution” already? Everybody?I thought so! It isn’t even Inauguration Day yet, and I am wishing I had planted a cannabis field in the swamp behind my house when I had the chance.
2021—what a shitshow! If I had known this year was going to set the stage for the breaking of America, I would have never started a new diet, never started a weight-training program, and never started on my fourth book. Instead, I would have jumped headlong into hedonism and let the chips fall where they may. As the Peggy Lee song says, “…if that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing. Let’s break out the booze and have a ball, if that’s all there is.”
Cartoon used by permission: 247475_RGB_1290.png Breaking News by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT
It almost seems as if we hired the wrong year.
Does anyone know if 2021 came with references? I would love to interview Baby 2021, and make sure it is prepared for what is up ahead. I thought on New Year’s Eve that 2,600 American deaths a day from COVID-19 might be a gargantuan task for the little tyke to overcome, but I figured once we got our new President installed, we’d be able to make 2021 a year of recovery and healing. And then came the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the unbearable…
Cartoon used by permission: 247294_RGB_1290.png The Patriotic Terrorist by Christopher Weyant The Boston Globe MA
As I watched the insurrection unfold, I started crying. I don’t know what horrified me more: the brazen murderous hordes trying to overturn a free and fair election or that the mob was being led by White Supremacists masquerading as Evangelical Christians praying for God to bless their invasion to capture, judge, and execute the Vice President, Nancy Pelosi, and other legislators they hated while waving signs that said: “Jesus is my savior. Trump is my president,” “Jesus saves,” and “God’s Word Calls Them Out.”
These haters of liberty—these Christian Dominionists (ideology that America belongs to the Christian god, and only his approved followers are allowed to rule for now until Jesus returns)—were so rabid that one would be forgiven for thinking that the invaders might have been escapees from a mental institution. Instead, they were pastors, realtors, a Texas florist, the son of a Brooklyn judge, police officers, a professor, a firefighter, a newly elected West Virginia lawmaker, teachers, a couple of misguided Black people, and even kids.
Cartoon used by permission: 247354_RGB_1290.jpg Refile Nuremberg Cartoon Correct Spelling by Bob Englehart PoliticalCartoons com
How could the year 2021 have missed the signs from Donald Trump that he had no plans to ever concede or acknowledge the truth that he had lost? Instead, Trump sent out signals for weeks for the deplorables to come to DC and “stop the steal.” Trump’s Big Lie that the election had been stolen from him almost upended our democracy and blew up what little bit of our nerves we had left from being tormented by COVID-19. I reasoned that if this is the way 2021 started, I probably won’t survive until 2022, so I wrote 2021 a letter with a few tips on what is most important to help America triumph in this new year.
Welcome to the new year! Everybody is so glad that you’ve arrived. We could hardly wait to get rid of your predecessor. Your big brother, 2020, left us with 4 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide—400,000 of them Americans. The sane part of our country was pleased that 2020 helped us elect a new American President to lead us out of the mayhem and madness that Trump world had wrought. For that reality, most of us will be forever grateful. However, my expectation was that you, 2021, would help us ascend from the manure pile of the last four years. No offense, but you haven’t gotten off to a very good start. I realize you are young, but you need to be a multi-tasker, Little Dude, because there are dragons in the land.
Cartoon used by permission: 247115_RGB_1290.png Pressure on Baby New Year 2021 by Jeff Koterba CagleCartoons com
Also, you appear to be soooo naïve Baby 2021. I think you thought that just by electing a good and just man who was qualified to be President of the United States (Joe Biden), all would be well. And then came January 6th when a bunch of crazy people decided they weren’t going to allow Biden to become President—even if it meant killing their fellow citizens. Long after Trump is gone, the spirit of the murderous mob will still be going strong and trying to permanently change the patina of our nation. They are Hell bent on it.
Should you choose to accept being our current year Baby 2021, here is your first agenda item: You must slaughter the lead dragon.His name is Deception, and he masquerades as Truth mainly within White Evangelical churches, which acts as a cover for White Supremacy theories, Q-Anon conspiracy theories, and Christian Nationalism. The violent insurrection that happened on January 6th was led by the dragon Deception in the guise of Christianity and patriotism (Nationalism). On January 6th, Americans lost their innocence as to who we are as a democracy and who our greatest enemies are. Before Trump, many of us thought we were a multicultural nation where equality and voting were every citizen’s right, and our greatest enemies were international terrorists. Well, surprise, surprise, surprise! It looks as if the terrorists are domestic (extremely White), and they blew a shofar (Jewish religious ceremonial horn of a ram appropriated by Christians) as some White “Christian” woman sang “Peace in the name of Jesus…the blood of Jesus covering this place” before storming the Capitol
Cartoon used by permission: 247642_RGB_1290.jpg We have met the enemy by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
Baby 2021, not all the insurrectionists were Christians, but too many of them were, which meant that they had compromised the true meaning of Jesus and Christianity and were being emboldened by the Dragon of Lies. They were the super glue of Trump’s presidency and stopped hearing anyone else’s voice but Trump’s. When he said “storm the Capitol,” they replied: “Heil Trump!” It didn’t matter that they were responding to a lie. It only mattered that they were following their Dominionistic leader’s instructions to keep him in power.
Your assignment is to wake up so-called “Christian” Trumpers to the truth. Their hearts, minds, and actions should belong to Jesus who is the epitome of Truth. The truth is: Trump didn’t win the 2020 election, Trump is not God’s chosen one, Trump is a very, very bad man, Trump is a murderer (over half the COVID-19 deaths are due to his negligence), Trump has lied over 40k times, and in God’s good time, Trump’s “ass is gonna be grass” (don’t know what that means? Ask any Black person over 40). Baby 2021, do whatever is necessary to open the Christian Trump followers’ eyes. They were so tenacious at the riot because they thought they were doing God’s will, and they had no idea that they were being played by the demon Donald Trump. I have a theory that if you can open the eyes of this group to the actual truth about the Giant Orange Lie they have been following, you might have a chance in repairing our democracy this year.
Cartoon used by permission: 247438_RGB_1290.jpg Foundations of Democracy by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com
In the meantime, there is hope. There are better angels among us—a majority of Americans who have not swallowed the lie and won’t let the insurrectionists get away with their crimes. Yesterday those courageous better angels impeached Donald Trump for the second time. Tomorrow we remember and celebrate one of our most precious better angels who has passed on before us, but who left a legacy of truth, hope, and love: Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. That legacy will continue to be fulfilled by the election of our first Black, Indian-American, woman as Vice President, and the election (against all odds) of an extremely qualified, humble man as President who knows what truth looks like.
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a humorist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
Cartoon used by permission: 247613_RGB_1290.jpg Wisdom for the Right by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: In case you haven’t noticed 2020 has been a real shit show. I’m so traumatized that I’ve got God on speed dial, and I’m harassing White Santa Claus every hour on the hour for what I want for Christmas. Below are a few of my petitions sent directly to the North Pole.
Cartoon used by permission: 246820_RGB_1290.jpg Stuck at home for Christmas by John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune PA
DEAR WHITE SANTA: All I want for Christmas is my brain back. A 72-year-old brain is not supposed to handle a pandemic, a lunatic, racist President who is destroying our country, people dying by the thousands per week—including personal friends—families being evicted on a daily basis, me unable to see friends from out-of-town and family for almost a year, threat of a civil war over to mask-or-not-to-mask, and the curse of possibly getting COVID-19 and dying from it due to my age and comorbidities. I wrestle with insomnia and my brain is threatening to leave home and not return until Jesus comes back or you show yourself to be real. I’ve never seen evidence of you in my life, you know. Remember how you never bought me one toy when I was a poor Black child—not one fuckin’ toy? I admit I wasn’t the best kid, but I wasn’t the worst either. You try growing up in foster homes and an orphanage, and see how you manage. Do I sound bitter? Maybe just a little. Well, now is the time for you to make it up to me. I want you to start giving me presents. Let’s start with my brain: I want my brain back!
Before I entered 2020, my brain was superb! I played “Hand, Knee, Foot, Canasta” every Monday with a bunch of ladies, wrote three books, and hundreds of stories and essays. Now my brain has turned to mush, and I’m sure it is due to stress. This morning, I lined up behind a man in the grocery store who looked like someone I know very well, but since I’ve never had to pick him out of a lineup by recognizing his ass, I wasn’t quite sure if it was my friend or not since we were six-feet apart. However, I prepared to shout, “Hi—Merry Christmas!” to his back through my two super-duper Israeli masks (I take no chances at the grocery store), but when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t remember his name. WTF! White Santa Claus, I panicked! I know this man very well—I know his wife even better, but all I could bring to the forefront of my brain was the first initial of his name: “B.” Any minute I knew the guy would turn around, and I’d have to address him by name. Was it Bob, Bill, Ben, Barry, Bryson, Bennett, Brandon, Beau, Blake…? As beads of sweat formed on my forehead and dripped beneath my four-ply masks, he turned around, recognized me, and I went for broke: “Hi, Brody—Merry Christmas, my friend!” My friend didn’t recoil in horror so I must have gotten his name correct. He greeted me by name (clearly his brain is still intact), and we yelled our commiserations back and forth about how we are both soooooo over 2020. Whew!
DEAR WHITE SANTA: The second thing I want for Christmas is for you to capture Donald Trump and take him back to the North Pole with you. Put him on a strict diet of no cell phone, no social media, no fast food, no sex, no sycophants, no friends, no relatives, no money, no visitors, and no red caps. In other words, put him in prison. Keep him there until he repents for the 40,000-plus lies he’s uttered, asks forgiveness to all the women he’s sexually abused, and confesses to all the crimes he’s committed. Please throw away the key.
Cartoon used by permission: 246467_RGB_1290.jpg My favorite gift by John Darkow Columbia Missourian
DEAR WHITE SANTA: Another thing I could use for Christmas is for you to end 2020 the day after Christmas. Just skip to 2021. We’ve all had it with this year. This isn’t a deal breaker, but it sure would be nice.
Cartoon used by permission: 246623_RGB_1290 (1).jpg Peace on Earth by David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star Tucson AZ
DEAR WHITE SANTA:One more thing I’d like for Christmas: please lobotomize the MAGA people. While doing so, please clean the wax out their ears and soften their hearts to hear the true message of Christmas. (It wouldn’t hurt to glue their mouths shut!) I’m sure you’ve noticed that they have been very bad little boys and girls for the past four years and are still misbehaving to the point of trying to engage in a civil war. Ain’t nobody got time for that, White Santa. They don’t believe the pandemic is real, they won’t wear masks and social distance, they’re saying that they won’t take the vaccine for the COVID-19, and they think the election was stolen from he-whose-name-I-hope-will-never-be-spoken-after-2020. I know you tend to have a soft spot for White people, but they gotta go, Dude!
Cartoon used by permission: 246111_RGB_1290 (1).jpg All I want for Christmas by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com
DEAR WHITE SANTA: All I REALLY want for Christmas is to hug my kids, grandson, and sister. But since I can’t, please bless our Zoom times together, and grant us much joy and laughter. I’d like to put in my “ask” for next Christmas though: May my family and I all be together in person on Christmas 2021. Amen!
Cartoon used by permission: 246784_RGB_1290.jpg Christmas Wish by Bill Day Tallahassee FL
DEAR WHITE SANTA: All I want for Christmas is my two vaccines. I’m following all the rules and doing all that is necessary to keep others safe as well as myself. These vaccines are my ability to see family and to travel. Maybe I’ll even come visit you, Chubby Dude—assuming you’ve received your shots.
Cartoon used by permission: 204440_RGB_1290.png HAPPY BIRTHDAY by Milt Priggee Kitsap Sun
DEAR WHITE SANTA: What I really, really want for Christmas, I don’t think you’re capable of giving me. In fact, I think even with all your good intentions, you obfuscate the real meaning of Christmas. The real hope of Christmas is not an obese White man (no offense) who sneaks into houses via chimneys, devours cookies and milk at EACH HOUSE (Seriously? you probably have diabetes something fierce), and uses reindeer-power instead of gas or electricity to get here and there. No offense, Dude, but I want the true promise of what the birth of Jesus means to all mankind: peace on the Earth, goodwill to all people, no more hunger, no more strife, love and grace to everyone, no more sadness, no more sorrow, and joy to all! If you see Jesus in your travels, please let him know that his character and name have been hijacked in 2020 to mean something other than what Christmas should be all about, and we could use a refresher course.
Cartoon used by permission: 246732_RGB_1440.png Bedtime Prayer by Ed Wexler CagleCartoonscom
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.
Cartoon used by permission: Mask mandate by Bruce Plante, Tulsa World
My pandemic body and mind are messing with my dreams. In most of my dreams, I’m trying to escape from a frighteningly amorphous “unidentifiable something,” but at other times I have alternate-world movie-dreams that are crystal clear in which I wish would come true (like I’m 30 years old, look like Halle Berry, have the voice of Audra McDonald, and can eat anything I want). I think these dreams or nightmares have a lot to do with the news I’ve consumed during the day mixed with what I’ve eaten for dinner and how soon I fall asleep after said consumption.
Last night I made the most amazing Keto lasagna sans pasta with extra, extra cheese (keep in mind that I’m lactose intolerant), hot Italian sausage, eggplant slices, and the perfect marinara sauce. It was the kind of ooey-gooey pleasure that you just know will create demons of indigestion exploding from your butt at the pitch and rhythm of Army taps while setting your esophagus on fire straight up from your tummy to your hair follicles, as visions of cheese balls dance in your head.
I went to bed much too early following my sumptuous repast, but a massive thunderstorm (keep in mind that I am deathly afraid of thunderstorms) settled over my house and rather than pace the floor in terror like a traumatized puppy, I plugged in my sound machine and my iPod featuring endless Barbra Streisand songs, and promptly fell asleep. So it was that I dreamt of a land where the MAGA Christians suddenly woke up as if from a nightmare and all simultaneously burned their red hats in massive bonfires across the land in exchange for bracelets that bore the initials WWJD: What Would Jesus Do?
Cartoon used by permission: 240874 Masks a miracle cure by Dave Whamond Canada PoliticalCartoons com
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, I know,” said one very White Evangelical Christian. “Jesus would wear a mask during these times, even as he preached, and be a leader who set an example of the right thing to do for the good of all the people. After all, it was Jesus who said: ‘The second most important command is this: Love your neighbor the same as you love yourself.’”
Another White Evangelical WWJD bracelet wearer chimed in with a Bible verse of love that she seemed to have learned long ago but had forgotten until her head was set free from the tyranny of the MAGA hat—”I am positive that Jesus would wear a mask at all times and encourage all his followers to do so because he said: ‘I can guarantee this truth: Whatever you did for one of my brothers or sisters, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you did for me.'”
“Jiminy-Crickets, why don’t we show America how it should be done?” said a White Evangelical grandma. “Sugar, we should all wear masks to protect our fellow human beings—our neighbors—our countrymen because wasn’t it Jesus who said: ‘So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.’”
The dream was so sweet and hopeful. Just when I was feeling all kumbaya in my alternate world, a thunder clap woke me at 3:00 a.m. and slammed me back into the real world. It sounded as if the Earth split in half. Unable to get back to my happy place dream, I got out of bed, made myself a cup of tea, and checked the news feed on my phone:
“The one area where white evangelicals fall far behind? Mask wearing. A white evangelical under the age of 35 is 13 percentage points less likely to wear a mask in public than the same age group in the general population (58.7% vs. 71.8%).”—Christianity Today.
“…in America, not wearing a mask has become a political statement — and it’s a statement increasingly being made by avowedly devout Christians.”—Anthea Butler/Think
Cartoon used by permission: 241088 Maskless Bob by Monte Wolverton Battle Ground WA
Unable to go back to sleep, I googled what MAGA folks (80% of them Evangelical Christians) were doing to save the most vulnerable among us. Maybe my dream was prophetic. Maybe they would ignore their toddler king and do the right thing—once and for all. But what I found of their reported actions was not WWJD but WWSD: What Would Satan Do?
“I got every fuckin’ right to not wear a mask,” said a Costco customer who was asked to leave the store for not obeying their rule of “no entry without a face mask.”
Security guard (father of eight) at a Michigan Dollar Store was killed after he asked a woman to leave the store for not wearing a mask. She left and then returned with her husband and her son and shot him dead.
Old man in a Dollar Store rubbed his snotty nose and rheumy face on the shirt of a store employee just for spite after she asked him to put on a face mask.
The Utah County Commission postponed a meeting on masks after scores of protesters packed the room—wall to wall—without wearing masks as a massive human “FU” to the commission’s mere discussion of wearing masks to protect their neighbors (isn’t this Mormon country?).
A female clerk was punched in the face three times when she told a male customer she couldn’t sell him cigarettes unless he put on a mask.
Georgia governor (anti-mask Trump sycophant) started a mask war against Atlanta’s mayor (pro-mask wearing Covid-19 survivor) by suing the mayor and the city councilwhen the mayor requested all citizens of Atlanta wear masks to protect their family, friends, and neighbors.
Cartoon used by permission: 239371 Face Masks by Pat Bagley The Salt Lake Tribune UT
“What a world! What a world! What a world!” I groaned.Before I knew it, the sun had risen and my husband strolled into the kitchen for breakfast. After kissing me good morning, he asked, “So how’s your ass?”
“What? How’s my ass? That’s a weird question,” I replied.
“No, it isn’t. I’ve been awake since 3:00 a.m. because you let off the loudest fart I’ve ever heard. Not only was it loud but it seemed endless. (Don’t even get me started on the smell.) In fact, I didn’t know that such a powerful sound could come out of a human being’s butt. Isn’t your a-hole in excruciating pain? I am amazed you’re able to sit on your bottom.”
“That was not a fart at 3:00 a.m., that was a massive thunder clap from the heavens,” I said.
“It was a massive thunder clap all right—straight out of your ass. It woke me up. I half expected to look up and see you floating at the top of the bedroom ceiling. If that had been the case, I have no idea how I would have gotten you down. You know it was that double-cheese, veggie Keto lasagna, in case anyone is in doubt, Ms. Lactose-intolerant Lady. So for the sake of your ass and your fellow-man (a.k.a. your husband), you might want to put that recipe on the trash heap marked: ‘The end of ET’s love affair with cheese.’ After all, what did Jesus say: ‘So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them…’ Time to give up the cheese, Babe!”
Cartoon used by permission: 240662 The End Is Near by Rick McKee CagleCartoons com
“At long last, we have made a truly game-changing scientific breakthrough in preventing the spread of COVID-19. We have found a disease-control tool that, when used properly, can reduce transmission by somewhere between 50% and 85%. The tool is cheap and remarkably low-tech. You can even make one at home.” —The Power of Masks by Gavin Yamey/Time magazine
Cartoon used by permission: 239295 Mask Hamlet by Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune MN
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.
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? 