Monday, December 5, 2016

Name Calling, Etc

As many of my readers know I became very involved in the election this past year. So involved when you throw a topic at me I am almost as knowledgeable as Anderson Cooper without the hefty paycheck. I have learned many of these issues are not quite black and white but a huge brush stroke of gray.

For example, I am pro-choice. I am all about abortion access. My body, my say. A fetus is not a person under the US Constitution nor should it be. If a man can walk away why can't I? Many women are forced to go through with a pregnancy by an abusive partner who wants to hold onto them. Often times, people have abortions because the child has a health issue that will make their lives either short or unbearable. It's not an easy choice.

But I respect the pro-life side of things and felt that way for nearly the first 16 years of my life. I even gave out the white ribbons at the Catholic Church I attended as a young girl. However, over time I saw that the bully boy Republican lawmakers, mostly male, pressured women into going through with the pregnancy via legislation. Their evil, masked behind religion and sexism, was used to torture women. And these cock sure men were also the first to cut education programs that could help these young women leave poverty. The paradox behind Jesus made me ill. This is when I became pro-choice.

However, I do advocate for adoption. We need to make it easier for people who want to adopt. Heck, I have 6 cousins who are adopted so I can testify that my aunts and uncles gave these children wonderful homes and were amazing parents. Being a parent is far from giving birth, that's just a small sliver. It's being there in sickness and health and always and forever until you no longer walk this Earth. Someday, if I am to be a mother to real beings, I would honestly be more inclined to adopt or foster than bear a child of my own. It's because the pro-life movement doesn't account for the abused, unwanted children who are Constitutional Citizens who fall through the cracks.

Whenever I tell this to people they yell and scream. I'm a murderer. I'm a baby killer. Have I never seen a video of an abortion being performed. God will judge me harshly. Over the years I have had a lot of people ream me outline, friends, and they have disfriended me. We can't agree to disagree. We can't say the issue is gray. I am a baby killer plain and simple. Ya!

Sure, I support the mother's choice not to have the child. I support the mother's choice to give it up for adoption. I support someone's choice to keep the kid as long as there are programs to benefit them. But I am big on women knowing their rights regardless.

A childhood karate buddy and facebook friend is an evangelical Christian. She is pro-life to begin with, but she had a child who was born premature. This woman feels that if her son could survive at 28 weeks, that's a full term person. I am not going to tell her she's wrong. If anything it adds another layer to the whole complicated issue. For me to even debate her stance on this, her experience, would make me or anyone else a judgmental monster. And to her credit, our views could not be more different, but she was able to appreciate my point of view. She also didn't resort to name calling. That's what America should be about.

This election in general has made bitter enemies of some I used to call friends. I was called a libtard by some because of my activism against Trump. Others resorted to saying I deserved to be raped, cowards online more or less. All because I spoke my mind. I guess they were speaking theirs, and their insults laid claim that they really and truly had nothing to say. One man who had a KKK avatar messaged me saying, "Respect our next president you cunt," when I initially released a Donald J. Tramp video.

The hood over the head was scary. Anything hate group related always is. It's a level of evil that is based on both ignorance and fear that we can never fathom. Yet the hood over the head also led me know this was an idiot who was easily manipulated that had nothing to say. He had nothing to back him up. Of course he called women the c word. A woman with an opinion was a dangerous thing.

My political point of view tends to be more socialist. I am light pink. While I can appreciate Marxism, I know it does not fully work. Yet like a lot of Americans I will not demonize it either. The only reason I registered as Democrat is we have a two party system we need to work with.

I posted what I believed to be a very objective tribute to Fidel Castro. No, he wasn't perfect. He was a dictator. However, he got rid of the color stuckedness issue in Cuba. For the first time the black Cubans, second class citizens, had the same rights their white counterparts did. He also educated the people and gave them universal healthcare. Castro wanted a free Cuba for the Cubans like Ho Chi Minh wanted a Vietnam for the Vietnamese without Western influence. And yes, Batista was our man, because he let us swing our imperialist dicks around and dip our dirty fingers in his water. I told the truth.

I got some support but I was told by a lot of people that I "did not understand history." That I had never spoken to a Cuban. Yes I have. My deceased best friend was Cuban, and his family disliked Castro but told me Batista was much worse and kept the people racially divided. More Cubans in the US are white than black. The white Cubans were more or less political exiles and of course hate Castro. And as for me not understanding history, I debated becoming a history professor. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire was my bedtime story as a child. I understand history a hell of a lot better than you.

Then there were those who kept telling me I was a stupid American. And they kept going on and on about the people in boats. Yes, the people on the tires. Let me point out that's bad. But we killed more blacks in the middle passage as we embraced the progressive immigration policy of displacing one ethic group solely to be slaves. Before importing slaves was made illegal, we also worked these people to death because we figured they could be replaced. And then when importation was made illegal, we bred them for work in the field and ripped their families apart time after time because they were not full persons under the law. Now we have one of the highest incarceration rates in the world, most of those convicts young men of color who don't know their rights.

Let me not even get into how we massacred or killed off with disease The Native Americans. Our record is nothing short of terrible in America. We have no room to criticize anyone at any time.

Andrew Jackson literally killed off an entire tribe of Native Americans by himself. He also initiated The Trail of Tears where many more died. Additionally he was a terrible sexist and brutal slave owner. Not a nice man, but a hero of our history. He's on our $20. Castro's no hero but he pales in comparison to Jackson.

Then there are those who challenged me that Castro censored artists. Yes he did but we censor the art and media all the time in the United States, and our coverage is nothing less than biased. Additionally, yes he put HIV positive people in quarantine. But Reagan denied HIV/AIDS and millions of Americans died. Some even argue the AZT killed more people than HIV/AIDS, and the government knew this and was eager to rid themselves of the demon of the homosexual. If this is true, it makes us worse than Castro could ever be. Sure, he was terrible to homosexuals. Yet we listed homosexuality as a mental illness in the US until the 1960s and then subjected young LGBTQ kids to conversion therapy for years......abuse of the worst kind. Yet we wag our finger at Cuba for being such bad, bad people. Double standard much, Miss America?!

And then let me add as I tried to make these points I was a traitor. Don't think so, just telling the truth. I was also a Communist. Eh, maybe I am as long as it pisses you off. People were going to try to set me straight. You are more than welcome to. That is when I just finally stopped answering. I know I am telling the truth.

As for those families affected by Castro, not excusing him. But unfortunately that is the bi-product of political unrest and revolution at times. We see it constantly in the developing world. Heck, we are about to see it here with a Trump presidency. So let's not judge because we have a superiority complex.

Heck, when Marx wrote "Religion is the opium of the masses" he might have been on to something. We use religion to keep people in their place constantly. We used it to preach that segregation was good for blacks and that gays were evil. We use it to control women's wombs at the government level. We use it as a mask for the sexist, racist notion of The White Man's Burden. While I am not totally for it as a spiritual woman, maybe not having it isn't the worst idea.

Then there is the subject of burning the flag. People tell you that you're UnAmerican if you burn a flag. Personally, I think you should be allowed to but feel it's lazy protesting. There are people who feel you should be in jail. Trump wants to take away your citizenship. Makes me want to torch one just because.

There are the idiots who use the argument that the troops died for our freedom. Not since the Revolutionary War have the troops died for our freedom. Mexican American War was Manifest Destiny. The Civil War was to preserve The Union. Spanish American War was imperialism. Both World Wars were imperialism. Vietnam was imperialism. Both the Gulf War and this conflict were imperialism.

I do respect those who lost their lives in battle, and feel for their families. I regard their sons as heroes because our government cheats the vets whenever they can. Plus as an American I do support them because I know there are also layers to the story we do not get and they are pawns. That being said, stop saying they are fighting for our freedom. It isn't true!

Also, unless you are white and male America is not always the paradise it is painted as. When your rights are denied and you feel there is injustice maybe a flag needs to be torched to make a point. While I feel perhaps you should run for office or join a peace rally, people are also pushed. Just like the minutemen were pushed. Actually, these farmer soldiers, untrained but sick and tired of being sick and tired, would probably actually be for flag burning. We are a country built on protest. So I say don't tread on me. And if that means torching the flag do it.

This past week I have been called a stupid cunt by a comic I once liked who defriended me online. Another called me a psycho, and this was one who used to be a nice dude before he decided to swing for Trump and left reality. One man who was a former club owner who let his club run into the ground called me a slew of names, one being failure. (His 5 businesses that went into bankruptcy could say if you spot it you got it).

Several people told me to get on a flotilla and go to Cuba. "Go somewhere else."

Eh, you mean somewhere that people can have a discussion without calling each other names? I think I will go there. And I think the loss of your friendship is no real loss. I can appreciate different ideas. I can appreciate discussion. But I don't appreciate name calling. Just saying, kids.

Saturday, December 3, 2016

The Greater Good

This past week, I did a show at Carmen Road School. It was a nice little jaunt out of the liberal bubble I call my backyard. The school is a special needs school in Massapequa Park, NY. I took the LIRR and off I went.

The school services students with developmental disabilities whether it be physical, mental, or in some cases both. Students in the school are up to 21 years old, because some kids with an IEP get longer to finish. Anyway, I had no clue how this would alter my week in the most positive of ways.

Before the show, I ended up talking to the comedians. A lot of them, unlike my little liberal bubble, had voted for Trump. I feared I would be shot for bringing Donald J. Tramp. They told me I was fine, I was in suburbia. Had a laugh about that.

The show itself was a fundraiser for the PTA. The audience, composed of parents who children were students, were wonderful and laughed the entire time. There was also not one weak link in the lineup. The show was a wonderful breath of fresh air, as it was composed to people who aren't in my usual orbit. Comedians from LI tend to focus on jokes more than "being real." That is a thing particular to NYC comedy.

I watched the entire show, and learned a lot from this talented group of people. City comedians tend to get personal and deep, while Long Island comics tend to have more fun actually. Again, it's always good to get out of your bubble. The parents were nice, and even wrote us all wonderful thank you cards.
Look at the whole crew of us! 

Afterwards, I was speaking to one of the parents. He told me his son played wheelchair soccer. I had to applaud the staff and the teachers for all they did for these kids. Sure, they were disabled, but it didn't mean they weren't able. Life is about doing the best you can with what you have. It's amazing how much they were able to do for these kids, and how hard their parents were willing to fight for them. It was a blessing to be a part of that effort, even if it was for a brief wrinkle in time.

Right now, what the world needs is more people doing the right thing for the right reasons. There is so much hostility on both sides post-election. It's to the point where I need to take a break from the internet more often than not. So what we all need now is a little kindness and a little laughter.

Donald J. Tramp received a mixed welcome as this was a red county. However, May Wilson swooped into save the day. Everyone loves a party girl.

Either way, thank you to Carmen Road for an incredible experience. And thank you to the comedians who performed, and Joey Petroni for organizing.

April n May

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Flag Burning......

This past summer in Cleveland, Donald J. Tramp and I stood in the square entertaining. As spokespuppet for STAT (Stand Together Against Trump), he told jokes to the crowd as I was decked out in my cutoff shirt and braved the heat. All because I felt the need to express my dismay at a Trump candidacy.

For the most part, the square was nonviolent. The cops relegated people to two sides: Pro-Trump and Anti-Trump. It was like a music festival more than anything; Lollapalooza with a political feel. The Trump people had their guns attached to their hip, doing the inbred thing with pride. Some took photos with Donny. Actually, a lot were just soaking up the day. It was history for all of us. I had a lot of respect for those who I disagreed with, because we were all in the heat speaking our minds because The Constitution gave us that right.

Since our job was to give our water to anyone protesting, many a Trumpkin drank STAT water. And many of us drank Jesus Water aka Trumpkin water. It’s an unwritten rule that even though we disagreed, we respected the guts we all had. Because once you get vocal about your politics, you have people in every direction turning their back on you. Welcome to free speech. Welcome to America.
There was one group, Rev Com, or Revolutionary Communists. While the Trumpkins had their guns strapped to them, Rev Com were the kind of protesters who showed up just to get arrested. During the march, when they joined, several members of STAT exchanged worried glances and someone whispered, “Oh no. Here comes Rev Com. They can get violent.”

Yes, these disorganized, idiotic, super paranoid, nutcases who probably had the bones of Karl Marx in their basements crashed the march that STAT had gotten permits for. Even when Westboro Baptist showed up to the bridge to protest STAT (your protest always has a protest) we never yelled back let alone responded. Now Rev Com was here. It was like it was our birthday, they were too broke to have their own, so they added their name to our cake. However, we had to roll with it.

Getting my puppeteer protest on

Days before, a girl who was with Rev Com had attempted to light a flag on fire. In her quest to express her anger over Trump, she was going to make a statement. Well instead she lit herself on fire. The cop, who was witnessing this screamed, “You idiot, you’re on fire!”

Promptly putting out the fire on her sleeve he apprehended the flag and ordered, “Go home, you’re done for the day.”

Up to that point I had been politically active. I canvassed for an out lesbian politician the day DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) was struck down. There was dancing in the street in the West Village where I was. I wrote about domestic violence for The Huffington Post, giving my input as a woman who survived a partner who was physically violent. I even marched in Pride supporting my LGBTQ friends. However, I had never been at an event where a flag was burned. My rage and passion let alone that of anyone around me had ever gotten to that level.

The day of the march, Trump accepted the nomination. We were on the green when we were approached by a Black Lives Matter activist. A young man about 22, he informed me that someone had been arrested for burning a flag. He told me there was a march to the jail as they were going to break this would be revolutionary out, and he was inviting me to come.

What could possibly go wrong?

I was indignant that he was arrested for expressing himself. Maybe tyranny was taking over. Yet I knew the march to the jail could only end badly of course. The members of STAT around me looked into my eyes, begging me to refuse the invite. I did.

As he left, the people around me looked relieved. We had a laugh. Yes, we were peaceful. The whole day had been peaceful and wonderful. However, the laugh was short lived when I saw out of the corner of my eye the young man who had approached us was being coached by Rev Com.
An older hippie informed him, “My first protest, ha! My first arrest, never!”

Seconds later, the older hippies began approaching people informing us the man in the jail was arrested for burning the flag. My mentor, who is an ex cop, was with me. He told me flag burning is legal. However, he was sure there was more to the story. Googling, he found the arrestee had tried to light a flag on fire but failed. However, he had decided the next prudent action was to assault a cop. Needless to say that got him arrested.

I became sickened by the pot stirring, intentional misleading of this group. They had used the young man from BLM. And they got their message out by any destructive means possible. It made me ashamed to share the green with them. STAT had been so peaceful and purposeful with the protest, and we were positive. We believed in what we did, and we know that we were heard.

Rev Com was just there to cause trouble. It made me ill that a cop had to tend, while someone elsewhere in real need was probably terrified or bleeding to death because their hands were being tied by these whackos.

I thought of heroes like Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Bobby Sands, and Ghani who protested peacefully. Their message not only resonated, but therein could bring about the conversation of change. After the conversation came the change itself.

I will not stop anyone from burning a flag. It is their right. I will also not tell them how to feel, their rage is also their right. Their pain is their own and I will not dare to condescend to tone police. Yet I will say that the louder you scream the less likely you are to be heard. And the more you scream the less you have to say. And the less you say the more you inhibit the needed conversation.

So can you burn the flag? Yes. Should you burn the flag? Up to you. Do you need to burn the flag? In my opinion there are better ways to be heard. Just saying. It’s all up to you. 

Sunday, November 20, 2016

The Week After: Post Election Let Down

This past year I found myself really involved with politics. Donald J. Tramp, my political puppet, was my nexus that lured me into this latest adventure. The concept came from the fact that Donald Trump is the ventriloquist puppet of the Republican Party, saying all the hateful rhetoric the career politicians wish they could say but wouldn’t because it would cost them elections. And a tramp in old times was a fool or a fop. I invented him when it became clear that he wasn’t going away.

Donald J. Tramp brought me to the RNC. He became the spokespuppet for STAT (Stand Together Against Trump). Along with the brave doctors, nurses (STAT is a medical term meaning right away) and other brave young activists we protested Trump’s candidacy. For days Mr. Tramp and I entertained in the square. Each day, we watched the trainwreck that was the Convention from Scott Baio to the stolen speech. And then we marched. I think I might have been the first ventriloquist on a protest. I dunno.

My protest puppet, Donald J. Tramp, and I in the Cleveland Dispatch

Either way, I met a lot of wonderful young people from all ideologies expressing their First Amendment Right. We were all peaceful. Several young Trumpkins clad in American flags wanted to rub Donald J. Tramp’s head for luck. It was fun. I let them. At the end of the day we are all people and this is America.

A still shot of us in between performances. We literally talked to 200 press people each day, and thousands of pedestrians.

My partner and I then found ourselves outside of Hofstra. Sans STAT, we were simply a ventriloquist and her dummy doing a good old fashioned street performance in the free speech zone. We were true agit prop theatre. Another man showed up with a giant Trump head, and an anti-Hillary supporter even sported a wig and a full body costume nominating HRC for prison.

I also got to see a dark side of the protest circuit. In Cleveland, and even at Hofstra the ones that scared me were never the Trump supporters. If anything, the ones I met in Cleveland were overweight, out of shape, and had their guns irresponsibly strapped to their backs. Or they were young white men who might have been supporting the Donald on a lark.
One of my faves of Donald and I from the march

Marching with STAT

However, the super liberal, third party people were the ones that scared me. In Cleveland, one tried to light a flag on fire. She failed and instead lit herself on fire. The policeman, trying not to break out laughing, screamed, “You idiot, you’re on fire!” Then after he put the fire out told her that she was done for the day and had to head home. Apparently someone in her crew assaulted a cop, and this same group of radicals tried to get a young man from Black Lives Matter to organize a march to the jail to free the prisoner. Needless to say, the constituent of STAT was sensible enough to refuse the invite.
The same held true at Hofstra. Jill Stein and her disciples came and many didn’t have a conversation, only yelled. They also made it clear that they showed up solely to get arrested. Their dreams came true, 26 of them did.

Free speech zone outside of Hofstra, it was colder that day. Oh and it was also my birthday. 

The climax of my adventures was Donald J. Tramp and I, both acting as correspondents, for the Clyde Fitch Report. My puppet partner and I both had official badges, mic flags, and hats. We saw Anderson Cooper napping on the back of a golf cart, and Wolf Blitzer trying to escape attention in a van. I was in the room when Donald Trump uttered the phrases “bad hombres” and “nasty woman.”
I was a part of history as it unfolded. In between Donald and I were on stage nightly in NYC, and also hit a few venues in Las Vegas. We met a lot of Trump people who dug the act. It’s good. A country that laughs together stays together.
On location, Las Vegas

I wish with all my heart the election turned out differently. The night the results came in, I got a ghastly stomach cramp. As HRC gave her concession speech I cried buckets, because the glass ceiling had not been broken. And just as she lost I felt I lost. Not just as an American, but as a woman who has experienced sexism. As a woman who is a domestic violence survivor. As a woman who knows what it’s like when a man torments you and no one believes you.
I was also saddened as I saw Trump supporters gloat, and frightened as my friends who were black, Latino, gay and trans feared losing their rights.
I then became angry at my own party. Angry at the disaffected Bernie people for either voting Stein, writing Bernie in, or not voting at all. Angry that they gave the election to Trump. Angry at my own candidate for her flaws, and angry at her for not understanding technology. Angry at my own candidate for not reaching across the aisle to the Bernie people. Angry at my own candidate for not making Bernie her VP. Angry at my own party for it’s apparent division and not realizing this until it was too late.
I became angry at the Trump people, even flaming out at several. But as I went outside and caught some air, I came to the realization we are all people. I am not angry at the Trump people for voting for Trump. They didn’t do what I wanted them to, but when it came time to vote they voted for who they thought suited their interests. And Trump somehow was able to get the disaffected Cruz people behind him, which is more than I can say for the Democrats. So again, they get an A on the assignment.

Tramp and his campaign manager May Wilson

I even spoke to several Trump people, none by the way who I felt were racist in the least bit. They felt HRC wasn’t trustworthy, and were tired of being screwed over by the government. Many were 2nd Amendment people who live in an area where a gun is required because cops live far away. Others saw their jobs disappear as a result of Bill Clinton’s legislation. Many, like my ex, were banged up Iraq War Vets who were angry that Obama had undid the work they did in the Middle East, and felt the government was too busy helping illegals and forgot about the vets.
Either way, Republicans in my experience always seek to pretend to help the common man only to get him to vote against their own best interests. Harry Truman said as much. This is no exception. So on November 9 we all lost.
On the other hand, it takes many opinions to make the world go round. Pence got booed at Hamilton and got challenged from the stage by the lead actor. Was it the time or place? Depends on who you ask. But I felt the plea was peaceful and kind. It was also a response to a man who’s positions and party are built on bigotry. The president elect had a meltdown, but Pence took it in stride explaining, “I told my daughters that is what freedom sounds like.”
Better than the president elect, screaming about defeating Isis but unable to defeat the theatre geeks.
As Donald Trump suggests a whole flock of cringeworthy, Southern Poverty Law Watch List alumns as his cabinet picks, like the rest of America, I pray and wait.
But life goes on. There is existence off of twitter and facebook. Thanksgiving is coming up. My sister and brother in law are frying a turkey. My dad also has a birthday tomorrow. He is going to be 64. There will be other elections. There will be other debates. I won’t have my dad forever.

My coverage of the election has brought us closer, and maybe we will discuss it on turkey day. While I have 4 more years worth of material, I need a week off. Actually, I think I would rather discuss football and Heisman picks, two things that have always made America great. 
Just me and my dad

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Clyde Fitch and Other Things

Last year my life was a lot different. I was at the mercy of a psychotic landlord who wanted nothing more than to destroy me. My living situation exploded in utter chaos, and he was keeping me a prisoner. Knowing much of my property had been destroyed as a result of the bed bugs and mold he refused to treat, he would not reimburse me for my losses. When I attempted to hold rent in order to fix my situation, he began to threaten me. Even when the city worker encouraged me to bring him to court and I paid him what I owed him, he began to torture me with court papers. Knowing I had no where to go and couldn't afford to move, he knew he could force me out and hold me hostage at the same time.

I had been there for 10 years without a problem.......until he saw that if he could get me out he could triple the rent and made it his mission to do so.

The situation came to a frightening crescendo when I went to my last court appearance. His lawyer initially told me to ignore the hold over suit they filed, but then I was told I had to go to court. They did this intentionally knowing I would not have enough time to notify my lawyer. To add insult to injury, they also demanded I paid them $3000 that I did not owe, extorting me, adding to my pain.

Their lawyer, an over dramatic idiot, believed himself to be Daniel Webster. Except Daniel Webster faced off against Satan and actually was able to hold his own in a courtroom against someone not willing to speak to the judge. I didn't speak because I was scared. For weeks, my landlord had been following me around the neighborhood. He had also shut off my water. I was afraid this man was going to kill me.

The day before, he had called to threaten me and said, "I won't stop until I see you homeless."

When I got home from court, my apartment was filled with smoke. My landlord had also been going through my things, and had been taking photos. I found out from one of the workmen later, but he said to leave him out of it, he had a family he had to support. I called the police who encouraged me to get out ASAP. My stove was red tagged by Con Ed, the thing my landlord had left leaking in order to cause me harm. Yes, he knew I wouldn't be home, and new this could and would kill me. I was scared for my life and had to move in a hurry.

One year later my address is completely different. I work with a mentor who is nothing short of a Godsend. My act is also completely different. I have been on a new level of comedy and the edge of history as Donald J. Tramp was the spokespuppet for Stand Together Against Trump (STAT), and we were ever present at the Republican National Convention in Cleveland. There was not one press outlet that my dear Donny and I weren't in it seems.

To add a little sugar to the suffle, I recently got to go as credentialed press to the 3rd Presidential Debate. I went on behalf of the Clyde Fitch Report, a Pulitzer Prize nominated publication. I was there with Donald J. Tramp to cover the event, and watched groundbreaking news unfold. It was a tremendous gift and incredible fun to be there with other young storytellers who were recording events for the generations to come. These press people were from all reaches of the globe, too. We all took note as the first ever female nominee, and the first ever part pumpkin debated on the important issues.

My life has changed, but for the better. God is good all the time. I know if things had not unfolded the way they did, I would not be doing the things I am now. What a difference a year makes.

Friday, October 28, 2016

Hate Speech

The other day I was perusing facebook like I typically do. I had been down and out with the stomach flu. The week before had been spent at my cousin's wedding, and then on the plane to Las Vegas acting as credentialed press for the Presidential Dates with Donald J. Tramp. Things were shaping up fabulously.

Then I woke up Tuesday morning feeling dizzy. I figured I was tired and got a glass of water. Next thing I know the contents of my stomach are spewing everywhere. For the next several hours I couldn't keep anything down. Not water. Not coffee. Nothing. The next call was to my mom. Then to my sister Skipper. She said to take it easy, rest. This wasn't going to kill me, just be annoying for the next 24, 48 hour time span.

So I decided to see what my friends were up to. One is a guy I will call Mike Spratt. Supposedly, Mike was involved with the mafia back in the day, or that is at least what he likes to tell people. Apparently Mike became hooked on coke and dope, and found the message of God and recovery through AA. Dedicated to his sobriety, Mike attended 3 meetings a day every day, and church daily as well. When he wasn't drinking the kool-aid instead of the booze, Mike was trying to get his own reality show. This is how I met him, for better or for worse.

Mike had come to a comedy show of mine once. He came with another guy he met from his meetings. Mike informed me that his psychic powers had guided him to me, and God told him specifically I needed saved. (What could possibly go wrong?)

The waitress then told Mike and his friend he had to order two drinks. Mike's friend, a nondrinker, ordered a bottle of water and didn't want to make a scene. On the other hand, Mike began to verbally berate the waitress for making him drink. He was in recovery. How could she? When the waitress and Mike's friend explained that he could order a nonalcoholic drink, he got more belligerent. The club manager not only banned Mike from ever entering the venue again, but encouraged me never to invite him to future shows. I felt that this was a wise decision.

Fast forward. Years later, despite his claims, Mike never got a reality television show. Seems like The Long Island Medium had more star power. However, Mike had decided to become political. Since the start of this election, his posts have shifted from the eccentric orders from God to just plain vile. Each week, they have been getting more and more disturbed. In each post, he has been talking about how the Jews and Muslims have declared war on The White Christian Male. Yes, I was at the meeting last week. They are plotting against you and you alone.

This latest post was the straw that broke the camel's back. In it, Mike spoke about how the Muslims were infiltrating the government. He believed Barack Obama was a Muslim, and wanted to make Islam the official religion of America. Mike also said Nancy Pelosi had secretly converted to Islam, and was secretly hiring members of Isis as spies on all the Christians. After which Mike insisted that when Muslims prayed, they were really praying to Satan. Now, Salmon Rushdi called, he wants his idea back, idiot.

The end of his post called for a holy war against Muslims.

This wasn't just paranoid bordering on delusional. It was dangerously removed from reality in every way. Actually, it made me sick to read. In anger, I responded, "You should go back to drinking, you sounded better on the sauce."

Then I knew I was sinking to his level. I would never get through. So I blocked him. Still, it made me glad both candidates were travelling with security. People are too crazy right now. Words sometimes are not just words. We dismiss them as just that, and then the individual spewing the hate does something drastic.

Clearly my pal Mike Spratt has more going on than being an ex drunk who's hooked on God. He needs mental help from real professionals outside of church basements. Hopefully those are just words, but also, hopefully someone else sees his ramblings and gets him help before it's too late. 

Monday, October 3, 2016

Some Jingle Jangle Morning (Mary Lou Lord)

The other day, I got a call from a friend I have kind of become close to in this past year. We knew of each other, but only recently started to hang out more. This past year he went through a terrible divorce with an ex wife who is a real bitch for lack of a better word. The woman fights dirtier than Mike Tyson did in the Holyfield fight. She'll go for the ear.

She did a cheap shot when it came to the house they shared. She an underhanded play when it came to getting custody of his son, lying to the court about how he had a drinking problem which he doesn't. She's an asshole who wants to win at all costs, even if it means using her kid to do so. Not to mention she intentionally quit her job so he would have to pay her alimony. YUCK!

So he was forced out of his house, and moved into an apartment. He misses seeing his little boy terribly every day. I wanted to name their divorce saga Beauty and the Bitch, because this troll has successfully poisoned all of their mutual friends against him, too. Not to mention she has done things to put his career as a musician (he plays concert piano) in crisis several times.

He called me in a daze late Saturday to talk. He was getting used to an empty apartment. He felt lonely. He felt empty. He felt weird. He felt pissed his ex wife had a new boyfriend. No, he didn't miss her. He was pissed this woman was bringing a man he never met around his kid. And his ex wife moved her new boyfriend in. This stranger had taken his place. Yet he was also glad to be rid of the troll he was married to for 15 years.

 It is the pallet of feelings that goes with change.

While my situation is different than his and I don't understand, I identify. You can read my previous blogs to know what I mean. Either way, it felt good to be a listening ear. Change is weird. Change is scary.


I think in a way that's what attracted me to my current living situation. My landlord, who is very different from my buddy, grew up in NYC when it was really NYC. His stories are colorful. He managed a strip club. As a kid, he and his friends went with the hookers in the neighborhood who would give them free rides. He also had women throwing their underwear in his car. Apparently he was a hit when he was young.

Then he met his ex wife. Yes, she pursued him. Got him gifts. When he tried to break up with her, she hung out with his mom. Then finally after 10 years, 2 kids, and a bunch of changes in her psych meds he left. Now she tries to poison his kids against him. The woman plays ugly too. He wants his teenage  kids to go to college, do something with themselves. She tries to undermines his efforts. She sucks as a human.

When I moved in, it was his family home and he was in between jobs. He was figuring out how to be a single parent to teen boys. He was leaving early to make sure they got to school each morning, because their mother could have cared less. Sure, he's obsessed with UFOs and believes the conspiracy that Michelle Obama is a man, but he's a good dude. Either way, he is looking for work now, and trying to figure out what to do.


Heck, things have changed for me. A year ago I was talking about getting married. My living situation was much different. And it also looked like I was moving to Europe because I was getting press there, and a few managers even expressed interest.

I had the whole pallet of feelings as shit hit the fan. We always do. Not only was my then boyfriend ripped away by the throws of mental illness and the consequences of the choices of someone who doesn't follow through with treatment, but my heart was ripped out of my chest. My living situation, one that I had been in happily for nearly a decade, went belly up. Thinking about the loss of my last apartment makes me angry but also makes my stomach turn. Europe also went belly up because no one could successfully get me a Visa, and if I was going I was going as a headliner.

A year later, things are very different. Some good, some bad.

My new living situation is safer and cheaper, but the 7 train is a fucktard at times.

As for my ex, I have mostly forgiven him for some of the damage he's done, but the mixed feelings are still there. I get angry, but then I have to tell myself he's sick literally one hundred times. Then I remember his kindnesses, and even his sister said despite his troubles he was the kindest person she knew. Suddenly there is a part of me that misses him, not even to have him back as a lover but just a friend. That's when I remember he can't be trusted and isn't a safe person.

I also get angry about the idiots that weighed in on my living situation and break up. They are out of my life like the human cancers they were.

Obviously I didn't go to Europe, but I am steadily becoming a regular headliner in the states. I am working with wonderful people. My career is not where I want it yet, but it is getting there. Not to mention that while my bank account might not know about how famous I am in some circles, I enjoy comedy more than I have in years. I love getting onstage again.

Sure, the cancer scare sucked but it woke me up and now I am eating better than ever.

Losing everything and applying for aid made me have those difficult money conversations, especially those about the future. Now I'm not scared and want to learn more about how to manage my money.

As I was drinking coffee in an East Village diner hearing two girls bullshit before my 7:45 AM delivery, it felt surreal because that had been my stomping ground in college. I was a Manhattite always and forever. My mom even called me Manhattan Barbie. Alas, nothing is forever.

Thank God nothing is forever. Had shit not hit the fan I wouldn't have gone to the RNC to be a part of history. I wouldn't be working with the cool people I am now. I wouldn't be having fun each time I get onstage. I talk to people about getting paid, and am not a nice girl when it comes to dough. I am more fearless about telling people to get fucked. I am vocal when I have a concern about something whether it's my manager or landlord. I don't wait until my back is against the wall when I can no longer run from the monster.

When the smoke clears, that is when you can truly appreciate the miracle.