Big Helpers

Every home boasts its own unique dialogue. We form terms of endearment that may, or may not, sound so endearing to foreign ears.

For instance, I call my husband an asshole with the utmost love and honor I can give him. He is a wonderful, caring, loving man. He is my best friend.

And he’s also an asshole. He is. He’ll tell you himself. And at midnight when he turns the lights off while I’m in the bathroom and I open the door to pitch black only to have him leap from the floor at my feet and scare the piss out of me…he is, in fact, an asshole.

We also say things like, “Seatbelt stupid.” Which is the family friendly reminder to buckle up.

Or “I’m a biiiiiggggg helper.”

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Helping me with the dishes…

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This is a big helper.

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Big helper.

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This is another example of a big helper.

Big helpers are characteristically famous for not actually helping. They do something, however small, and immediately claim fame for doing it.

While this is sure to provide a good laugh in my house, followed by pats on the head and goading comments of, “Oh what a big helper you are!” and “Aren’t you such a good boy/girl?” or “Awww, want a cookie?”…the world is full of people who actually believe they need some kind of recognition for being a decent human being.

We are living in a country where there is a serious possibility that the biggest bully to ever kill, skin, and wear a mongoose as a hairpiece stands a chance of becoming our President. We have formed a panel of liars, thieves, and bullies to promote the never-ending message of violence and hate.

And we’re sitting back, watching it happen. Voting this term is difficult. The choices suck, at best, and the few shining beacons of light (*coughBerniecough* my only voter opinion drop, I promise) are forced to battle for a stage against the reality star drama of the popular candidates.

I continue to hear people say that they aren’t even going to bother to vote, that there is no point, that their voice doesn’t matter, or the choices are too bad…

I’d like to respond, “Suck it up.”

I’d like to say, “Too fucking bad.”

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Oh yes…

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I’d like to tell them, “It’s your responsibility and if you jerk around with that, you get absolutely no right to complain when this shit show hits main stage.”

Instead, I’ll ask this: Won’t you all please go get yourself a little I Voted sticker? You totally deserve it. You did something amazing.

What a big helper you are.


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Sacrifice

Stock Image: Dreamstime
Stock Image: Dreamstime

I do not think I like this legacy of mine.
Half my life we’ve been at war
and slaughter has become the adulthood I know.
I gave up my generation to fight this war
and we’re leaving behind new gods in our wake.
We’re all hailing at the Church of Trump
and we mistook the burning bush
for George W.
Because the deacons of our NRA society
have told me I need this gun to stay safe,
have shown me that worship
comes in small metal packages,
shot straight into the heart of the issue
of this up and coming,
numb generation.
Where we have exchanged
love thy neighbor
for love thy white neighbor,
thy Christian neighbor,
thy middle-aged, gun toting,
conservative neighbor.
This is a land where we can preach
all life is sacred
and then quote the second amendment
all in the same breath.

I do not think I like this new god.
If I have to have one,
served at every meal,
shoved down my throat
at every impasse of my morals
with a side of the cherry-picked lines
from that book…
I think I like your angry god.
I think I like his old testament self –
where he turned a woman to salt
for her uncontrollable urge to look back
at the city that screamed like babes.
I want his desperate need for
constant sacrifice,
because we’re already doing it.
We’re good at it.
Eventually he might even be appeased.
I want that angry god to step in
say enough, is enough
and put his finger right on the heart of the issue
of every Obama is Coming for Your Guns Commercial
that says we need more guns, more guns, more guns…
More guns to stay safe from school shooters
who blow away my children’s generation.
More guns to protect ourselves from black people,
yellow people,
brown people,
who want our jobs,
to sell us drugs,
to steal our things,
to hurt us.
More guns to safeguard our god
from their god.
Because killing in the name of ours is moral
and killing in the name of theirs
is terrorism.
Because at the end of the day
that god is a loving god
with an affinity for combat grade
automatic weapons
and a righteous cause…
I pray for your angry god.
In Jesus name,
Amen.

© Laura A. Lord, 2015