A DUmmie drama queen posts her opus

"Farewell, DUmmieland! I must leave you now! This place is not what it once was. No, don't beg me to stay! I know you will miss me terribly, but I must make my dramatic exit now. Why, I remember the golden days of yesteryore, when this was such a magical place, and we oldtimers all were one big happy family--not like what this place has BECOME, which is why I must take my leave. No, really, I WILL NOT STAY, no matter how much you sing my praises and beg me not to go. . ."

Thus DUmmie Hekate takes her exit from the DUmp, in this THREAD, "'Jes*s Chr*st on a Trailer Hitch!': I've been here since '02 and that's my legacy as I gbcw...."

The farewells and please-stays are in Wild Strawberry Red (you'll see), while the commentary of your humble guest correspondent, Charles Henrickson, hoping that PJ or I can come up with something later today for the Nativity of Wee Willie Pitt (b. Nov. 9, 1971), is in the [brackets]:

"Jes*s Chr*st on a Trailer Hitch!": I've been here since '02 and that's my legacy as I gbcw....

[Huh? That's your "legacy" after eight years? What do you mean, DUmmie Hekate? And what's this "gbcw"? Please explain. . . .]

Thanks go to the moran who showed up at the 2005 Terri Schiavo vigil towing a humongous crucifix behind his pickup truck – I was so impressed and appalled that I coined the phrase on the spot and it became my new swear-word. I did a search recently and found it's all over the place at DU and elsewhere.

[OK, so you came up with a blasphemous idiotic cuss phrase, and a few other idiots latched on to it, and THIS is your claim to fame?? Congratulations, DUmmie Hekate! Hats off to you! Quite an accomplishment.]

Bless you my children, as I depart I bequeath it to you.

[Oh, I get it now: You're doing an opus!]

Why go?

[I don't really care, but I suppose you're going to tell us anyway. . . .]

It's an accumulation of things over the past 2 years, frustrations common to many of us. I've lost a number of friends, some by disagreeing with them and some because they disappeared.

[Those d*mn rethuglicans! No, wait! It must have been Skinner & Co. that disappeared them. . . .]

Speaking only for myself, the last straw was... oh hell, there were several, including eruptions of mass psychosis that virtually made me ill.

[Mass psychosis is the Mass Turnpike running through the heart of DUmmieland.]

It really is time to stop walking past this particular “bar” and just change my route.

[Head over to Bukowski's and be sure to wish Bald Bouncer Pitt a happy birthday.]

Hekate is the Goddess of the Crossroads, after all.

[LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!]

I think Skinner feels beleaguered, and I don't blame him: there's an old story about a man who had a tiger by the tail that may apply to his situation. . . .

[DUmmieland is a tail held by an idiot, full of sound and furry. . . .]

As for myself, I'm paid up through mid-May of next year, but this is it for me. Let's just say that I'd rather leave on my own terms than be vaporized without warning after 8 solid years of membership.

[I have no real REASON to leave, but posting an opus is a good way to get people to beg you to stay.]

I take away some remarkable memories ~~~ In the early years. . . .

[Yes, I, Hekate, am an oldtimer--not like you noobs. I go back EIGHT YEARS, to the golden days of DU. Ah, the memories! Misty, water-colored memories. The stories I could tell! Which I will. . . .]

one never-to-be-forgotten night I researched that topic myself until I stared into the heart of darkness too deeply, injuring my wrists so badly I had to go offline for 3 months.

[Who could forget that? No one! What a gallant, brave DUmmie you were! The sacrifice you made!]

We had eyewitness reports from Camp Crawford, too, and some thought provoking discussions on the Meaning of Cindy Sheehan.

[I-witness reports from Midnight Cowboy "Snake" Pitt, standing in the ditch with Mother Sheehan for a couple of HOURS, enduring FIRE ANTS, for goodness' sakes!]

Based on issues raised here I did some good research, and at times I did some fine writing based on that research.

[If you won't praise me, I will!]

Hubby asked me more than once if I wanted him to set up a blog for me, and I always said no. I had DU and my ego didn't need a blog.

[No, no ego trip for me!]

We were a community of sorts.

[Sort of like a group home.]

The Bush years were scary years, as our civil liberties were carved away with a backhoe. One night in November 2004, almost 1,000 DUers decided to post their real names online to show they would not be intimidated by Bush's DOJ and Dept of “Homeland” Security.

[Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end. . . .]

There was more: shared laughter. . . . We laughed at OURSELVES. . . .

[And others laughed at us too!]

In 2006 DistressedAmerican held a wake for the Indictment of Rove, and almost 100 of us attended. . . .

[The Fitzmas That Never Came.]

Drinks were served, bagpipes were played, I think there was some maudlin weeping; I contributed a casserole to help sop up some of the booze. Songs were composed for the occasion. . . .

[Speaking of casseroles and songs being composed, it just so happens that I have composed a salute to potlucks! Here it is; click the music link and sing along!]

GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE
Tune: "Old-Time Rock-and-Roll"

Just put those old roasters in a line
It's time for potluck and the pleasure's mine
Today's menus can't fill the old hole
I like that green bean casserole

Don't try to make me eat your tofu
You'll sooner get to see me eatin' dog food
I'll start headin' for the church basement door
I like that green bean casserole

Still like that green bean casserole
That kind of eatin' just soothes the soul
I wanna know what's on my plate and bowl
Like that green bean casserole

Don't want shiitake or a mango
I'd rather eat some foods whose names I know
There's only one sure way to get me to go
Start servin' green bean casserole

Call me Midwestern, call my palate poor
Say I'm a Luth'ran, say I'm no connoisseur
Today's menus can't fill the old hole
I like that green bean casserole

Still like that green bean casserole
That kind of eatin' just soothes the soul
I wanna know what's on my plate and bowl
Like that green bean casserole . . .

Oddly, no one screamed obscenities at those who were not in 100% accord with them.

[Yes, we just shouted obscenities at Bush and Cheney and Rummy and Rove! What sweet memories! A common enemy to unite us, to focus all our hatred into one direction, like a laser beam of loathing. . . .]

This is how I want to remember you, DU.

[Goodbye! Farewell! How can we possibly convince you to STAY, DUmmie Hekate?? No, please don't LEAVE us, we beg of you . . .]

Gay Black Christian Woman?

[You're trying to figure out that "gbcw," too, I see.]

I hate to sound stupid, BUT what DOES gbcw mean?

[George Bush on the Crushing Wheel?]

Good-bye, cruel world...

[OK, makes sense. But I still think "George Bush on the Crushing Wheel" has potential as a catch phrase.]

Do me a favor and think about it, pretty please, Hekate?

[Don't LEAVE us, Hekate!]

the good old du days, when there were action things to do, petitions to sign, congress people to call..and we did it as a united effort..we did effect change..

[DUAC! DUAC!]

we helped get us where we thought we were going to be today..

[Getting SHELLACKED by the Rethuglicans!]

Thank you for "jes*s chr*st on a trailer hitch"...It's a great swear saying.

[OUTSTANDING blasphemy! Way to go!]

Of Tigers and Strawberries...

Once, a young monk was sent forth from the monastery to carry a message to another monastery far away. As he walked through the dense forest, he caught glimpses of orange fur in the dappled shade and heard low growls. Surmising that he was being stalked by a tiger, he quickened his steps, but the large cat easily kept pace with him. Fear gnawed at the young monk, and he began to run blindly through the trees, leaving the path he knew in an attempt to outdistance the hungry cat whose panting breath he could feel upon his neck.

The monk lost his way, and to his terror, found himself at the edge of a great precipice. Behind him, he heard the tiger stop, and begin pacing back and forth among the trees, its golden eyes glinting among the leaves. Shaking, the monk looked down and saw that there were vines clambering over the jagged rocks and he determined to try and climb down them. Just as he swung himself over the cliff, and began clambering down the vines which creaked under his weight, he heard the tiger roar, and saw it stare balefully down at him from above.

From below cane an answering roar, and the monk startled and looked down to see a second tiger, pacing along the stones that lined the bottom of the cliff face, waiting for him to descend.

Shuddering, the young monk closed his eyes and clung to the vine, his only means of support. The sound of nibbling teeth caught his attention and he opened his eyes to see a mouse chewing at the vine that held him suspended between the hungry cats.

Next to the mouse, he saw a flash of red. A wild strawberry grew in a crevice of the stone, and a lone fruit shone invitingly.

The monk reached out, and plucking the crimson fruit, held it to his nose. The sweet fragrance rushed into his nostrils as the last bit of the vine gave way and the monk began to fall. As he plummeted toward the tiger, the monk popped the strawberry in his mouth, and the flavor was the sweetest thing he had ever experienced.

[Which is what the tiger thought, when he popped the monk drop into HIS mouth.]

Good luck, Goddess's speed, and happy landings my dear Hekate!

[DUmmie Hekate on a trailer wish!]

((((NO, Hekate! Don't Go!))))

[Beg some more and I may reconsider. . . .]