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13 December 2022

Diversions and Distractions


This guest essay is written by Debra the Person, as opposed to Debra the Writer.


It’s a fine distinction, but I know it well. I often have to tussle with my conscience between what material to keep private, and what emotional stones to turn into literary gems. Today, I decided that some of my private thoughts can journey into Writer-ville.


Yesterday, I baked Christmas cookies, with the able aid of Dear Husband. We worked quickly and efficiently in our new kitchen. And we recalled the days in our last house, the Peach House, when I’d have to rescue the cookie tins during the ant invasions of December rainstorms — and stack the circular cookie-safes atop the pot rack!


You do what you must to protect the family jewels.


Once upon a time, I was a family jewel, if not The Family Jewel, in my family of origin. And, yet, I became the black sheep after the death of my father when I was ten, because I refused to accept the lies that my mother told so blithely, so naturally, about many things, including me.

By the time that I was an adolescent in that “dysfunctional” “family”, I’d become The #1 Diversion and Distraction so that all my blood relatives could not see the truth about the destructive woman who was the head of that hellish household. Yes, I — a straight-A student, future full-scholarship winner to a medium-hot-shot university, and tee-totaler — had become a scapegoat.


The consequent pain that I experienced left its mark, some might say its scar, or scars. Eventually, I prevailed over the sorrows of learning how a sweet little girl became Family Enemy #1. The ways in which I learned those truths about how a personal world became turned upside down, morally, led me to face some God-awful truths.


Those truths hurt, deeply, but the stinging indignities of a wretched reality were far preferable to living in falsehoods and continuing to perpetuate what my beloved teaching colleague called The Family Myth. It was he who informed me that I’d broken The Family Myth, and that no one was going to thank me for that incredibly brave feat.


Whenever I see the screaming headlines about woke-ism, or the vile lies about American heroes, I keenly understand the mechanism of pointing the finger away from the Real Problem by creating and cartooning a fake one. I was the fake problem in a clan of countless crimes. I was a child with a conscience, pointing out the lack of conscience of her mother.

I might have been sent into this world for that purpose, where my family of origin was concerned. They most certainly received me not! Out of sheer survival, I began to look for other, more noble, more useful, purposes in life. With the help of my Maker, I came to discover that the Diversion-and-Distraction-Ploy is everywhere, all the time. I was not alone; I’d never been alone, although, at the age of sixteen, I felt abominably abandoned by the people whose job it was to care for me and protect me.


It is never easy; indeed, it is exceedingly painful for any individual to look up and see that he, or she, has been tricked and used for the nefarious ends of another person. The game called politics plays by those rules, and little else. The wokesters of the world are being used by failing and flailing corporations and politicians and cadres of illicit businesses to do their bidding. The first thing that I noticed about the woke-virus is its virulence, which told me that this distraction is attempting to cover up a huge heap of horrors.


I suppose, because of my childhood experiences, I’ve got a “special” skill in detecting the cowardly ploy of divert-and-distract. I find it laughable that I initially university-studied the field of Journalism; and even worked in it for several years, only to conclude that the glaring and gaudy game of Divert-and-Distract runs the editorial-tables in those enterprises!

What’s new is old, so very much of the time that I guess it’s only human to wish, to expect, to hope, and to want to find something actually brand-new, and different. Whenever such a person, or awakening, or development is on the horizon, the zealous job of the professional liars is to work 24/7 to cast aspersions and digital stones at it.


The Idiot Governor of California announced recently that Food is the Solution to Hunger! Housing is the Solution to Homelessness!


And getting a real governor is the solution to the sky-high debt and the dirt-deep deterioration of California.


There are now installed in the Big Cities of America, of the World, and at the Top of the elected pig-pile — cookie-cutter idiots of the same linguine-spined cravenness and empty-conscience. They follow orders. Whoever gives the orders remains The Mystery. The dark-money, big-money, stinky-money people are hidden from our sight. It might have always been that way in the USA. In Europe, the reigning royal families ruled the roulette wheels of governance. Those aristocratic families are long-gone. The gambles of government are now fonctionnaire crap tables that rake in Euros to be stashed in shoddy apartment houses and Caribbean bank accounts or, for the more salacious and stupid, crypto accounts that become empty digital drums of fried chicken.

We, the Peons, look on, and wonder: Do we matter?


Perhaps not to the indifferent slobs for whom there is no end to the lust for wealth, the mania for mammon, the sinkhole of self-willed slavery to sins and sloth. Theirs is not a life, but a sick servitude to vices we don’t ever want to know. The game of divert-and-distract has a pragmatic, advantageous aspect: certain realities cannot be viewed in their fullness. They’re too ghastly and ugly.


We do matter to our Maker.


The abhorrent sights of the elites enslaved to profits must be perceived in bits and pieces, not all at once. In that sense, the rigged and warped mechanisms of politics and of journalism function in the favor of us, We The People. Mercifully, we are permitted time to prepare ourselves for the unveiling of the vast and ungodly vats of vicious humanity, all of that sordid stuff being topsy-turvy hidden behind the creepy curtains of the Great Oz’s of the World.

Until those blinding moments of truth arrive, enjoy the glistening white sunrise on a winter’s morn, one that comes with the frosty air, and invites you to snuggle ‘neath the covers just a bit longer.


Cut out those cookies carefully, with your cherished memories of a childhood past that will live long into this day, and night, and for decades to come.


Trim the tree with loving thoughts of ornaments made, and of decorations bought, when the world outside was just as chaotic and despotic, but the world inside offered warmth and love that can never be forgotten.


My wish of MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR is neither a diversion nor a distraction. It’s a fond and faith-filled greeting from This Guest to The Guest who still awaits an invitation to come out of the cold, and stay a while, if only to feel the joy of friendship, and the sincerity of love.