No, not a man with three buttocks.
Category: Behind the Moroniverse
Behind the Moroniverse – Scary Barry and Terry Reynolds
Oh man, the main inspirations for Scary Barry and Terry Reynolds are people I hope you never encounter.
One hundred per cent miserable, and equally evil as her counterpart Barry, there is no pleasing Ms. Terry. She gets joy out of seeing others suffer. She’ll bite the hand that feeds her and once you’re sore from the fresh wound, she’ll bite it again to make it hurt that much more…
Imagine going on a trip overseas to study, experience different perspectives and have fun. That was my hope in the summer of 1999. when I took classes through my university for a study-abroad program in Italy.
What comes to your mind when you think about traveling?
Being forced to share a room with strangers who hated me was the last thing I expected.
Scary Terry was one of the haters. Much older than me, Terry made it a point to harass and belittle me. One time she woke me up and called me “whiny” because I was, you know, groggy like most people who just got up?
And then there was the time Terry told me to cover my legs. I have an autoimmune condition which affects my skin. get over it. Terry, if you don’t like it, then don’t look at it. Find something else to do in Italy than harass a fellow student.
I did smile when Terry had the audacity to talk trash about me at dinner, in front of all the other students from the United States. They told her to shut up and said they did not want to hear it. Neither did I.
Sadly, this Terry person (yes, the real name is Terry, different surname of course) majored in education. I feel bad for any student of Terry’s. No wonder we have some awful teachers in the school system.
When I got home from Italy, I told my family about the abuse I endured from her and her cousin, with whom I was forced to room. Since I did not grow up in a supportive family, they invalidated me by acting like it was no big deal. My feelings are valid.
To help process the trauma from repeated verbal abuse by Terry and the cousin, and the gaslighting I faced when i went home, I created my character Terry Reynolds. I will discuss the cousin in a separate entry.
Taking your road test is nerve-wracking enough. Imagine living in a small city where the sole proctor is a malignant narcissist, taking joy in seeing people fail. Meet the inspiration for Scary Barry Reynolds.
Barry (again, real first name) loved telling students “YOU FAILED” in a stoic tone, with a hint of an evil grin.
Imagine greeting your proctor as you enter the car “Hi Barry” only to be screamed at, likely out of fear “How do you know my name?” And then told “I. Don’t. Like. That.”
Barry may look like Leon Kowalski from Blade Runner, and act like him. It goes without saying he would fail any empathy test. Maybe I should run the V-K Test on him and watch him fail. I just won’t ask him about his mother.
After failing my road test five times with Barry, I passed my test when I took it in another city and of course a different proctor. I had called his supervisor, per advice of my driving instructor, who failed to address the problem, saying “he makes his quota.” Yes, some doctors graduate at the bottom of their class. What do you call them? Yeah, a doctor. .
When I first got the spam, I thought it was for EarthBound cheat codes. Think again.
These morons tried to sell a psychic attack self-defense e-book. The spammer only accepted a check mailed to them, and then they promised to email you the electronic book after they got your check. Yeah, sounds legit.
The email was so funny, I had to save it, and use it for something.
Around the time I got the Defense Against Psychic Attack spamvertisement, I spent a lot of time on message boards chatting about metaphysics. Fans of Dragonball Z asked how to make “PSI Balls” and some even made videos pretending to “psychic attack” people using them. I thought the whole darned thing was so funny, it needed to prompt a story idea. Most of my ideas sat dormant in a different series, which I merged into MoronicArts.
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Happy Moroniversary to us!
Eight years? For real real?
Some 500-some-odd silly stories later, we are still pooping up these pretend stories featuring our fake bent carrots.
Unlike ElectronicArts, MoronicArts has not been sold to any private equity firm. We are still made in the USA from recycled electrons, used tissues and hydrogen sulfide.
Will we ever stop? yeah…no. Thank you for reading, please drive through. No coupons required.
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No, butt Bernadette does: Behind the Moroniverse
People ask me how I come up with my silly original characters and their absurd fictional stories.
Reality imitates art, or is it the other way around?
Here is my first concept drawing for the MoronicArts portapotty empress Bernadette Cacca from 1995, more than two decades before I met my former neighbor who shares her name in 2018. Apparently someone thought my blog was all about her. Does she burn her poopies too?
No, Bernadette, it’s not about you, it never was. My characters are fictional, as in pretend, fake, not real.
She does not even look the same, just shares the name because when I started developing her I wanted a woman’s name that could be shortened to “Bern.” I was torn between Bernice and Bernadette and I chose Bernadette, possibly rooted in the previous trauma caused by this person’s harassment in 2018 but at the end of the day I don’t really remember.
Tonight, I was minding my own business photographing the beautiful sunset silhouette by the trees, when one of my neighbors on the other side of the complex who is older than I — and should know better — egged me on.
Trying to mitigate whatever nonsense she was up to, I introduced myself and said “look at the pretty sky.” She mentioned she was Bernadette from next door when I had previously lived there in 2018 and had still a beef with me from when I had lived next to her SEVEN YEARS AGO. I did not even recognize her.
I had not seen her since I moved out. One would think she had matured by now, however she was the same 8-yr-old trapped in a 70-year-plus old body (or was it 80?). “Now you see the real me, I don’t like you. You told (the landlord) on me,” she said. What a dork.
“Mommy, she told on me!”
– Crybaby.
I told her that I handle things like an adult and asked her to stop harassing me. I talked to her neighbor down the hall while Bern was visiting someone else and she went from listening to me, to “Oh you better look out, Bernadette’s coming back.” I said, “so what? That was 8 years ago. I don’t care.”
Bernie cussed me out again as she walked past me back up the stairs, she and her sycophant put on a side show, complete with twerking the wooden fence attached to the apartment building. I kid you not. Then she pretended to dial 911 saying I was stalking her.
MMMMkay. I walked away from those circus freaks and told another neighbour from the same building about it and he cussed me out too!
What in the everlasting…I had no words.
It was a 3-ring circus now complete with flying monkeys and Spucklers. I thought the dude would be nice to me because we had mutuals, but nope, think again. Now he was also cussing me at me to “get the f*** away” like the other empathy-challenged humans putting on a show.
I got away from him, told all the tag team of all three bootlickers I wanted no contact with any of them, hand held up shaped like a big fat zero, as I emphatically said again – “ZERO CONTACT.”
I got to chat with some mature, non-screamy neighbors and had found out from one of them that Bernadettes’s a narc-a-doodle doo, just like my character, looking for supply but going about it differently. One of the maintenance men oversaw what went down, he advised me to call the landlord which I did. I left a voicemail for the him, after I sat down with a friend and opened up.
The landlord’s handling of Bernadette’s malarky with grace and dignity back in 2018 is precisely why I came back here: I needed a landlord whom I can trust.
And no, Bernadette, I still won’t take your crap.
Here’s another view of the imaginary Bern, not one of the real-life Bernies, let alone a famous one.
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That’s seven, seven full years! Ah, Ah, Ah.
Lightning strikes again! Seven years and 500-some-odd short stories later, Kankakee’s best bathroom reader* is still recycling story fodder fed to – and digested by – some weird writer named Jen. Thanks for joining the moronic malarky of the Moroniverse in our mission to mock stupid human tricks carried out by dodgy pretend primates in this species called Homo sapiens.
*According to that fictional nitwit Bernadette Cacca from Manteno.
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500 Tales From the Moroniverse!
Since 2017, I have written 500 short stories, some shorter than others.
Size matters.
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Behind the Moroniverse – Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt
The main inspiration behind fictional character Damien Hurlbutt has is so self-centered, he thinks this blog is all about him.
Seriously. I hope over time more people learn about communal narcissists and how they insidiously abuse people. Overts and covert narc-a-doodles are bad enough; communals are even sneakier. I would not wish narcissistic abuse on my worst enemy and wish no ill will. I just wish they would all form their own narc colony on a deserted island and leave the rest of us alone.
Or better yet, drop them from planes into an erupting volcano, and vaporize them so they cannot make more narcissists.
I was married to one of these evil souls. Had I known he was the son of Satan, I would not have dated him, moved to Illinois to marry him, leaving behind a job I loved to take one that was less than pleasant. 0/10 would not recommend.
Now divorced, this real-life neckbeard and “men’s rights activist” has told his friends that I draw cartoons of him and write stories about him.
Has he heard of Squirrely Dan?
My ex works as a senior library specialist and loves to read. I would hope that someone like him, whom I would think has a good grasp on literacy would understand that Damien and all the other morons on this blog are fictional characters — as in pretend people, not real ones. DUH.
Apparently my former husband thinks he works in a movie theater, like the random stranger whom I had met in 2004. Just like the fictional Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt, this real-life despot had been offering cloned movie tickets in return for a date, to us call-center coworkers taking breaks outside. I did not meet my ex until 2008.
I will never forgive my ex for trying to turn the spouse of my late friend against me in his smear-campaigning. Such a tender-heart, a self-proclaimed “old soul” writes lunacy letters like the drivel below and sends them to his estranged spouse’s medical providers.
Because, umm, a librarian knows more about psychology than an actual mental health provider? yeah…no.
My ex thinks so. Behold part of this lunacy letter he sent to my mental health team:
I will never forgive him for telling me he was “a nice guy for not throwing me into oncoming traffic” while we were walking into the hospital. Yeah, a really nice guy NiceGuy™ does that, right?
I will never forgive him for manipulating the divorce judge into letting him take custody of my cat Holly, whom he repeatedly hit (“it’s just a light tap” he gaslit when caught) and put into the shower to “punish.” Who does that to a cat? Has he helped move a body or something?
He had been seeing the same therapist as a convicted murderer who made international headlines, the killer had been living in the same apartment complex as my ex the night of the murder. I left him at 8:30 AM the day after the poor lady was abducted.
I will never forgive my ex for idealizing, devaluing me and then attempting to discard me, shortly before I left him.
I write and draw MoronicArts stories to cope with having been abused. I feel it helps and I am a lot happier back in New York State, doing my own thing, living with my sweet kitty.
My hope is that my stories help others who have been abused by these monsters cope and process the crap they have been going through and hopefully bring a little joy to them, and myself also. Oh and it s fun to draw silly cartoons of fake events and pretend people doing moronic things to each other..
Do you think you may going through domestic violence or know someone who suffers it? Emotional abuse is still abuse and a form of domestic violence. Please click this link to learn more and to find help in your area: https://www.un.org/en/coronavirus/what-is-domestic-abuse
Your needs are valid, I believe you, and you are not alone. Healing is possible, as hard as it may seem.
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My Sanity.
Not the Moroniverse
Dw i eisiau byw yn Nghymru!
(I want to live in Wales!)
I want to speak all the Welsh, drink all the coffee, and visit all 500-some-odd castles.
Learn some Welsh here:
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How Jen Makes MoronicArts
“The sillies are manufactured in my brain, roll off the conveyor belt, out my hands and onto the paper.”
PS: “Moron” is the Welsh word for carrot.
PPS: Jen makes MixedMoronicArts, too.
MoronicArts 
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