Tag: kankakee county

Behind the Moroniverse – Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

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 (OK not really, but it would be cool).

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.

I wish I had been given the omen.

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:

Projection: A narcissist’s calling card, as is pathological lying. Methinks narcissists have their own code of misconduct, maybe even a manual.

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? Sadly he took the cat from me…

I will never forgive my ex for idealizing, devaluing me and then attempting to discard me, shortly before I left him. Rumor has it, he still obsesses over me, and makes feeble attempts to smear campaign me using the same DARVO tactics and made-up mental health diagnosis he had used in 2017. I imagine he pushes away what little friends narcissistic supply he has left.. Like his bootlicker friend once said to me, I wish he would “get over it, just move on.”

With narcadoodles, every projection is a confession.

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, creating music, learning to speak other languages and making Youtube videos.

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.nomore.org/the-no-more-global-directory/

Your needs are valid, I believe you, and you are not alone. Healing is possible, as hard as it may seem.

Meet Priscilla “Pris” Dixon

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments
Pris Dixon

Wife of Brandon Dixon – owner of Brandon’s Imbecile Machine – and mother to his kids; Pris Dixon is highly nosy, butts into strangers’ business out of pure ennui. She had been best friends with shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Sonya Marie Smith Moran, until she had flown the coop.

She needs to get better hobbies.

Pris works as a Medical Office Assistant for her father-in-law Kankakee Ears, Nose, and Throat specialist Dr. Eddie Dixon, and as a store clerk at Archangel’s Craft Stores. She has a reputation for gaslighting patients and customers just to confuse them.

Police refuse to let her victims press charges, save for once, stating Pris “is just mentally ill.” Yes, acting like a sociopath is a mental problem, which causes her victims to seek treatment.

“You’re crazy, the only one on the bus whoever starts problems!”
— Pris Dixon gaslighting her verbal and physical abuse targets

Pris proudly drives a green imbecile machine given to her by Brandon, branded with “You just got passed by a girl” decals.

Pris was raised by wealthy parents who gave her everything she wanted. Pris feels that, because she is a parent, she should cut in line at the cafes and burger joints. She dislikes the child-free by choice and gets her kicks by invalidating their feelings. Pris feels that only parents can make a valid point, and that life does not begin until you become a mother or father.

Methinks she needs a reality check.

“You don’t need to emerge from nothing.”
— Fischerspooner

Bernadette Cacca Gets Yeeted

~ Jen ~ 24 Comments

“Here I sit all broken-hearted, tried to crap but only farted,” a forlorn Bernadette “Bern” Cacca sings on her porcelain throne, practicing kazoo and accordion. She lights a fart, burns her doodoo in the fireplace, then makes a call to a Northwestern Illinois bar on her smell phone.

“Poopy’s.”

“Hi, my name is Bernadette Cacca. I’m a famous singer near Chicago.”

The bartender giggles.

“I have a wonderful offer to make your bar.”

“May…I take your order?”

“I would like to open a Poopy’s here in Manteno.”

“I thought you were from Chicago!”

The bartender continues to giggle as he hangs up on Bern.

To increase her bottom line of attention, money and bootlickers, communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette offers to sing and play her accordion cover songs at a charity event to raise money for the victims of the Russian war against Ukraine. She dreams about all the praise, awards and photo opportunities she can gain from making it look like she cares. She does not raise money for this or any other cause because she feels concerned about the efforts of living beings trying to stay alive, fighting or fleeing a psychopath trying to take over their beautiful country. She just loves to pretend.

Bern heads home from a long day working her and her husbands’ business Peppi’s Portapotties, excited to burn the porta-poopies in her fireplace, only to be interrupted by a phone call.

“Hi, Bernadette…ummm…Cake-Uh?”

“Cacca.”

“Yeah, I am calling about your gig at the Gaslight Bar tomorrow night.”

“Oh hiiii! I am THRILLED about playing this extraordinary gig at 7:00 tomorrow night.”

“Good. We are calling to tell you about a slight time change. Due to staffing shortages, we need to move your gig back an hour.”

“I am a pillar of the community and a national treasure! Your tone is not appropriate for someone doing business. I would get used to people like me.”

“So are you coming or not? We have other guests who want to play and help—“

“Okay, okay, see you tomorrow. Don’t forget it!”

Bern teams up with local cybercrook Pat Splatt to develop her pretend money Craptocoin. The bum-waste-bin overlord thinks it is cute to sell Craptocoin at the charity event and decides she will solicit tips using her funny money.

“Hello Manteno! Thank you all for coming! Let’s raise some money! Gimme your requests! CraptoCoin only, my handle is @BMCacca! Maybe you already doing it, and that’s awesome!

ALSO, a shout-out to my extraordinary hairdresser @lilacroule from Croule, Young and Lovely who keep me lookin’ good! AND, my makeup by fabulous @marigoldyoung! So much love to their salon. Practices are things done more than one time regularly, and I have been practicing hard for tonight’s fundraiser! That’s why I call them practices!”

“And…without further ado, give it up for the Manteno Wonder herself, Mrs. Bernadette Cacca!”

A slow clap is heard, mixed in with hoots and hollers from Bern’s obsessed fanboys.

After finishing her last accordion cover tune for the first half of her set, “My Fart Goes Boom”, Bern runs to the washroom, humming “Let’s all go to the restroom” as she poops and farts.

Mrs. Cacca emerges, approached by a Chicago television reporter. 

“Hi Bern. I would like to interview you. We got a press release—“

“Not now, after.”

“I have other stories to cover. Let’s do this now.” 

“The show must go on.”

“I am from Ukraine and have family there.”

“Fair enough, let’s do this interview up on stage. We will both look awesome up there!” Bernadette gushes.

The Chicago TV reporter enters stage right, Bernadette stage left. Reporter Elena Emm stops to remember her questions so she can begin her interview. 

An impatient Bernadette sighs loudly, whistles and hums.

“Why are you staring off into space? Are you in a fantasy world?” Bern snarks, snickers, thinking only Elena can hear her.

“I am blind,” the reporter advises the oblivious Bernadette, unaware a camera operator is filming the entire interview.

“Here let me touch your face,” the ableist and ignorant Bern belittles the Chicago TV news reporter, reaching for her face.

Elena knocks Bernadette unconscious with a single blow to her piehole, then proceeds to yeet her into the crowd of bootlickers.

“This show is getting entertaining” Gothic Diana Ross says to her bandmates, The Midnight Supremes, who are waiting in the wings.

“I may be visually impaired, but I’m not stupid” Elena Emm says to the crowd who had poured in to find out where their entertainer Bernadette had gone, only to have that communal narcadoodle chucked right into a pile of them, knocking the fanboys over like a set of bowling pins. Strike!

Happy she got a scoop on the poop-mistress extraordinaire, Elena and the news team head back to Chicago to produce their segment for the next morning’s newscast.

“Next up, give a hand for these lovely ladies, Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes!” announces the emcee, who had called the Manteno girl group last minute to replace their annoying neighbor Bern Cacca on the bill.

“You look so good on the outside”

— Cold Cave

Something fishy…

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Bog witch Bernadette Moran Cacca drags her mother, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla to her hangout spot for some grub, hoping to treat her to a break from all that carrion.

Of course, the old bird finds a way to ruffle feathers:

“This fish is too fishy. Tell the waiter to bring me another one.”

“I’ll ask for a steak then…well done.”

Under The Bridge

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment
A full-color illustration of an older lady running underneath a dingy bridge. Graffiti text reads: "Robbie", "Damien" and an anarchy symbol can be seen drawn onto the underpass wall.

Kankakee town troll Leona Krabalsky runs from Manteno sociopath and port-a-potty entremanure Peppi Cacca confronts her for selling fake drugs down below the I-57 overpass.

The king of the porcelain throne drunkenly aims a hair-dryer out the passenger side of his poopmobile while his equally crappy wife Bernadette brags, “My AWESOME husband has “ARI: Armed Redneck Insurance!”

Wally Green’s Rejected Patents

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Kankakee County ladies’ man Wally Green has been notorious for his wacky inventions for quite some time. Some of his ideas have made it into his drug stores. Others failed to pass patent approval and almost landed him in prison.

Finger Ale

Made from real fingers, this new organic health drink was set to be the new health craze, only it failed FDA requirements, and put Wally on several law enforcement watch lists.

Toiliot

This production-oriented, automated toilet would flush well ahead of schedule and make sure to splash its user, doubling as a bedde. As an added bonus, Toiliot would entertain people by making fart noises after flushing, much like Wally would when he blew his nose.

Passhole

This computer program would require its user to type in their password correct the first time. Any error would result in electric shock and their account locking up immediately.

Do not look for these products at a Wally Green’s near you. Just don’t. We’re warning you.

Seasons Yeetings!

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Entramanure and communal narcadoodle Bernadette Cacca loves doing charity gigs just to look good on the outside. Gothic Diana Ross & the Midnight Supremes can not wait to try out their new trebuchet to avenge their Manteno neighbor Bernadette for relentlessly nagging them and stinking up the block burning port-a-poopies.

Yeet-o-Matic!

Ahhhh…Coffee.

~ Jen ~ 3 Comments
Image: black-and-white cartoon showing an older lady sitting next to a middle-aged blond woman relaxing at a bookstore-cafe.

Sybil Kibble and her ma JoAnn take a meditation class at their local Buckstars in Bourbonnais at the annual Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) work ReTreat offered to combat stress from calling to interrupt lunches and suppers of unsuspecting debtors, by asking them to repay dubious bills.

Do you like coffee? How do you take yours?

Bernadette’s Wild Animal Idea.

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Daily writing prompt
Do you ever see wild animals?
View all responses

The petless portapotty princess, part-time bog witch and communal narcadoodle known as Bernadette Moran Cacca struts into the local veterinary clinic looking for new fans, kicks and giggles, since attendance at the Manteno Optimal Club has been dwindling.

“May I help you?” the receptionist Flo says with a smile.

“This may be the most important question I’ll ever ask.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s going on with your pet?”

“I have to show you something.” Bernadette hands Mary a flyer.

“Why are you supporting a Bradley business. Are you coming to Bradley?”

“No. If you read the sign, we’re in Manteno, we’re a vet clinic. We treat sick animals and give them routine care.”

“Why are you helping a dog group then?”

“We help a different rescue every month.”

“I need more information.”

“Read the sign, make an appointment, call the groomer. We just put the sign up to help the business out plus the dog charity.”

“Why is it in Bradley? It’s so far away. You’re a Manteno group.”

“We serve all of Kankakee County.”

“You should help all animals, not just dogs. Humans too. Even extraterrestrials. You shouldn’t exclude humans from animal spaces! Make like a tree and go get me the manager!”

“She’s busy.”

“You’re so stupid. I just had a dementia test and I aced it! I had a CAT scan and it was perfect! You’re a low IQ. You take the test, see how you do, then you go get some tigers, elephants, giraffes…See, I know my animals!”

“What a jackass…” customer Jen says softly as she cuddles her cat, chortles at Bernadette’s word salad.

“I’m not a donkey I’m a human! What are you looking at? Hello!”

Bernadette doesn’t get her way, so she just drags her feet across the floor then stares at the wall.

Manager Trish Cobb, better known as Gothic Diana Ross, walks out to help de-escalate the unnecessary monkeying around which seemingly emerged from nowhere at all — just Bernadette’s bum.

“I got a perfect mark-up which you would be incapable of doo-doo-doing. You need to get your marks up! You need to get your marks up!”

“Goodbye Barney!

“It’s Bernie!”

“Who?”

“You know me.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m your neighbor, Manteno’s very best do-gooder of charity. I raised $1000 for—“

“I’ll take first name and last name for $1000, Alex.”


“Bernadette Cacca!”

“A little louder please. For the camera.” Gothic Diana cups her ear.

“I’M BERNADETTE MORAN CACCA!” Bern’s stinky breath blows into Diana’s face, right before Bernadette’s own face turns beet red from getting caught, not from realizing she had just caused a scene for no good reason whatsoever, butt of course.

“Goodbye! You, and you and you guys too!” Bernadette sternly screams as storms out the door, to go start trouble somewhere else. Like a dog licking its nads, she does it because she can.

Don’t Get Hacked!

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Press your buttons and land on one of these great prizes. But don’t land on Lizzie Borden, she’ll put an axe to all your winnings!

Coming November 31st to The Manteno Optimal Club

Let us hear, hear from our donors!

“I donated a whole buttload of freshly mined craptocoins because I’m so generous like that! I even designed the game board! You can win a date with yours truly, also! Free admission, with just a two drink minimum. Tip generously or I’ll shove the gratuities jar in your face!”
— Bernadette M. Cacca, owner of Peppi’s Portapotties and (very) part-time actor.

“I donated this trip to Gary, Indiana to let everyone know that was where my dear boy Robbie was conceived!”
— PJ Hurlbutt, retiree

“Ma, shut the heck up!”
— Robbie Hurlbutt, clerk at Wally Green’s