June Cleaver Must Die Too!

Remember when I was telling you how Everyone must die, along with Everybody, Them, and They?

I forgot one.

June Cleaver. 

You may have heard that Junie C was TV’s icon of a mother in the fifties.

Well, she turned out to be the mother of Them all.  Pun intentionally intended

That’s why June Cleaver is soooooooooooo goin’ down!

I’m in the midst of plotting her death with my co-conspirator Patty Lennon.  Wanna help?  Of course you do.

Yes, you must come with me on this (mostly) excellent adventure of intrigue, espionage, and murder.

Oh, excuse me… you want an explanation for this murderous plot before you commit?

Fine.

Here it is:

June Cleaver became known as America’s Mom on the popular television sitcom Leave It To Beaver. However, the dirty little secret, which I’m totally making up, is that when the television cameras stopped rolling, little-miss-perfect mother Junebug would throw herself on a couch, pull out a candy bar, and start yelling at The Beav to put a sock in it.

She had such a potty mouth, June Cleaver did.

Hmmmm… bet you didn’t know that scintillating little tidbit  did you?

Still don’t believe me?

Well, I’ve got the photoshopped pictures to prove it!

Need more ‘splainin’?

Okay… you asked for it:

June Cleaver, with her pretty and perfectly coiffed hair, tiny waist, and sensible shoes, made moms all over America start second-guessing themselves. IT’S ALL HER FAULT that mothers started to question their own sanity and began looking over their shoulders to see what all the other moms were doing.

AND… they began to lower themselves further and further down the family totem pole.

As in: all the way down to the bottom.

Is this starting to make sense? Are you beginning to see why Junie-Two-Shoes has got to go? Then get out your cleaver (hahaha), um, poison sword (mine is disguised as a tube of lip gloss, natch) because that chick is going down.

Hard.

And fast.

Who knew plotting a murder would be so much fun!?

I know what you’re thinking:

She (as in, moi) used to be such a nice girl. She was always baking (burnt) cookies and giving out (stale) candy. She was always trying to help people.  She was such a quiet neighbor. Now look what’s happened to her.

She must’a snapped.

Okay, so I’ve snapped.

But just a little.

Can’t a girl get a break?  It’s not like I’ve killed before.

Wait, yes I have.  But They deserved it.

And so does JC.  Oh my goodness, I just noticed those initials. Yikes!

Seriously now…

June Cleaver is a lie.

She penetrated America’s collective psyche and burned a hole in it with the messed up message that women were less than, and moms were less than that. That Everyone and Everything else came first.

Oh, I know, she didn’t mean it. She probably wasn’t even aware she was doing it, poor thing.  She was the fantasy concocted by the producers, directors, and writers of the show: she embodied the so-called ‘ideal woman.’  Basically, she was the first Stepford Wife.  

Women took the bait and soon found themselves constructing their identities around the June Cleaver model.

And so it began.

That’s when the shoulds and have-to’s and supposed-to’s came flooding in.  In torrents.

It was as if there were a political-socio-economic effort to reconstruct Woman’s role as that of wife, mom, home-maker.  World War II was over.  Women belonged back at home. Otherwise the sky would fall.

Yeah yeah, you know the story.

But I want to have a career.

The war is over honey, get back in the house.

But I want more. 

You should be happy at home.

But I want to do something else.

Why can’t you just be like June Cleaver?   

Then along came Gloria Steinem.

Then along came Martha Stewart.

Then along came Oprah.

WHAT THE FRUIT LOOPS!

Confused yet?

Fine, let’s get back to my murderous plot, which is far less complicated.

It goes like this…

As is so clearly illustrated above, being a woman is the greatest invention since Adam.

How did we forget that?  Oh yeah… it’s all June’s fault.  Poor June. She meant well. I think.

And now it’s time to turn that ship around for YOU, my fair maidens.

Oprah always talks about living your best life, and this is what that really looks like:

Being on top means….

Staying home and being a mom; as long as that is what fills your soul.

OR…

Going to work, as long as your job fills your soul.

OR…

Staying home, baking (or burning, who really cares) cookies, loving your babies and your husband, taking care of the house and all the things that make it a home, as long as it fills your soul.

OR…

Anything else YOUR HEART desires (as opposed to what someone else desires for you), like: working part-time if you want to, writing a book, or painting, or making a paper mache totem pole with you on top…  whatever floats your boat, as long as it fills your soul. 

It’s the filling your soul part that ought to be your number one priority.

Number. ONE.

When you fill your soul first you automatically pass it on to the people in your life, especially the ones closest to you.

How do you do that?

Well, first of all, you don’t have to quit your job or get a job or leave your husband or unbirth your kids. (The last one is really really hard. Don’t bother trying.)

You do have to commit to finding out  exactly what it is that would put you back on top.

If you’re not sure, then get in on the murderous plot, I tell you!  This is more than a conspiracy theory poppets. There is a way to actually do this “fill your soul/get-back-on-top” thing.

You can’t not do this. It’s your key. Your holy grail. Your big AhaHA!!! (Because it’s bigger than a mere “Aha”).

Are you in?

Good. Then go here.

Or I am going to have to kill you too.

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