Monthly Archives: November 2014

Happy Fucking Thanksgiving

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As we all might remember, I really don’t consider myself to be a really big fan, but I was just listening to some more Ozzy this morning. (I know, I know, power chord, power chord here we go…again)
Right about now, if you’re thinking that this is going to be another long and rambling post about Ozzy, you might be right but I’ll contend that you’re wrong because this just might have something to do with Ozzy but you won’t know that until you follow along with this Crazy Train of thought and neither of those songs were the song that touched me so much this morning which was actually late last night but I’ve been burning the candle on both ends lately and one day seems to run into another which leaves me with very little free time, and now that I have just a little free time because it’s a holiday, I’m taking a few moments to waste some of your time, because I’m pretty sure that you have plenty.

It’s not like you’re cooking the turkey because I know you’re not because that’s your mother’s contribution to the day and speaking of her, please say hello to your mother for me.

That being said, if you happen to run into Mark Wahlburg today, please don’t tell him that I was making fun of him and stole his line. I’ve heard that he doesn’t like it when people do that and I think that we’re all in agreement on the fact that the last place you want to be is on Mark Wahlberg’s shit list and I’m not talking about the one you’re thinking of because I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who saw The Happening, and I don’t know about you, but I was really pissed when I wasted 2 hours of my life that I’ll never get back while waiting for, at the very least, something to happen during that pile of shit. Instead I’m talking about his other shit list…remember when Marky-Mark was mad at Andy Samberg even though nobody remembers who he was because aside from those digital shorts he did on SNL and that steaming pile of crap, Hot Rod. I think we’ve all forgotten about that guy.
Who the fuck is Andy Samberg anyway?

That’s exactly the point I wasn’t really trying to make here because sometimes I go off on strange tangents that have nothing to do with the real meat and potatoes of the story which is of course what Thanksgiving is all about, and I can’t believe you all didn’t catch that earlier because it just isn’t Thanksgiving without turkey and some potatoes and pumpkin pie which seems to be all the rage but I still find it hard to find anyone who actually likes pumpkin pie but nevertheless, the pumpkin industry keeps trying to cram it down our throats even though no one likes it…kind of like Andy Samberg.

While most of the rest of us stand here, scratching our heads on that one, there probably is at least one person out there that actually likes him and that someone is probably his mother, so if you see Mrs. Samberg today, say hello to her for me.

Thanksgiving is all about family and we should all give thanks for our mothers because without them, you wouldn’t have a family and that is what Thanksgiving is all about; either that or it’s about drinking too much so at least spending time with people you may or may not be related to, is at the very least, bearable…that, and football and shopping, but we’ll discuss that in another post because this one is about Ozzy and turkey.

But what does Ozzy have to do with Thanksgiving, you ask?
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!

Right about this time in our twisted holiday tale, you’re probably thinking: ahh, shit, she did it again but now that you have invested all this time, you should probably keep on reading because there just might be a real nugget of wisdom somewhere in here. When I say nugget of wisdom, I mean that’s exactly what it is because finding anything of value in this tale is kind of like finding gold, in that it’s rare, and not the type of thing you just see lying around, so keep your eyes open because it’s coming sooner or later, maybe.

If you all recall, Ozzy once sang a song about his mama and how he was coming home or something like that. Now, I don’t know Ozzy’s mother but I can only guess that she is a wonderful woman and we all owe her our gratitude for giving us Ozzy because he has given us so much food for thought, which should be pretty obvious by now. So there’s just one more thing to be thankful for, so if you see Ozzy’s mama, say hello to her for me.

Let’s all take a moment of quiet reflection that I’m going to just wind up talking through anyway and give thanks for all of our mothers. If you’re anything like me, you should consider yourself to be very lucky because you have two mothers and maybe even a mother-in-law or two too. If you’re a little confused at this point in time, you’re not alone because I’ve been confused about how that happened because my two mothers are not lesbians, not that there would be anything wrong with that.

I have two mothers because I’m adopted and that tends to complicate things, as one of them is very much my “real” mother as she has taken care of me all my life and the other one is real only in the sense that she is a real piece of work. The other one, or as some would call her, my birth mother, because she was the one that shot me out of her snatch, doesn’t seem to think that event alone is enough for her to call herself a mother and had once told me that my mother “was the one who brought me home from the hospital.” It was only my dumbfounded state at that time, which stopped me from administering the much deserved punch in the mouth that she deserved. I have not spoken with her since but I did send her an email to wish her a happy Thanksgiving but it was so loaded with F-bombs that I doubt she’ll respond because she is a lowlife and a miserable excuse for a human being. In any event, if you see her today, while I feel sorry for you to be subjected to that, please ruin her fucking Thanksgiving and say hello to my mother for me.

There is no need to say hello to my real mom because all of her loved ones, including yours truly, are with her today celebrating the holiday. She didn’t cook today because everyone’s getting older and it’s just a hassle, so we went to Butterfield instead, and it was probably for the best because they put on quite a spread. I highly doubt that my incubator had as nice of a time as I did because there’s no way she was at the country club which is really really nice because it’s a private equity club and the high cost of membership really keeps out the riffraff if you know what I mean.

If you don’t know what I mean, I’d really rather not explain it to you, because it’ll just fly over your head because what is normal activity for Reverend Doctor Cyndi, is probably anything but normal for you. Please don’t think that just because you weren’t at the club today, you’re riffraff because I didn’t say you were, nor would I say that either…at least I wouldn’t say it to your face. The truth is, I don’t even know you, so how could I form an opinion about you?

See how that works. I hate to burst your bubble but the whole world does not revolve around you. There are people in this world who don’t know you and probably couldn’t care less that they don’t know you. Lucky for you, Reverend Doctor Cyndi is not one of those people and she does care about you and wants to help you become a better person…either that or she wants to help you get out of her way because you’re slowing down forward progress and now you know why that minivan behind you is riding your ass, so step on it, green means go.

As this Thanksgiving day comes to a close, it would behoove you to reflect on the lesson that I’m doing a really piss-poor job at teaching, if you can call it that because I’m almost ashamed to put my name on it, but then again, there’s got to be some name attached to it and that’s got, yet again, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH OZZY.

Perhaps the lessons learned from Ozzy are not that good and Reverend Doctor Cyndi needs to go back up to Rockturd and visit the Half Price Books Outlet and see what else she can find for two bucks. One never knows what they’re going to find there and maybe if we’re lucky we’ll find Bark at the Moon or something. If I remember correctly, they did have it on vinyl, but since Dodge stopped putting record players in their minivans, that wouldn’t do me any good.

Sometimes I manage to confuse even myself and if you’re not then good for you. Reverend Doctor Cyndi is here to help all of you become better human beings…when I say all of you, that means all of you; even Mark Samberg and Andy Wahlberg.

I’m going to wrap this up now because it’s probably enough mental torture for one day so we should all give thanks that I know when to say when. Besides that, there are plenty more lessons we can learn from Ozzy and we’ll just have to wait until tomorrow for them…or maybe the next day. I have to get up early because the stores open at 5:00 am and there’s probably some good deals out there on a bunch of crap I don’t need.

Until then, have a good night, and sweet dreams. Sleep soundly knowing that Reverend Doctor Cyndi has got the night watch covered because she is hyper-vigilant, just as most adoptees are. She doesn’t sleep well and never dreams anymore because most dreams eventually get shattered and we all remember that the last Reverend Doctor who had a dream, got shot; which is exactly why I she doesn’t do it anymore.

Have a Happy Fucking Thanksgiving Everyone!

Flip the Script

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I am an adoptee and not proud of it.
Being an adoptee causes me a lot of pain every day.
I think about my mother (my first mother) every day.
I wish I wasn’t adopted but that decision was made for me and not by me, as I never would have asked for this.
After searching for many years, I eventually found my mother and in the process found out that I was not welcome back.
There’s a lot of pain on her end as it was difficult news for her to hear that her lost son looks and acts a lot more like a long lost daughter.
Nevertheless, that gives me very little comfort to not be accepted by that one person who is supposed to love you more than anyone else in this world.
I wish I could say it better, but sometimes, being adopted really sucks.
More often than not, our births were unplanned, unintended and bordering on unwanted inconveniences for our mothers.
Again, it is of very little comfort to say that.
Adoption touches us all but so many of us don’t think twice about it and expect adoptees to be grateful to be alive.
At the core of it, when we were born, money changed hands and we were nothing more than a commodity.
Apparently, our original identities and heritage didn’t matter to anyone because we all ask that question: what does a baby know anyway?
The answer is simple, a baby knows it’s mother.

As the month of November (also recognized as National Adoption Awareness Month) comes to a close I would like to thank my fellow adoptees and natural mothers everywhere for doing a great job at giving the real other side of the story; the side that explains loss and heartache for without loss there would be no adoption and no heartache.

My heart goes out to all of the adoptees and mothers who have lived this horror. You did nothing wrong and you don’t deserve it.

To those who still are in the fog, it is not easy to come out but I urge you all to do so. Find your mothers and find your lost sons and daughters and above all, welcome them into your lives. It’s worth it.

Thanks again to all of us that are working hard to #flipthescript
Until we speak out about this, no changes will be made.

Sorry to my regular readers if there are any. This is a very personal post in which Reverend Doctor Cyndi cares about tremendously. There are no jokes here. We will be resuming our regular program shortly so please stay tuned.

The Road to?

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I was listening to some Ozzy today and while I don’t count myself as a really big fan, sometimes I do like his work, although it’s probably something that I’d change the channel on because I’ve heard Iron Man way to many times and it really bores me almost as much as the movie, in which there is no relation to the song, but Jeff Bridges had a good part in it, but then again, I usually like everything that Jeff Bridges does because he is not only one of the greatest actors of our time but he was also the Dude…either that or he’s almost Hollywood royalty and he’s smart enough to pick out the great roles from the really horrible roles by now but then again who can remember Starman because I surely don’t or at least I wouldn’t admit to it because I didn’t see the film nor did I see Tron: Legacy or R.I.P.D either because I heard they were that bad and Jeff Bridges’ allure alone wouldn’t get me to pay to see that crap…or so I’ve heard.

This really isn’t about Jeff Bridges though because it’s really about Ozzy but somehow that got me on a tangent about JB and I don’t mean Jack Black, because he’s done a lot of shit too and also made a movie about shit disappearing which I think it’s safe to say was a biopic, as sometimes we hope he would disappear too.

Just so we all can get back on track, this is not about either of the JB’s even though one is maybe kind of funny if you go for crap that your corporate overlords think you should find funny and the other sometimes gets a great part that people you’ve never heard of submit for an Oscar, and he wins because you spend 2 hours waiting for him to deliver that 2 minute monologue (that some insignificant someone wrote) but JB (and not the other one) makes a statement about the way we humans are, which makes a lot of sense, and is beautifully delivered because it is being said by a great actor, but is quickly forgotten because, alas, it’s just a movie and we all can’t separate fact from fiction without a little help from our friends in Hollywood.

Our friends in Hollywood make their living on re-telling timeless tales about things that others thought of first. That is the current trend as nobody has an original thought anymore. I’d love to tell you all about the new 2015 Tucker Torpedo that I saw driving down the road, today but I can’t because I didn’t see it, probably because there is no 2015 Tucker out right now because big 3 (or should I say not so Big Three these days) put Preston Tucker out of business in the late ’40’s because he dared to dream and make a better product than they did.

Out of all the miles I drove today, I didn’t see a 1948 Tucker either but at the very least, I know that those are a rarity and a collectors item by now because there’s only about 48 of them out there and those in existence go for about a million bucks a piece, that is if you can find one that the current owner wants to sell. Perhaps we should ask George Lucas if he wants to sell his but I doubt that he does. At current, his ’48 Tucker is a collectors item, kind of like the toys made by Kenner in the early 80’s are but they will never be worth as much as the car because of supply and demand.

I’m not really sure how much demand for a brand new Tucker Torpedo there is today but I’m sure someone with a little bit of capital will eventually make an investment trying to capitalize on the current retro trend. I would strongly advise against that but who am I anyway? Trust me, somebody else is thinking about this right now and they will pitch their idea very soon because nobody has an original thought anymore and that somebody will find another somebody who has a lot of venture capital to invest and they’ll try to do this and it will fail because I know that I’m sick of seeing re-boots and I’m starting to think you all are too.

Besides that, George Lucas’s Tucker belongs in a museum just as all the other Tucker’s do. It (the car, dumbass) is of a time gone by and needs a building to showcase it. As I’ve been saying for so many years, Chicago needs another museum and preferably one that makes the lakefront and skyline look worse than it did. The Chicago Skyline was once beautiful and the envy of the world but you all know that just when you think it’s perfect, it’s time to really fuck it up and we can all thank the Rahm-father for that and Rahm is somehow tied to Barry Soetoro as he was his chief of staff but who the hell knows about Barry Soetoro anyway? I suppose that I’ll discuss Barry Soetoro at a later date, but that time is not now because this is about Ozzy, and as far as I know he should be canonized right next to Saint Nikki of whom you all might not be familiar with but nevertheless deserves his place in Rock History in which JB should have taught us more about and maybe someday will if some Hollywood types decide to make a sequel to School of Rock, but that has nothing to do with JB, the Dude, who starred in Tucker: a Man and His Dream, directed by, you guessed it, George Lucas.

What does this have to do with Ozzy, you ask? The answer is: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

That’s right. Nothing. Reverend Doctor Cyndi has completely wasted a few minutes of your time and you liked it, so don’t complain because I really don’t care about you, and won’t until the time in which you stand up and tell the world that you’re pissed off too…just like I am.

Drinking Problem

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I know I’ve asked this before and I think that I’ve answered it quite clearly in a round about kind of way, sort of, but its time to reexamine the question of who it is that I am. I suppose in order to figure that one out I need to spend a lot of time observing all of you because that can give me a good idea of who I am not because that would be you and not me.

While this may seem like kind of a late post, it’s actually kind of an early post depending on your perspective and probably mine too. It’s early Sunday morning and some of us are sleeping, perhaps soundly, and in a couple hours will awaken and begin their day while to others, it’s still Saturday night even though it’s actually Sunday morning but we haven’t realized that yet because we’re still going strong, fueled by our inherent need to keep the party going and maybe there’s some kind of drugs involved or maybe it’s just alcohol and even though alcohol is technically a drug too, most times we don’t think about it that way because for the most part it’s legal if you are of a certain age and you’re responsible in your consumption or at the very least you’re safe enough to know your limits and not get called out on it.

While it’s probably not the best thing to think about alcohol and how much of a lush either you or myself are, sometimes we must address that issue. This usually happens after having some, or a lot for that matter, and when the night is over and you’re all alone except for the other voices in your head. Don’t ever tell anyone about the voices because, not only do they think you have a problem holding your liquor, but you’re also crazy and not in a good way but rather in the certifiable way which is very much, well, bad

I am just as much of an advocate of drunken craziness, juvenile behavior and general insanity as the next guy, girl or someone of an indeterminate gender. I think the world would be a much better place if we were all on the same page when it comes to self medication, general debauchery and at it’s essence finding some way to make the little things that make up our daily trials and tribulations seem at the very least, tolerable.

Of course, there are some of us that inevitably find that lower than low place, then turn to our friend Mr. Cohol for some guidance…We’ve all met these people. Something is bothering them and they ask the professor for some help then it turns out to be not so good advice and your boyfriend dumps you, your landlord evicts you, your boss fires you, your dog moves in with that cute poodle down the street, and the next thing you know you’re single, homeless, unemployed and have a litter of half-poodle and half (whatever the hell your dog is) puppies to contend with.

If you have found yourself in that position, I don’t envy you, which is a lot nicer than saying: “sucks to be you.”

If that describes your current situation, there is help. Our operators are standing by, please contact us immediately or at your leisure. Reverend Doctor Cyndi of the Transcyndent Institute is here to help you get back on track. Reverend Doctor Cyndi is a licensed driver who holds a degree from the Northwestern University School of Traffic Safety…it’s probably best not to ask any more questions.

Our services are tailored to every budget as we are here to help you get back on track, build your tolerance and get you to a special place of numbness so maybe all of that shit you see the rest of the assholes out there doing won’t piss you off so much. That is our goal. (Please note that all sales are final, no refunds, there is a considerable charge for classroom materials and any profits go to the general “gonna need a new liver or two fund”

Don’t delay, call today.

Classes are filling up fast and we would love to help you see your dreams get flushed down the toilet.

So much focus is put on quitting our vices. I have to question if that is really how we should address the issue. Why quit now when you have so much time left that I can guarantee that you won’t remember? It is a fact that quitters never win and winners never quit. Don’t be a quitter. Maintenance will only cost you $9.00 per day at the very minimum. You really owe it to yourself to make that investment.

I’m going to close out the tab now because it’s late but actually early right now. I’d be happy to stay up later and take your calls but I’m now out of hooch. It was partly me fault as I underestimated my reserves but I’m not going to take full responsibility because most of us don’t. I have found acceptance that the party is over tonight because fucking Mario didn’t want to go to the late bar because he has to work tomorrow…I mean later today.

See what I mean?
Cyn

PS: a very special shout out to the girl who was probably way to young for me but grabbed my hand and danced with me. That guy who dumped you is a moron and you’re better off.

Strap In

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The next 1000 years have just begun in accordance with the prophesy.
It does not matter what you do, as resistance is futile and you will not win. How’s that for a hard dose of reality?

Feeling hopeless right about now?
That’s what my colleagues without faces want you to feel. Are you ready to stand up and shout at Him?
Please do so, as my friend loves it, but realize that your cries are all in vain and won’t do a damn thing; it’s going to happen and it is happening right now and you are all powerless and will cry for eternity, so live it up.
It ain’t going to get better for a really long time. We’ve gotta lot of learning to do. Teach your children well and hopefully your great, great, great grandchildren will live in a better place than we do.
My advice: bet on the winning horse…maybe you might make a few dollars.

Worthless paper with fancy artwork…isn’t that the only thing that matters these days?

You know that you love it and you need more of it. Do what you must and go get yours.
Rise up, Children of the Beast,
Cyn

Who’s Back?

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I am.

New, improved and ready to start finishing what I started long ago. I’ve got a few other projects in the works too and the blog ties in with them. It’s all about shameless self promotion here.

Not too long ago I made a deal with the Devil. He made a lot of promises and it only cost me my soul, but It’s really of no consequence. My soul was bought and paid for long ago and I’ve never really owned it anyway so I don’t think this will hold up in court, but even then there are a lot of good lawyers out there. It’s too bad most of the lawyers work for His Unholiness, but I’m fairly confident that there are a few lawyers out there that left the firm and I’m sure our paths will cross sometime in the next, well, eternity. Sooner or later I’ll get myself out of this deal because some of us are simply just to wicked for Hell.

Besides that, I’ve been living here in Hell all my life so far as Hell really is here on earth and I know no other way, so if the trend continues like it has, so be it.

The funny thing about selling your soul when you really don’t own it is you get to find out what it’s worth and most things aren’t worth much these days due to inflation of which the government denies that there is any. In any event, I was assured that I am special and the normal rules don’t apply to me. The Devil, himself, told me this and I think that if there’s one person you can trust it’s the Devil, right?

Is everyone ready to find out what I got in return? Yeah, me too.