So you think you’re smarter than the rest of us?
Here’s your chance to prove it.
What do you know?
I’m not asking for opinions here; I want you to tell me what you know and how you can prove it.
You got the question?
Your turn…answer….go!!!
Who really is the smartest in the land?
What do the smart people want to know more about?
You have the floor; please enlighten us to your wisdom.
Sorry for leaving you all high and dry for the last few days because I know just as well as you do that you need your daily dose of Reverend Doctor Cyndi almost as much as she needs her daily dose of Jaegermeister because it doubles as cough medicine and doesn’t taste much better…that, and it helps her get to that special place of understanding that makes dealing with all of you and your drama a lot more easy to swallow, not unlike Jaegermeister which of course is best when mixed with a shot of Whiplash, which is kind of like Red Bull but tastes a little better because Red Bull has a unique taste, and I think that taste is derived from a red bull’s ass. On the other hand, Whiplash is way cheaper because it can be shot from a gun and is, apparently, only available at the home bar of which I was at on Saturday night and had a wonderful time as always enjoying three dollar bombs.
I’m sure I can go on and on about the virtue of three dollar bombs at Chaoz, and I probably will at some point in the future, but that time is not now, so I digress.
As for this post, we will be talking once again about Ozzy and how he relates to all of our everyday lives…either that or how Ozzy relates in no way to our daily lives. I’m sure the answer to that deep question is somewhere between the two, so now you know and have been forewarned that this just might be yet another time when Reverend Doctor Cyndi goes off on one of her nonsensical trips that leave us all confused about how Ozzy got dragged into this one, yet again.
Today’s story begins pretty much where we left off last time and if you don’t remember when that was, you’re not alone because neither do I, so let’s just skip past a week ago Friday because I had a bad day then when Wells Fucking Fargo put a hold on my paycheck that I deposited the week before, resulting in me having to take time out of my busy day to try and get their mess straightened out, of which nobody (and by nobody, I mean Tanisha at the call center, the girl who spoke English as a second language, and the other one who I’m not going to pick on because I think she was retarded…or maybe just looked like it) had a straight answer for anything except what the computer was telling them and they aren’t permitted to think for themselves because not only is it policy, but also because that would require thought that was more than their little brains could handle.
Anyway, I’d love to spend more time discussing the retards who work at the bank but that’s just a sign of the times and essentially was so last week and Wells fucking Fargo finally made things right after they took their sweet ass time correcting this problem of mine which really wasn’t mine because it was actually a problem of Bob’s or more importantly Bob’s problem because somebody else wrote him a bad check which caused him to be overdrawn and therefore his bank wouldn’t honor the check and I still have no idea what the FDIC actually does because aren’t they some kind of insurance company that’s tied into the not-at-all-Federal Reserve?
All of these questions led to a very in depth study into how the banking system in this country works and after a few hours of google searches, I was able to conclude the the banking system simply doesn’t work at all because it is way too big and as we all know, the bigger it is, the harder it falls, but somehow there are a shitload of bureaucrats out there that are worried about keeping their jobs so they can provide for their retarded children and their wives who are social climbers and are cheating on them because there is always somebody else who is doing better in life than the loser husband that they have and maybe she’ll actually find that guy but in the meantime she is content with cheating on you with a guy who makes a few dollars more and then she gets knocked up and tells you that she’s pregnant and you’re left wondering how the hell this happened because she and I haven’t had sex in six years, but then before you know it, it’s 9 months later and the baby is born and you now have to spend your time explaining to others how much you love your baby and how it’s totally yours even though the baby looks kind of Asian and neither you or your wife are.
Trust me, it happens all the time.
Of course you can always tell people that you adopted your baby from Korea and people will probably believe you because they now think you’re a great person because you are giving some poor down-trodden Korean orphan a better life in America and you’re like some kind of super parent who deserves the highest of accolades because you have chosen to expand your family because there’s always more love to go around and you can positively impact the life of that child by removing him from those nasty Koreans who we conquered way back in 1953, supposedly, but that was just a ruse to take their babies and make them build us Hyundais which used to be real shit and sold solely on the virtue of their warrantees but now are actually pretty dependable cars that people who are bad drivers buy because they’re too cheap to pony up the extra money for a Corolla, in which at least you’d now have a little bit of status because you bought a Toyota which is of course the American Dream.
If y’all haven’t figured it out by now, owning Japanese products is the American Dream and I used to know several rednecks in the Deep South that would agree because that was the entire reason for that whole ” War of Northern Aggression” thing in which some people are still bitter about because those few years completely destroyed the dream of really, really cheap labor and that whole flag thing is more about heritage than it ever was about hating people just because they look different but nobody seems to see it that way anymore because all of those southern people that I know now wouldn’t be caught dead driving a car from GM or Ford because those cars have poor quality because they are made by workers who belong to the Union and that just sounds, well, bad, to the southerners because the Union screwed them 150 years ago which is why they don’t kowtow to the unions down there anymore and have thrown the General Motors out in favor of working for General Kai-shek who is actually Chinese and not Korean but is of little consequence because the Chinese look similar to the Koreans and they pretty much own one of the Koreas, so that whole war thing was kind of in vain because it was really just a conflict and I can see why uncle Gord was pretty pissed off about it…it’s like saying he killed those zipperheads for nothing…did he?
I don’t think that he did and will contend that the whole Korean Conflict should probably be forgotten because if we fuggetaboutit then we can rewrite history and nobody wants to spend any time remembering the Forgotten War of which it is now, because most of those guys are now dead, like uncle Gord, who was deeply scarred from his experience and consequently died many years ago and went out holding his cock, which I was unlucky enough to witness, almost to say screw all of you, including but not limited to the only family he had left, leaving his small fortune to Catholic Charities which is one of the most evil organizations in the whole world although it’s disguised as a good thing because one of the ways they make a lot of money is by redistributing babies to people who have enough money to pay them.
Is anybody else seeing how wrong this is, right about now? Kind of like that new kid that showed up, and you have to now support, so you don’t look like a complete asshole because you married a woman who is a whore who got knocked up by someone else because you’re just a meal ticket with an inadequate penis that shoots blanks. I hope you’re happy driving your Hyundai but please get out of my way…signed, the minivan behind you…yeah, you see me, move it. The speed limit says 55 but we all know that it’s really 80.
In conclusion, what goes around, comes around and it’s called karma, so try and be a good person although it’ll probably not get you any bonus points with my colleagues without faces…that’s what they’ve told me.
Right about now, your probably asking what Ozzy has to do with this and again, the answer is: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
You just spent more time wanting to know about Ozzy and I wasted a few more minutes of yours because I know you have superfluous time on your hands and that is the crux of my work here on earth.
I promise that the next entry to this misadventure will have something to do with Ozzy. There are eleven songs on the NO MORE TEARS album, and by my count, we’ve covered four or them. If we subscribe to common core, there might be 7 more coming and maybe even more if my day job sends me back up to Rockturd and the HPB outlet has another album I can buy for two bucks. You have been forewarned!!!
With Love,
Reverend Doctor Cyndi
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!
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
As an adult adoptee, I have always wondered where I came from. For many years I lived in the adoption fog and tried to accept it as fact. I did so because that is what I had to do in order to make my life somewhat bearable. Living in the adoption fog is a coping mechanism that we adoptees have. Isn’t it funny that in order to cope, we must convince ourselves that our whole existence was built on lies, coercion and secrecy in the very beginning? We are expected to go about being happy and grateful about this fact. As our society is ever-evolving, there is a new movement beginning as we begin to fight for Adoptee Rights. You may have heard about the Animal Rights movement before and this is very similar. In the Animal Rights movement, proponents often ask: Who will speak for those who cannot speak for themselves? As Adoptees, we are similar because in our beginnings, people spoke for us and made decisions on our behalves in which we had no voice. Some may say that humans are animals and in a way that is true, but humans have been able to differentiate ourselves from the rest of the animal kingdom as we are more intelligent that most other species and have become the dominant species in the world we live in. Somehow, the stigma that comes along with adoption leaves us adoptees feeling like second-class citizens and the continued secrecy as perpetrated by the courts, adoption agencies, lawyers, politicians, birth parents and adoptive parents follows the adoptee around throughout his or her lifetime.
The fog is rolling (Photo credit: davidyuweb)
The Adoption Fog is not limited to just the adoptee as the the concept of adoption is really nothing more that a bizarre love triangle. Adoption is touted as the loving option but it is ultimately built on the losses of all three members of the triad. Adoptees lose the most, but are expected to put that behind them and be thankful for what they gained. Happily accepting that your loss was a good thing allows the adoption fog to set in and once it does, it is very difficult to find your way out. Adoptees are not the only ones who can live in the fog; both the birth parents and adoptive parents can also live in the fog. I am an adoptee who has come out of the fog and ready to speak out against it. I have been trying to become reunited with my birth mother. I want to share with you the letter that I sent her a few days ago.
Dear Mother,
Please allow me to apologize in advance for some of the attitude you might get out of this message as i am very irritated with how this thing between you and I has been going. As you now have had one year knowing of my existence and whereabouts, you have done as little as humanly possible to acknowledging said existence. I am a human being who should, but doesn’t, enjoy the same basic human rights as everyone else, namely knowledge of my origins. My birthright was stolen from me as to say you gave it away like it was nothing. I really appreciated hearing from you that you loved me very much back then, but ever since the day that I was born, I’ve had a very difficult time believing that. I seriously hope that you are getting the help that you need because although I do not know you, I don’t need to in order to say that YOU NEED HELP !!! YOU’RE LIVING IN THE FOG OF DENIAL !!!
You know nothing about the difficulties adopted people face in life. You know nothing about how it feels to go through life not knowing where you came from and never seeing anyone who looks like you and has the same mannerisms. You know nothing about what its like to go through life trying to please everybody so you won’t be rejected. You know nothing about what its like to look at two people who look nothing like you and have to worry about if you’re living up to their expectations. You know nothing about how it feels to know the one person who was supposed to love you, gave you away because you were inconvenient. You know nothing about how it feels to know that the better life I was supposed to have wasn’t at all better, just different.
Please do not think that I am anything less than empathetic towards you and what you have been through as that has been spelled out many times before. I have repeatedly apologized to you for things that you somehow misunderstood. I’m so sorry if you thought that I contacted you because I wanted money. There is no dollar amount great enough to make restitution for what you took from me. All I am looking for is simple acknowledgement and and a little bit of your time. Please spare me the whole I’m too tired because I work excuse as I have heard it enough already. I don’t believe it anyway because nobody in this world works as much as you say you do. I have come to believe that you do not respond to me because you just don’t want to, probably because I never meant that much to you in the first place.
Is any of this my fault? No it is not. I was, am, and always will be the innocent party in our little triangle thing. I had no choice in the matter. You had told me that it is my choice (as it should be) regarding contact and you would comply with my wishes. What changed your mind? Am I not living up to whatever fantasies you had about me over the years? Believe me when I say this, I do not like being the way that I am; i just deal with it to the best of my ability. However I am today should have no bearing on who I was and if you need further clarification of that , I was YOUR BABY THAT YOU GAVE AWAY. Is it so wrong for me to want to know who you are? Again, that answer is a resounding NO.
I am growing very tired of writing to you with no response. In case you have not noticed, we live in a 24-hour society and emails are supposed to be responded to within a reasonable amount of time like a day or two. I’m sorry if this is taking you too long to process but I get the feeling that you aren’t thinking about me at all. Perhaps you are just hoping that one day I’ll get the hint and go away. That’s not going to happen until I get what I’m looking for. I have tried very hard to convey the message that I am not doing this to hurt you. I will repeat again that I am empathetic to you as it must have been very painful to keep secret the knowledge of knowing that you gave your baby away. I read something not too long ago and I would like you to ponder this: a secret can only hurt you as long as it remains a secret.
Did you forget that everyone in your immediate family knows that you were once pregnant and gave away your baby? It’s not just them. Although I said to someone that I wouldn’t mention it, I’m going to tell you now that a few months ago, I had an email conversation with someone in the family. It was a nice exchange and I received some information about my ethnic heritage (but only half of my ethnic heritage) In that exchange, I was told that my existence was never a secret in their family and all of their children know. I highly doubt that I am a secret to your parents as I sent them a Christmas card. I understand that they are probably very old school in their thinking and can’t acknowledge me because of what society might think about them. I wonder if they have any remorse over not ever knowing their presumably first grandchild; maybe you should ask them. Either way I’m indifferent on them, but It might be nice to meet them once before they’re dead and at their age, they are already on borrowed time.
So I wasn’t a secret to a whole lot of people in the family, except for one. Do you think that he never got one idea that he might not have been your only kid? I really don’t care one bit if he and I ever meet one another and who is to say if we really have anything in common, which we probably, do but it might be nice because we are half-brothers. In any event, I took the liberty of introducing myself a while back:
After reading all this, please do not think that I don’t love you. I am sending this message because I do love you and I want to make you a better person. You will never be whole until you open your eyes, accept reality and get out of the fog. Last but not least, as far as the title of email goes, I will be in your area tomorrow night for my monthly meeting at the church on Lake and Ridgeland and will be finished at 7 pm. Perhaps we can meet afterward? Perhaps I’ll stop by and see how you’re doing.
Love,
Cyndi
Outcome: My mother responded back to me very quickly.
Open Records emblem used in Adoptee Rights Protest, New Orleans, 2008, artist: D. Martin. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
But Why? Because of the last sentence in the letter. It is bringing the whole ordeal close to home and closer to being out of the fog.
A large part of the Adoptee Rights Movement focuses on access to Original Birth Certificates (OBC). The movement stands by its belief that access to OBC does not have anything with reunion and reunions are not guaranteed but I disagree. While there are some people who may just want the information that the OBC contains, many of us do ultimately want the reunion as that experience can provide a lot more information than a piece of paper that has remained hidden and secret. It is my belief that any adoptee who says that they do not need the face to face meeting has not fully left their place in the adoption fog. Only when we all (adoptee birth parents, adoptive parents) decide to stop living in the fog can the healing process begin.
What do you say?
You aren’t the first one to ask and that isn’t the first time I’ve ever heard that but let me tell you that I have been pondering that question all my life too. In the simplest terms, I am someone without a past or someone who doesn’t know where I originally came from or at the very least what rock I crawled out from under, assuming that I crawled out from underneath a rock but I can’t be too sure of that because I might have fallen straight from space but space is full of a whole lot of nothing and I couldn’t have came from nothing so there must have been a rock somewhere and that rock must have been an asteroid but that’s highly unlikely and not to mention improbable so the most logical conclusion that I have come up thus far is that I was the unwanted and unexpected by-product of a highly classified social experiment that went awry back it the mid-seventies but eventhough that makes absolutely no sense at all, it is positively the absolute truth in some way or so I’m led to believe. Chances are I’m just like everyone else in regards to my origins in so much as to say that somebody pushed me out of her crotch much in the same way that the rest of you entered this world but I differ from you in that I have no point of reference for that supposed event and when I really sit down and think about that, everything gets really cloudy because I really don’t know my past and therefore I can’t possibly expect to have any notion of what the future might hold for me or if there is a future at all but then again I am still sitting here so maybe it won’t be all that bad, but if some of the things that have happened to me in the past are any indication, then maybe the future doesn’t sound so great and maybe I don’t even want to go there but I’m kind of sure that someday I’ll inevitably wind up there anyway so I have to wonder if I should just try and live in the present and not worry about the future but just after I wrote the word present, that has become the past and a new present is happening and the cycle is repeating itself and that could quite possible have great impact on the future…or not.
I would have to say that since the beginning of time or at least since I arrived here on this ball of dirt, I have spent most of that time pondering the deep philosophical questions in this condition more commonly called life. I question everything in order to try to achieve a greater understanding of the human condition although sometimes I really don’t feel human myself but I also don’t not feel human either so it must be something else but I’m not fully convinced of that either. I observe everyone else in an effort to make sense of it all, but all of you make it very difficult for me because none of you are exactly like one another and I have never met anyone who is quite like me or even someone who looks like me for that matter. I guess that I’m not unlike most everyone else as I do have a past that spans many years and have had many experiences that have shaped who I am today but on the other hand, I have only currently been me for a short little while in the grand scheme of things. Of course I have always been me, but I used to be someone else but I don’t think that I was really that someone else either because I was chosen to be that person yet before I was me, somebody un-chose me, negating who I was which of course was me in the beginning and that is not even close to who I am today and is certainly not who I was yesterday or maybe the day before that and most definitely not who I was a week ago last Wednesday because I didn’t know who I was then but I’m fairly certain that alcohol played some small part in that but I really can’t remember much of that even though I rarely forget much of anything when I am intoxicated which I used to be a whole lot but these days not so much so what should it matter anyway?
I often wonder what happened to me but since I am not really me anymore nor am I somebody else I think I am just going to have to try and accept that I am me and that’s pretty much all there is to it…but is there? Probably not, but I can’t be too sure of that because I have no true knowledge of that person and neither do I have true knowledge of anything else because I don’t know if I truly know anything but at least I have a fairly good idea on the subject but there is a fine line between good ideas and bad ideas and I have no clue where that line is or even if there is a line and I don’t know if I have crossed it or if I am in any danger of crossing it or if I should just say damn the consequences and do it anyway so I’m just going to wing it from here and make it up as I go along and do what it is I think that I am supposed to be doing despite the resistance I get from everyone else.
There is a special plan for me or at least that is what I am led to believe because I have been told that God has a special plan for each and every one of us as we are all his children but I’m conflicted in that assessment considering some of the people I have seen that go around preaching His word. Ultimately if it is true that we are all God’s children then I can deduce that we are all part of the same family so I would say that I am the red-headed stepchild but not really because I’m naturally brunette but I wasn’t all that satisfied with that, and now I’m bottle-blonde so I guess that rules out the red-headed thing which just might make me the blond sheep of the family but that doesn’t make any sense at all because I’m not a sheep nor have I ever been a sheep to my knowledge and I’ve never heard of a blond sheep but there are white sheep so I could agree that that is similar to being blond but I’m going to have to defer to the cliché that I must be the black sheep in the family even though I’m not black but that doesn’t have anything to do with hair color because I’m blond but then again not really. Maybe I’m just that weird relative that no one ever talks about which concludes that you and I are family on some level and neither you nor I knew it until now but now that you know, I’m waiting to receive my invitation to our next family picnic and I’m beginning to worry what’s taking so long and why you never call me but then again I’m not letting it bring me down because I have plenty of other things to do of far greater importance that I’m not doing now because they can wait until tomorrow or maybe the next day or maybe two weeks from next Tuesday if I haven’t forgotten by then what they were or why they were important to begin with because I don’t perform miracles on demand so don’t expect one to happen any time soon but I might surprise you one of these days.
In the mean time, I can’t be bothered with the demands of our entire extended family because my parents give me enough grief and lucky for me I have five of them. Of the five, I’m pretty sure that my mom and dad think I’m OK although they question my behavior far more than I do and they have been mentioning something about taking me to a farm but it doesn’t sound like this farm has any crops or chickens or goats so that has me wondering what they are implying because I realized long ago that I was not a farmer when I tried to grow some weed and couldn’t even get that right but they didn’t know about that failed endeavor of mine so please don’t tell them because it’s a secret and the only one I have left but I guess that it’s not anymore so I just can’t win.
My whole is existence was built on secrets. I used to have a lot of them and some of those just hid deeper secrets and more secrets that were so secret that I didn’t even know them. The absolute truth about me is known only by my mother and she remains steadfast is her commitment to hide this secret although it really isn’t a secret so much as in all actuality many other people know it but refuse to recognize it because it seems like a lot more fun to keep a secret that really isn’t. This, of course, is not how I see it yet it has my mother sitting on the fence and not ready to own up to her association with me as she thinks that some of the things that I have told her about myself are very contradictory and that has left her feeling very uneasy but I find that notion is preposterous because I always communicate my message quite clearly for the most part.
I have no idea what the other parent thinks as he is as much a mystery to me as I am to him and I don’t know if he has ever thought about looking for me but I doubt he has because most men don’t but if he did he’s in for a very difficult search because he would be looking for someone who I wasn’t and am not anymore. Then again, nothing is stopping me from looking for him either except my mother who continues to be less than forthcoming with that information because she apparently likes living in the fog rather than facing reality. Perhaps I should try asking my Father again because I’m fairly certain that if there is someone else who knows who my other parent is it would be Him because He is omnipotent. I’ve tried asking Him before, but His line of work keeps Him very busy and that leaves no time for me so I don’t hear from Him that much. Instead, He prefers to give me gifts, some of which I didn’t ask for and really could have done without but I perservere because His gifts are never more than He knows I can handle because He loves me and when I say that, I mean He really loves me! He loves me so very much that he ignores my prayers for Him to love me a little less but I have faith that one day He will at least cut me some slack.
My faith is what drives me and I also have great faith that someday all will be right in the world but then again my faith can be finicky at times as it is often tested and I know that there is something that I can do to in order to make the world a better place for all of us but I can’t put my finger on it right now. Whatever it is, I’m fairly certain this is going to take a lot of work because faith will only get me so far and there is always work to be done but somehow I can’t seem to find any as nobody will hire me but that’s not entirely my fault as nobody seems to be hiring anybody these days for that matter but I still live have faith that someday it might get better but probably won’t so I have my doubts but they tell me that doubting is healthy and maybe it is but who are they to say and furthermore who exactly are they anyway? Yeah, I’m not sure either and the supposed existence of “they” makes me sound kind of paranoid which I am not but don’t let them know that because I’m trying to keep them guessing.
I hope that I have made myself quite clear and I’m pretty sure that you have it all figured out by now that I really am a mystery inside a riddle wrapped up in an enigma all of the while being so complex in my simplicity or maybe it’s the other way around because either way makes perfect sense. In any event, I don’t think that I’m going insane but I have not been certify that diagnosis yet, so call me crazy but I wouldn’t say that nor do I think that I have ever thought so so I can’t confirm or deny that my sanity is something that I have questioned at this time. It is really not for me to judge but if it were then I might be inclined to agree but I told myself that I really shouldn’t go around claiming total sanity nor should I claim to be insane because either way would just be crazy even though there might be some underlying benefits to being crazy or at least that is what the little voice inside me says and it won’t shut up. That being said, my therapist has not given me any indication that I am anything less that a high-capacity individual with above average intelligence as I have successfully convinced her that I do not need to be institutionalized but she still refuses to recommend me for the full lobotomy that I have requested more times than I can remember because that seems to be the only way to put a stop to all this outside of vaginoplasty which would alleviate all of my concerns but doesn’t seem like it’s going to be happening any time soon.
Finally or to say it differently, last but not least because there is a lot more to it just not right now, I am living proof that when gender dysphoria and genealogical bewilderment are combined hilarity and hijinks will ensue even though I don’t find it all that funny. I don’t know why I was chosen for this mission nor do I know what the point of it is or even if there is one at all but I will continue to try and explain it all to the best of my ability which is obviously not that good but is better than nothing so take it or leave it. Who am I you ask? I don’t know. You tell me.
transcyndence 