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!