Some Thoughts on Sabbath

When Ozzy joins Black Sabbath the whole thing turns upside down, you know? They actually had all the money in the world to do as much cocaine as they wanted, which I consider to be the culprit, and them trying to get through to kids. I think Ozzy was trying to get through to certain types of people. The album Master of Reality that has Always Forever on it, that’s a Christian album. That song Sweet Leaf is a pretty spiritual song.

After Ozzy left Black Sabbath he went solo and started busting into more Alchemy, monsters and devil worshiping directly. It got to a point in the 80’s where parents had found Ozzy records on their kids turntables who had blown their brains out. Ozzy would have been drug to court after that.

Ozzy sent missed messages though. In his early career I think he was so glazed on coke, you have this glazed over cocaine...it was okay to be a cocaine christian identity. It was in Rock and Roll and it was in Disco. It was kinda seeping into media in the late 70’s. It was okay to do coke and mix your religion with it. You can see it a lot. It was around a lot more. Then when Reagan and the Republican movements came it, well that became the nuclear threat and you started introducing harder drugs. The harder the situation in America, the harder the drugs. Now you got krokodil and it’s not the chocolate cream filled ones, guys. These will devour your skin off. You got motherfuckers smoking bed bugs. You can take a bed bug and grind it up and it’s like a dust. Remember your favorite movie, Brain Damage? It’s like that. The bed bugs stimulate the pleasure sensor and when you smoke it you can get a high off it for three to four hours. Or you can melt it in a spoon and shoot it up. Intravenously shoot bed bugs.

I think Black Sabbath really was into the god thing when they were younger, you know? But as they get older, their careers are changing, you’re getting ready to induct Dio as the new singer, the whole things getting ready to change. And hey, beliefs change too you know? People that aren’t sure to begin with can mislead a whole lot of people. I think that’s one of the downfalls of Master of Reality. People took it seriously at the time and then followed Ozzy through his career where he would have been getting into more satanic shit. Thats fine or whatever but these guys get this mixed message and all of the sudden he gets pulled into court. Of course the tribunal of the court couldn’t press charges and when you have Ozzy’s powerful lawyers chances are you’re just gonna get slapped on the wrist. You can see that he’s basically a cheesedick. You can see his end resolve. There was no real substantiality to the guy because you see that it was just a TV show the whole time for him because that’s how he ended up. Iommi isn’t a fucking show. He’s the technical master. Him and Geezer Butler and Bill Ward rest in peace.

They’ve really always had a much more solid direction without Ozzy. Ozzy’s always kind of been the loose cannon. But those early albums that they did nailed it, obviously. But that’s what it is. Two different identities.  They did well on the transition from one singer to the other because they’re two different universes. If you’re a Sabbath fan, Sabbath true, you’ll be there because of Iommi no matter what.

LA's Small Penis Epidemic

My semi-recent move to Los Angeles has improved many aspects of my life, but has cast an uncharacteristically dark cloud over one of the most vital things: my sexual wellbeing. You’d think a woman in her mid-20s with no wishes to settle into the monotonous migraine that is monogamy would be unleashing her sexual wrath onto all the beach boys, aspiring directors, and failed actors this city has to offer, but I find myself soaking in a pool of disappointment and settling for masturbation.

I didn’t know I was a size queen until above average dicks were snatched away from me. I took for granted the ample supply of girth provided by the east coast. It was just the standard! When I’d come across a little Richard, I’d be more intrigued than disgusted, rubbing it between my thumb and index finger like a twig. A mouse’s walking stick. Small cocks were the unicorns of the east coast, so when I unzipped a fellow’s pants and found one, I felt something like delight. Like, aww, that’s adorable.

Let me tell you, though…now that pencil dicks, sharpened down to their erasers, have become the norm, my vagina has become much like this city: a dry ass desert. The first guy I slept with out here actually had a penis I could see without squinting through a microscope, which was very misleading. It was as if nothing had changed. New city, same cut of meat. It was only after I continued into the LA dick abyss that I started running into members that seemed to be wilting as the temperature rose. Is it the heat? The easygoing lifestyle? Are penises forgetting to grow? Are they breeding them this way?

Being single was an exciting prospect until these tiny soldiers started lining up like some sick, poking joke. I feel like I’ve been making love to various thumbs. Once it felt like nothing. Just, absolutely nothing. Another guy told me he had emotional issues, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant size issues. After one session with these guys, I’m less excited about seeing them again. I feel like I’m getting Punk’d by Ashton. I feel like I’m waiting for Godot’s giant cock. Spoiler alert: It’s never coming.

The only plus side to this epidemic? LA fellas will go down. Oh, will they ever go down. They’ve got the east coast beat there!

The Puzzle Box, Lisa Turtle

 I have never been obsessed with celebrities the way most people seem to me. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll get star struck if I bump into Chevy Chase eating a corndog but I’m not obsessed. I don’t follow who’s breaking up with who or what someones new afterbirth looks like on the cover of Star Weekly. But recently I have become a little obsessed. A woman. A child star. Once on top of her game, now spiraling into insanity in the strangest of ways. This isn’t Britney Spears on a diet pill freak out, this is something different. This, is, Lark, Voorhies. You might know her as Lisa Turtle.

If you were a child of the 90’s Lisa Turtle, played by Lark Voorhies, was the hot black chick on Saved By the Bell. Not Kelly Kapowski and not the pills chick from Showgirls. This was the other one. The psycho.

 It all started last year when Lark appeared in a Yahoo! interview with the weirdest makeup you’ve ever seen. Look at her:

The piece ran and everyone was talking about how unstable she looked. Then People magazine interviewed Lark’s mother. She said her daughter was bi-polar. That she was scared for her mental health and  “there were things that traumatized her.”  Voorhies participated in the piece and according to People, during the interview she “would frequently stop mid-sentence and stare off, often mumbling to herself or to others who weren’t there.” Voorhies then explained to the magazine, “I have a strong spiritual sense. You caught me in moments of pray.”

So to set the record straight she came on Entertainment Tonight. She seemed normal at first but when questions about the People magazine article came up she started getting weird,

“It is a small, uh, opinionata that is getting blown thoroughly out of proportion. I have no stating reasons why anyone should worry about me. I mean, clearly I am a very strong, top-of-the-line, always-rising-to-it personage. And um, I have no worries myself, nor do I exude, exhibit or posses within my living strata…stratus any reason why someone should worry in my behalf. It’s just lies. It’s completely fictional,”

 What the fuck? You should stop right now and look it up on Youtube. It’s crazy. Seriously crazy. There was something about it I loved and I wanted to know more. That’s when I found the books.

Apparently Lark is the author of four E-books. And these aren’t just novels, these are the ramblings of a crazy person. A very, very high crazy person.

The first is called True Light: A, superior, take, unto, the, premier, haloing, of, tenuation. Yes, that’s the title, commas and all. Let’s take a look at the opening of the book, shall we?

For, ages, we, have learned, to, search, for, the, truth, about, life. The, truth, in, regard, to, the, opolous, insight. Facts, ascertaned, according, to, the, willing, advance, of, theme, and, time. Frames, tolled, apart, from, steads. Standards, partrolled, in, union, with, the, ever, held, age, perfection, within, the, stales, of, solution. New, borders, of, parental, discovery, taled, to, the, wind, of, true, shelter, and, distine. At, harmony’s length, we, trivail, the, chiefs, of, known, ability, to, prevail, the, pronounce, of, hartmanship.

Holy fuck. That wasn’t easy to get through. What did I just read? And why the commas? The whole book is like this. Well, atleast the first 19 pages I can preview on Google Books. I tried to get through all 19 but she starts making up words like “preimphantly” and “ziquester” and I threw in the towel. Every once in awhile she’ll quote the Bible and break it down for us but it’s more nonsense. Everytime I look over her writing I picture her in a dirty, noodle-stained studio in the valley freebasing crack and filling her notebooks. “GENIUS AGAIN!” Seriously, could this be anything but crack? I feel like it takes a certain amount of speed just to type that many commas.

But wait, there’s more.

Her second book is called Reciprocity. It’s a fictional story about two lovers. At first it actually seems normal, horribly written but normal. As you read the commas start creepin’ in more and more and by the second page we’re back to every word. Then she’ll start a new chapter, everything going good, then BALMO! More commas. You were doing so good Lark!

My favorite book of hers is an autobiography of sorts entitled, Trek of the Cheshire: A, masterful, journey, into, the, aquadrant, times, of, author, Lark Voorhies. An, elective, abbreviate, that, casts, trance, above, knon, entitlements, ‘pon, astloe, monuments, to, date.

Yes. It says all that on the cover. Let’s take a look,

Wince. At the many trips I took before my fall. On category in particular, sensation. And, my fight to win it back from within, the depths of my inner hell. I was dormant. Reduced to square inches of my soul. I could feel nothing within, and, nothing without. So, I went searching. For sensation. Bumping, and, bruising my outer membrane, so that the shockwaves could penetrate to stimulate growth through, to, within the little of me that was left. And the lie. Ah, the, lie. T’was, only my path through solid wall. A menial means to an old end.

It goes on like that. Just when you think you’re starting to follow she takes a left turn to crazy town.

Her last book might be her strangest. She has just announced it on her website but if you click the “Buy it Now” button it takes you to a blank screen. I’m assuming that means it hasn’t come out yet. It’s titled, get ready for this,

Hebrews, The Book of

Yup. Even weirder is the description: The, 400 page, manuscript – Is, a, Life Law Gem. A 400 page “manuscript” about the Hebrews written by Lisa Turtle? If this doesn’t prove we are living in a simulation I don’t know what would.

So what’s going on with Lark Voorhies? Crack smoke? Bi-polar disorder? Schizophrenia? Maybe all of the above? In 1996 she came out as a Jehovah’s Witness. Could that have something to do with it? After doing some research I came up with my own theory.

When a person has a stroke different parts of their brains can be damaged depending on the severity. There is a disorder called Receptive Aphasia or Wernicke’s aphasia which results from damage to a specific part of the brain called Wernicke’s area. Damage in this area not only destroys local language regions but also cuts off most of the occipital, temporal, and parietal regions from the core language region.

Straight from Wikipedia:

 When we want to speak, we formulate what we are going to say in Wernicke’s area, which then transmits our plan of speech to Broca’s area, where the plan of speech is carried out. Wernicke’s Area is located posterior to the lateral sulcus, typically in the left hemisphere, between the visual, auditory, and somesthetic areas of the cerebral cortex. A person with this aphasia speaks normally but uses random or invented words; leaves out key words; substitutes words or verb tenses, pronouns, or prepositions; and utters sentences that do not make sense. They have normal sentence length and intonation but without true meaning. They can also have a tendency to talk excessively. A person with this aphasia cannot understand the spoken words of others or read written words. Speech is preserved, but language content is incorrect. Substitutions of one word for another (paraphasias, e.g. “telephone” for “television”) are common. Comprehension and repetition are poor.

To me, Lark seems to have a very slight case of Wernicke’s Aphasia with a little bit of crack smoking and a dab of creativity.

Like most celebrity downfalls, Lark Voorhies’ case is a sad one. Whether she has Wernicke’s Aphasia or not, something’s definitely going on with this chick. In the end, we have to salute the woman. A lot of celebrities freak out but none have done it in style. None have done it so fascinating and NONE have written a 400 page manuscript about the Hebrews.

Smoke, one, for, Voorhies!