All posts by The Screaming Turkey

Day 3: “Do or Die” 30 Day Fix Your Dumb Life Challenge

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail

“Is anyone sitting here?”
~Abraham Lincoln

Dear your name here,

Today is a good day to look at the floor of your car. If you’re anything like me, it’ll be covered with fast food wrappers and dirty napkins. If you don’t have a car, imagine yourself buying a new one, and if you’re anything like me, it’ll be covered in fast food wrappers and napkins within about a week.
Some people are naturally good at keeping things clean. Some people decorate their homes with discarded packaging. Some people (not me) have a body hidden somewhere in their home (again, not me).

Too much stuff not only clutters our view of our view of our environment, but it can make us feel as though we don’t have enough space to work. Sometimes a nosy neighbor will even call the city about the smell coming out of your place and some people will come and take away all of your cats.

It’s just not fair.

You can’t keep all of your stuff AND have a clear head.
Sometimes you hear that people with messy desks and messy workplaces are geniuses. This is because geniuses sometimes forget to clean up after themselves in a fit of smartness. Then a dumb person sees it and starts strutting around like a genius peacock.

The fact is that for the sake of productivity, it’s good to clear out all of the worthless junk you keep. Then maybe you’d be able to find a pen when you need one.

While you’re cleaning out your junk, have a look at your schedule as well. Are you using your time wisely, or would your time be better spent in prison, where at least you’d have your time scheduled for you?

Binge watching on Netflix is the mental equivalent of storing old pizza boxes under your sofa because you think they might come in handy someday.

Assignment for Day 3: Clean up your junk

1. Use the patented ‘Fix Your Dumb Life’ list to record 10 things that you get rid of so that your life will be less smelly and messed up.
2. Look at how you use your time and use the list to write some ways your time would be better spent.

Have a pleasant tomorrow,
Professor Doctor The Screaming Turkey, Md

30 Day Fix Your Dumb Life Challenge Day 2: “Making a Sandwich”

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail

“I can’t remember where I left my pants.”
~Colin Powell
Dear your name here,
It’s shocking, really. Shocking that people continue on fruitless journeys, overcoming obstacles day after day with no goal at the end. Hopefully, you’ve achieved your first list and you’ll have a better idea about what your goals are.
If you didn’t write ten things on it, that’s OK, you poor sod.
The practice of getting better is not going to stop there. It’s going to get better. That’s the key difference between the practice of getting better and the practice of getting worse.
Get better, not worse.
It doesn’t matter if you’re an American, Canadian, New Zealander, or of any other spiritual persuasion, you can still make your life better.
I had just turned 45 and was living in Istanbul, and I was at the end of my rope. My job, my apartment, my president… everything felt stupid. So, so stupid.
It was time to switch up the game.
The thought struck me dumb while I was sitting in a kebab shop, having a sandwich. As I gazed at the glistening meat log on the spit, the cook shaved off layer after layer of greasy meat, exposing the undercooked center of the log.
That evening as I writhed on the floor with dysentery, I remembered the meat log with its soft, pink center after the cooked outer layers were removed.
It made me smile.
I was delirious with a fever, and I was never happier.
Look inside yourself and find your soft, pink core.

You may be burned up and crispy on the outside, but on the inside you still have a bacteria-laden center.

DAY 2 ASSIGNMENT: Making a Sandwich
Shed your cooked, hardened layers. Imagine that a Turkish man with a big long knife is slicing them away and putting them on a piece of bread to give to SOMEONE ELSE.
Use the list – What is on that sandwich?
Then look at your center, rotating on the spit, dripping with blood and juice. What do you see there? Are you beef or chicken at your core?
Don’t fight it. Let someone else take the sandwich. Keep the best parts for yourself.
See You Tomorrow

Doctor Professor Screaming Turkey, MD

30 (or so) Day”Do or Die” Challenge, Day 1

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail


“I see dead people.”
~Telly Savalas

Dear your name here,
Thank you for visiting The Screaming Turkey and becoming a part of our thriving motivational community! When I created this brilliant, insightful challenge, I had no idea that there would be so many desperate individuals out there thirstily lapping up the wise nectar of my words. But there are, and it’s happening!
For the next 30 (or so) days we’re going to turn you into some kind of social self-help pariah. Be sure to tell your friends all about everything you’re doing and share every minute. That’s how I make the most cash.
We’re going to take a long hard look at your sad life, warts and all (mostly warts), and transform you into a rich, beautiful bright center of the universe.
Say yes!
Starting today, you’re going to start conquering the world… and getting back at your stupid ex who still owes you money.
How?
It’s easy. So easy that you should have started back in high school instead of sleeping through shop class.
You’ve already done the hard part – which is to realize that it’s time for a change. It’s time to stop fretting about what you don’t have and all of the time that you’ve wasted, and start living for the future. It’s also a good time to crack that last beer in your fridge.
All you need is an open mind.
Do you sometimes feel like a dear caught in headlights? Do you live like your life is sleeping in a tent on the train tracks, and that loud bell is dinging but you’re just too lazy to shift your fat ass to the left or the right? Do you feel like you haven’t achieved all of your potential and thought, “Hey, I need a 30-foot boat with a little cabin in it, but I can’t afford one”?
Maybe you’re not a boat person, but you should be. Boats are awesome.
Your problem is not only that you don’t like boats, but that you’re missing your chances. You are not succeeding where you want, that is why you are here. You want success. That is what The Screaming Turkey is here to help you with.
If you want to change your life for the better, join our Facepalm, I mean Facebook group for this free, inspiring, life-changing 30 (or so) day challenge. Join our warm, loving community of shape-shifting reptilians for daily inspiration and advice… daily assignments… daily work… what a pain in the ass.

Change your mind. Change your life. Join our free course. It’s free.

1. Step 1: Join our Facebook group. Write your introduction. Don’t skip on the juicy details, but please for the love of Christ make it interesting and not a bunch of “blah blah blah”.
2. Take a look around you. Ask yourself, “What in the hell have I been doing all these years?”
3. Think about the good things that you have going on in your life right now. Cherish those few, small, positive things. Hold onto them. Spend at least $50 for a good bike lock.

Riding a Scooter in Istanbul (we just took it to the mall)

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail

Dearest Readers,
I have decided to post another video, this one of a day playing with our new scooter.
It’s difficult to decide whether or not to end this silly blog, or to try to reframe it in some way that someone may find relevant.

Here is a video that we made.. trying to find a place for a little kid to ride a scooter can be difficult in a big city like Istanbul.

I’d like to end here

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail

There is a funny feeling you get when you realize that you started something and it’s not going anywhere. It’s time to lose it. Get rid of it.

Should you separate yourself from it? Should you own it? Was it a mistake?

Silly?
Yes.
Creative?
Maybe.
Worthwhile?
Maybe, for a minute or two, but not as many minutes as you spent.
Half-hearted effort?
Yes, unfortunately.

This page is coming down.

– J

Existential Grief and the Experience of Being

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail

Bursa, 1974

Dearest Zissy,
After some great deliberation, I’ve come to the point and made an agreement with myself that I now need to organize my thoughts to form a solution for what ails me. What ails me is most likely what ails you and so many others: a vague and sneaky malaise that whispers hints to you that all is not well between bites of sweets or what other distractions you may give to yourself to thwart existential grief and the experience of being.

The solution, I have decided, is humor and love, as well as a kind and generous regard for others (regardless of what horrifying stupidity we may expect from them), each in the right measure and in the right places, applied generously wherever and whatever and blah blah blah. I wish you fuzzy feelings, and I feel very fuzzy in return.

To spread butter, one needs a knife, but because a knife is not suited to spreading warm, fuzzy feelings, I’ll need something bigger, with more reach and a less threatening appearance. For lack of a better idea, I’m going to have to resort to the written word and short moving pictures, until there comes a day when I can afford to send free massage coupons to thousands of people or when I am permitted to touch them directly.

The solution for this uneasy condition which is only too common is direct creative action for its own sake and the likely dismay of any of those unlucky enough to witness it.

This is the mission that I give to myself, for surely no one would ever give it to me nor even grant me permission if it were theirs to withhold.

I must end here now, Dear Zissy. Edmund is painting our walls with a material that he believes will enhance the intelligence of anyone who enters the house. It looks like a toxic black pudding, and the fumes from the stuff has us feeling sleepy and seeing spots. I am taking Horace to a hotel.

Love Always,
J. Ozawa

Big Nostrils

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail

Dearest Zissy,

I have been unable to understand the joy and frequency with which young Horace inserts fried potato wedges into his nostrils, but I fear they may become stretched one day, able to accomodate entire potatoes, much as Edmund has described his unfortunate uncle, who fell victim to a similar childhood curiosity for inserting objects into his nose. His case resulted in nostrils that were so stretched and thin that they hung over his lip and occassionally caught on his fork.

I hope that you are well, as I haven’t heard from you in quite some time. Please don’t be concerned about Horace or his nostrils, as he is still quite handsome and could endure any amount of self-inflicted defacement and still win hearts.

Edmund sends his love. He is still not talking with me, but he has thrown a crumpled note at my head with a message to that effect.

Take Care,

J. Ozawa

The Unibrow Story

Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestlinkedinmail

Istanbul, 1979

Dearest Zissy,

I am writing to you with sore feet and a bruised ego, for today I learned that in spite of my often depreciating view of myself, I am further depreciated by age and a growth of hair between my eyes. Lost on the Anatolian side of Istanbul, I met my first evidence of discrimination in this country when I found myself unable to obtain directions because of my appearance.

With my smattering of Turkish and English speaking persons unwilling to engage me in conversation, I found one individual who glared cruelly at me and stabbed angrily at her own head with her pointer finger until her nail opened a small wound exactly between her eyes. I turned from her, frightened, only to meet another woman who clicked her tongue and stared darkly into my face.

It was then that a helpful gentleman with a goat took my jacket and pulled me into an alley and began assaulting my face with shears. It was an agonizing few seconds under the knife of a man who can shave 100 pound animals faster than a normal person can tie shoes, but instead focused on just a square centimeter of my face.

Without a word he stood up, leaving me in a heap on the dirty floor.My patch of unsightly hair had been replaced by a patch of chafed skin that bled slightly. The kind faces that met me thereafter made me happy for my injury, and I was able to get fast, accurate directions to a place where I could meet the correct bus to take me home.

I shall stop writing now, it is getting quite late and I need to take Edmund to the hospital after trying to recound to him exactly how I got my injury.

Yours,

J. Ozawa