How to Create a Cynic in Less Than 12 Steps
Written by: Alex Sandell
Steps 1-3: From the Womb to Hospital Room

To create a true cynic, the process needs to begin in the womb. To insure step one's success, you must find an inadequate doctor to follow you or your wife (or your girlfriend, petri dish or moldy bowl of Captain Crunch) through your/her/its pregnancy. This shouldn't be too hard. Inadequate doctors are a dime a dozen, and the ones that can do any good are too expensive, egotistical and arrogant to come through for you, anyway.

During the pregnancy, you must let the doctor make absurd suggestions, and follow them precisely. If you're a first-time parent, you will most likely be quick to believe whatever a "professional" tells you is best for your baby, so this shouldn't be a problem.

Back in the seventies, my mother was put on a magical "No-Salt" diet. Today, I'm not sure what the happenin' medical fuck up is. Shots of Prozac? genetic engineering? cloning sheep inside of the womb for the fetus to tend to (teaching it good managerial skills)? whatever it is, I'm sure it will work just fine for starting the child out on the long road of cynicism. Not to mention, much like my mom's no-salt diet, will lead right smack into step # 2.

Make sure the baby is born premature! This is essential for a life full of health problems which will guarantee the baby a true cynic until the day he or she enters the grave, most likely just as prematurely as he was spit onto this spinning mess of an earth. The incredible, edible (just without the sodium) no-salt diet my mother was convinced she needed to be on popped me out of the pussy an amazing four weeks early! I'm sure sheep-cloning woulda had me clawing my way out 4 or 5 weeks ahead of that! If only I had been born in this modern day. One can dream.

As mentioned above, being born early almost inevitably leads to health problems. The best thing about this is the fact that the problems usually start right after you're born! I myself was a tiny 4 pounds 10 ounces, and immediately put under heavy lights which were meant to cure me of a life threateningly high bili rubin count. This worked amazingly well at making me the bitter boy I am today, thanks to the fact that the doctors didn't properly secure the masks which were meant to protect my newborn eyes, allowing me to keep tearing them off, permanently damaging my vision! Good gawd doctors are such fantastic creatures!

(Note: High Bili Rubin can be replaced with any number of birth defects. Hypothermia, Respiratory Distress Syndrome, Hypernatremia. Just to name a few. I'm sure Fetal Alcohol Syndrome would work extremely well, being that the child would most likely spend a large chunk of his life spewing out blame at his mother for being an idiot.)

Step # 3 is basically an extension of the second. Only, this time, you give the baby a distrust of any sort of system or establishment at or before he or she turns 3 months old. The earlier you start, the easier it will be for them to recognize when they're getting screwed throughout life! The masks being improperly placed over my face may have been forgiven, and I'd be a lawyer right now, but there was that damn Pneumonia I got at 4 weeks old. I was sick for a few days, and suddenly stopped breathing. My parents rushed me into the hospital. The doctor told them that my lungs were empty, it wasn't pneumonia, my weight of 5 pounds was "healthy" and "normal," and that they're just overly-concerned parents. For the next two weeks I continued not eating, and my weight kept dropping. My mother and father brought me to doctor after doctor. Each one saying that I was fine, and didn't have anything wrong with me. My new weight of 4 pounds (10 ounces less than my birth weight) was "healthy" and "normal" and that they're just overly-concerned parents.

Finally, on the sixth week of my stay here on the dark planet, when I dropped below 4 pounds and the doctor finally asked if I was eating anything, he came to the conclusion that "something might be wrong." I was given all the tests again, and it turned out (hold your breath) I had Pneumonia. This pneumonia quickly worked its way from "something to watch out for" to "it'll probably kill him."

I was put in the hospital for two weeks. My mom would stay over and watch me every night. The doctors couldn't get me to eat. At 8 weeks I was finally injected with penicillin, and within hours did nothing but eat. They couldn't stop me from eating. (I'm sure they tried. Those hospitals are on a pretty tight budget, you know.) I was the world's youngest food junkie.

I ended up gaining over a pound a week, and by the time I was 11 weeks, I was 10 pounds, and put on a diet. I guess I showed those doctors. These things stick with you, Any of you that have been visiting The Juicy Cerebellum for any length of time know how much I love doctors, and the American Medical Industry. See? These "less than 12 steps" really work. Thanks Dr. Worley!

Go on to part 2 in "How To Create A Cynic In Less Than 12 Steps", where we take a stab at that wonderful formative fuck farm known as Elementary School!

1998 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved]. Don't copy this without permission from the author. Cynics have been known to place those who rip them off on no-salt diets, without any t.v. for a year.

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