What in the name of Buddha's butthole is a Flozberk?

"Flozberk" is a synthesized neologism - a word I made out of other words, borne from the realization that a certain man I knew was too weak to merit his household bearing his name.

The current core of The Flozberks is my idiot half-sister Neila and her compliant husband Reagan, their sort-of grown offspring Tiffany and Ryan, plus Tiffany's husband Langdon. Ryan is, as of this writing, married, too, but, well, uh...not significantly. More on that later.

It's also something of a concept, comprised of The Istanbul Bunch (TIB), a gaggle of fucking whackos my Dad, Charlie, happened upon while working as an engineer in Turkey in 1964.

Said gaggle numbered six: Mom, her alleged mother Mutchie, her alleged father Theo, her two young children John and Neila, and her dirtbag ex-husband Aydin. Of the six, only John and Neila remain living, and the latter is very likely on borrowed time.

Additionally, we have the old matriarch Zsa Zsa, who Dad never knew, and honorable mentions Reagan's parents, John's kids, John's kid's kid, and Tasha the German Shepherd, all of whom are architects of some of The Flozberk Way and/or have been negatively affected by it.

TIB
The Istanbul Bunch is fascinating, with an astonishing flair for living in layers of dream worlds beset by irrationality, stubbornness, wastefulness, and foolishness. They tend to be autocrats who pursue and maintain gross imbalances of power and react poorly to being held accountable.

Their history of wasted potential, squandered resources, painful estrangements, woeful strife, bloodsucking parasitism, skid mark failure, and just plain bizarre behavior is nothing short of spectacular, and blisteringly so when it's all laid out on a spreadsheet.

The harm, from mere bewilderment and annoyance to laying lives to waste they have wreaked upon one another, the rest of their family, and the peripheral players and strangers around them is vast.

These people have and had many wonderful qualities, but it's the wrong we produce, not the right, that ultimately defines us. Even a very dysfunctional person has to get many or most things right to slog through life at a level above that of a turtle. But, like with a car, one or two serious malfunctions renders the whole machine impotent or worse. Comfy seats are of little use if the car doesn't move. If flaming gasoline shoots out the speakers at ya, well, that's even worse.

Knowing these people has been absolutely grueling, and how grueling it truly was only became clear upon greater separation from them and their world. They are walking monuments to the seven deadly sins.

TAB
The Arkansas Bunch is Dad and his family and are opposites of the TIB trainwreck. A large, Catholic mob heavily borne of sturdy farm people, they show a very consistent pattern of success and strong relationships. I've never seen such a large group of people who are so uniformly rock-solid. It's damn impressive, and the disparities between TAB and TIB, in terms of their quality as people, are immense.

Unfortunately, my and Dad's existences were smothered by TIB while TAB was shut out of our lives by Mom. Early and into adulthood, I'd no choice but to be TIB, but the more I lived and learned, the more I cleaved unto Dad's down-home TAB values based on simple reality, rationality, balance, fairness, thriftiness, and common sense.

The more I distanced myself from TIB and The Flozberk Way, the better my life and results became. That said, I truly care about the Flozberks and want them to do well - everyone has suffered more than enough. Their prosperity, however, must not come invalidly at my expense.

My deepest thanks to the TABers who listened to Dad and quietly helped document the ongoing misdeeds of them wacky ol' TIBers. You helped make possible a much more effective offense and defense as I fight to see that Dad's wishes and legacy are honored.

And, here we are.

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So, What in the Hell is a Flozberk?