You’re only lonely if you’re not there for you.
– Dr. Phil McGraw
Trouble sleeping? Feel like the world is tearing at the seams? Afraid of the “weirdos” walking late at night, looking all so weird doing their weird stuff? Worried that you’re worrying about being worried?
If so, you’ve come to the right place! Admitting you have a problem is the first step towards recovery. Because you can’t work on improving yourself if you aren’t previously convinced of being a completely useless no-good space-wasting poor excuse for a sac of maggot crap.
It’s true, it’s true… we live in uncertain times: a time plagued by recessive anal eroticism and chronic masturbation.
That’s no picnic.
Now… how can we help you help us help you?
Come, have a look at this gooey painting and tell me what you see. Hum, that’s interesting. So tell me about your mother. Right. Now, I won’t diagnose you with anything because I don’t want to get sued (again), but just to be on the safe side I think you should take three of these before bed and two of those in the morning. You should be fine six to eight years from now. Look here, I’ve got all these diplomas.
Of course, treatment has some side-effects, like flash narcolepsy and a strange attraction to 1990’s boy-bands, but you shouldn’t let that get in the way of finally achieving mental health and fulfilling all your judeo-christian dreams, like mowing the lawn and teaching your kids how to gun down herds of defenceless moose.
Don’t you feel better already? You don’t? Oh, hush hush, that’s because you’re not qualified to be properly happy. But we can try to begin to maybe fix that someday.
Now, as I process your credit card information, I want you to take a deep breath. Calm down, try to think positive. Can I interest you in my latest new revolutionary therapy self-help handbook? And while we’re at it, would you care to learn about our next installment of innovative ground-breaking life-changing two-day seminars?
Remember now, just because you’re completely inept and dysfunctional and it’s all your fault doesn’t mean you’re not a unique and very special miracle of nature. Moreso, you should know that, contrary to your one-in-a-million-blazing-fireworks of a personality, your condition is not all that uncommon. Oh yes, a lot of people suffer from Crazy-Ass Complex. My mailman, for one. Also my three daughters, my dog Scrippy, my old gym teacher and that nice lady by the newsstand. Then there’s Gina my secretary, the super at my condo, that red-haired chick from True Blood I dream about at lunch and Gumbo the Guinea Pig, star of that ever so popular kids show.
But, ho! Look at that! I’m afraid our time is up! So sorry, I can only pretend to care for so long. But don’t give up… there’s hope. And when there’s hope, there’s money, which means I’ll stick around, fifty minutes of forced friendship each and every week, if we keep it up something’s bound to give at some point. We just have to make sure you get the right kind of help, the certified kind. And if that doesn’t convince you, you can at least find comfort in the knowledge that you’re not alone. Paying for a shot at mental health has always been an essential part of the human condition. We’re all here, improving, forever and ever and ever. It’s better his way: we don’t recommend changing the world, it’s not good for business.
And in any case, who’s gonna listen to you, if not me? Everyone’s in therapy!