January 19, 2005
Did you ever have a dog that you really loved and watch it die when you were a child? I did, and I'll bet that a lot of other kids did, too. Remember all the professional counciling you received for how to handle that grief?
Mine consisted of my daddy helping me dig a hole in the back yard and bury my dog. That was my counciling. After that, I just had to get over it. Oh, I was heartbroken and I really missed my dog--- and I didn't recover right away--- I mourned for about a month. But I survived.
What's the first thing that happens now when any kind of disaster affects a kid's life? TA-DAH!!!! We send a fleet of airplanes carrying "grief councilers" to minister to all the wounded young psyches. Those trained professionals are able to take a child dealing with grief, analyze the problem, and apply therapy techniques that MAKE THAT GRIEF A LIFE-LONG OBSESSION!!!
Somewhere, in between inventing the wheel and curing polio, we managed to create our very own high-tech witch doctors. They are called "councilers" today.
You know what they REALLY do? They pick at scabs. Remember when you were little and you banged up your knee and got a big, ole SCAB over the wound? You wanted to pick at it, but your mama wouldn't let you. "If you keep picking at that, it'll NEVER get well!"
Mama was right, too.
I submit the we have more psychological maladies today, more people requiring therapy, more people suffering from Post-Traumatic-Stress or raving PMS, and more goddam EXCUSES for being fucked-up than we've ever had before because we have COUNCILERS. They're poisoning minds all over the place.
Nothing you do is your own fault anymore. You probably never recovered from the death of your dog when you were ten years old. It's all okay. Just talk about it--- over and over again.
If that ain't picking at a scab, I don't know what is.
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