The Troubled Therapist

February 23, 2012

Rick Santorum, Newt Gingrich and Blow Jobs

Into the distance straight to the point of turning back, I can’t escape or remain free from tongue twisting. So instead of turning to stone or leucotomy, I indulge in the tedium of group practice as a practitioner of being adrift. Add determining factors like attendance, participation, flatulation, and me as a group leader intent on fantasy and moronic leading questions aimed at wasting time, and you’ve got group dynamics disguised as a Republican Presidential debate or an understanding of what I’m trying to decipher in this post ( message me with a $50.00 check or a coupon for Manny’s Medical Maui Wowie if this makes sense).
Okay … just a little pin prick.
Journeying to the center of the mind is a heady trip. Psychedelics, confusion, a howling wind carrying the flatulence of those along the watchtower help to share the psychotic load — loaded or unloaded. In medical terminology it’s simply stated as Expressive Language Disorder — an impairment in expressive language development as demonstrated by scores on standardized individually administered measures of expressive language development substantially below those obtained from standardized measures of both nonverbal intellectual capacity and receptive language development, including verbal language, sign language, Rick Santorum’s religious delusions, Mitt Romney’s plasticized attempts at verbal language through practiced animated facial expressions and body tics, Newt Gingrich’s ability to over-bloat and Ron Paul’s whinny huffiness.
Hello is there anybody in there?
The linguistic features of Expressive Language Disorder [ELD] varies depending on its severity and the age of the patient [politician]. These features include a limited amount of speech, limited range of vocabulary, difficulty acquiring new words, word-finding or vocabulary errors, shortened sentences, simplified grammatical structures, limited varieties of grammatical structures, limited varieties of sentence types, omissions of critical parts of sentences, use of unusual word order, and slow rate of language development — acquired either through biological means or sloppy oral sex (conservatives still dispute this despite indicative indicators [Rick Santorum has a call in to the Vatican for clarification {Ron Paul relates to Newt Gingrich through hand mimicry and rolling eyes {{Gingrich, prone to crowing and barking, hides his ELD from Ron Paul with an overindulgence in Ho Ho’s and flatulence overload — biological}} that Santorum is in desperate need of oral sex post coitus} — lost in a teleprompter translation Mitt Romney misinterprets as a sign to change direction, philosophy, and the CD playing static in his head]).
Hey you with you ear against the wall can you hear me?
As I’ve stated: group therapy, debates and Rick Santorum shadow singing Pink Floyd can be tedious. Elections or talk talk sessions disguised as intelligent banter aren’t for the political or medical astute [destitute]. The cure is not a rock band or in the cure for ELD, which isn’t found in treatment, but in avoidance.
Come on, it’s time to go.
These gentle voices I hear explain it all with a sigh. For ELD, Santorum backs aspirin between the knees therapy post speaking in tongues with Jesus and Satan’s attorney. Mitt Romney has no clue as to whether he believes in intelligent banter, and thus can’t believe his beliefs until they are otherwise believable. Newt Gingrich [Ho Ho crumbed] insists on insisting he’s breathing in and breathing out despite current polling [and sexual] position. Ron Paul reminds himself he’s so very special — after all, he’s opposed to breathing in and breathing out unless he’s debating.
… And President Obama promises me that my Manny coupon is in the mail.


February 14, 2012

Mitt Romney, Rick Santorum and Ritalin Marsmallows

You know I got to take it easy. I saw the lemonade kid hawking Ritalin marshmallows for good times and a whole bunch of “see you laters”. And it got me to thinking. The world is a cheap theatre. We are all patrons — some paying, some forced-contributors and the ones like me: interpreters bogarting reality.

Hey Mr. Spaceman won’t you please take me along … hey Mr. Spaceman … u’mm … what [?]

Why is Mitt Romney singing a long time gone? Surely he can’t stand the light of day. Oh he speaks out against the madness, but he is what he speaks out against as he tries to get himself elected. And the madness: A history of many physical complaints beginning before age 30 years that occur over a period of several years and result in treatment being sought or significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning is really a long time coming. Or so it appears in mirrors.


All Mitt wants to do is be friends with the many of his personas — inspected or rejected. In this I see him as an interpreter bogarting his reality in a clandestine way so far from where he left himself after promising not to do like he did — now or in the future. He must fly. She must fly. Who? Whom? Mitt? Who knows? He doesn’t.

And the lemonade kid hawking Ritalin marshmallows…? His whole bunch of “see you laters” have harvested into cultish boredom respective of the introspective culture shock Rick Santorum has embraced and released to the public in numerous debates and hefty Pennsylvania earmarks earmarked for open hands before clasping in prayer. Oh he’s craftily crafted innocent enough, but don’t let his looking like the Big Boy statue serving burgers in Warren, Michigan fool you or the many personas [Romney] Newt Gingrich wishes would fade away on the street where he lives sufficiently breathless and fat. Yes, Newt too wishes he could fly, figure out reality and figure spaghetti dinners disguised as lasagna metaphors and historical bipedal histrionics.

Newt is such a fig.

Hey Mr. Spaceman I want to come along. Hey Mr. Spaceman … I’m so tired, my mind is on the blink …

I didn’t realize the effective nature of my treatment coinciding with a history of many physical complaints beginning before age 30 years that occur over a period of several years and result in treatment being sought or significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. My patients can see what I see and I need you Michele Bachmann.

Can you hear me knocking?

November 8, 2011

Herman Cain’s need for Helium and Pop Tarts

Happy times are depressing without helium. Don’t worry if you find yourself without helium or a physician [psychiatrist, ophthalmologist, phlebotomist, {or horse whisperer}] willing to write a script for tension alleviating pharmaceuticals or Thai massage happy endings. I’m going to discuss a potential epidemic seeping into the electoral culture, kindergartens, free form finger paintings and Joe Cocker interpreter associations: flipmitusfloppimusrearrangeddreangement  [FFRD[or say what [?] disease]}].

Now I know the millions of you not following my blog would rather I discuss Dyspareunia and the depression that can result from vaginismus and the complete lack of lubrication in grape jelly, but present topic sideways, the need for FFRD education is paramount in Peoria and beyond.

To understand the symptoms of FFRD, the medical disestablishment must first recognize [my genius] potential afflicted affected nondescript described sufferers, and to distinguish said sufferers with potential plaintiffs of a class action suit aimed at silencing and lobotomizing [my genius] practitioners versed in the idiosyncrasies of Herman Cain’s denials, rebuttals, fondness for big butts, and secret-sauce stuffed salamis, or Mitt Romney’s fascination with which way the wind blows and imagined conversations with Ken dolls and Rick Perry [sans funny penguin walk and imagined disbelief at the believable {as it pertains to the scriptures and cartoon network marathons}] Ron Paul casting puppet shadows at Rick Santorum.


More clarification?

Think of Michele Bachmann — I do three times a day. My fascination with her ability to increase paranoia within a delusional state [hers] as it pertains to Orville Redenbacher’s super secret popcorn and the gayness associated with corndogs brings on a serious case of Dyspareunia, but I digest.

More clarification?

Well, add to my research [fantasy] that Bachmann exhibits no signs of FFRD: external finger paint stains, Joe Cocker seizure-gestures [or faxed-facsimiles], leads one to believe her strengths struggle with cogent thought and tuna fish. Now I suggest one pay careful attention to the finger paint stains of Romney, Perry, Santorum, Paul [Gingrich ate his] { Cain is in perpetual denial of all things stained and oral}], and you have it: classic flipmitusfloppimusrearrangeddreangement  [FFRD[or say what [?] disease]}]  Sadly, the only known cure is helium or codeine coated pop tarts — untoasted.

Now where’s the grape jelly?

April 13, 2010

Michele Bachmann, Newt Gingrich and Boners

Let me be upfront, Bipolar disorder is not a mental illness manifesting somewhere between the North and South Pole [Brazil or Alaska was initially studied {I don’t know why} for the study I refuse to study]. But I do know that Bipolar Disorder involves periods of excitability [mania] alternating with periods of depression [a real sucky feeling]. The “mood swings” between mania and depression can be very abrupt—sometimes not. That’s why I’d rather discuss Tentative-Primordial-Priapism-Interuptus, or TPPIx2 to the 1⁄4 square root of an apple pie. So let’s be cautious and get on the same page.

TPPIx2 blah…blah…blah is considered a medical emergency, and a distressed patient should receive proper treatment by a qualified medical practitioner [me]. Early treatment can be beneficial for a functional recovery and my financial well-being. Medical advice [ha!] should be sought immediately for cases of TPPIx2 blah…blah…blah lasting beyond four hours. Generally, this is done at an emergency department or Target store. Orally administered pseudoephedrine [or orange soda] may be effective. Otherwise, the therapy at this stage is to aspirate aspirations from the corpus cavernosum under local anaesthetic [I suggest minimally cut cocaine]. If this is still insufficient, then intracavernosal injections of phenylephrine along with a salve consisting of chocolate milk, granola bars [generic is okay] and Michele Bachmann’s saliva are administered—applied. [Note] This should only be performed by a trained urologist, gymnast, a priest well versed in apologetic verbiage, anthropologist or Newt Gingrich, and with the patient under constant hemodynamic monitoring, as phenylephrine can cause severe hypertension, bradycardia, tachycardia, and arrhythmia [Michele Bachman’s saliva has been known to cause causal causiligia in a causative cavalcade way {ask Sean Hannity post-boner}].

Do I see hope in the treatment of TPPIx2 blah…blah…blah? Maybe—at least I hope so. Bipolar Disorder was once thought to be unmanageable if not manageable. Manic signs and symptoms such as restlessness and increased energy, irritability, thoughts racing, failure to sleep, substandard judgment, abuse of drugs, increased sex desires, wild spending sprees and aggressive or violent behavior exist while depressive episodes of sadness, hopelessness, feelings of worthlessness or guilt, no more interest or pleasure in activities or sexual experience, decreased energy and fatigue, over sleeping, or thoughts of suicide also exist, if not continue to be a source of alternate equations unsolved by the divide of the polar ice caps and Heineken Beer. Then again, there’s always hypo-masturbation.

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