There are a lot of worried and dejected people out there who carry inner demons the size of large capacity refrigerators. There's anger and confusion. There's an epidemic of teeth grinding and sales of antacids are through the roof. Antidepressants are mere fingers in the dike against a sea of despair. Inner peace is in short supply. Let's face it: we have bred a new generation of narcissists whose images in the mirror long for impossible complexions. We are spoilers and we have spoiled them. Yes, the American world has become a wicked place where the emotional wiring short-circuits and our modern goddess is perfection.
Therefore, armed with an advanced degree and a stack of unexpired certificates, I am striking out on my own, to start a new counseling agency. My aim: to iron out the wrinkles of bad behavior, to puff up the sags of deflated egos, to instill hope to those with expired parking meters, to eradicate the mold of poisonous thinking with my therapeutic power washer. When people walk out of my agency, they will feel empowered, like they just mowed down a herd of zombies in The Walking Dead.
But what to name this new beacon of hope? What to scrawl on my shingle? The brand should jump out from the counseling crowd like a Hooters ad on a billboard. I have some thoughts about therapeutic approaches and jazzy names, and so far, I've narrowed the possibilities to these contenders:
Tom's Counseling and Live Bait Many clients feel more comfortable when minnow tanks bubble in the waiting room and crawlers cool in the fridge. Our shiners and chubs are sure to grab the attention of smallmouth, walleye, and steelhead alike, cheap at $3.99 a dozen. Our night crawlers come handpicked from Canada. Before heading out to the lake, clients can catch some counseling with our angling staff who are well-versed in talk about the local fishery. Serious "issues" are to be avoided at all costs. Relationship "issues" can walk the plank. Whining and blaming can take a hike, because, and let's face it, there's no better therapy than to be outside with a line of hope in the water.
Awesome Therapy How did the word "awesome" ever gain such widespread traction over such a long haul? I remember way back in 1969 when I told a high school friend that I managed to swipe a joint's worth of dope from my older sister's stash. His response: "Totally awesome, dude." (And now that I think about it, it did turn out pretty awesome.) That was nearly fifty years ago and "awesome" since then, in this age of attention spans as short as the first line of Moby Dick, has become the go-to describer for everything mildly positive to mildly interesting to news of fairly good fortune. Moreover, "awesome" has become the consummate conversation finisher as it encapsulates all that has preceded it. When a listener finally responds to a happy-ending story with, "That's so awesome!"… the discussion is officially closed. Besides that, no one ever second-guesses a proclamation of awesomeness. Once something rises to the quality of awesomeness (which seems like most everything), it becomes an edict from God. Therefore, when my shingle is out there on the street, swinging like a pendulum in the wind, and proclaims that this is the place, right here, where Awesome happens, well, people will flock in like sheep, sheep of every cloth and mental health diagnosis.
Randolph Street Collision and Counseling Many of today's businesses have discovered that fiscal survival depends on partnership. It turns out that my favorite body shop has a spare storage room and the owner would be willing to merge our interests on their signpost. There is no better counseling venue than the body shop waiting room, where motorists traumatized by fender benders and exorbitant repair bills convene. Many suffer through grief issues as they witness their favorite Buick or Mazda getting sandblasted to the bone. These people need a sympathetic ear and a good heart to heart. There's hope in surviving the near-fatal crash. Clients' self esteem can be bolstered as they gaze at their images reflected in a shiny coat of new paint. Besides, all those body shop fumes medicate customers' frayed edges and prime them nicely for therapy and willing payments for services.
Hair o' the Dog Two words: Labrador retriever. Nothin' says lovin' like a devoted Lab. And let's face it: the great mass of the emotionally afflicted, deep down, just need a hug, just need to belong. Every human being bursts from the womb in need of a prolonged embrace, and somewhere along the way, at the most crucial time, what they needed most they didn't get. A Lab, of course, knows nothing about broken pasts, only that she wants to lie next to you with her head resting on your knee. At Hair o' the Dog, the corridors swarm with therapy dogs, all Labs, canine companions, who will spend two solid hours per session with the depressed, the angry, the fearful, and the lonely. Treatment plans are simple: Goal 1 - Take dog to lake with stick. Goal 2 - Recline with dog on couch while watching TV. Goal 3 - Introduce dog to family and/or friends. In the therapeutic relationship, human beings always fall short. Labs always exceed expectations. They are incapable of anything but unconditional positive regard. The only reason clients would leave treatment is they wind up getting their own dogs.
Innovative Therapies, Inc. My agency would offer a smorgasbord of helping tools. Imagine the sufferer walking into an office for the first time and being handed a glossy, plastic-shrouded menu by our smiling receptionist. Take your pick from an assortment of therapeutic "entrees" at very competitive prices. For example:
Meep! Meep! -- A great antidote to chronic fear. Our tattoo therapist will inject into your forearm an inky image of Road Runner. Then every time the sufferer encounters a fearsome situation, a glance down at the arm will remind him of exactly what to do: Spit out a road runner "meep" and run like hell.
The Noogie -- When you're having a good day or, say, you remembered to take your meds, come on down to counseling! Nothing extols a personal triumph like a therapist's supportive knuckles scrubbing across the scalp. No appointment necessary.
Turn the Tables -- You're not alone. Let's face it: deep down, everyone's a douchebag, including, yes, your therapist. Especially your therapist. Our staff stands ready to provide you a full inventory of their annoying character flaws. Give 'em hell about their anal retentiveness, how they pad expense sheets, and their porn addictions. Let 'er rip! You'll walk out feeling you're not so bad after all.
Keep It Simple -- For the drug and alcohol dependent, talking is counterproductive. Walk into your therapist's office and try to get a word in edgewise. It won't work. Every time you open your mouth, your counselor will glare into your eyes and cut you off. They always say the six magic words: "Shut up and go to meetings." Sessions last the full fifty minutes.
The Laughing Buddha -- Nothing cries out in the present moment like a noisy fart. Your counselor will equip you with a recording device and a diet rich in legumes. Homework consists of recording your gaseous expulsions, one by one, as they thunder along in the days to come. Every two weeks, play back the tape in session and see what happens. Your life, and the life of your counselor, will be filled with joy. As you develop a keen awareness of your body's gaseous movements, you become encamped in The Now. After a year with The Laughing Buddha, play your "musical" tape whenever men and boys gather, and you'll make friends for life.
Therefore, armed with an advanced degree and a stack of unexpired certificates, I am striking out on my own, to start a new counseling agency. My aim: to iron out the wrinkles of bad behavior, to puff up the sags of deflated egos, to instill hope to those with expired parking meters, to eradicate the mold of poisonous thinking with my therapeutic power washer. When people walk out of my agency, they will feel empowered, like they just mowed down a herd of zombies in The Walking Dead.
But what to name this new beacon of hope? What to scrawl on my shingle? The brand should jump out from the counseling crowd like a Hooters ad on a billboard. I have some thoughts about therapeutic approaches and jazzy names, and so far, I've narrowed the possibilities to these contenders:
Tom's Counseling and Live Bait Many clients feel more comfortable when minnow tanks bubble in the waiting room and crawlers cool in the fridge. Our shiners and chubs are sure to grab the attention of smallmouth, walleye, and steelhead alike, cheap at $3.99 a dozen. Our night crawlers come handpicked from Canada. Before heading out to the lake, clients can catch some counseling with our angling staff who are well-versed in talk about the local fishery. Serious "issues" are to be avoided at all costs. Relationship "issues" can walk the plank. Whining and blaming can take a hike, because, and let's face it, there's no better therapy than to be outside with a line of hope in the water.
Awesome Therapy How did the word "awesome" ever gain such widespread traction over such a long haul? I remember way back in 1969 when I told a high school friend that I managed to swipe a joint's worth of dope from my older sister's stash. His response: "Totally awesome, dude." (And now that I think about it, it did turn out pretty awesome.) That was nearly fifty years ago and "awesome" since then, in this age of attention spans as short as the first line of Moby Dick, has become the go-to describer for everything mildly positive to mildly interesting to news of fairly good fortune. Moreover, "awesome" has become the consummate conversation finisher as it encapsulates all that has preceded it. When a listener finally responds to a happy-ending story with, "That's so awesome!"… the discussion is officially closed. Besides that, no one ever second-guesses a proclamation of awesomeness. Once something rises to the quality of awesomeness (which seems like most everything), it becomes an edict from God. Therefore, when my shingle is out there on the street, swinging like a pendulum in the wind, and proclaims that this is the place, right here, where Awesome happens, well, people will flock in like sheep, sheep of every cloth and mental health diagnosis.
Randolph Street Collision and Counseling Many of today's businesses have discovered that fiscal survival depends on partnership. It turns out that my favorite body shop has a spare storage room and the owner would be willing to merge our interests on their signpost. There is no better counseling venue than the body shop waiting room, where motorists traumatized by fender benders and exorbitant repair bills convene. Many suffer through grief issues as they witness their favorite Buick or Mazda getting sandblasted to the bone. These people need a sympathetic ear and a good heart to heart. There's hope in surviving the near-fatal crash. Clients' self esteem can be bolstered as they gaze at their images reflected in a shiny coat of new paint. Besides, all those body shop fumes medicate customers' frayed edges and prime them nicely for therapy and willing payments for services.
Hair o' the Dog Two words: Labrador retriever. Nothin' says lovin' like a devoted Lab. And let's face it: the great mass of the emotionally afflicted, deep down, just need a hug, just need to belong. Every human being bursts from the womb in need of a prolonged embrace, and somewhere along the way, at the most crucial time, what they needed most they didn't get. A Lab, of course, knows nothing about broken pasts, only that she wants to lie next to you with her head resting on your knee. At Hair o' the Dog, the corridors swarm with therapy dogs, all Labs, canine companions, who will spend two solid hours per session with the depressed, the angry, the fearful, and the lonely. Treatment plans are simple: Goal 1 - Take dog to lake with stick. Goal 2 - Recline with dog on couch while watching TV. Goal 3 - Introduce dog to family and/or friends. In the therapeutic relationship, human beings always fall short. Labs always exceed expectations. They are incapable of anything but unconditional positive regard. The only reason clients would leave treatment is they wind up getting their own dogs.
Innovative Therapies, Inc. My agency would offer a smorgasbord of helping tools. Imagine the sufferer walking into an office for the first time and being handed a glossy, plastic-shrouded menu by our smiling receptionist. Take your pick from an assortment of therapeutic "entrees" at very competitive prices. For example:
Meep! Meep! -- A great antidote to chronic fear. Our tattoo therapist will inject into your forearm an inky image of Road Runner. Then every time the sufferer encounters a fearsome situation, a glance down at the arm will remind him of exactly what to do: Spit out a road runner "meep" and run like hell.
The Noogie -- When you're having a good day or, say, you remembered to take your meds, come on down to counseling! Nothing extols a personal triumph like a therapist's supportive knuckles scrubbing across the scalp. No appointment necessary.
Turn the Tables -- You're not alone. Let's face it: deep down, everyone's a douchebag, including, yes, your therapist. Especially your therapist. Our staff stands ready to provide you a full inventory of their annoying character flaws. Give 'em hell about their anal retentiveness, how they pad expense sheets, and their porn addictions. Let 'er rip! You'll walk out feeling you're not so bad after all.
Keep It Simple -- For the drug and alcohol dependent, talking is counterproductive. Walk into your therapist's office and try to get a word in edgewise. It won't work. Every time you open your mouth, your counselor will glare into your eyes and cut you off. They always say the six magic words: "Shut up and go to meetings." Sessions last the full fifty minutes.
The Laughing Buddha -- Nothing cries out in the present moment like a noisy fart. Your counselor will equip you with a recording device and a diet rich in legumes. Homework consists of recording your gaseous expulsions, one by one, as they thunder along in the days to come. Every two weeks, play back the tape in session and see what happens. Your life, and the life of your counselor, will be filled with joy. As you develop a keen awareness of your body's gaseous movements, you become encamped in The Now. After a year with The Laughing Buddha, play your "musical" tape whenever men and boys gather, and you'll make friends for life.
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