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Whaaaat?

Whaaaat?

Dear Diary:

I was in Dr. Fishman’s waiting room today and I read a magazine article on new, alternative kinds of therapy. I think the magazine was called, “Therapy Illustrated,” or “Therapy Times,” or “Therapy Fancy,” which apparently is like “Cat Fancy” for crackpots. Whatever.

 

One of the articles made me laugh out loud (which, FYI, disturbed the woman sitting next to me, who seemed to be counting her teeth over and over again and copiously writing down her results on the back of a Bed, Bath & Beyond 20% off coupon, which when she left it behind, I took – you can never have enough of those).  The article was about, “Art Therapy.” Which is a treatment method for mental illness involving artwork. How does that work?

 

 Patient: “Doctor! Last night I killed my mother, stabbed a neighbor and burned down an orphanage.”

Shrink:     “Decouppage?

 

On one hand, I call “bullshit.” John Wayne Gacy liked to paint (mostly clowns – don’t ask), and Charles Manson was known for his fine pen and ink work, especially on his forehead. Art Therapy didn’t exactly help those fellas’, now did it?

 

On the other hand, if art really can be therapeutic how do we explain Toulouse-Lautrec (drug addict), Salvador Dali (eccentric) or Vincent van Gogh (pre & post ear removal).? Please note, Da Vinci is not on this list – he was nearsighted, not crazy.

 

I prefer traditional “talk therapy,” I talk and Dr. Fishman listens. Or sleeps. Or gives himself a pedicure; I honestly don’t know. He’s on a chair behind me – he could be building a nuclear bomb and I’d have no idea. And honestly, I wouldn’t care. As long as I get my forty-five-minute hour I don’t give a fuck what he does. Although at the end of a session, he if ever whips an easel and some Crayons, he’s fired.

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