In the midst of a conversation I thought “Hm, I wonder what happened to Lou Diamond Phillips?” The answer is that he’s in a forthcoming film called The Sweet Science which is about a hard-nosed boxing manager (Phillips) who teams up with an unknown female boxer (Mariah Carey) to achieve success and make a name for them both.

While you’re choking on the idea of Mariah Carey as a boxer I should point out that the film also stars Donald Trump and actual real boxer Laila Ali.

Now this may just seem like an opportunity for a couple of cheap jokes and then a movie to resolutely avoid, but think for a moment. This may be your chance to pay $10 and see Mariah Carey get the shit beaten out of her by a professional boxer, like this:

I think they may have a surprise hit on their hands.

friendly_bandit gave me an iPod case that he somehow acquired at work tonight. It’s really neat; one of those “sports” cases that’s very protective. He knows I’m sort of umm… hard on electronics.

I went to the head doctor today and whined a bit, and he poked and prodded and asked lots of questions and is moving medicines around. It cost a lot of money because my deductible isn’t satisfied yet for this year. I have to see my medical doctor too and I really don’t want to, because he always orders up a load of lab tests and I end up being out several hundred dollars despite my “good” coverage. I wonder why people can’t see that this system is Soylent Green?

So I’m going off the Cymbalta and going on Lexapro, which sounds either like a knockoff luxury car or something you use to wax your knockoff luxury car. Or maybe it’s a fraudulent financial services company.

Tonight’s parade of oddities at D’s included:

1. That weathered guy who always comes in and asks for a cigarette from someone, and then has The Story about his car breaking down and how he needs a couple extra bucks.
2. Vaguely gothy young woman in an outfit consisting of a parachute-like two colored party dress, long knitted sweatercoat, tall boots, pale pale face makeup, and dyed red hair.
3. Plump rock ‘n’ roll chick wearing jeans that she probably thought of as artfully ripped, but were cut open in the back in several places up the legs, between the joints and dangerously close to the buttocks. It looked as though she had backed into a Weed-Wacker™
4. Us

I am, lately, the Enemy of Fun. Sorry ’bout that.

daowajan apparently found this. Seriously wtf.
we’re protecting your children from the horrors of the encyclopedia

“You might say that this renders the death of the donkey in conjunction with the making of the film meaningless”

Impressive iPod hack.

Tomorrow is Crapmas.

We should all get together and give each other moderately annoying, cheapass gifts and then go to eat at Norms.

I got an early present today from my doctor: a new medication!

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

—Stephen Crane
from The Black Riders and Other Lines

The world is too much with us.

We are not fooled at all. You may drop the pretense that mental health care is scientific.

We understand that most of you are in good faith trying to be helpful. But we’re still in the medieval stage with this stuff and it’s time to admit it.

The drugs you prescribe are sometimes helpful but have outrageous side effects, and often cause the opposite primary effect from the intended one. While we applaud your research efforts, the current products are often ineffective or dangerous. And let’s not even get into the surgical ideas here.

Psychotherapy in its myriad forms is mainly religious and not practical. Great theories of the human mind and soul are invented out of thin air and applied to patients with an assumption of authority that is entirely undeserved. We know what’s going on. You’re kicking the TV and congratulating yourselves when the picture looks better. The sheer number of psychotherapeutic methods and their incredible variation suggests that any egotist with a Ph.D. and a charismatic argumentative style can invent a new school of therapy and get away with it. There are no standards.

This isn’t science. It isn’t medicine. In fact, the intellectual standards of this field would not be accepted at a good hair salon.

Please, please get real with us and just admit you’re making shit up out of desperation. It’s not like we can’t tell already.

Hugs,

The “patients”

Sith tested, kid approved.