Traumatized by George Will
I may not be able to blog today because I feel so traumatized, really just battered to within an inch of my life, by George Will's column on the therapy culture. He is not merely criticizing the softness of our culture and the runaway self-esteem movement; he is personally disapproving, in that purse-lipped way of his, of my decision to hire a therapist to live in my house. People have chaffeurs and nannies and chefs, I don't see why they can't have a therapist on staff. (Though try finding one that really knows how to listen. I am always snapping my fingers two inches in front of the eyes of my dozing therapist. I hate it when the therapist nods off just when I'm getting to the really good stuff about my Mom and the time she insisted that I clean my room and thereby caused permanent Psychic Scarring.) In any case I feel like George Will has invaded my emotional space. This column triggered a dangerous blood pressure spike, indigestion, cloudy vision, and a strange feeling that my tongue had become furry. I am thinking of filing an official grievance to the department here that handles Post-Traumatic George Will Column Disorder. Though I hear they're understaffed.
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