Restaurants Must Serve Mentally Ill Diners

Diner abandoned

If you’re anything like me, and I hope for your sake and the sake of your children that you are not, you’ve wrestled with your mental illness secure in the certainty that society cared about you only to the extent that it fervently wished you would excuse yourself from the room and be scarce in the way voles are scarce; that is to say, demonstrate your respect for “nice” people by remaining invisible to them.

Frankly, there is something soothing about looking at the ladder which leads up and up to society’s golden promises only to realize that the first few rungs of yours have been sawed in half and you won’t even have a chance to fall off, much less climb. Soothing because, in life, it is comforting to know where one stands, or, as is the case here, doesn’t stand.

If you aren’t shocked and surprised by every disrespectful snub and injustice, you cannot be disappointed and consequently, will harbor no resentment. (To put it differently, it is the illusion of a just world that causes heartache, not the sting of an unjust one.)

Having said all this, I will admit to slight pangs of bitter jealousy as I watched the PC-Police catch up with one social inequity after another, leveling the scales by means of bare-knuckled intervention and, in some cases, even legislation. The foot in the door arrived when restaurants were divided into Smoking Sections and Non-Smoking Sections.

Suddenly, non-smokers, who up to that point had languished in a social lagoon reserved for the insufferably sanctimonious and self-righteous, were accepted and treated, albeit begrudgingly, like regular members of society.

Curb cuts, aisles wide enough for Buicks, much less wheelchairs, and ATM keypads in Braille followed soon thereafter until it seemed like everyone, everyone, had been accommodated – everyone but us, that is.

That is why I am so happy to report that, starting in September of this year, all restaurants will be required by law to provide designated areas reserved exclusively for the mentally ill. There will be booster chairs for anyone suffering from low self-esteem and, instead of asking if a dish was satisfactory, wait-staff will always inquire, “How did that make you feel?” Other compensatory features will be discussed as details become available.

Our Preeminent Mental Illness Humor Blogger

Alistair Scooter Hat

When you get to be my age you start asking yourself questions like, “What time is it?” and “What am I doing in Tijuana?” and “What is Martinizing and why does it only take one hour?”

If you are about to celebrate a birthday, (if celebrate is the right word), you may be tempted to gaze across the seemingly endless succession of impulsive decisions, high-speed car chases down cul-de-sacs, and manic spending sprees littering the ravages of what you generously describe as “your life” and wonder how you managed to squander the cornucopia of opportunities strewn at your feet as a child.

Or not. With a birthday looming large there is no time for such whackadoomiousness because I stand before you now, (imagine I’m standing), a man who has reached the pinnacle of his profession, the Everest he set out to conquer decades ago. That’s right, I am the Preeminent Mental Illness Humor Blogger in The United States!

Do not think I reached the pinnacle of my profession through some quirk of fate, some whim of circumstance, some chance twist of unpredictability, some like it hot, oh no, anything but. My ascent to this lofty height came about through the execution of a carefully constructed plan well in place before I received my first pair of full-length trousers.

Without any further adon’t, here it is: First I learned to write. Then I developed a sense of humor. I did this by carefully studying the creative output of Garrison Keillor, Sacha Baron Cohen, Andrew Dice Clay, and Gallagher to make absolutely certain my work never resembled theirs.

Then came the exciting part – choosing my mental illness. The selection was vast, almost dizzying. I wanted an illness I could take with me on trips, couldn’t be bothered with a lot of heavy equipment. Affordability was also a factor; some mental illnesses are prohibitively expensive! I was also looking for a mental illness with a little style, flare, panache, je ne sais quoi – whatever that is.

At last I settled on bipolar disorder, which came with a very impressive pedigree including many of my favorite writers, painters, and composers. The rest, as we say, is show business history.

So remember, most people don’t plan to fail, they plan to plan, and fail to do so long before they ever get around to it.

5 Ways Internet Use Causes Mental Illness

crazy drawing icon

The Internet is a repository for mental illnesses of every description, but did you know that the Internet is also one of the leading causes of mental illness? That’s the conclusion of researchers at The Institute for Advanced Study of Studied Institutionalization (IASSI).

At a recent press briefing, IASSI spokesman Reginald Frampton elaborated.

“Mentally Ill People, referred to as MIPs in our document, are particularly susceptible to the sustained level of psychosis that characterizes Internet traffic.

“MIPs are already having difficulty sorting out what’s real from what’s not, and extended immersion in the stew of dementia found in Facebook and other so called ‘social networking’ sites – which we at the institute call ‘nutworking’ sites – exacerbates an already worrisome situation.

“Unlike most think tank studies, which are roughly as deep as a Frisbee or the typical TED Talk, we have provided 5 action steps which, if aggressively implemented, will make the Internet safer for MIPs, and a whole lot less tiresome and irritating for non-MIPs. Here they are.

No more photographs of bacon. Everybody likes bacon; bacon does not need advocacy. The obsession with bacon is wreaking havoc among MIPs with eating disorders.

The word ‘awesome’ must be eliminated, that’s right, eliminated, except in cases where others are being told that the word ‘awesome’ must be eliminated, such as this one.

Clowns and mimes are universally loathed and feared, but nothing arouses existential dread quite like a talking baby. MIPs are okay with the occasional magician or ventriloquist; but the world of big pharma simply isn’t big enough to handle what happens when a MIP sees an infant cracking wise in a Brooklyn accent better suited to a 45-year old, beer swilling stevedore.

Magical thinking – ‘Click Here to End World Hunger’ – posts. These posts, which collect signatures for morally attractive liberal causes in hopes of influencing the powers that be so as to ultimately alter social policy for the better, thereby making the world a cheerier place inhabited by unicorns crooning Frank Sinatra tunes – never work. We know this, but MIPs do not. They click ‘Like’ for hours and, when nothing happens, become ever more despondent.

GIFs of people shooting themselves in the foot, walking into moving cars, or exploding. MIPs are no more appalled by lowbrow violence than the average citizen, however, the problem is that these twisted mini-movies repeat endlessly, thereby locking MIP viewers into a kind of video prison. Many a MIP suffering from OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) has been rendered catatonic by the incessant, repetitive cruelty that only GIFs deliver.”

At that point, Mr. Frampton reached for his smart phone and concluded the conference.

Passive/Aggressive Olympics

You Will Never Never Make Me Happy

Passive/Aggressive Behavior ( PAB ) plays an integral role in various kinds of mental illness. Historically referred to as Obnoxious Behavior ( OB ) or just plain Irritating Behavior ( IB ), Passive/Aggressive Behavior has been identified as both symptom and cause of a dizzying assortment of psychological maladies including, but not limited to, paranoia, paranormia, pareschewed, and Chumley Standpipe Syndrome ( CSS ).

Early psychiatrists, realizing PAB to be a very sneaky and elusive foe, adapted an innovative approach to treatment. They reasoned that, rather than causing patients to feel guilt about passive aggressive behavior, long-term recovery goals would be much better served by luring PAB out of its lair with promises of rewards, praise, and lucrative commercial endorsements. Far easier to treat a condition after it’s ventured into the open, they reasoned.

Dr. Zick Meind Phrawed stunned Zurich’s psychiatric community with the publication of his breakthrough paper, “So What If You Don’t Like My Paper? I Don’t Even Care!” In it, he argued passionately for a venue where passive/aggressive individuals (PAI) could proudly showcase their skills in a competitive context.

Dr. Phrawed managed to have his idea reviewed, and ultimately approved, by The International Council Of Psychologically Based Sporting Events (TICOPBSE). The first officially sanctioned games, held in Zurich, either were or weren’t a great success depending upon whom you ask and when you ask them.

Popular Events At The Passive/Aggressive Olympics

1. The exasperated sigh.

Extra points awarded when combined with eye roll and impatient foot tap. (World-class practitioners of this subtle skill have been known to train in high altitudes to build up lung power in oxygen-deprived environments.)

2. Conversation Hijack

Points are awarded for speed, abruptness, and implausibility of transitions. Once the conversation has been successfully hijacked, additional points are awarded for duration of control.

3. Pin The Blame On The Flunky

Blame may be shifted to an opponent, teammate, or referee. Points are awarded for shamelessness, smarm, and chutzpah.

4. Excuse Me!

The goal of this event is to provide excuses for failures that make the opponent appear to be responsible for the competitor’s fault. Extra points are scored if the opponent himself is actually convinced.

5. Going My Way?

This event seeks to discover just far out of the way an opponent can be gradually nudged into going. Extra points awarded if the opponent is manipulated so far out of his comfort zone he cannot find his way home.

Don’t miss a minute of this year’s Passive/Aggressive Olympics! Or do.

Wing Nut or Phony?

Mannequin Chair Sidewalk

In a culture as deeply superficial as ours it is often difficult to tell the authentic from the false.

It is easy to sympathize with the phonies, poseurs, affected wannabe’s and disingenuous empty vessels passing off pilfered ideas as original, skating past any serious analysis or criticism by others as an ant might slide across a non-stick sauce pan slathered with extra virgin olive oil.

Their dilemma is not unfamiliar. How does one stand out in an atmosphere of mass homogenization where, thanks to the constant recycling of mediocre ideas discarded by others, we are reduced to virtual clones, unable to generate anything original or even recognize originality in others?

With apps ever ready to do the work and thinking for us, today’s Johnny & Jane Lunchbucket simply don’t have the energy or ability to develop attributes sufficient to earn the name “personality”. So what’s a faker to do?

Simple – steal one! This is not as odd as it sounds, indeed, throughout history residents of society’s inner circle – where tedium is sought out and bland banality honored as a virtue – have looked beyond the castle walls for character, creativity, flair, vision and style. Shamelessly pillaging the campsites of society’s least loved minority groups they returned home with loot enough to pretend they were interesting.

And thus, gentle reader, do we arrive at the crux of this tale. You see, crazy is the new cool – and so – these days there are a lot of creeps passing themselves off as wing nuts when in fact they’re square bears in chicken outfits. This leaves the average citizen with the challenge of separating the honest to goodness wing nuts from the phonies.

Keep an ear out for these phrases; they will help you differentiate.

“I’m crazy, man, I’m dangerous, man. I could snap just like that.” Phony

“I am perfectly sane, no need to worry about me!” The Real Thing

“When I walk down the street, children run and hide.” Phony

“I stepped onto a Moebius strip to get to the same side.” The Real Thing

“My thoughts are too advanced for society.” Phony

“Wearing my underwear outside my clothes makes laundry day easier.” The Real Thing

“I hear voices and they all sound like Oprah Winfrey.” Phony

“I hear voices arguing with each other and ignoring me altogether.” The Real Thing

“I drink to forget something I’ve forgotten because I’ve been drinking.” Phony

“The more you drink the more talented I become.” The Real Thing

Hope these help! Be on the lookout, poseurs are everywhere!

Insanity An Unaffordable Luxury

Rochester Psychiatric FacilityV2

According to a study released recently by the American Association of Associated Americans (AAAA), insanity may soon be out of reach for all but the super-rich, if current trends continue.

Chumley Throckmorton, PR Liaison for AAAA, explained the findings at a recent press event.

“America was founded on democratic values,” he began, “our constitution guarantees specific freedoms like speech, religion, and the pursuit of happiness. Happiness means different things to different people but one thing is certain, for many of us it means embracing our inner whackadoomian and smiling shamelessly as the cheese drifts slowly off the cracker.

“If one quality has helped to shape this nation more than any other it is the enthusiastic celebration of personal insanity,” he smiled.

“Madness was no mere colorful side road of the American experience, oh no, looneytude carved Main Street out of a hostile wilderness, tied the sky with wire, clogged the air with carbon monoxide and made the racing rivers glisten with mercury. Toxic levels of greed, ambition, and aggression drove a long parade of pathologically disturbed explorers, industrialists, bankers, bookies, assassins and interior decorators to ravage a utopia of incalculable natural wealth and beauty.

“That didn’t just happen,” Throckmorton continued, hammering the podium as the word “happen” arrived, “it took vision, the vision of men and women not afraid to make their demented dreams a reality.

But today,” he looked down, removed his glasses, cleaned them on his assistant’s tie, put them back on his face, and proceeded, “all that is in jeopardy.

“The ever-widening gulf between them what got and them what got not is having a chilling effect on insanity which, in the vast majority of cases, has simply become unaffordable. The result is that our once marvelously wild and obstreperous nation of misfits, malcontents, rabble-rousers, gangsters, and entrepreneurs is becoming whitebread, drab, listless, and dull. If this continues at its current pace it won’t be long before we’re indistinguishable from Belgium…or even Switzerland.

“Nationwide, those who do choose to experiment with insanity today are opting out of the glamour, high-maintenance diseases with force enough to bend rivers and level mountains for disorders that are more annoying than truly pathological. Complaints like triskaidekaphobia, arachnophobia, and phobophobia may qualify as maladies of the mind, but we are kidding ourselves if we think we can build the nation’s future on a foundation of triviality.”

Throckmorton summed up thusly. “If America hopes to be the nation it was once and frequently claims to be now it must first find a way to make insanity universally affordable. The painful irony here is that now it is only the rich that can afford insanity and, typically, they have absolutely no idea what to do with it.”

Searching for Extraterrestrial, Mentally Ill Life

Demented Space Alien

Since slightly before the dawn of time, man has set his gaze on the immensity of space and wondered this – given the billions and billions of tiny dots out there, which are probably quite similar to the thing upon which I reside, circling the sun, or other large objects – and knowing what I do of statistical relationships and relationships of probability, which is to say, the likelihood of events – how could I possibly be alone in this universe?

When you really stop and think, isn’t it far more likely that somewhere, somehow, on one of these lonesome magma clumps there is a form of life – however humble – striving ever upwards along its agonizingly slow evolutionary rise which, ultimately, will lead, over endless millennia of failed experiments, to something resembling me, and when I say me I do so because we must take as our starting point the assumption that humanity is what they refer to as The Crown of Creation and as such is the standard by which all others are measured, assuming there are others to measure, which we are, because frankly that is the point of this exercise.

So let us argue that, given an infinite amount of time to do so, and an infinite amount of government funding to squander, not to mention a rugged little spaceship able to withstand asteroid collisions, exploration would inevitably discover life of one sort or another. According to the legions of marginally employed scientists who have time to untangle these hypothetical quandaries, this is a given. Given, perhaps, but their belief sheds no light whatsoever on the presence, or lack, of mental illness among intelligent aliens.

Since roughly one in ten Americans suffers from some sort of mental illness, it is reasonable to assume that at least one out of every ten extraterrestrials would suffer from some sort of mental health issue, which in itself would not be bad, after all, we cannot allow ourselves to be prejudiced against extraterrestrials any more than we should allow ourselves to be prejudiced against mental illness at home – however, in the interests of practicality, and practicality must be our watchword here, it is necessary to realize that not every extraterrestrial intelligent life form in the entire universe is likely to adhere to the blissfully benign standards of peace, dignity, respect, love, understanding, compassion, tolerance, fairness, and justice we subscribe to here on earth.

This is significant since, in a culture with technology more advanced than ours, the behavior of a mentally ill populace, not to mention its leaders, could be catastrophic. So, if we consider space travel at all, we must be prepared for close encounters with alien civilizations in evolutionary stages of development far different than ours, with tastes and belief systems differing drastically from those we hold dear. Consequently, it behooves us to diagnose and understand alien mental illnesses before we encounter them.

Scientists will quickly point out that it is difficult to study the unknown, which is why we will be forced to take the unpopular option of relying on psychics, faith healers, and social media experts. The time to act is now; before we first encounter mentally ill aliens and wonder what sort of treatment might help them; or protect us from them.

So, as you gaze out upon the limitless pinpoints of light strewn zig zaggedly across the squid ink dark expanse of night, consider this; someone who is not all here may not be all there, either.

Soup To Nuts

Siamese Twins At Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a special time when family members, spread far and wide across this great land of ours, unite under one roof to dine, catch up, and recall exactly why it is they are so careful to avoid one another the rest of the year.

Those of us strangely blessed with mental illnesses of various descriptions are especially vulnerable, since these allegedly cheerful events feel more like crime scene reconstructions where the horrors that sent us running down the path to Cookoopantsatopolis are revisited endlessly.

Seated at the table, any progress made in therapy over the past year seems to magically melt away. Before long we find ourselves reclaiming emotional baggage we’re desperate to abandon. No matter how far we’ve progressed in life, there, seated in front of that defenseless avian carcass, we’re seven again; and it ain’t pretty.

Small wonder so many of us cringe as we witness the approach of Thanksgiving, contemplating the event with a dread one might reserve for dentistry without anesthesia.

If you are faced yet again with this psycho-emotional Armageddon, take heart!

Turn your Thanksgiving dinner table into a payback battlefield with you commanding the tanks! As soon as trouble approaches, apply one of these brass-knuckle gambits certain to turn the tide!

Take Charge Of Thanksgiving Dinner With These Psychological Grenades!

Insist on saying grace before anyone can start eating. Launch into a rambling, incoherent list of wonders that inspire you with a sense of gratitude, including, but not limited to, salt & pepper shakers, lamps, lint removers, self-winding watches and anchovy paste. Do not stop until you can see the vein in your dad’s forehead protruding.

Instead of asking your mom, dad, or sibling to pass the potatoes, say, “Please pass the resentments.”

As your sibling drones on about a recent social triumph, raise your wine glass in their direction and say, “You know, the more I drink the more interesting you become.”

Just when things are settling down, deliver a long, impassioned toast dedicated to, and describing in detail, the imaginary family you wish you’d had. Do not refer to your actual family at all.

Share odd details about turkeys. Say things like, “The fleshy growth from the base of the beak, which is very long on male turkeys and hangs down over it, is called the snood. Sometimes I wish I had a snood.”

As you listen to family members converse, randomly say “Hmmm” and scribble feverishly in a tiny notepad. When one of them asks what you’re doing, patiently explain that you’re observing them and will be reporting back to the authorities soon. If pressed simply say “Hmmmm” a lot.

Bear in mind that these techniques will not heal psychic traumas of youth, nor will they help you outgrow any damage done to you by your family. However, they will provide you with a lot of laughs at your family’s expense, and that’s got to count for something.

Self-Diagnosis With SynAPPS

crazy drawing icon

Sooner or later we are all tormented by that nagging, unnerving question. You know the one. Am I wearing my underwear over my clothes? Is my cheese slipping off the cracker? Am I marching to the beat of a different dumber? Is the diploma in my den from Whassamatta U?

Like a pebble wedged firmly in your shoe the uncertainty refuses to leave, taunting and mocking until thinking of anything else is impossible.

I’ve been troubled by these moments of existential meltdown for decades, which is why I was so excited when my friends at Kronko told me about self-diagnosis with SynAPPS® – the latest in “smart” applications for iPhones, iPads, and ay caramba. Here’s how it works.

As an intelligent application, SynAPPS® records your online activities in order to build, and regularly update, a psychodynamic knowledge base enabling it to gauge your sanity quotient on demand.

On-Line, Real-Time Sanity Checks!

Feeling a little squizzly? Starting to wonder if you’re safe behind the wheel of a front-end loader, steamboat, or roulette table? Simply let SynAPPS®determine your degree of sanity with a flurry of carefully crafted questions designed to slip through your layers of delusion and self-deception for a look at the unvarnished truth.

Below you will find some of the generic, pre-loaded questions; note that questions become more specifically targeted to your individual psychological make-up the longer you useSynAPPS®.

1. Do all people lie? Yes No

2. Do you lie? Yes No

3. Are you lying now? Yes No

4. Are you feeling just a wee bit squizzly? Yes No

5. Are you lying now? Yes No

6. How about now? Yes No

7. Is life just a metaphor for golf? Yes No

8. Is fishing just a way to hide a drinking problem? Yes No

9. Is drinking just a way to hide a fishing problem? Yes No

10.Do you lie about the size of the fish you catch? Yes No

11.Are you the Emperor of France? Yes No

12.Do you enjoy ruling France? Yes No

13.Would this be a good time to lie about ruling France? Yes No

14.When a hoodlum approaches, do you cross the street? Yes No

15.When a hoodlum approaches, does he cross the street? Yes No

16.Is sanity overrated? Yes No

17.Okay, you’re sure you’re the Emperor of France? Yes No

18.Is “reality” just everyone believing the same illusion? Yes No

19.Is squazmogrified pontippelation inexorable? Yes No

20.How about now? Yes No

If you answer just one of these questions incorrectly, SynAPPS®  sends a comical e-card flagging your loopitude potential. Two inaccurate responses generates a warning call to the local police, and three mistakes prompts a power surge strong enough to knock you out until you’re more yourself.

SynAPPS® from Kronko. You’ll never have wonder if you’re whackadoomius again.

Sick Girls Await Mentally Ill Barbie

Barbie - The Tragic End

Since her 1959 debut, Barbie has attracted controversy the way bloated state senators attract illegal campaign contributions. Little girls admire her for what she is, but whiners, complainers, gadflies, malcontents, rabble-rousers, muckrakers, agents provocateurs, professional cynics, babies, wimps, liberals, thought policemen, and college professors are more interested in what she is not.

These self-appointed custodians of political correctness, who live to improve the human character against its will right up to the point where it ceases to exist at all, consider Barbie to be the sharp edge of the social engineering ax, mercilessly slicing through the hapless human outliers whose creation, causation, and construction do not coincide with qualities and criteria considered desirable by society.

These TED Talk habitués condemn Barbie with sweeping statements steeped in supercilious sanctimony, Barbie, they say, is not morbidly obese enough; she is too Christian, not gay-enough, ethnic enough, or undocumented enough. To them, Barbie is the hood ornament of an exclusionary, self-satisfied society built upon deeply disturbed values, racism, and questionable fashion choices.

Mattel, makers of Barbie, has been slow to respond to what they refer to, with characteristic insouciance, as, “the cacophonous blather of tweed-clad Prius drivers.” But a storied track record of insensitivity and arrogance will soon be coming to an end as Mattel courts disturbed Americans with “Mentally Ill Barbie”, which it intends to roll out in time for Christmas.

Marketing of Mentally Ill Barbie shows, yet again, why Mattel continues to be an industry juggernaut. You and I have been taught that judging mental illness by physical appearance is highly inappropriate, inaccurate, and mean-spirited. But Mattel, determined to honor the complete palette of emotional and psychological maladies without the added expense inherent in producing multiple molds landed on a brilliant solution as plain as the nose-ring on your face; madness in fashion!

That’s right! With Mentally Ill Barbie, madness is always in fashion and can be easily modified simply by changing outfit and setting! How does it work? – you ask – in that cooperative way of yours. It’s easy; let’s meet a few right now.

Narcissistic Barbie – Executives at Mattel have explained that every Barbie made from 1959 on is Narcissistic Barbie.

Anorexic Barbie – Executives at Mattel have explained that every Barbie made from 1959 on is also Anorexic Barbie.

Compulsive Shopper Barbie – Executives at Mattel have explained that every Barbie made from 1959 on is also Compulsive Shopper Barbie.

Bipolar Barbie – Alternate between tying her to the blade of a ceiling fan and stuffing her under the cushions of a couch and, voila!

Munchausen By Proxy Barbie – Even though Munchausen by Proxy Barbie is very similar to Narcissistic Barbie, she is sold separately.

And that’s just the beginning! This Christmas season, keep an eye out for:

Alcoholic Barbie
Compulsive Gambler Barbie
Tourette’s Syndrome Barbie
Trskaidekaphobia Barbie 
Sex Addict Barbie

And so, gentle reader, the walls of stigma gradually erode as even Barbie admits, “Madness is always in fashion.”