The following transcript of a couples counseling session was provided by the esteemed psychiatric journal, Uppers, Downers & Boozers, with the explicit understanding that it would not be made public. Therefore we immediately made it public.
We invite you to enact this kindhearted and tender drama in the privacy of your bedroom, bathroom, basement or backyard or any place that starts with the letter “b”. The female patient, recently diagnosed with COVID-19 Looney Tunes Personality Disorder (LTPD), was just released from the Metatarsal Psychiatric Institute in Hoboken Sur La Mer, NJ.
Time for a Quick Insane Asylum Joke
A man starts his new job at an insane asylum. He’s given his orientation and, at the very end, is asked if he has any questions. “Yes, how do we know if a patient is ready to leave the asylum?” “Well,” the director says. “We just ask them a simple question and, based on their response, determine if they need to stay longer.” The director then calls up three patients for a demonstration. He asks the first one, “what’s is 6 times 6?” The patient is shaking and nervously says, “1000?” The director shakes his head, says, “give him six more months,” and turns to the next patient. This patient jumps up and down and screams, “February!” “Oh god no!” says the director. “Another year!” Finally, he turns to the third patient who looks at him calmly and says, “well, the answer is obviously 36.” “Yes!” exclaims the director. “How did you know that?!” “Easy, I just divided 1000 by February.”
“A happy marriage is the true melding of two minds,” says YouTube therapy quack Sigmundo Freddie Freudo (not to be confused with Frodo of Middle Earth). “Because a mind is a terrible thing to waste. Or sometimes a mind is just terrible. Or sometimes it is terrible to be a mind. Oh, never mind.”
The female patient in this couples counseling session is stretched out on the therapy couch. Her husband lies beneath it, secretly checking football scores on his phone and looking at porn.
The aura of the therapeutic sanctuary is solemn: important things happen here; marriages and even lives are saved; and inflamed wounds, bruised and raw, are healed under the guidance of an empathetic and loving therapist.
Let the Couples Counseling Begin!
Therapist: “OK, you losers. Let’s get this damn couples counseling started already! I’ve got a 3:00 golf game with my broker and if I’m late he charges me a five percent penalty on my trades, which I secretly charge back to you on your bill, which you’ll probably be too stupid to notice anyway. Lady, you start.”
The therapist puts on his sunglasses and earphones, closes his eyes and starts to gently snore.
She: “Do you love me?” (she quizzed him)
He: “Yes, I do.” (as reassuringly as he could)
She: “But do you love me now?” (getting desperate)
He: “Yes, I do.” (amping it up a bit)
She: “But do you love me NOW??” (getting more desperate)
He: “Yes, I do!” (wondering what was for dinner)
But Do You Love Me More Than…?
She: “But you only answered me with one exclamation point!!!” (getting even more desperate)
He: “I’m tired, that’s all.” (“Maybe the JETS will win,” hoping beyond hope)
She: “You’re tired of me???” (cataclysmic devastation)
He: “No. I’m tired from working on – .” (that clogged faucet was a bitch)
She: “It’s not working???” (all this couples therapy for nothing)
He: “What are you talking about?” (his mind is an empty mailbox)
She: “Our marriage isn’t working because you’re tired of me???” (marital wreckage is strewn all around her)
He: “No, no, no!!!” (“Oh, shit. The JETS lost again”)
She: “Oh, so now that you want a divorce, you’re using three exclamation points???”
He: “Arrgghhh!!!” (losing sensation in his feet)
SILENCE
She: “Do you love me more than Fluffypuss?”(bringing one of the cats into it)
He: “Yes.” (starting to panic)
She: “Do you love me more than Peekaboo?” (bringing the other cat into it)
He: “Yes.” (how much did he really love Peekaboo?)
She: “Do you love me more than your van?” (hitting below the belt)
He: “Yes.” (“Can one love a van,” he wondered)
She: “Do you love me more than the Prius?” (she knew he loved the Prius, but how much?)
He: “Yes.” (“Hey, this is easy. All I have to do is say yes”)
She: “Do you love me more than Jackson Pollack, Renoir and Michelangelo combined?” (proving she is a woman of culture from New York City)
He: “Yes.” (“Oh, my god, what if she asks me about my —?”)
She: “Do you love me more than your art career?” (skating on thin ice)
He: “You and my art are two different things.” (“Can one be logical under such circumstances?”)
She: “You want something different?” (reading his mind)
He: “No. I’m just saying…” (“What am I saying?” he wonders as he slides out from under the couch)
Your Mama’s Dead? When Did That Happen?
She: “I can be different.” (proving that $750,000 in therapy bills really was worth it)
He: “I don’t want you to be different. I want you to be you. Just maybe…uh…a little less…” (“Shoot me now,” he pleads with God)
She: “A little less what?” (certain now that their marriage is over)
He: “Well, a little less…you.” (sliding back under the couch; he’s hating couples counseling)
SILENCE
She: “You always wake me up when I’m sleeping!” (she is committed to this idea)
He: “How do I do that?” (genuinely perplexed)
She: “You look at me.” (case closed)
He: “Don’t I sleep with my eyes closed?” (“Shoot me with two bullets,” renewing his prayer to God)
She: “And I’m tired of watching Canadian Geese poop on the lawn! Don’t they have anything better to do?” (thinking like a lawyer)
He: “Everybody poops…” (thinking like an attorney)
She: “The Queen doesn’t poop.” (playing her best card)
He: “Of course she does. Barack Obama poops. Even Anthony Fauci poops.” (touché)
She: “Don’t you talk about my Anthony like that. How dare you?” (he says such despicable things)
He: “He’s not your Anthony. He’s everybody’s Anthony.” (except for Republicans)
She: “He’s not your mama’s Anthony.” (gotcha)
He: “My mama’s dead.” (getting real)
She: “Your mama’s dead? When did that happen?” (oy vay)
He: “Ten years ago.” (“At least she’s not around to see this,” he sighs)
She: “Oh, yes. I remember now. It was a lovely funeral. She looked so peaceful in her Mumu and bedroom slippers.” (his mother was clearly not a fashionista)
He: “You weren’t there.” (bringing her back to planet Earth)
She: “You didn’t invite me to your mother’s funeral???” (he’s clearly a sociopath)
He: “We didn’t know each other then.” (seeing that she’s still on Mars)
She: “That is NO excuse!!” (what’s right is right, after all)
He: “I’m going home and hiding in the basement. Let me know when it’s safe to come out.” (running away from his feelings)
SILENCE
She: “You know what you are? You are a ninnyhammer!” (take that!)
He: “How dare you call me a ninnyhammer, you snollygoster!!!” (you take that!)
Crash! Rat-a-tat-tat! Thud! Clunk! Boom! Whoosh! Waaa…! Oy!
Dr. Freudo’s Marriage Therapy Discussion Topics
- When arguing, is it OK to cross your eyes, make farting sounds, and stick your tongue out at your spouse? If yes, why? If not, why not?
- When arguing, is it OK to use Latin phrases to get your point across? These may include, “Stultus es” (you are an idiot); Et ecce qui in veste pinguis (you look fat in that dress); and “Ego Vobiscum sum fake orgasms” (I fake orgasms with you). If yes, why? If not, why not?
- Why don’t men have feelings?
- The Seven Dwarfs are Doc, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Bashful, Sneezy and Dopey. Which one do you most identify with? Why? Which one best represents your spouse? Why?
NOW HERE THIS! The HIPAA Privacy Rule requires appropriate safeguards to protect the privacy of personal health information and sets limits and conditions on the uses and disclosures made of such information without patient authorization. Therefore, if you have read or listened to this transcript of couples counseling, you have violated the HIPAA Privacy Rule. We will be coming for you in the morning. Sweet dreams.
