Third Time's A Charm?

I snagged another psychologist. #3.

He's in for a wild ride, because I am committed to total honesty.

We had a Telehealth thing last Friday, kind of getting to know each other. He's an older gentleman (probably younger than me), but up in age. That's good because it means he partially understands the fears and thought processes of Elderly Joe. Kind of.

We chatted for an hour last week and I felt comfortable with him. That is key, because the woman I worked with a few years ago was touchy feely, which does me no good. And that was 100% Telehealth. The guy I worked with before was face to face, but if I told him I wanted to be THE PATS next QB he would have said "Great!"

As I said, I made up my mind to go full bore - total honesty about the fucked up shit that's in my head. That does not come naturally because I am Al Pacino. A deliberately made up character whose actions and words have been perfected over 50 years of playacting. And the poison in my head is totally corrosive - you don't know the half of it. So saying it out loud makes me sound like a complete fucking wreck. Which, of course, I am. I am fully committed to exposing every fucked up thought bouncing around in my head. 

We spoke comfortably; he asked a hell of a lot of questions and took a lot of notes. The conversation ranged from me to Carol to my sons to my father and mother, my grandfather, The Kid, friends; jobs, passions, fears, hopes, disappointments. He circled back around later in the conversation to make certain points based on stuff I told him earlier. That impressed me, because he was already working on my brain. And the points were good ones.

Got all that done in an hour.

I was comfortable enough to schedule another appointment, but I'm shaking things up. Gonna meet in his office, face to face, this coming Friday. I figure that will erase any Pacino shit. I was brutally honest through Telehealth, and I mean brutally, but still, it is not personal enough. I want him to look into my eyes, read my body language, to get a complete impression.

And face to face will make me nervous, which should cancel out any playacting. I really want this to work.

So here I go again. But with a lot more urgency this time around. A LOT. The spectre of Death is an amazing motivator. I need to get shit straight so I can get me some peace of mind. Be more honest with my family. And allow me to do what I got to do to protect me & Carol in this fucked up environment.

The hot breath of Regret, Failure & Shame is scorching my neck.

I am fucking sick of it.

When I'm done with this guy, he'll be an alcoholic. But by then I'll be fixed enough that I can counsel him.

Only seems fair.

And they're off..........................................

Why Not?

I am looking for part time work that pays a decent wage.

No more junior high school rates.

Troy Aikman is a dumb jock. Jim Rice barely speaks English.

Shouldn't one of those jobs be mine?

Nothing Else Left

I have failed. 

I have procrastinated, misjudged, mishandled; been shortsighted, hesitant, and afraid.

I have made bad decisions and non decisions. 

I have fucked up, then doubled down on it.  

I have sabotaged good situations and suffered needlessly through bad ones.

I have made every mistake a man can make.

There is only one outcome left.

Spectacular success.

The American Dream - George Carlin

 "But there's a reason. There's a reason. There's a reason for this, there's a reason education SUCKS, and it's the same reason it will never, ever, EVER be fixed.

It's never going to get any better, don't look for it, be happy with what you've got.

Because the owners, the owners of this country don't want that. I'm talking about the real owners now, the BIG owners! The Wealthy.... the REAL owners. The big wealthy business interests that control things and make all the important decisions.

Forget the politicians. They are irrelevant. The politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of choice. You don't. You have no choice, You have OWNERS! They OWN you. They OWN everything. They OWN all the important land. They OWN and control the corporations. They've long since bought, and paid for, the Senate, the Congress, the state houses, the city halls, they got the judges in their back pockets and they own all the big media companies, so they control just about all of the news and information you get to hear. They got you by the balls.

They spend billions of dollars every year lobbying, lobbying, to get what they want. Well, we know what they want. They want more for themselves and less for everybody else, but I'll tell you what they don't want:

They don't want a population of citizens capable of critical thinking. They don't want well informed, well educated people capable of critical thinking. They're not interested in that. That doesn't help them. That's against their interests.

That's right. They don't want people who are smart enough to sit around a kitchen table and think about how badly they're getting fucked by a system that threw them overboard 30 fucking years ago. They don't want that.

You know what they want? They want obedient workers. Obedient workers, people who are just smart enough to run the machines and do the paperwork. And just dumb enough to passively accept all these increasingly shitty jobs with the lower pay, the longer hours, the reduced benefits, the end of overtime and vanishing pension that disappears the minute you go to collect it, and now they're coming for your Social Security money. They want your retirement money. They want it back so they can give it to their criminal friends on Wall Street, and you know something? They'll get it. They'll get it all from you sooner or later cause they own this fucking place! It's a big club, and you ain't in it! You, and I, are not in the big club.

By the way, it's the same big club they use to beat you over the head with all day long when they tell you what to believe. All day long beating you over the head with their media telling you what to believe, what to think and what to buy. The table has tilted folks. The game is rigged and nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care! Good honest hard-working people; white collar, blue collar it doesn't matter what color shirt you have on. Good honest hard-working people continue, these are people of modest means, continue to elect these rich cocksuckers who don't give a fuck about you...they don't give a fuck about you...they don't give a FUCK about you.

They don't care about you at all...at all...AT ALL. And nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care. That's what the owners count on. The fact that Americans will probably remain willfully ignorant of the big red, white and blue dick that's being jammed up their assholes everyday, because the owners of this country know the truth.

It's called the American Dream, because you have to be asleep to believe it."

From George Carlin's HBO special Life Is Worth Losing in 2005. 2005!

And twenty years later..........................................

Never Get My Lincoln

I'll probably never get my Lincoln.

So here's what you do. When I die, take up a collection - buy me a Lincoln. Not a new one, for Christ sake - that would be stupid. Whatever you can afford with the money you collect, buy something that makes sense.

You can drive it right onto the lawn next to my house. The left side, if you are facing my house. Just drive it right on up there, and park it right in the middle between my house and the Farquahr's house. Equidistant. That's a cool word, don't you think? Park that sucker equidistant between my house and theirs.

Drag my body out of the house and, while you're at it, treat me whatever way you think I deserve. Kick me, slap me, piss on me. Kiss me, caress me, hug me. Smile, frown, laugh, cry.

Haul me right up into my precious Lincoln. Driver's seat. Sit me up behind the wheel. You might want to strap my hands to the wheel - I won't be too cooperative at that point.

Empty a 2 and 1/2 gallon can of gasoline into the back seat. Say a few words, or not, depending on the mood and the schedule of the crowd - they might have errands to run.

Drop a match and watch me and my Lincoln burn.

Don't worry about the raging flames encroaching (another good word) on the Farquahr's house - their life sucks anyway, they could use a solid insurance check.

When you are satisfied, go about your business.

And thanks.

Unatoned

"My father's house shines hard and bright

It stands like a beacon calling me in the night

Calling and calling, so cold and alone

Shining 'cross this dark highway where our sins lie unatoned"

From My Father's House, by Bruce Springsteen

Something most fathers and sons hope to avoid. Until reality burns them with the news that it is too late. Their intentions rot on the vine.

Nothing Helps

Nothing helps anymore.

When you are so depressed that you gotta get the hell out of the house and take a ride, try to catch your breath or a break - there will be no relief.

Let's say you're listening to The Beatles channel. Let It Be comes on. They got a lyric in there, goes like this:

"And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree, 

There will be an answer, let it be

For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see

There will be an answer, let it be"

Used to sound hopeful. If it caught you on the right day you might think, yeah, you know? Everybody is human, we are all in the same boat, maybe things will get better.

Not anymore. Now it sounds like a child's fantasy.

We are all just waiting for the explosion.