An article from McSweeney's (I know, I know) called, Cookie Monster Searches Deep Within Himself, And Asks: Is Me Really Monster?

While humorous though predictable, I did catch a reply on Metafilter which, in my opinion, borders on genius:

They are all monsters, that's the point. The show is for children, don't forget. They are monsters the kids don't have to fear. The show's message for kids was "We know you're sometimes afraid of monsters, but not all monsters are bad.

Sometimes monsters can be cute and cuddly and quirky and funny. Elmo's a monster and he has such a cute giggle!. These are the good monsters.

Not like the monster sitting next to you on the sofa, watching the TV. Not like the monster WHO TOLD YOU FOR THE LAST TIME TO STOP CRYING.

Not like the monsters who kick your toys and curse under their breath. Not like the monsters who say you stole their youth and take pills because YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY. Not like the monsters who meet strange men at the door and leave you home alone. Not like the monsters who hit with their hands, or their words. Not like the monsters who come into your room at night stinking of whiskey and sweat, with madness in their eyes and a belt in their hands.

On Sesame Street, the monsters have not HAD ENOUGH, and they aren't doing it FOR YOUR OWN GOOD.

Your monsters are not brought to you by the number 4 or the letter M. Your monsters don't want you to come and play, they want you to LEAVE THEM ALONE.

Cookie monster is safe, and so are Elmo and the Count. Even Oscar and Bert are your friends even if they are bit grouchy or fussy. Your monsters think our monsters are harmless.

To them.

Your monsters bought you a Tickle-Me Elmo doll, didn't they? They bought it to JUST SHUT YOU UP ALREADY. So they let you play with Elmo and make him laugh and giggle. But Elmo doesn't just laugh and giggle. Elmo loves you, and he listens.

And he records.

And soon, Elmo is going to tell you exactly what to do.

Remember the good old days of 2004?  When political debate was suitable for yelling out open car windows?   "Bush lied!  And he's a cowboy!"  "Kerry flip flops!  And he's French!"  That was awesome.

This time around, instead of repeating empty, meaningless soundbites that we steal from various media sources, let's dispense with the pretense that we thought anything through, and simply yell out the sources themselves.

"CNBC at 12:30 Tuesday.  I don't remember most of it, but he got it from Rush Limbaugh."

"That's stupid, because I caught the last nine seconds of a contrasting position on Lou Dobbs at 8p on Wednesday.  That's prime time."

"My friend said XM said that All Things Considered said Dobbs was a fool, and ATC is  certainly more intellectual than the show you didn't watch, so I am ahead."

He boots up his Mac.  "Except The New Yorker had a three page story on the election that I therefore didn't need to read, so I own you."

"Oh, please, the friggin New Yorker.  I read Daily Kos."

"The Daily Kos can blow me."

Pause.

"That's it?"

"Just saying."  He orders another decaf mocha.  "Besides, Time said bloggers are monkeys with one hand down their pants."

"The crawl on CNN said Time readership is down, and masturbating primates have determined six of the last three elections.  The crawl is where all the good stuff is."

"You wish.  That crawl is as compelling as a Soulja Boy acoustic set.  Besides, the anchor at CBS made fun of CNN.  Anchor beats crawl."

"But didn't the CBS anchor steal his quotes from CNBC?"

"Yes, who in turn quoted Rush--"

"--who was responding to something from The Daily Show!"  He tears open a Splenda.    "Wait, does all political discourse in this country originate with Rush Limbaugh and Jon Stewart?"

"Sadly, yes."

Pause.  He googles Juno and iphone.

"I wonder why that is?'

Not his best song (that'd be The Future Soon or maybe Code Monkey) but reminds me of psychiatry. The other songs are so-- accurate. If you don't get them, then you weren't there.

The guy is a awesome. I am so learning the guitar.

After thirty a man wakes up sad every morning, excepting perhaps five or six, until the day of his death.  -- Ralph Waldo Emerson


(and this.)

See? I told you he was in Styx.

(Thanks to Fargo Holiday)

You think I'm kidding?

(From Bliss at ComicsPage)

 

 

Sigh.  Rispalin.   Go ahead and deny it.

Oh my God, thank you.

Exactly.

(If video does not appear, you are the victim of censorship. Remember, remember the 5th of November. Or just click here.)

Do you know how many psychiatry journals there are?  A lot.  I get 8 peer reviewed journals mailed to my house, not to mention the shopping bag/week of "Insights" and "Reviews" and "Expert Series."   What the hell could be in all these journals, other than drug ads?  Is the field evolving that rapidly?  I mean, just how much info can there be about Lamictal?

But I'm happy to announce that the hundreds of articles are all top notch, cutting edge stuff.  Let's look at a recent one, about how to conduct and document a suicide assessment. 

I'm a busy man, with a lot to read-- what are the main, state-of-the-art points that I need to know about suicide?  

 

 
 

Awesome. 

Also suggested was listening to patients, preferred over caning patients, which can sometimes be misconstrued as insensitive. 

 

 

Someday-- right now-- your kids, and their friends, will be googling you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In which Anne Neville agrees to believe pretty much anything anyone ever tells her, ever, and Richard discovers people are gullible idiots.

 

 

 
I'm warning you.