My name is Dr. Hugh Janus and I am a psychologist. I have been commissioned to analyze the following celebrities with only their public behavior and writings to guide me through the twisted wreckage of their minds. Though some of the psychological terminology may seem obscure to the layman, this is written with the latter in mind. Some of the conditions the professional may recognize in the the DSM-V- TR (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) but a few new categories, terms and conditions have been added.
This is a new feature. If you have a celebrity or public figure you’d like to submit to my special brand of remote psychiatric and psychological analysis, please write to the editor. He will leave a note with my secretary and I will write one up if and when the celebrity or public figure may gain valuable insight from my expertise. Among the celebrities slated to be profiled are Tom Cruise, Cristina Aguilera, Bill O’Reilly, Madonna, et al.
- DSM-V Clinical Diagnosis: Paranoid Schizophrenia, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Terminal Podophobia
- Freudian Diagnosis: Penis Envy
A recent session with Coulter proved quite edifying. She took a seat in my office and removed her hood, the smell of sweaty feet and lighter fluid wafting in the air, her white robe practically a fire hazard.
“Hello Ann. How are you today?”
Her eyes glazed over and she bolted upright. “White power!” she thundered with a Nazi salute. Then just as suddenly, she caught herself, blushed, and sat down again.
“Eh, ok. Listen…Last week we spoke about your insecurity regarding the size of your feet. I’d like to touch upon that again.”
“Why? you know it’s hard for me to talk about that.”
“I think it is important. Why do you blame someone new each week as to the cause of your ‘big ass Flintstone feet’? Doesn’t genetics explain it? You were born a man. Your Adam’s apple, that apple is so big it belongs on a store front, not a human neck.”
“My big ass feet have nothing to to with genetics or my parents, or any of that liberal hobgoblinism. It’s the 9-11 widows who cursed me with this affliction. It’s a scientific fact.”
“Do you realize how silly that sounds? Honestly, it’s not my place to judge a patient, but to be objective and supportive. But damn, the seriousness of your tone as you uttered that nonsense leaves me no choice….”
Immediately I left my chair, slapped the shit out of Ann, and calmly got back to my desk; my conscience assuaged.
“Fucking liberal!” she cried.
“Everyone who disagrees with you is a liberal in your eyes. You’ve called every Republican in your party a liberal at one time or another.”
“You hit me!”
“I would never strike a woman.”
“How dare you?”
“So you’re not a man?”
“Fuck no!” Ann thundered.
“You were standing next to me at the urinals, with a larger penis than mine.”
“Shut up.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, a silence all the more unnerving because Ann could never shut up. She talked in her sleep, she talked while awake. She talked while she chewed, she talked to herself. Her mouth was always running. Finally I said “Tell me, Ann, can you remember the first time you ever felt insecure, or belittled by the size of your feet?”
She thought for a moment, a troubled past reflecting on her face….
“I think I was five years old. My dad loaned me out to the fire department to stomp out forest fires. They tried to hide it, but the firefighters always laughed behind my back.”
She took off her shoes, the burns on her feet a testament to the veracity of the abuse.
“Then,” Ann continued, “when I bought my first pair of Vans, the DMV made me put license plates on them. Fucking liberals.”
“But Ann, don’t you see the pattern here? As long as you have a personal issue, an insecurity about your own self-worth, you will attack and blame people around you. Indeed, you will still feel bad about yourself, perhaps worse if you have a conscience.”
“Why are you always taking their side? The 9-11 widows made fun of my feet.”
“When was that?”
“I read it on Drudge.”
“Hmmm.”
“Ergo, they caused my feet to grow to this enormous size.”
“Are you sure they were snickering when you did your pedicure? Lots of women,” I said, catching myself in a white lie, “do it with a bucket of polish and a paint roller.”
“I am certain.”
“Ann. Since large feet is something you can do nothing about, being born with it, you might expect a little sympathy for those born with something they can do nothing about; like their skin tone, their ethnicity, etc. Aren’t you in the same boat?”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“Because.”
“Because why?” I asked, exasperated.
“White power!”
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