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A Confession I am Compelled To Make: I am just a poor country doctor psychologist (born in the wilderness of the Isle of Long - 20 miles from Manhattan) and educated in New York City, San Francisco and Los Angeles. So I lack that urbane savoir-faire necessary to catapult you right past your pain and into satori. Nope, with me you will actually probably cry a little, it will probably take some time, but if you and I put all of our I.Q. points into it we can probably get you through the hurts and blocks and help you arrive at a new view. A view that frees up the energy knotted in conflicts providing you with more energy available for love and work (Dr. Freud's and Dr. Reich's definition of mental health. - Did he just say Freud?!) So, despite being a country Doc, I am also a Los Angeles psychologist - consequently, you cannot shoe my mule for payment nor do I take managed care or insurance (you can bill them but I won't. I find after dealing with them I need my shrink.) Moreover, my co-therapist is a registered therapy dog and insists his pay be in raw food and pig's ears. Zoning prohibits my plowing fields and running my combine therefore I must insist on cash on the barrel head, fee for service. I promise to do my best if you promise to put your shoulder to the wheel. |
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| In Case Of Any Doubt This Is Dr. Diner |
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| And This Is My Co-Therapist: Hero |