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Every once in a great while there comes a special time where we open wide the portals of pretension and siphon the deep wisdom of one Doctor Harold Toboggans, resident therapist, egotist and verbal pugilist of this otherwise reader-improving site.

Doctor Harold Toboggans-intelligent humor and painfully funny psychology

Recent changes in oceanic humidity and chiropractic alignment of the stars indicate that this is one of those unfortunate times.

The following is a letter that I personally selected from the musty recesses of Dr. T’s depleted uranium mailbag, followed by his response, which I found carefully preserved in a moldy pile of bath towels while cleaning the OC restroom. I can only hope that your anti-virus software comes with a smell filter, because the odor coming off this thing is giving me a migraine.

Dr. Toboggans,

Since I started blogging I have undergone some serious changes.

I mean, I spend so many hours watching my stats that I don’t even have time to do drugs anymore. My dealer is very concerned. He is calling for an intervention.

Am I cured?

-Desperate for Hits.

Dear Desperate,

As I documented in my thirteenth book, You’re Only Fooling Your Other Personalities: How Your Pseudonyms Reveal Deep Flaws In Your Psychological Makeup, Smear Your Mental Eyeliner, and Generally Make You Look As If You Received A Recent Lobotomy, anonymous correspondence invariably carries incriminating indications about the mental distress of the writer, which in this case is exacerbated by the obvious intimidation of approaching a man of my qualifications and unparalleled ability.

So let’s just say that “desperate” is clearly an understatement. You need the professional help that only a therapist of only my particular temperament and skill can provide.

Now for your pathetic letter itself.

Since my records show that you have never availed yourself of my services, the odds of you ever being cured are infinitesimally remote. In fact, I have a hearty chuckle every time I think of you finding your way out of the utter darkness of psychosis without the benefit of my illuminating and reasonably priced expertise.

Hold on, I feel another chuckle coming on now, just from writing about it.

There, I feel much betjfjfj fkk kfjfjk jf j fjnnn fif ufnkff nks jfskfsff.

A bit of phlegm seems to have lodged in my keyboard, so powerful was the laughter you inspired with your ridiculous suggestion. I will of course add a cleaning fee to your bill.

As for your other question, blogging is a powerful and debilitating condition that can reduce even the most disciplined and well balanced individuals into narcissistic, link-lusting approval addicts. Victims quickly abandon all sense of dignity and decorum, plunging headlong into voting pleas and favoriting schemes that would embarrass a high school election committee.

Take for instance Brent,1 a former client of mine. He used to get to so agitated over his number of unique visitors and such nonsense, that I often had to sedate him with a topical application of Prozac and morphine, which was very effective, especially when administered with a ball-peen hammer.

I don’t remember exactly how he came to be cured, I think he just stopped paying his bills. The important part, of course, is that once I was through with him he became an well adjusted member of society.2

And you too can be like him.

I don’t really know why you would want to, but with plastic surgery, decoupage lessons, and constant treatments from me, you could easily be another Brent.

Remember, don’t settle for a life of painful inadequacy when mediocrity is within your grasp.

-Harold Toboggans, Doctor at Large

This post is waiting in the lobby to see

  1. His name has have not been changed because I simply don’t like him.
  2. The Society of Unpublished Toboggans Survivors, Boldly Acquiring Girth or SUTSBAG as it is sometimes referred to.