Archive for dark humor

Those with DID steal money and drive recklessly

Sweeeet, another article online with some interesting misconceptions about DID. Okay folks, ready for this one? We are characterized by “stealing money, or driving recklessly, or abusing some other person.”

Excelllllent. Shall we have another go at it?

I’m not even bothering with the flame-proof suit. My inferno will trump your inferno, oh wee little Clueless Ones.

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The proposed new DSM may legitimize Disease Mongering

I tripped across an opinion in the LA Times: Wrangling over psychiatry’s bible.  There is debate if the new DSM will be developed in secret, although they acknowledge that past debates were chaotic and not well founded on science.  Pharma would like to participate – brand new disorders mean brand new drugs that will be shoved down the throats of not only sheep (I mean patients) but insurance companies.

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Nasty Comments about my “Cemented Pearls of Pain”

“This blog is creepy, beyond creepy. I feel like I just crawled out of a shit ridden toilet filled with your cemented pearls of pain.”

A recent reader offered this wonderfully constructed sentence embodying a cornucopia of foul emotions all at once. It’s actually really good stuff. Except for the fact that the toilet she crawled out of appears to be one of her own making.

<Perhaps we should give Stephen King a call -“A strangled flush in the night gave way to the wafting malodorous hint that the Blog That Shat Pearls of Pain was to “[reep] havoc … stalking a family member …”>

But I digest.

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Making depression a habit – breaking the downward spiral

I don’t know what’s worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don’t know why I instigate
And say what I don’t mean
I don’t know how I got this way
I know it’s not alright
So I’m breaking the habit
I’m breaking the habit
Tonight

– from Linkin Park’s “Breaking the Habit”

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Hi. My name is Coping Mechanism.

<I like carets. It’s usually me who gets relegated to them.>

<Probably because I provide the witty sarcasm.>

<I’m tempted to write this whole post in carets.> <<But then how can anyone else interject?>>

Sigh. Fine.

*I*, in my wonder and glory, am a COPING MECHANISM.

How would you like to meet someone and be told that you are not real? That you are figment of someone else’s imagination that they are using in order to deal with reality?

Fck that.

So what’s a coping mechanism? Heh heh. Let’s be “official” first, shall we?

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