Conversation with the Therapist

Dr. Rosenstein: So, how are you feeling today?

Mr. White: Well, I feel funky, as usual.

Rosenstein: Why’s that?

White: I just feel there’s a void in my life. I think I’m depressed.

Rosenstein: How do you figure?

White: I’m worried about my legacy. I don’t have much to show for my fifty-two years here on earth.

Rosenstein: That’s not true. Think about all that you’ve accomplished. What has been your life’s work?

White: I dunno. I’ve been working down at EVL Corporation since I got out of college, so I guess I’ve accomplished a lot for them.

Rosenstein: And what do they do?

White: They make satellite guidance systems for missiles.

Rosenstein: That’s something! Think of all the lives you’ve saved.

White: Yeah.

Rosenstein: And you’ve built a family in those years, haven’t you?

White: Well, that’s another thing that’s bothering me.

Rosenstein: Why’s that?

White: I just have this disconcerting feeling lately that the family unit is nothing more than a social mechanism for economic organization and reproduction.

Rosenstein: Well, I imagine that you love your economic unit very much, right? I know I love my family.

White: Yes, I love them very much. But that’s just a particular arrangement of cellular interactions through a witch’s brew of neurotransmitters within the confines of my abysmally insignificant skull.

Rosenstein: You’re skull is only as insignificant as you make it, Mr. White. I prefer to think of my skull as my reality, all that really exists to me as far as I know.

White: Yes, that’s another thing.

Rosenstein: You know, one thing that I sometimes recommend to depressed patients is to get out there and get involved. You know, make a change in the world! Join an organization dedicated to helping your fellow man.

White: My fellow man! This world is an anthill waiting to be squashed out at the whim of those cold, arbitrary forces of the endless and incomprehensible universe in which we live.

Rosenstein: You might be suffering from something we in the profession refer to as “existential angst.” You know, Merck makes a prescription for that.

White: Great. Hook me up.

Rosenstein: It’s called cyanide. It’ll kill you instantly.

White: Why not? I'll try it.

Rosenstein: I often recommend it to hard cases, and everyone I've given it to so far has been entirely satisfied.

White: Great.

Rosenstein (fills out prescription): Here you go.

White: Hey, thanks!

Rosenstein: And it looks like our time is up.

White: Well, I guess I won't be seeing you again.

Rosenstein: Nope. Speaking of which, could you go ahead and write me a check before you leave?