Friday, January 13, 2017

Funny Friday

I came across a funny cartoon during the week:

That gave me the inspiration for the theme for this week’s Funny Friday: psychiatrists and psychologists.


A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother. 

A psychiatrist visited a California mental institution and asked a patient, "How did you get here? What was the nature of your illness?" He got this reply... 

"Well, it all started when I got married and I guess I should never have done it. I got hitched to a widow with a grown daughter who then became my stepdaughter. 

My daddy came to visit us, fell in love with my lovely stepdaughter, then married her. And so my stepdaughter was now my stepmother. 

Soon, my wife had a son who was, of course, my daddy's brother-in-law since he is the half-brother of my stepdaughter, who is now, of course, my daddy's wife. 

So, as I told you, when my stepdaughter married my daddy, she was at once my stepmother! Now, since my new son is brother to my stepmother, he also became my uncle. 

As you know, my wife is my step-grandmother since she is my stepmother's mother. 

Don't forget that my stepmother is my stepdaughter. 

Remember, too, that I am my wife's grandson.

But hold on just a few minutes more. 

You see, since I'm married to my step-grandmother, I am not only the wife's grandson and her hubby, but I am also my own grandfather. 

Now can you understand how I got put in this place?" 

Two doctors opened offices in a small town and put up a sign reading, "Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones, Psychiatry and Proctology." 

The town fathers were not too happy with the sign, and they proposed "Hysteria and Posteriors." 

The doctors didn't find it acceptable, so they suggested "Schizoids and Hemorrhoids." 

The town didn't like that either and countered with "Catatonics and High Colonics." 

Thumbs down again. 

By now the story was in the papers, and suggestions began rolling in: 

"Manic-depressives and Anal-retentive." 

"Minds and Behinds." 

"Lost Souls and Arseholes." 

"Analysis and Anal Cysts."

"Queers and Rears." 

"Nuts and Butts." 

"Freaks and Cheeks."

"Loons and Moons." 

None of these satisfied one side or the other, but they finally settled on "Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones, Odds and Ends." 

A psychiatrist was conducting a group therapy session with four young mothers and their small children. 

"You all have obsessions," he observed. 

To the first mother he said, "You are obsessed with eating. You even named your daughter Candy." 

He turned to the second mom. "Your obsession is money. Again, it manifests itself in your child's name, Penny." 

He turned to the third mom. "Your obsession is alcohol and your child's name is Brandy." 

At this point, the fourth mother got up, took her little boy and girl by the hand and said "Come on, Richard and Fanny, we’re going home." 

Joe has been seeing a psychoanalyst for four years for treatment of the fear that he had monsters under his bed. It had been years since he had gotten a good night's sleep. Furthermore, his progress was very poor, and he knew it. So, one day he stops seeing the psychoanalyst and decides to try something different.

A few weeks later, Joe's former psychoanalyst meets his old client in the supermarket, and is surprised to find him looking well-rested, energetic, and cheerful. "Doc!" Joe says, "It's amazing! I'm cured!"

"That's great news!" the psychoanalyst says. "you seem to be doing much better. How?"

"I went to see another doctor," Joe says enthusiastically, "and he cured me in just ONE session!"

"One?!" the psychoanalyst asks incredulously.

"Yeah," continues Joe, "my new doctor is a behaviorist."

"A behaviorist?" the psychoanalyst asks. "How did he cure you in one session?"

"Oh, easy," says Joe. "He told me to cut the legs off of my bed."

A man goes to the doctor. He says he's depressed. He says life seems harsh and cruel. He says he feels all alone in a threatening world, where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain.

The doctor says the treatment is simple. The great clown Terrifini is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up.

The man bursts into tears: "But doctor . . . I am Terrifini."

Corn Corner:

Why can't you hear a psychiatrist using the bathroom? Because the 'p' is silent. 

Psychiatrist to his blonde nurse: "Just say we're very busy. Don't keep saying 'It's a madhouse.'" 

Doctor, doctor, I keep thinking I'm a dog. 
Lie down on the couch and I'll examine you. 
I can't, I'm not allowed on the furniture. 

"Doctor," said the receptionist over the phone, "there's a patient here who thinks he's invisible."
"Well, tell him I can't see him right now."

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.