Friday, January 07, 2005

Dr. Phil, CG

You may have noticed for the past couple of days I have not spoken of The Great War of 2005. I'd like to tell you that it's because I've spent my time writing of the greater truths of mankind or spending it in loftier family/moral/patriotic/spiritual pursuits.

But that, of course, would be a big fat lie.

The truth of the matter is, yesterday I shoveled (snow, not crap) twice, made dinner, and then declared that I was done for the day. In a fit of guilt I managed to organize some books in my bedroom, arranging them neurotically by size and genre. Looking over the residents of literature lane, I thought, "Wow, I read some really weird stuff."

Unfortunately, after my book straightening exercise, I tossed all the extras on my living room couch. Battle won -- Battle lost.

My dishes, too, are back to piled in the sink. They shall be attended to this weekend, along with all the other little piles of messes that have crept up over the past several days.

I might have been discouraged about my progress or lack thereof in The War of Good God Almighty Where Did All This Crap Come From? But then I sat down and watched a snippet of Dr. Phil and his Resolutions show.

Pigeon after Pigeon Guest after Guest came trotting out on stage to pitch their particular tale of woe. One had a drinking problem. Another had a smoking problem. Another was addicted to the computer *snerk*. Dr. Phil, in his usual good-ole-boy, down home, folksy, drawling Texas-style way, handed them their heads -- and excuses -- on a platter.

"No Excuses!" He'd bark.
"But..." they'd begin
"No Excuses! DO you want to stop or NOT?"
"But..." they'd try to speak

And on and on it went.

Now, I'm not here to contradict his advice or the manner in which he chooses to dish it out help others. In fact, I agree with him that generally what people say they want to do, and what they are actually willing to do (after making a million excuses) are two entirely different things. As I sat on my couch, watching exchange after exchange, I had a Pre-Epiphany epiphany.


This man gets paid a truckload of money to do nothing more than bark advice that any Cranky Granny would be glad to heap on you, day in and day out, free of charge. And if you didn't have a Cranky Granny, you could go to the grocery store on a Sunday afternoon (Cranky Grannys do church so they can go to heaven), grab a cart, and mow down several in a matter of minutes. They are everywhere, swinging the sledgehammer of advice with reckless abandon. There is no talking back. There is no arguing. There is no use in trying to discuss, reason or rationalize, because Cranky Granny is Volcano.

So, I felt a little better. Maybe I am a day or two behind on my personal war on crap. Maybe I did decide to shovel and then be done. But the way I look at it, not only was I smart enough NOT to have Cranky Granny yell at me in front of America, I was smart enough to turn off the TV.


TVJ said...

Yeah, I'm not a big fan of Dr. Phil. Same stuff, day after day. Just another example of why I believe that Oprah is evil.

Jay Ann Cox, PhD said...

Well, pshaw, chile! a'course he's a-cranky... ever done seed his missus? She's quite the prisspot.

and I'd have to say that you might have won the war on all that cold, wet white stuff cluttering up your yard. See? win-win!

buffyvol said...

Not a fan of Dr. Phil either.
The Cranky Grannys don't just come out after church. They shop at my market before noon on Saturday's also. I had a pack of Nathan's and a bag o buns, headed to the 10 and under checkout and out of no where this HAG! drops it in third, and jumps ahead of me on two wheels. With a buggy full. She then procedded to tell me she 'didn't want to hear it! She was old and in a hurry!' And told the little girl behind the lane to hurry up! She 'didn't have time for any of her small talk crap!'