Lance walks into the ‘Psycho‘-Therapist’s Office and slumps down into a chair…

“Hello. My Name is Doctor Calvin Cray-Cray.”

“Hello!” Way Too Effervescent Psychotherapist blurts out. “And how are WE Today?”

“Shitty,” I answer.

“Oh No!!” he says. “We can never be ‘shitty’, as you say. WE are always ‘Happy’.”

“’Go Fuck yourself’, as I also say.”

“Mister Marcom. ‘WE‘ do NOT Talk this Way.”

“Fuck yourself again Doc, I talk this way AND I am PAYING you so I CAN talk this way. And I shall continue to Talk this way–Deal with it.

“Okay, why then are you ‘shitty’ as you call it?”

Leaning back… wondering how long this court – ordered bullshit must go on, I decide to hit him with it:
“I am shitty ‘cause I have written some good shit on my blog and no one is reading it.”

“Please do go on. Tell me more. By the way, what’s a ‘Blog’?”

“You’re shitting me, right? They don’t let you out much, do they? Well… there is this one about

South Park

‘Kandahar, Afghanistan Version.'”

“You mean J.R.’s Ranch? I thought that was in Dallas.”

“Do you have a Degree Doc?”

“Of course, right over there on the wall. See it?”

“I only see what I want to see, Things that Interest me. What’s it in, your ‘Dee-Gree‘?”


“Yeah, guess that would make some sense–How much you pay for it? Did they throw in the frame, or did you have to pay for that too? You obviously didn’t take any courses in Modern Pop Culture Pops. I would have thought that requisite—For a Phycologist.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Never mind.”

“Let us get back to YOUR problem and away from my credentials, shall we? You say no one reads your ‘shit’, but why not?”

“‘t-l-d-r’ in the ‘vernacular.’”*

“’Tee el dee ar’? I’m afraid I do not understand your meaning here.”

“’Too Long. Didn’t Read’ Asshole.”

“Mister Marcom, I must implore you not to continue abusing me with such language. I am merely attempting to help you here. Why is it too long? Do you hate your mother?”

“Well, it took days and days to write, and… My Mother?? Who ARE you? What ARE you? Do you even know what it is ‘to write’? To write well? To do anything well? To pour your ‘Self,’ your very ‘Being,’ passionately, wholeheartedly, completely into something, anything? I severely doubt it.”

“Let us focus on ‘your problem.’ shall we?”

“No Doc, let us focus on yours: I don’t want to be here. I have been compelled, coerced, and constrained to be here. This makes me, right now, YOUR Problem. Try your best to cope. This will be over soon.

“Oh, I see.”

“You ‘see’ nothing. I just want folks to read my shit.”

“I cannot help you there Son. Perhaps though, if I may, proffer a suggestion?”

“Sure. Fire away.”

“Write some better ‘shit’, as you call it.”


As I was leaving I realized I HAD gotten ONE, (yet only one), beneficial benefit from this ‘Court-Mandated Counseling.’ But it was great advice:

“Write Some Better Shit.”


Why So Many People Want To Be Writers

Credit: The School of Life


Bonus Added Value: “Reasons to Remain Single”

Credit: The School of Life


Hanne Boel: “Can’t Run From Yourself”

Vid Share Credit: Johncoyote:


& Елена Елистратова


“Better Off Without A Wife”


This Concludes My “Self-Help Session”

“Self-Help is The Best Help”

(“Because it is generally more effective and lasts much longer”)

—Lance Marcom, Not-So-Famous WriterYet

“And it won’t cost you a dime. Just send me one dollar, Postal Money Order for my advice.”


Want More ‘Crazy Lance?’

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“Too Long. Didn’t Read.”

Frequently used acronym by lazy, ignorant people in Internet Forums, where their urge to type something exceeds their ability to read something or if they generally lack semantic ability to either comprehend or respond to a post due to underdeveloped brain.

Stating that they were too lazy reading someone else’s post just confirms the ignorant attitude and also often destroys the discussion in the thread.

The average IQ of people typing TLDR in Internet forums is about 64.

“Since I am a lonely masturbating boy with no brain I have no capacity to read all you said, but due to my lonely social life I still feel like typing something in this thread, I will type TLDR.”

–by foopp May 05, 2009

Via Urban Dictionary:

3 thoughts on “SHITTY PITY PARTY

  1. Years ago. The army thought I was crazy. They send me to a Army Psycho‘-Therapist. We talks and I took tests. He told me I was crazy but I will be alright. Gave me the option of staying in or getting out. Gave me drugs to give me peace. I took the medicine once. Made me sleepy. I stayed in the Army. The Army Psycho‘-Therapist was cool. He told me. All of us are angry. I enjoyed your tale my friend. I hope you are doing well and having some fun.

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