You’re completely right Cog. I guess the sarcasm isn’t appreciated here. I’ll spell it out for you.
A) at the age of 40 it doesn’t matter how long anyone talks about their mother. It’s a good way for therapists to drag out the therapy, thus staying gainfully employed.
B) defining your mood on a sliding scale of 1 to 10 is fucking ridiculous. And useless. But, none the less, it’s a method used by therapists.
Yes. I am also more sensitive than anyone alive today. I have moderated the effects of this by slapping myself several times a day. I highly recommend this, as it has been shown to be the most efficacious method ever devised…
Oh, you little scamp. 
is someone being naughty again?
Uh…what? I am cornfused. I was just trying to share some useful insight (or incite) into dealing with what could euphemistically be described as a “useful abnormality”.
Indeed I have formulated a methodological process by which a “troubled” individual might well obtain a measurable degree of relief and/or satisfaction not limited to perceptual constraints. I will be announcing the availability of this new groundbreaking therapeutic treatment in the foreseeable, as yet undefined, future, if and when the demand for such meets or exceeds the required level(s) as to warrant the widespread promulgation of such…I hope that clears up any possible misunderstanding concerning my unambiguously duplicitous exhortations, arguably constructed for the dissemination of easily refuted distractive diatribes, which may or may not contain lightly veiled threats of aggressive argumentation rooted in dangerous sarcasm.
The guy was asking for advice. I gave him legit advice about psychoactive substances which, under early stages of research, allow cancer patients to change their attitudes towards death and pain.
Psilocybin microdosing is also showing to be effective with alcohol addiction and depression and anxiety.
So go fuck your self buddy. I’m not talking about the copious amounts of LSD you did in the seventies. And I’m not talking about your synthetic weed experiences (was that “delta 8” by the way?)
You think too much. But shit! Look at that vocabulary and sense of sarcasm. You must be smart and intellectually superior.
Well gee, (blushing like a new bride) I never really thought of myself as superior…but you know, I did always want to fuck one of those penguins I often saw walking…Now a Mother Superior…ooohh that might make me “smart”.
I like the word play of “insight” and “incite”. That was clever.
But “confused” and “cornfused”? What is “cornfused”? It sounds delicious.
hissss 
There you go. Short and sweet. And aryan in the true sense of the word. Not Hitler’s sense. The original sense. You know?
Careful…tread lightly here…
Lol. What? Was that offensive? Was that “trolling”? Or are you going to tell me what “cornfused” is?
If you don’t think there’s any benefit to calming your heart rate or rate of respiration by means of conscious intention then:
A) you’re missing out.
And
B) okay … then don’t.
Knowledge is a quirky thing. Sometimes it can appear as an enlightening force. Sometimes it can induce depression on a massive scale, so as to disturb and interrupt the “normal” functionality of random individuals. Other times, it may appear as a tweeting bird, barely discernible among the hubbub of the techno-mechanistic existences so prevalent in modern society.
There is an expression often misused by the amputation of the defining opening term(s). To whit: “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise”
Lol. Okay. I guess somethings are better left unsaid.
But I want to be cornfused toooooo!!! It’s sounds like a delicious state of being. Please initiate me into the Order of the cornfused 
Okay. Well it’s Saturday in my part of the world. So I’m going to go periodically read my comments in this thread while I masturbate to my own reflection. Should be occupied for about an hour. Bonsoi.
I don’t think. I think therefore I am? I don’t think therefore I am not. Honestly, I just regurgitate whatever the voice in my head is prompting me to think. I personally don’t think. Okay … so how am I writing this? It must require thought. Not really. I’m just kind of making shit up. Or, okay. I’ll take ownership of my words and actions. Fuck that. No I won’t. I’m a schizo. I have a voice in my head that makes momentary volition and impulse and then verbalization of thought. I’m a by product of my elementary school education. This fucked up broken wagon axle world with all of its over complicated waxing on … there’s not a whisper of thought in ANYONE of us. All these fucking symbols on this page. That last “e”.? It’s a symbol with an arbitrary sound attached to it. Or, if you want to get mystical about the relationship between symbols and objects, then we can talk about that. I don’t have much to say on the subject. My point is that you’re converting these little symbols into miniature sounds and combining them into longer sounds. Random lines repeated = symbol = sound = letter = word = sentence. Oh but there’s a representational relationship … an identity between the “thought” and the “tools” the “verbal representations and articulations” we use to convey them between each and one another.
No. First came mindless fucking cave men. Second came groans and monkey noises. Third came some fuck head who pointed at the fire as he groaned and grunted and finally turned that food hole of his into a voice box. Then a million years of this went on and one word led another and you suddenly had the mathematics of language and thought. Start with a ruler and a compass and Euclid will give you every preposition of geometry. Start with an object and a somewhat sophisticated way to make 26 or so basic sounds and you’ve got the foundations for geometry. Advance that a million years and you’ve got complicated thoughts.
I don’t have thought impulses. I don’t form concepts in my mind. All this rambling. Show it to a person from Fiji and then what is it. It’s nothing. Show it to you and it’s verging on something? Fuck that. It’s all a broken wagon axle. A very rudimentary chariot that breaks down after a certain amount of use. “Look at my chariot. See how noble I am in my chariot. Look at what I car in.” Nonsense. Hubris. Science is the pinnacle of human hubris. “I think” is a false penis. A penis based on a lie. A penis that we use to construct other penises. A penis. No, Cog. I don’t think. When I do think I get annoyed and I try hard to shut off the noise, the lies in my ear, the penis in my pocket. And when I turn off the noise, my mind is quiet and in its original state. Only my senses are active. The thoughts are a lie.
Cog, I want you to know that you’re like the father I never had. And by that I mean my asshole father left my mother before I was born, and you’re like him. Just horsing around 
The squeaky wheel gets the grease. It’s the grease that keeps the parts moving. Keeps them rubbing up against each other. Allowing for existence. That all dries up at some point. The wagon falls apart. Returns to its existence. The same existence it had before and after and while being a wagon.
Computers don’t make the world more real. Science doesn’t make human beings more intelligent.
TL:DR - I sometimes fart into my hand when no one is looking so that I can bring it up to my nose and smell it. I find this extremely satisfying. I don’t believe in all my years of cupping farts and smelling them that I’ve been disappointed with the smell. Why is it that we all love the smell of our own farts? A question as old as humanity itself. What came before the Big Fart. Is all of this just a fart in the hand of God which He smells for His satisfaction?
You know, I don’t care what anybody else says. I LIKE that analogy. 
Ratty Ratty Ratty; you ‘IGNORANT FUCK’
There are very good reasons that a good therapist would use while getting a 40-year-old man to talk about his relationship with his mother. Let me introduce you to “: DISQUALIFICATION” Human messages can be disqualified in several ways, Time: talking about the past. (I am not talking about me, here and now, but rather about something in the past.) This allows a psychological cushion whereby a person can talk about themselves and their behavior by looking at how it was. The therapist, knowing of course that how it was is also how it is. And also knowing the way things are presented is important to understand the client’s problem-solving skills. I also mentioned individuation earlier. It also tells the therapist how vested or enmeshed in family relations the client may be. (AND A BUNCH MORE SHIT) Ratty, READ A FUCKING BOOK. You don’t know what in the fuck you are talking about.
Again you are DEMONSTRABLY WRONG. Defining moods on a scale of 1-10 is one of the most common ways to deal with Phobias in BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION. A client is asked to relax and then the idea of the stimulus is introduced… through a process called "SUCCESSIVE APPROXIMATION’ paired with relaxation, the client is exposed to increased contact with the stimulus of his or her phobia.
The end result is the person gets over their phobia.
There are loads of reasons for a therapist to ask a client to define a mood on a scale of 1 to 10. The fact that you don’t understand it MEANS JACK-SHIT.
You gave a biased opinion, so I gave mine. You are acting like a child.
And I’m the sensitive one here?
I’m a millennial ya dunce
If by biased you are implying that i personally use mushrooms recreationally, you’re wrong. I don’t. I’ve seen psychedelics cure a very acute opioid addiction in a very close friend who nearly lost his life relying on the “morphine model” for heroine treatment in the Western World. The substance is called Ibogaine and it is derived from a root from the Iboga Tree found only in Western Africa where it is used by “primitive” tribes as a rite of passage for manhood when boys turn 13. Therapeutically, one addicted to opioids can pay a sizeable lump of money (thousands of dollars) for a single trip to Mexico on Ibogaine and the success rate of a single therapeutic trip is 95 % (whereas the recovery centres in the “civilized” Western model of “morphine weaning” has about a 15 % success rate). More to the point, my partner has had success with chronic anxiety by microdosing psilocybin. So, if you mean I am biased because I’ve researched the therapeutic effects of psychedelics and have seen it work on two people very dear to my heart, then sure fuckwad - I’m “biased”.
Dude. If you called me an idiot to my face and I was out of uniform, in civies, I’d throw down with you. See how you handle six feet and 230 pounds of trained muscle and then call me an “idiot”. Those are my emotions. I wear my heart on my sleeve. And I will talk to you the same way here as I would in reality. People don’t fuck with me IR. I’m not used to it. So yeah, I’m “sensitive” too.
Oh yeah. My mistake. Well. Well. Umm. So am I as a matter of fact!!! 1981. For a while there I was still being called gen X. I loathed the idea of being lumped in with the “actuuuuaaalllly” generation. I grew up without computers. Then they said 1981 to 1984 was “generation flux” because we came of age during to recession of 2008 where we were supposed to be settling down and having children and landing decent jobs. Never happened for us (when it “traditionally” should have). We had to put life on hold. My job still doesn’t pay all that well, but I’m lucky enough to have a mortgage. No kids. My millennial friends started having kids around 35ish. I’ve since come to terms with being lumped in with people who say “actually?” Instead of “really?”
So, let’s start over. Hi there fellow millennial. What year were you born, if you don’t mind sharing? (Feel free to decline of course).