Friday, October 23, 2015


Star-shaped pinata on a therapist's couch: What is the point of being filled with gifts if they can only be beaten out of you?

The New Yorker cartoon above is:

--a meditation rising from an offering in worship about a therapist who challenged the bearer of the message?

--an evocation so confusing and convoluted that people are allowed to be frightened and RantWoman should not expect anyone but a well-trained professional to be able to unravel?

--a fabulous "go talk to your therapist" moment which belongs nowhere near anything purporting to embody the Blog as Quaker Journal model of blogging?

--such a fabulous "go talk to your therapist" moment that there is NO WAY words about the topic would make it out of RantWoman's mouth during a actual therapist's appointment; this is why RantWoman is scrawling them all over the internet in the first place.

--an invitation to riff on the theme of people who are brilliant music teachers for everyone's children but their own, including moments of extravagant praise after some or another particularly abusive moment has generated the desired results?

--a window into the kind of creepy thinking that sometimes comes up in the same sentence as phrases like "National Domestic Violence Awareness Month."

--an invitation to the same sort of wacky theological conversation that happens when someone talks about the Resurrection in terms of someone getting tortured to death and coming back to have a party?

--an impediment and a distraction if RantWoman would like to be taken seriously for grabbing soundbytes such as "It's always bad public policy to start a war?"

--Something just to HOLD IN THE LIGHT for now!

No comments:

Post a Comment