The TV Zone

Mandatory Anger Management, A Court Ordered Remedy

A few weeks ago, in the crisp early morning, I was walking my dog, 'Spot', and my vision blurred. My ears began to ring. My heart started thumping. We were near my neighborhood high school and just as we were passing near an adult crossing guard, who was directing traffic and pedestrians in the parental rush to drop off students, something weird happened. I found out what happened that night, in the hospital.
Hospital Psychiatrist: How do you feel Mr. Bauer?
Me: Huh?
HP: I wonder how you are feeling now, Mr. Bauer?
Me: Who are you?
HP: I'm Dr. Fixit. Do you remember speaking with me earlier today?
Me: Where am I?
HP: You're in the hospital. You had an episode.
Me: Huh?
HP: Yes. Early this morning you were walking Spot near the High School when you suddenly started yelling and screaming and waving your arms in the air. You were cursing and swearing and rolling on the ground. You were so disorderly and scary Spot ran home by himself. The police were called and eventually you were subdued by ten of them and brought here for psychiatric evaluation.
Me: Oh.
I thought about that for a minute but couldn't remember any of it. The last clear memory I had was when I said to Spot, "Look Spot, there's a nice tree to sniff".
Me: I never had an episode before. What happens next?
HP: We talk. We try and figure out what caused the episode. We fix it.
Me: OK.
HP: Is there anything that happened that has caused you stress?
Me: Yes. My wife died, my son hates me, I filed for bankruptcy after 9-11, I had to live with my parents for two years because I lost my apartment, my father died and I had to move out of the house because my mother decided she hates men, and the writers went on strike.
HP: Ahhh!
Me: Ahhh?
HP: I heard about the writers strike. Is that still going on? I wanted to be a writer a long time ago but it was too risky. Everyone knows making a living in the so-called 'arts' is tough in America, so I became a psychiatrist instead. Steady work, you know.
Me: Nice. I'm happy for you.
HP: Are you a writer Mr. Bauer?
Me: No. I'm a grip.
HP: Ahhh! I see that in the credits of movies and always wondered what a grip is. Do you hold things or what? Do you ever meet any movie stars?
I sorta looked at Dr. Fixit, the hospital psychiatrist, and my eyes started to get glassy. He quickly moved on.
HP: How has the writer's strike affected you?
Me: I'm out of work because of it. Everything is shutting down, no work.
HP: You belong to a union, Mr. Bauer?
Me: Yes.
HP: If I remember my labor history isn't it likely that the unions will stick together and settle the dispute pretty quickly?
Me: I don't think so.
HP: Huh?
Me: My union yelled at the writers union for going on strike without my union's approval. There was a failure to communicate, I guess. Apparently my union has taken the implied 'united' out of the old definition of 'union'. Or maybe the writers forgot to get united with my union first. I'm not sure.
HP: Your union isn't supporting the writer's strike?
Me: I don't know what's going on. Nobody has said anything about what is going on. What the plan is. I was reminded in a newsletter that we don't strike or slow down production. Our contract says something like, "you are forbidden to strike or slow down or you will be locked up on a slave ship where you will row for the rest of your life while being whipped and hit with blunt instruments".
HP: I guess it doesn't matter if you support the writers much now, cause you're out of work anyway.
Me: Right.
HP: Do you think the people who the writers are negotiating with are aware of the lack of cohesion between your union and the writers?
Me: Unless they are dumber than rocks.
HP: Hmm. I seriously doubt that. I think I read somewhere that the entertainment business in general is a great thriving economic force in the world. Bigger than the Detroit car makers in their heyday. Of course nobody would want to admit they are making money hand over fist so they probably try to keep a low profile.
Me: They still make cars in Detroit? I thought we gave that up a few years after firing all the air traffic controllers.
HP: No, that can't be true. Someone is still making cars in Detroit, I'm sure. And air traffic has improved tremendously since Reagan fired those controller clowns who wanted to have a decent life.
Me: I think there was a failure to communicate.
HP: You seem to have a fairly balanced view of what is going on in the world of labor and unions and so on, seeing as you don't have much hope and nobody is telling you anything. It has always been one of mankind’s greatest gifts and strengths to carry on even when there is a total lack of leadership, governance, justice, fairness and so on. Why do you do it?
Me: Because I like being a grip.
HP: No, I don’t mean why do you work as a grip, I mean why do you persevere?
Me: Because I'm dumber than a rock.
HP: Good for you! Humility always works! I'm going to recommend you are released from this hospital tonight but you must go to court tomorrow. They will recommend an anger management group therapy for you, with guidelines which I'm proud to say I co-authored, and I'm going to prescribe some drugs for you.
Me: Oh good. I like drugs.
HP: Wonderful! OK, goodbye Mr. Bauer, and good luck!