Terrorism and Propaganda

[Terrance]

Jasper Fidget wrote:
> 
> Why do they provide dial-up access to mental hospitals?

So we can send our poetry to YOU! 

CRASH
	

I am with YOU Bellevue in when the French Radio Station Reports Our Dear
Deleuze is 

Dead. 

            Assembled in a company, Doctor Dolittle's whole sick crew.
	Fraud, Hilarious, Quack and Gold, Doctor Kavorkian  too.
	They work in Psychodontia, Paranoia, Psychosis,
            And Transfenestration adieus.
	They work on their tans, their billfolds and yachts
	But their patients have little value.
	The patients it seems, unworthy of dreams 
	Are simply sick rats in a game. 
	The Doctors are busy, their rounds keep them dizzy,
	With prescriptions to write without shame.
	Now one patient there, in the good doctors' cares,
	in a dismal catatonic tone, 
            said,  "Doctors beware, I'll DC (discontinue)  your care,
	if you please-just leave me alone."
	They offered a nose job, they offered her pain,
	They studied her ego and Id.
	They prescribed drugs to alter her brain,
	But the one thing none of them did,
	Was interpretation of her castration dreams,
	Which engaged her each night while she slept.
	Why they haunted her so with those shadowy scenes,
	Why she shivered and shook and she wept.
	When this patient stood up in order to speak,
	Her sad story she offered to tell
	Dr. Dolittle cried, "Not even a peep,
	I've too many prescriptions to sell.
	There was silence supreme, "Forget sex and bad dreams,"
	Dr. Dolittle said with a smirk,
	"Now where is my pad, there are profits to be had,
	Now all of you get back to work."
	The patient stood there in a frustrated stance
	"I'm paying the bills here, you know!"
	As she shuffled her feet in a Thorazine dance,
	and started her story of woe.
	"When I was a young girl I lived by the shore..."
	"Skip all that!"  cried the doctor in haste, 
	"and tell us-how are your teeth?" and he stepped to the door,
            "For we don't have a minute to waste."    
	"I'll skip fifty years," cried the patient in tears
	"And proceed without further remark, 
	To the day when I lost my mind to my fears,
	As I stumbled and groped in the dark.
	A dentist, it seems, made the wrong diagnosis,
	I don't need a hospital stay."
	The do little doctor whispered, "Psychosis,
	Now lets talk of my fees and my pay."
	"Prescriptions and money, to me its not funny,"
	 Said the patient to the window glare.
	"You are obtuse and greedy, while your patients are needy
	But the worst is you really don't care.
	Please listen dear doctors and tell me the truth,
	I need to be led not a stray.
	Are my dreams of castration, only mental masturbation?
	And will your medicines chase them away?"
	Doctor Fraud stroked his beard, Hilarious thought it weird,
	Doctor Dolittle rubbed his head,
	But they offered no answer, to the thorazine dancer,
	And now the poor patient is CRAAASHSHshshshshsh 
	Dead.	
				
					Paris / New York, 05 Nov 95---05 Apr 97

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