The American Caliban (substitute) wrote,
The American Caliban

Dear the psychiatrist I go to

You're a nice guy and you appear to be a very competent physician. Your expertise has been valuable to me, and I appreciate the way you go the extra distance to give me appropriate care at reasonable prices. In general I would recommend you to anyone needing management of medication for depression. Thumbs up!

However, I have one concern. During my time in your waiting room today, I experienced approximately 20 minutes of our local soft mellow pop station, KOST 103 ("The Coast"). This station played an assortment of music including Whitney Houston, the Spinners, a number of unknown generic smooth R&B songs I hear at the grocery store, and two commercials. I was then promised that they'd have a "block" of great hits from Phil Collins, as well as Wham!, Simply Red, and the Eagles. At this point, fortunately, I was ushered it for my consultation.

I would like to point out that rigorous double-blind studies conducted by researchers in major institutions have shown mellow soft rock and R&B stations to be a causative factor in Insipid Twat Syndrome, the Bolton-Taylor Prepsychotic Rage Effect, Mansonism, the trots, and opiate abuse. Children raised in a soft hits environment are 40% more likely to become serial killers who make dolls out of their victims' skin. And exposure to the Eagles has been determined to be at the root of 14 of a reported 19 school shootings in the last 20 years. Adolescent rats exposed to KOST 103 in particular developed tumors on their noses, and the tumors had little devil heads on them, and the devil heads were eating little babies, and the babies were screaming.

In order to improve your long-term patient success rates and avoid a horrible shrieking amok attack with knives and splatter and bloodwrestling in the waiting room, I would suggest an alternative program such as classical music, real jazz, or silence. All of your therapeutic efforts will come to naught if you come out and find that your patients have made of your secretary a blood sacrifice to the Unclean Thing in the Air Vent so that the Michael Bolton might Finally Stop.

Also, as an aside, you weren't very reassuring today when you stuttered six times trying to say the word "productivity". But hey, it was a Friday.


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