July 4, 2012: Silly me, in my last Blah-ugh! post I stupidly called ODD "EDD." Those of you who read (or are reading) "Space Case" will see that I still have "EEDs" on my mind, thus the mistake is understandable, given MY mind. But I'll set the record straight now, for an EED is an "Experiential Experience Drone" (see SC, which is "Space Case"), ODD is "Oppositional Defiance Disorder" and EDD ... Well, I don't know what the hell that is, but it doesn't matter ...
ODD is what I wanted to talk about, and I'm sitting here still reeling, rocking and rolling (my eyes, that is) because I can't believe that the medical world could create such a RIDICULOUS diagnosis ...
And yet, as my readers know (assuming they've been paying attention to me), nothing should surprise us in this ass-backward world. Why wouldn't the alleopathic medical community -- the psych world in particular, which favors over-medicating the whole human race for residuals and travel junkets paid by the pharmaceutical industry -- create some official disorder for what is, I'm sure, in almost all cases the simple bratty behavior of children fostered by poor, ineffectual and somewhat stupid parenting.
I know how it happened. Some wealthy family, who'd created an incredibly spoiled, out-of-control kid, DEMANDED of their high-priced child psychologist that they "fix" him (or her).
"Yes, well, but, uh, Mr. and Mrs. Bushwacker, there's really nothing wrong with him from a medical standpoint," the shrinking shrink meekly defended.
"Bull!" the parents shouted, projecting the same solid immovable righteous resolve that works so well in corporate business meetings, and with Hispanic gardeners, respectively. "We're paying you to fix him, so do it."
"Well, I can medicate him. Owing to the fact that he's an up-and-coming sociopath, it's reasonable to get this kid on some drugs, but--"
"Yes, but we can't have any labels," the mother moaned, as she was one to do at the oddest of times. "Certainly not any that could plague him later in politics, or when he goes to Yale."
"Yes, I concur," the father concurred. (He was always concurring, especially when his wife wasn't around.) "He needs a broader diagnosis. Something more befitting a Bushwacker."
"Well," the therapist began hesitantly, "I'm not sure there ..."
"Perhaps we can help move this thing forward with your help," the father said, getting his checkbook out with the dramatic relish he often showed when concurring.
The therapist, who always needed more money to fund his gambling and pornography addictions, grew quite reasonable in quite a quick moment. "Hmm, well ... Y'know, for a long time I've wondered why the DSM-IV wasn't recognizing some of the more subtle afflictions that seem to plague the one percent, meaning you kind folks."
He accepted the remarkably large check with a humble warm feeling in and about his genitals.
"In fact," he said, waxing patriotic, "I think it's an authentic tragedy that afflicted young people, like your child -- so misunderstood and-and-and unappreciated -- that they should go through life being shunned and held accountable for their behavior, when in fact they're not doing anything wrong ... at least, they shouldn't be held accountable. It's this disorder, damnit! This damn disorder of-of-of defiance and-and ...
"Wait! I've got it! Your son is suffering from a Defiance Disorder, which is why he's oppositional. My god, it's a revelation! He's not a spoiled brat, who's grown up with no boundaries, no healthy limits set by healthy attentive parents who were present in his life ... He's a victim! A victim of an Oppositional Defiance Disorder!"
The parents were pleased, as was the therapist, who vowed to move forward in lobbying all the official governing agencies to get their kid the diagnosis he deserved ... Yes, it was a great day for the Bushwacker family ... and another typical day in the psychiatric community at large!
NOTE: If you enjoyed the fluid joyful journey of this renegade writing sample, you'll love the virulent prose of my new novel SPACE CASE. It's the witty and vaguely disturbing tale of somebody who does something, and then some other people get involved in some other ways too ... It's great!
i'm just odd, you know the old fashioned odd . . . like odd-girl-out, at odds, even and odd, odd bird, "oh, that's odd", tales of the odd . . . isn't that peculiar?
ReplyDeleteAn EDD is the equivalent of a PhD in the Education field. Two of my colleagues are in the process of earning EDDs. I don't know why. ODD sounds like more fun. Both my children have it. And my husband. Come to think of it, I am the only one in this family who is sweet and reasonable. And sensible.
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