His name is Phillip C. McGraw, PhD - and a few other degrees of caring. Sure he earns money on his show. So what? Sure there are those who give him short shrift. Sure he has an ego. His is healthy, have you examined yours lately?
Without a proper ego, we have no core, no way of judging ourselves and most certainly cannot define the behavior of others. A healthy ego is much to be desired as well as examined - but not too often: Obsession is never a good idea.
For myself, I define Dr. McGraw as the Stevedore psychologist; that is to say, he gets the job done. Often, he brings in the expertise of others - I mean, we can’t expect him to wave a magic wand and heal those who need to be healed.
Before we are presented with the day’s subjects, along with time-wasting advertisements (which pay for the show) and coming attractions to keep some of us watching (even if we don’t need that, either), Dr. McGraw and a very large staff, have gathered a light ton of information.
He said/she said/parents/children . . . a bevy of participants for what is probably only forty minutes worth of program. So a stevedore - with plenty of backup to do the grunt work - is needed. Who would tolerate watching three or more years of archetypal analysis? There are many ways to get inside your SELF. Trusted friends may be helpful so long as
Yes he is and he’s in my office almost every weekday on CBS-TV.
- They actually know what’s really going on (because you are honest)
- Know their limitations
- Are able to keep their mouths shut forever (unless you release them from vows of silence
- You are able not only to tolerate, but accept the help you’ve asked for.
For instance, nothing is so welcome to one drunk as the company of another drunk - or several. Misery is often happier - yes, I did say that - in the company others of like despair.
Have we all gone mad? Dr. McGraw could be in your home for eight working hours a day with a parade of one troubled person after another: Husbands beating wives and their children; others overwhelmed by the care and feeding of same - and, perhaps, working outside the home. Since you’re reading this, you can make your own list if you’ve the stomach for it.
What continues to appall me are the stay-at-home mothers with one - one - infant who is too exhausted caring for that one infant to launder clothes, shop for groceries, prepare (healthy) meals and make love to their husbands. I must be living in a time-warp, for I do not personally know these women and I never did.
Where is the Dr. Phil show finding so many disconsolate women and men and children? Ah! Must be in Walmart - you know, those grotesqueries in the photos we find too often on our monitor screens. Some person have given up, just given up.
Many years ago there was an article in The Saturday Evening Post that warned about over-population. It compared human over-population to over-crowded rats who ended up eating other over-crowded rats. Seems apt, no? When I read it, it resonated strongly. Yet who of us thought about a population explosion after the end of World War II? We were too busy and too happy add to the explosion. Just for instance, I knew four women who between them had twenty-eight children - seven for each. Truly, I did know them.
How many people are happy, really happy? (You’ll find I mention happiness often - without it, what’s the point?) Warehouse elderly (that again), neglected spouses, neglected children, neglected SELF.
Oprah Winfrey brought back reading as a sport. She is most probably responsible for the sale of books in our more recent history. Yet I know almost no one who reads books. And if they do read them, it’s non-fiction. There is nothing bad about non-fiction. But what about stories?
Here I’ve taken the lazy way of explaining why fiction matters. That the site also advertises doesn’t negate the opinions.
My own fiction reading is spotty - fantasy as opposed to science fiction (Diana Gabaldon and Robin Hobb my favorites).
No romance, no chick lit.
Anything by John Irving . . .
And then there are those books which I read more than once, most often written by British authors. I can’t abide epistolary novels or ones that are off-the-wall “stylish.” Oh, please, just tell me a story.
Sometime in the early sixties, Harvey Cox said: “Religion is people telling stories.”
Feel free - and happy - to suggest subjects to that interest you and may interest others. Blogging is slogging compared to writing novels, which tend to create themselves, sometimes without permission from the writer. Characters sometimes behave badly and even drop dead without my permission. How rude!
Having been annoyed - very - by an inconvenient adventure early this morning. I’m still happy. I hope you are happy, too.
Addendum: Just as I was ready to post this, Dr. McGraw showed up. Today’s problem is an adulterous man and his wife. No news there, except that he’s being adulterous with a trans-gender male who is now a woman. Let me be clear: I love the gay men who are my friends. As well, I’m interested in genetics and the tricks they play. Much information is found in Joan Roughgarden’s book, Evolution’s Rainbow: