Group Therapy

Air
Originally uploaded by kafkas_undies.

You have problems. Lots of problems. (But who doesn't, right?)

So let's say this is your situation: you're a basketcase as in completely off your rocker. But after some cajoling, you're finally ready to seek professional help. And you'd even take that readiness a step further – as in actually doing something about it – if not for one minor snag. Actually, two major snags. One: you don't have medical insurance. Two: you're poor. So what is a poor, uninsured crazy supposed to do? Write your congressional representatives? Kidnap a therapist and imprison her in your basement until you’re cured?

I suppose you could do both. Alternately, you could opt for a far simpler strategy. Go to your local art museum on Friday night. Don't worry about scrounging up ten bucks for admission because chances are, admission is free. If you're in the United States and near an art museum, free Friday night admission is almost a guarantee. If you're in Canada or in one of the western European nations, then sit back and consider yourself lucky. Why? Because your geographic whereabouts almost by definition translates into exemption from the unpleasantness of being cornered by strangers in art museums and then having to listen to their seemingly endless list of problems. It also means you have access to healthcare and that you don’t spend much time walking past fat, ugly, stupid, and/or toothless people. Not unless you’re into that sort of thing, anyway, and if you are into that sort of thing, then to each his own poison I guess.

Back in the States, I was recently examining a series of photographs at the Portland Museum of Art's Bicentennial exhibition. I was very much enjoying the show – except for those ghastly “Upholstered Velvet” and “Upholstered Beaver Fur” monstrosities – but then it all came to a bloody end. The blood started dripping from my ears when my personal space was violated by an archetypal basketcase. In my ten minute one sided and wholly unresponsive conversation with the lady, here’s what I learned: she is a divorced alcoholic who hates men, is now gay, suspects that her ex-husband is gay; her ex-husband has incest issues and she, meanwhile, enjoys abusive relationships with women she picks up at bars.

Beautiful. And instructive, too. So let this serve as a warning, complete with all the red flags you’d ever want, that U.S.-based Friday museum nights are dangerous. They are dangerous if you hate people and they are especially dangerous if you hate crazy, ugly people.