Craig Kurtz: Dr. Smile

Craig Kurtz · Dr. Smile

“‘You know, Mayerson, I heard a rumor about you, one I didn’t like. Someone saw you lugging one of those suitcase-type extensions of a conapt psychiatric computer around with you . . . did you get a draft notice?’ […] Nuts! he thought. Barney needs to be insecure, otherwise he’s as good as on Mars; that’s why he’s hired that talking suitcase. I don’t understand the modern world at all, obviously. I’m living back in the twentieth century when psychoanalysts made people less prone to stress.— Philip K. Dick, The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch.

Dr. Smile is on my case,

we’ve got appointments face to face;

I take him with me ev’ryplace —

analysis in outerspace.

You choose from menus of symptoms

and double-click sundry syndromes;

describe your latest episode

and wait while Dr. Smile downloads.

The Freudians are out of style

but Dr. Smile’s got him on file;

and Jung as well, or primal scream —

just swipe your card, discuss your dream.

We’ve got Carl Rogers on tape, scrolled —

don’t spindle, mutilate or fold;

and B. F. Skinner, just like that —

just press the bar, like a good rat.

Some cures are rather orthodox

like needles or electric shocks;

some cures are triggered by joystick

or raffles or arithmetic.

The only thing that really counts

is doses in the right amounts;

you’re paying your good money to

become accredited cuckoo.

So get a Dr. Smile today

complete with cranium x-ray;

once you are certified insane,

the government won’t take your brain.