post-traumatic blogging disorder
Do you suffer from a post-traumatic disorder?
James Taranto, in response to a Boston Globe article about 'post-traumatic slavery disorder', asked readers to come up with their own post-traumatic disorders.
Paul Coates: PTPD, post-traumatic paradise disorder. My ancestors were thrown out of the Garden of Eden when Eve bit into the apple, at the prompting of the serpent, both of which were placed there by the Supreme Deity. The eons of suffering and pain that befell men and women can be directly linked to this event. Wars, famine, disease, drugs, Michael Bolton--every bit of suffering came from this. You might call it the "mother of all root causes."
Don Clevenger: Post-traumatic coliseum syndrome. You see I am a Christian and I can still feel the effects of my Christian ancestors that were horribly killed by lions and other wild beasts in the Roman coliseum during the first and second century. It seems I should be able to sue the Italian government and force them to redress these horrible wrongs of a mere 1900 years ago. I can't even visit a zoo or a circus without being overcome with anxiety! Its horrible.
Stuart Glasby: Post-traumatic chad disorder. The sight of a pregnant woman or someone with dimples causes viewer to curl up in a ball and repeat "Let every vote count!"
Perhaps anxiety wasn't my problem after all. I, too must suffer from some sort of PTD. I meditated over this and came up with a few:
Post-Traumatic Jets Disorder: When the Jets moved to New Jersey, I felt abandoned and let down. The fact that they moved to New Jersey in and of itself caused embarassment and shame. I'm suing the Jets for reparations to the tune of 1 million dollars.
Post Traumatic Costco Disorder: See here for details. I am going to hunt down and sue every person who ever hit me with their cart or caused me to break out in a fit of rage and ire when they tied up the aisles to get free food samples.
Post Traumatic Schumacher Disorder: Oh, the times I was forced to watch Joel Schumacher films! I see them in my sleep sometimes; The Wiz, Batman and Robin, D.C. Cab, Dying Young. If I even flash across one of these movies while flipping channels, my brain automatically shuts down in anticipation. I have been forced to miss family outings, concerts and baseball games all because a piece of Schumacher played for merely one second on my tv. He shall pay!
Post Traumatic Amy Fisher Disorder: I've been suffering from this, as have all Long Island women, since the day Amy Fisher tried to put a hole in Joey Buttafuoco's wife. Since that day, I cannot tell anyone I am from Long Island without them assuming I talk with an old-school Brooklyn accent and hang out in automotive shops. Whenever I mention I live on the island, people assume I'm a cheap date who puts out for married men and then tries to kill their wives. Do you know how hard it was for me to meet someone through the personals after my divorce? I still have to carry the gum-snapping, mall walking, Long Island Lolita shame of Amy Fisher every day.
It's hell being me.