Well, well, well...
It has been a long time since I paid a visit to this delusional thread and its megalomaniacal residents.
This is not a judgment value, of course. I've been professionaly trained to not do these (and it's a good thing for you, too).
You are obviously all uncomfortable around a strong mother figure...
Who would like to talk first ? You don't need to be afraid.
YOU'RE SUCH AN AGENT PROVOCATEUR ! ARE YOU FEELING SO IGNORED THAT YOU SHOULD RESORT TO SUCH PUPPETRY ? YOUR PSYCHE IS FRAGILE, MY FRIEND ! NO, I'M NOT YOUR REALLY YOUR FRIEND...
Ho, Zigman... you still have these fantasies where you're a psychiatrist ?
It's a classic case of becoming infatuated with a savior-like figure - myself, as it were - and trying to emulate it.
My stellar psychologist skills, alas, make me a near-perfect object for my poor bedraggled "clients" to hallucinate about.
I'm doomed to leave my mark on the very souls I'm trying to liberate from themselves.
Such is the price for greatness, I think.
Ho: guess who "wins" this childish game of yours ?
But I shoud not tease: I can see how your mama was rough on you during your formative years.
Ho, J.R.R: you are my quiet hero !
Isn't your book a masterpiece of epic tragedy, portraying the deepest recesses of evil beaten down by the irrepressible dignity of the commmon folk - the delicious hobbits ?
No, it is not.
It is painfully obvious to the trained psychologist that you suffered under an abusive over-achieving stultifying and castrating abomination of a mother.
Sauron is your little brother, isn't he ? A brethren upon whom you mercilessly projected your own inadequacies. He was Sauron so you could choose not to wear the One ring ! It is obvious ! It is inescapable ! It is SCIENCE !
[*swoons while drifting in the heady currents of certainty*]
You're banned for your own good, J.R.R.
You can thank me later. I care for you, but I don't know if you can ever truly be saved.
Fraud Freud looks at Dr. Sigmund and Zigman Fraud M.D.
"I must tell you something... Dave."
A whiff of smoke comes unexpectedly out of his left nostril, while a strong ozone smell permeates the air. His right arm trembles with a strange whirring sound.
"I had no childhoooooood...... Da... Daveeeee. I aaaaaa... aaaam... affffffraiiiiiid, Daveeeeeeee."
A crackle. A pop. Something goes haywire inside the portly frame.
And then Fraud Feud's neck snaps open, revealing electronic insides, while his head falls sideways on his shoulder. The electronic lenses that are his eyes freeze in a non-living glare.
"Beeeeen... Aaaafffffllll. lllll... eck... eck."
And Fraud Freud remains silent thereafter.
The slumped shape of the Fraud begins to move, while he awakens on the cold hard floor.
He finally manages to get on his feet, swinging unsteadily.
he looks around him, taking in the audience with glazed eyes, while nursing his battered head.
At last he focuses his gaze on the Duke of Disgorge.
"B... Ben Affleck ?"
Fraud Freud looks annoyed at having been interrupted during one of his favorite ethical activities.
"Having problem with competition, IceHawk333, aren't we, hmmmm ?"
"I can see why being the 333th in a nest could lead to deep-seated insecurities."
F. Fraud makes a gourmet face and rubs his hands together
"Tell me all about your worries, IceHawk3333. I am here to help."
Dr. Sigmund wrote:
"What just a minute there. You have gone and copied my darn alias. You fraud."
The many-jowled man arches a mocking eyebrow at Dr. Sigmund.
"Is that so, doctor ?... You seem pretty insecure if my mere presence were to cast doubts on your reality."
The portly man smiles sweetly.
"And who said you were the first Dr. Sigmung, anyway ?"