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Fired at Last

24 Aug

Ari: Great work, Rob. Great work. See if you can read this: [Writing on dry-erase board] Get the fuck out! You’re fired, and in case your ears are fucked, Get. The Fuck. Out! And the next person I see juggling, tap dancing, or baton twirling or doing any other circus-like tricks, will join him, all right? One-strike policy applies. Now get back to work. God damn that felt good.

Therapy?

24 Aug

Ari (to therapist at the golf course): You shitty dime-store therapist. A man’s life is on the line here, and all you give a fuck about is beating some stupid club record that will do what for you? Give you five minutes of pleasure while you fuck your unpaid emasculated husband tonight? How the fuck does he afford this place anyway? Isn’t he a guidance counselor at a high school?

Therapist #7

23 Aug

Ari: I didn’t go to the Lakers game because they were playing the fucking Bobcats… And I came here today because I thought this was a session on how my wife could learn to communicate, how to answer a question without a question, basic Humanity 101, which I thought, given your wall of fucking diplomas, you could easily fix, or if you couldn’t, you could give her a pill that would either fix it or make her a mute. But now, to turn around and gang up on me? I have work to do. I have hundreds of clients to deal with, and just so we’re clear, I don’t care about ANY OF THEM. They’re ALL just a number, like Wife #1 and Therapist #7… GOOD DAY!