Cipolla’s writing is so elegant and clear, his argument so straightforward and intellectually deep, as well as amusing, it’s tempting to blow off this gem as mere satire. Beware—it’s so sharp, you might cut yourself.

“Let me point out… this little book is neither a product of cynicism nor an exercise in defeatism—no more than a book on microbiology is. The following pages are in fact the result of a constructive effort to detect, know, and thus possibly neutralize one of the most powerful dark forces that hinder the growth of human welfare and happiness.”  (from the Introduction)

What is that dark force? Stupidity.

Any fantasy I held that my remote, rural area in upstate New York would escape the immigration thuggery of ICE was dashed reading last week’s farm note.

One of the most important things I’ve learned about feelings from being in therapy and doing therapy is that feelings are a response to something outside of ourselves, in the environment, or inside of ourselves, in our minds. Feelings are data. You can interpret data. Hold that thought. I’ll get back to it shortly.  

Attention Creatives and Clinicians! Check Out This Summer Audiobook Sale.

On 6/2/2025, I posted here that my book Practice, Practice, Practice: This Psychiatrist’s Life came in a Finalist by Positive Impact Awards. That was exciting enough. But then Practice, Practice was upgraded from Finalist to Category Winner (with two others, unranked) in the Health and Wellness Category!

Why am I thinking about this maxim now?

Practice, Practice, Practice: This Psychiatrist’s Life has been declared a Finalist in the spring/summer Positive Impact Awards. “Your work truly stood out, and we’re honored to recognize the meaningful impact you’ve made through your words.”

Wow!

Do you love to listen to books being read to you? While you garden? While you cook? While you doze off? Well, do I have a deal for you!

Take advantage of this spring sale

Nest Egg is the first of a cozy mystery series (Aloha Chicken Mysteries) set in—you guessed it—Hawaii. I read all eighteen books, enjoyed them thoroughly, and surfaced refreshed with a renewed faith in the goodness of people. 

I don’t know about you but I’m not getting enough space these days. From congested traffic. From people needing me. From the news. Every day, there’s a new shock. It’s all too much. I feel crowded. So crowded. I need room, a safe space. To rest. To dispel the darkness. To stay sane in an insane situation.

What’s my safe space? Reading in bed. There is nothing I love more than spending time in a compelling imaginative world. Give me a cozy mystery series any day. Especially these days. Please. I’ll trade you this one by Josi Avari. 

Fun fact: 80% of human communication is non-verbal. Think of the attitude and physical expression that drives the chef’s kiss gesture. That gesture says so much more than the word delightful.

Words floating free of our bodies (i.e. on paper or screen) are slippery and easily misinterpreted. That’s why writing is so hard. That’s the core problem with texting, making it a terrible way to communicate effectively. Yet, not only has texting become ubiquitous, expecting an immediate reply has too. Any delay arouses impatience, anxiety, or worse. Ghosting—

I love jewelry. Who doesn’t? But I’m ambivalent about bedecking myself, as that draws attention. While that reticence is my natural inclination, it’s also been reinforced by my work as a therapist psychiatrist. When I was in training, I was taught the following.

You are in the relationship to be of service to the patient. The focus should always be on them, not you.

Dress neutrally, to visually emphasize that the relationship is professional, not personal. You are not dressing to enhance your attractiveness. You are dressing to emphasize your function.         

When my son was in fifth grade, he had a dark view of life in general and of school in particular: “The principal is Pharoah and us kids are the slaves.”

“What about the teachers?”

“They’re the ones with the whips.”

What a metaphor. I felt bad for him.