By Tim Sanders

From reading some of my past columns, one might get the impression that I believe that all psychologists are loons. "But do you have no regard for those dedicated individuals who labor, day in and day out, helping us solve our interpersonal problems by exploring our innermost thoughts and desires?" you ask. Well, yes I do, but those dedicated individuals are the guys who run Internet dating services, and that’s an entirely different column. And even though we’re talking about psychologists in this week’s column, I would like you to know right up front that I would never lump all psychologists together. (If you’d ever seen a lump of psychologists, you’d know why I say that.) Actually, I have evidence to prove that not all psychologists should be lightly dismissed as loons. Some should be lightly dismissed for other reasons altogether.

Take, for example, Dr. Cindy M. Meston and Dr. David M. Buss, from the University of Texas at Austin. These hard-working, dedicated psychological researchers asked nearly 2,000 students to explain their motivation for having sex. They then made a list of the responses, separated into categories and subcategories. They called their list a "taxonomy," which in psychological terms means "list," but sounds a whole lot more impressive. Their list contained 237 responses, the most common being: "Go away! Can’t you see we’re busy right now?"

When I was in college, back during the Van Buren administration, not one team of psychological researchers ever asked me why I was having sex. That may be because they could tell by looking at me that I wasn’t, or it may be because in those ancient times we all thought the reasons for wanting to have sex were fairly obvious. "Why would you want to have sex?" would have been silly, sort of like, for instance, "In God’s name, why would you possibly want to receive a million dollars from eccentric billionaire John Beresford Tipton?" Next question?

Yet another example of a psychologist for whom the term "loon" is inadequate, to say the least, is Dr. Brad Blanton of Stanley, Virginia. Not surprisingly, in 1966 Dr. Blanton received his doctorate from, you guessed it, the University of Texas at Austin. I think there’s something in the water down there. Dr. Brad Blanton, Ph.D. (or, as he likes to call himself, "Dr. Brad Blanton, Ph.D.") wrote the book "Radical Honesty" in 1994. I recently saw Dr. Blanton on a cable news show, discussing an article about him which appeared in Esquire magazine. The main thesis of Dr. Blanton’s book is that when it comes to interpersonal relationships, we should be brutally honest. According to Esquire’s A. J. Jacobs, Blanton encourages this brutal honesty by including "a day of total nudity" in his weeklong workshops. From the 2004 edition of that book, which I read from cover to cover, comes the following quote. (Okay, so I didn’t read it from cover to cover, but I did find the quote on the popular "Radical Honesty" website.):

"Usually, our minds are distractions from the truth of experience. But once grounded in the truth of experience in the moment, our minds become useful as toys to play with. What we play with is the future. We imagine a future together and how we might make it happen. We are the same in that way, even though we may be different in every other way. As noticing beings, we are all pretty much the same, so there is nothing left to do but be and do. Like Frank Sinatra said, "Do-be-do-be-do." Out of being you just do what you think you would like to do and what is in front of you to do. That always includes doing something for, as well as with, your fellow beings ... what we teach in our Radical Honesty workshops is how to get dumb. We all need to get dumber, not smarter ..."

I hope that made as much sense to you as it did to me. I liked the part about "useful toys," and all the "do-be-do-be-do" stuff. Mostly, I liked the part about Radical Honesty workshops teaching how to "get dumb." I would guess that if people are actually paying good money to attend those workshops, they don’t really need any lessons in dumbness.

Here are some examples of how an average, untrained, non-psychotherapist person like you or me would respond in certain situations, contrasted with Dr. Blanton’s "noticing being" responses:

WIFE: Does this skirt make me look fat?

UNTRAINED HUSBAND: No, dear.

DR. BRAD: No, your huge butt and your ponderous thighs make you look fat!

WIFE (ON THE BEACH): Why are you staring at that blonde in the string bikini?

UNTRAINED HUSBAND: What blonde?

DR. BRAD: Because my mind is a toy, and as a noticing being I am just doing what is in front of me to do, mainly noticing.

BOSS: Would you like to come to my daughter, Tiffany’s piano recital?

UNTRAINED EMPLOYEE: Sure, I’d love to!

DR. BRAD: I’d rather have my tongue shellacked! Oh yeah, and speaking of tongues, you really need a breath mint!

UNTRAINED FISHERMAN #1: Great to be out here on the lake without the wives.

UNTRAINED FISHERMAN #2: Can’t talk with the women around.

UNTRAINED FISHERMAN #3: Yeah, can’t cuss, can’t spit, can’t even belch! Hey, how ‘bout you share some of them worms, Bob?

DR. BRAD: Say fellas, speaking of sharing, why don’t we all get naked?

I don’t know about Dr. Blanton’s circle of friends, but in my personal experience, his responses just wouldn’t fly. If Radical Honesty is all about getting "dumber, not smarter," then those kinds of responses are certainly as "dumber" as you can get.
To his credit, Dr. Blanton does advocate lying in certain situations, like for example on your IRS form, when playing golf, or when running for political office. Apparently his political lies weren’t quite convincing enough, since he lost his 2006 bid to become Virginia’s first Independent Green Congressman. Perhaps the voters felt that he wasn’t the rich, moist, save-the-rain-forest green he pretended to be, only green around the edges, like a moldy old piece of cheddar.

Or maybe he slipped up and let them know he was a psychologist. Do-be-do-be-DUH.