To: lavalamp who wrote (2774 ) 10/26/1997 11:48:00 PM From: fma Read Replies (2) | Respond to
Lavalamp, WAY OFF TOPIC. You didn't understand that I understood... and that is the essence of forensic psychology. While there is a lull, and before I buy a round of dairy queen delights for my scaley friends on this thread (sorry gators), I'll try to address your question. A forensic psychologist is a shrink whose primary roles interface with the court system. For example, say Ed just can't make up his mind to get with this great stock (NXLT) and he becomes so indecisive that he starts babbling about some illusionary or (hopefully) hallucinatory correction, and he just sits on his puts. eyes glassy, breathing shallow, a hopeless wreck of his former self. Nxtl goes to 30, 32, 35. Ed rocks, drools, looses his appetite, posts messages referring to the second coming of Houdini, and drools a little more. His broker (a close family friend rumored to be a relative) beside himself, tries desparately to get him declared incompetent to can save Ed from lost opportunity. He just wants a court to order him to cover his puts so he can immediately position him into all kinds of nice leaps and January 40 calls. Ed resists, just mumbling some unintelligible utterances about some secret event occuring in November. I'm ordered to give Ed a mental status exam, ask him questions such as if he has ever subscribed to Cabot's market letter, give him some tricky tests (http://junior.apk.net/~jbarta/idiot/idiot.html), form a professional opinion (contrarian, r/o procrastinator), and render it to a court. Prety straight foreward stuff compared to what I am forced do do when confronted with someone with a name like Bubba who speaks in tongues (or at least some language I scarely comprehend), and signs off his saluatory addresses with among other things, "sipping Bubba." That's where NXTL comes in. It goes to 100, I retire to Sun Valley, spend my remaining days contemplating life's truly great problem, e.g. how to safely negotiate Exhibition and Limelight ski runs. And every evening, reverently, I toast the Ed's, Arnie's and Bubba's of the world for providing me with the hope that such a future might indeed be possible. Don't know whether that answers your question, but I'm a little oxygen deprivated right now from shoveling snow. Good night all. Dreaming of the big one, the day Mr. McCaw calls me wanting a child custody evaluation. Oof, been partying too much with lawyers. Frank.
