Freud vs Jung: Who'd Diagnose Your Doomscrolling?
FREUD vs JUNG go head to head — and every jab is rooted in real history.
It is simple, Carl. The phone is the breast. You suckle it for comfort, searching for the mother. And also — everything, ultimately, is about sex.
Everything, Sigmund? You once fainted. Twice. In my presence. Diagnose THAT with a cigar.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Your 'collective unconscious' is a séance with footnotes. You chased archetypes and painted a Red Book of your own hallucinations.
At least I never prescribed cocaine as a wonder-cure and wrote love letters about it. You medicated the world's nose before you ever analyzed its dreams.
I made the mind a science. You turned it into a horoscope. You ended your days studying flying saucers, Carl.
And your beloved cigars gave you thirty jaw surgeries. The man who saw a death-drive in everyone smoked himself straight into it. So — about that phone in your hand.
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