Saturday, January 6, 2007
Rebecca Fleck: Grief Counsellor at Large
In order to pay for the upkeep of this blog I have been forced to take in some sponsors. The first sponsor I'd like to introduce you to is Rebecca Fleck: Grief Counsellor at Large
Hello, my name is Rebecca Fleck and I’m a grief counsellor. I’ve been a grief counsellor really since I was nine years old. I used to charge other neighbourhood kids a hug to console them if something bad happened like if a pet died or they got stuck in an old refrigerator. We lived near a reservation not that that’s significant. Anyway, I think what really got me into the compassion field was having very large breasts and being a Jew at a very young age. I used to do a lot of car crashes and I worked in an AIDS hospice for a while which was grim. Lots of show tunes and very slippery floors. I do a of work with the victims of high school shootings which is extremely rewarding
Working with the kids is a hoot. Some of the kids, they don’t want me to be there. They say go away,you smell like piss. I say that’s death. But they’re too young to know the difference. But I don’t give up. I give them my card. I say call me. I give them my e-mail address. I say let’s meet in a chat room on AOL. They say, Go home you freak or we’ll call the FBI. , I tell them they’re in denial. They deny it. Four out of five kids today are time bombs. That’s no exaggeration. Statistics don’t lie.
Even though the victims of school violence need our counselling, the shooters themselves need our love too. I like to grief counsel them especially because it’s such a challenge. So often they’re such hard cases just because they’ve killed. They’ve been through a lot too. After all,they saw it all. I was the only person who could make Kip Kinkel cry. I know I could have reached Eric and Dylan. Those poor babies. I was at Columbine. I counselled the boy in the window. I have to be honest, a bit of a cry baby. All the kids were marvelous though. Columbine was the big one. We’ll never see it’s like again. I’ll never forget those kids. I made a lot of friends. Some of them still write me. Terrible letters,really. “ Filled with so much pain. So much rage. Some of them even threatening to kill me or even to eat me. They say “Don’t call anymore.” or “I’ll bet you taste like shit you old hag.” One young killer from Canada no less, said to quote, “ Get a Life.” I have a life,” I wrote back. “Have you cried yet?” He never replied. One day it will just erupt in him years from now maybe at work at a dead end job and everything’s fine and the next minute there’ll be lots of dead people around him.
So if you or anyone you love has been through a trauma recently, from a haircut gone wrong to finding a dead body in your bed, let Buddy know and we can talk. My ears and breasts are always available. Remember, studies show that talking to someone makes you feel better and doing it with your face buried in a pair of giant breasts is even better. You might think that that’s what friends and family are for but tests show you need a stranger for real catharthis. I can be reached at...
Ask for Rebecca.
It's Buddy again. I hope that this blatant intrusion of commerciality into ewe isn't too offputting but sadly the times demand it. By the way, have you thought about purchasing the first installment of my autobiography "Buddy Babylon." It may not have sold like hot cakes in it's initial release but at least it's never been in a remainder bin. You could say the same thing about me.