Source: The Independent


by Jerry Della Femina

November 21, 2012

We have four more years of Obama . . . taxes and unemployment are going up . . . sadly, some people are still suffering the ravages of Sandy . . .

I just know there must be something to be thankful for.

How about if you’re reading this it means you’re still alive, and that’s something to be thankful for. Plus you’re still living in a great country no matter who is running or ruining it.

If you’re one of the 58,167,260 Republicans who voted for Romney, you need something more to cheer you up.

I searched my files and found this old sweet column from when this story was all over the news. It should make everyone feel warm and wonderful. Happy Thanksgiving.

Admit it. Even before you saw this silly column you rushed to read all about Diane DeMartini-Scully, the East Hampton middle school psychologist and her alleged seduction of a 16-year-old boy.

I don’t blame you. Frankly, I’m obsessed with this story, too.

Why? Because it’s still shocking to read about older women lusting after 16-year-old boys. And when the older woman in question turns out to be a shrink, let me tell you that makes for one “hot” story.

It’s the kind of story people read and then tell everyone about, but usually start by saying, “Isn’t it disgusting . . .”

Not so fast. First of all, the boy was not her patient, he was her daughter’s boyfriend. She’s 45 and she stole her 16-year-old daughter’s boyfriend?

Doesn’t it make you wonder what the Thanksgiving Day meal is going to be like in the DeMartini-Scully household?

“Pass the cranberries please.”

“Mommy, you sick bitch, you stole my boyfriend.”

“And just how does that make you feel?”

“Diane, our daughter is right, you are a sick bitch.”

“So, John, perhaps you can tell us all how this is making you feel?”

“I hate you. You’re disgusting.”

“And so you both feel that the best way to describe how you feel about me is to hold back on the cranberry sauce?”

“This is not about cranberry sauce. You don’t seem to understand you have ruined our lives. You have ruined this boy’s life. We hate you. We hate you. Now what have you got to say about that?”

“Interesting. Now how would you both feel if I asked you to pass the mashed potatoes?”

I’m not defending the sex shrink, but I will make this point. Just about every man who has gone to see an attractive female shrink has, at one point in the process, fantasized about having sex with his shrink.

The same is true with women who have spent any time with an attractive male shrink.

I’m sure that shrinks, when they go to shrink conventions, talk about this stuff all the time.

There is a shrink joke that I can’t for the life of me remember, but I remember the punch line where the shrink says:

“Don’t be silly. I shouldn’t even be lying next to you on this couch.”

The fancy phrase that is used to describe this process is “erotic transference.”

Let me translate “erotic transference” for you. It means, “Gosh, I’ve told this person more intimate things about myself than anyone else in the world, so wouldn’t it be nifty if we went to bed.”

I can’t speak for shrinks, but I would guess they suffer from erotic transference, too.

Wouldn’t you think that sooner or later they’d sit there and say, “Gosh, this person has told me more intimate things about themselves than they’ve told anyone else in the world. I wonder what it would be like to go to bed with him (or her).”

I know there are many people who will read this column and say to themselves, “What a sick puppy this Della Femina guy is.”

All I can tell you is that if enough of you write me about this, I will have to seek professional help to cure myself of these warped opinions.

Perhaps I will have to consult a shrink.

I would bet Diane DeMartini-Scully will have plenty of openings in her schedule.

I know . . . I know . . .

She’s too young for me.


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