N.R.R.P.Y.A.A.S.C.T.D.L.

NATIONAL RECOVERY AND REHABILITATION PROGRAM FOR YOUNG ADULTS AFFLICTED BY SOCIAL CIRCUMSTANCES THEY DON’T LIKE

NATIONAL RECOVERY AND REHABILITATION PROGRAM

FOR YOUNG ADULTS AFFLICTED BY SOCIAL CIRCUMSTANCES

THEY DON’T LIKE (N.R.R.P.Y.A.A.S.C.T.D.L.)

One of the hundreds of support groups formed in the past decade in response to the entire “iGen” generation’s arrested adolescence, reality-avoidance, and purported victimization, N.R.R.P.Y.A.A.S.C.T.D.L. was founded in 2025 by the National Commission on Mental Hygiene in conjunction with the American Psychiatric Association after it became abundantly clear that the collective psyche of America’s young adults had been on a downward trend for what seemed a dangerously long time. N.R.R.P.Y.A.A.S.C.T.D.L. members tend to be the aggressively unpleasant sort congenitally predisposed to apoplectic tantrums for whom critical thinking and empathy are completely alien. Most are enrolled for pathological obsessive compulsive behavior(s) and/or crimes tied to the contemporary zeitgeist.

SUMMARY

The selected transcript below was recorded as part of an ongoing government supported study examining the efficacy of Moronic Behavioral Therapy (MBT), a new psychosocial intervention COA (Course of Action) for relieving moronic young adults of the delusion that their self-interest supersedes the well-being of others. While sessions are certainly no frolic in the psychic glade and the chances of success are slim, funding is plentiful.

Participants for this particular trial include clinically outraged Y.A. with an occult talent for finding a reason to feel aggrieved randomly assigned under the treatment procedures described in Appendix W.

Record was reprinted with permission in exchange for a BOGO Slurpee coupon. Further electronic/printed circulation is strictly prohibited without explicit written authorization.

---

MEMBER-INTERFACE WITH MRS. SHARON HAHN, M.A., U.A.A.T., LEAD COUNSELOR, LOS ANGELES CHAPTER, N.R.R.P.Y.A.A.S.C.T.D.L.

1320H. MONDAY, 28 JULY 2026.

Counselor Q.

“Allegedly.”

Counselor Q.

“Allegedly. Last time I checked, I’ve been convicted of zilch. Nada. You’re talking like you already know I did it.”

Counselor Q.

“Oh, whatever. Spare me the deets (?). I’m not interested in entertaining I might have problems that need fixing.”

Counselor: “…”

“Fine. Yeah, okay? I did. I punched that baby right where it hurt, and I—”

Counselor Q.

“Well duh. It’s, like, an expression or whatever. I know it woulda hurt anywhere. It’s a stupid baby, so. Look, do you want me to talk or don’t you? ‘Cause I could really care less.”

Counselor: “…”

“As I was saying. . . yeah, I maybe sorta mighta bumped my fist against this baby’s face. And yeah, I can see how some people woulda thought that it was, like, a punch or whatever. . . but lemme just say something, alright? Lemme ask you this: What’s that baby got to cry about? Like, what in the actual hell does it think it’s got reason to be crying for—and in front of everyone, out in the public and what not?”

Counselor Q.

“Hold on. I mean, think about this, okay? How ‘bout—how ‘bout we think about this: Here’s me, I’m standing in line at the Ralph’s on Vermont, which is, like, the absolute worst Ralph’s ever ‘cause of the people always in there and they’re basically, like. . . savages, and they all smell funny and I’m pretty sure none of ‘em’s got a phone that’s not, like, at least ten years old, which seriously tells you all you need to know about these people, right? And these sons-a-bitches only got, like, two lanes open in the whole store so the lines are, like, Disneyland-long—seriously, Disneyland—and I’m having just what’s probably, like, the worst day I’ve had in probably since, like, last month.

Counselor Q.

“Why? ‘Cause here’s me, I posted three different selfies in three different fire outfits I got at Kohl’s using a credit card that okay, yeah, maybe probably yeah didn’t have my name on the front but that I got these unbelievably good deals on—and please don’t even ask me about the Kohl’s Cash I earned for buying them, let’s don’t even mention about how I got like double the Kohl’s Cash ‘cause of this savings special or whatever—but, so yeah, so I’m on Instagram and I post three different selfies in the sort of outfits you’d basically, like, just about murder someone for, and I get a whopping twenty-three likes during peak traffic hours, when here’s Kelly Whatshername who’s posted a pic of herself wearing her jammies for chrissakes, and here this Victorian whore’s got over 500-some likes in, like, half a day, and so I’m obviously tryna deal with all this when wouldn’t you know it, here’s this stupid, diabetes-scale fat baby who’s, like, a cheeseburger away from a heart attack—just seriously fat as all hell, believe me—and it’s got this stupid glazed look on its face, and it’s ugly enough to be, like, an advocacy tool for rubbers or something, and here it’s looking at me like this totally psychotic-looking cherub-type angel thingy—just the stuff of nightmares is all I can say—and all a sudden it starts howling like a banshee, it’s basically auditory waterboarding is what it’s like, just screaming like it’s been totally wronged or something. And so I was like, you know what? Lemme give you something actually worth crying about, lemme introduce you to the real world, and so I—allegedly—punched it.”

Counselor Q.

“Yeah, the baby. Allegedly.

Counselor: “…”

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

Counselor Q.

“Like I just up and announced my intent to take a shit on your desk or something.”

Counselor Q.

“Oh, Jee-sus! Don’t have a fit. Just ‘cause I don’t want anyone sticking something in my head I didn’t give say so for?”

Counselor Q.

“News flash: I have flaws. What are they all? Gee, I don’t know. I like to take real long showers. Sometimes I get too excited when I see a dog. Occasionally I’ll punch a baby in the face. So?”

Counselor Q.

“Look. Did I act in a lamentfully [sic] un-appropriate [sic] fashion? Sure. Could I maybe yeah benefit from some professionally ‘scribed meds? Probably. Do I have a ‘complete, sociopathic lack of regard for anyone but myself’ or however they all put it? So I’m told. But we both know this whole ‘assault of a baby’ thing should be, like, excused on the basis of justified provocation.”

Counselor Q.

I watch alotta Law & Order.

Counselor Q.

“Okay. How ‘bout I answer that if you answer my question first?”

Counselor: “…”

“Are you, like, warm-blooded? Or something? ‘Cause it’s cold as hell in here.”

Counselor Q.

“Look, I don’t think I can keep going unless something’s done about the temperature. My nipples are, like, harder than Calc-1 right now.”

[Inaudible]

End recording.