It began with a single visit to the local shrink, but soon Burton Goldberg's psychoanalysis habit was out of control. He had at least one appointment a day, often more, and many of the different analysts he saw had to leave their meetings with him and go directly to see another of his analysts to help them cope with the trauma of treating him. This, however, was just the beginning of the chaos Goldberg's habit has caused.
Soon enough, he carried pictures of his therapist in his wallet. It wasn't long until he had alienated every one of his friends, apparently causing several of his more influential acquaintances to miss key meetings and appointments because they asked him 'how are you?' upon a chance encounter in the street and had to spend the next fifty minutes umming and ahhing along to his explanations of intrafamilial mal-justice.
He was reported several times by bemused cabbies, who unwittingly took him as a client, before he berated them with confusing and frankly lewd elucidations of his various psychiatric abnormalities, his difficulty functioning in relationships in which he only desires what he cannot have and is disgusted by what he can have because he can have it, and, of course, his inability to judge social situations accurately.
Goldberg is officially now the most diagnosed human in history, with over two hundred disorders and delusions, for many of which he coined the term, to his name. Many experts claim he is a breakthrough in the field of analysis and a blessing, having essentially, through sheer dedication, managed to discover several levels of sub-consciousness below the rather dull traditional sub-conscious. Other experts, however, have dismissively pointed out 'yeah, but they never had to talk to him.'
The ramifications have been greater than just the bemused irritation of friends, however. Goldberg has apparently lost touch with his mother in the process of his self-discovery after trying to make her come to terms with his subconscious desires, purportedly chasing her down the road shouting 'It's okay mum! I want to fuck you, but it's okay!' An event she has since described to reporters as 'the worst birthday ever'.
His heightened self-awareness resulted in a belief he could also diagnose others, urging colleagues to seek help for their nervous ticks, many of which of course having been caused by Goldberg's incessant forensic questioning. He would often ring up friends and imploring them to 'face the facts', telling them that they and everyone they have ever known will die, which of course whilst a simple truism, when stated so bluntly sounds more like a threat than spiritual counselling. He has even has confessed to approaching strangers in the street and asking them whether they'd ever really felt loved, which of course has itself led several victims into intensive therapy.
Now, the fact of his addiction to psychotherapy, his need for that addiction, and awareness of that need have become parts of his overwhelming problem. A happy ending, perhaps though, as this particular brand of intelligent stupidity has already led Mr. Goldberg to capitalise, releasing a popular self-help book to guide kindred spirits, entitled 'Why I had to write this book'. He has proudly explained that many of his devoted readers have sent him very heartwarming letters adumbrating the ways the book helped them. Then letters explaining their need to get in touch with the author, and letters apologising for the second letter and explaining their compulsion to explain everything about themselves, a theme which was continued in several subsequent letters.