_If_Sigmund_Freud_Had_Been_An_Advertising_Executive_

INTRODUCTION: The scene is a typical modern kitchen. The center of
attention is, of course, a shiny pop-up toaster in the middle of the
counter. A father and son enter the kitchen simultaneously, from
opposite sides...

SON: My mouth waters in direct Pavlovian response to the stimulus of
that waffle's scent, sensually wafting from the toaster! I can hardly
wait to sublimate my violent aggressor-tendencies by singing my vestigial
canines into its fleshy center!

FATHER: Hold it right there son! I, representing the domineering
influence of the superego, claim the right to the aforementioned breakfast
delicacy! As the indirect object of your angst-filled mutilation fantasies,
I oppose your claim to that waffle, as would any dominant male in a primate
family grouping!

SON: I defy you, oppressive paternal influence! In my role as the violent,
lusty id, I shriek my outrage and unfulfillment! I am not at all intimidated
by your outdated analytical logic, nor by the thrusting phallic image of your
pipe! Frustrated no longer, I shall now snatch the waffle of contention from
your orderly and authoritarian grasp!

FATHER: That's castration anxiety talking there, son! Although you are
younger, and quicker, I wield the awesome power of homoerotic influence!!
You cannot *possibly* hope to stand against the full potency of the paternal/
fillial bond established during your anal-retentive period.

NOTE: at this point, the waffle pops up and, as father and son continue to
argue, the mother suddenly appears and snatches the waffle...

MOTHER: HA! Damn your Oedipal complexes boys. Penis-envy has won the day!

The mother walks away with the waffle, chewing happily.

FATHER and SON (in unison): Hey! Leggo my Ego!