For decades, Americans have used their automobiles as traveling billboards, plastering promotional messages across chrome bumpers in hopes of advancing a vast spectrum of causes and opinions. Why, one wonders, has the mental health community been slow to adopt this ubiquitous form of persuasion? The answer, almost certainly, is to be found in the curse of stigma, which runs so deep in our culture that the afflicted – us – would rather remain silent than boldly declare our beliefs right next to declarations regarding the intelligence of our Jack Russell Terriers. All of us at Funny In The Head would like to see Whackadoomius Americans shamelessly declare their mental health advocacy with charming bumper stickers like the following:

For days I have been tormented by blinding headaches, merciless nausea, recurrent waves of despair, and an overwhelming premonition of impending doom. At last I have discovered the source of my torment. The 2012 presidential campaign has officially begun. I am writing today from the New Hampshire hamlet I inhabit having just come back from voting in the nation’s first primary election. Returning home after exercising the franchise so many take for granted I had what people like me refer to as “an aha moment” – which is to say, I stumbled across an original thought. This is it – mentally ill people are uniquely qualified to redeem the unsightly quagmire we refer to as American politics.

"Why raise the bridge when you can lower your expectations of the river?" Taz Mopula You may be surprised to learn that even the irrational, off-kilter, cattywhumpus and – yes, I’ll say it – whackadoomius among us gaze upon the vast, blank canvas of an unused year and think to ourselves – how can I do better? Of course, in our case this means – how can I be an even shinier wing nut, a more twisted slinky? Way back when, Mark Twain reminded us, “It isn’t easy being eccentric.” This observation is as true today as it was when he said it – which is why I’ve had a good long look my own shortcomings and failures in 2011 and put together a list of resolutions which – with luck – will make my humble blog even funnier in the weeks and months to come.

As 2011 slinks silently towards the exit sign, like a kleptomaniac at a bridal shower clutching a bag from Neiman Marcus, I must take time out from my busy schedule to pen, yet again, the Funny In The Head Family Letter. Naturally, both of us would much rather speak with all of you individually but, between making Halloween costumes for the homeless, managing our halfway house for wayward squirrels, and building awareness for The Hugh Manatee Memorial Foundation, there simply isn’t enough time. (By the way, our new slogan, “Oh The Hugh Manatee Foundation” has been very well received.)

It has been said that - an expectation is a preplanned resentment – and since the holiday season is built upon wave after wave of rosy, grandiose expectations it is reasonable to imagine that an avalanche of resentments ready to sleigh you cannot be far behind. This is particularly true for those of us who every day unwrap that most bizarre of all gifts, commonly referred to as mental illness. As ever, your friends at Funny In The Head are here to help.

WARNING: This story contains graphic descriptions of a world without Santa. As regular readers of Funny In The Head know, I am a firm believer that unflinching honesty is at the heart of all emotional well being, mental health, and peace of mind. Ignoring reality is not the best way to heal one’s inner child, and so, the day comes when we all must face [Spoiler Alert] the death of Santa Claus. Losing a beloved authority figure is like a roundhouse punch to the solar plexus, dealing with it is rough. Here, for your comfort and joy, are the Seven Stages Of Santacide, and how to deal with them.

Unfortunately for all of us, crime does not take some much-needed time off during the holiday season. On the contrary, society’s creeps, crustaceans, and cellar-dwellers take advantage of our goodhearted generosity during this most expansive time of year to pick pockets, pilfer, and plunder. What’s worse is how they do it. Cleverly employing the techniques used by legitimate charities, these wretches bilk the joyful multitudes of millions by soliciting donations to non-existent charities. Remember – most charitable organizations are entirely legitimate, the work they do is admirable and much needed. That is what makes it so sad when well-meaning individuals are duped by deceivers! Before you give, make sure the recipient is an authorized representative of a legitimate organization.

Holiday gift giving is stressful enough, but shopping for the mentally ill presents an additional layer of challenges. Your friends at Funny In The Head are here to assist, with thoughtful tips that will help you navigate these emotionally demanding situations. Just think of us as an online elf-help group.

The holidays are fast upon us and that means it’s more important than ever to remember what they are all about – the spirit of giving! Specifically, the happiness others experience when they give things to me! Lots of things – flashy, superficial things - digital things made in China – housed in cheap, plastic cases offending the eye with their bawdy, grotesque colors! You betcha! Bring it on! Forget subtlety! At holiday time anything worth doing is worth overdoing; good taste is bad and bad taste is great! At Christmas We Are Children Once Again; Hideous, Greedy Children

Thanksgiving is a special time when family members, spread far and wide across this great land of ours, unite under one roof to dine, catch up, and recall exactly why it is they are so careful to avoid one another the rest of the year. Those of us strangely blessed with mental illnesses of various descriptions are especially vulnerable, since these allegedly cheerful events feel more like crime scene reconstructions where the horrors that sent us running down the path to Cookoopantsatopolis are revisited endlessly. Seated at the table, any progress made in therapy over the past year seems to magically melt away. Before long we find ourselves reclaiming emotional baggage we’re desperate to abandon. No matter how far we’ve progressed in life, there, seated in front of that defenseless avian carcass, we’re seven again; and it ain’t pretty. Small wonder so many of us cringe as we witness the approach of Thanksgiving, contemplating the event with a dread one might reserve for dentistry without anesthesia.