Bartender Vs. Shrink

Because I still make a percentage of my income by slinging swill in a dive bar, I found this particular anecdote rather amusing:

EVER SINCE I WAS A CHILD, I'VE ALWAYS HAD A FEAR OF SOMEONE UNDER MY BED AT NIGHT. SO I WENT TO A SHRINK AND TOLD HIM . . .

'I've got problems. Every time I go to bed I think there's somebody under it. I'm scared. I think I'm going crazy.'

'Just put yourself in my hands for one year,' said the shrink. 'Come talk to me three times a week and we should be able to get rid of those fears.'

'How much do you charge?'

'Eighty dollars per visit,' replied the doctor.

'I'll sleep on it,' I said.



Six months later the doctor met me on the street. 'Why didn't you ever come to see me about those fears you were having?' he asked.

'Well, Eighty bucks a visit three times a week for a year is an awful lot of money! A bartender cured me for $10. I was so happy to have saved all that money that I went and bought me a new car!'

'Is that so! With an attitude he asked . ... and how, may I ask, did a bartender cure you?'

'He told me to cut the legs off the bed! - Ain't nobody under there now! ! '

SCREW THOSE SHRINKS.. GO HAVE A DRINK & TALK TO YOUR BARTENDER!



Now ... can anyone tell me who the "bartender" is in the above photo? Heh-heh-heh.