The Parable of the Psychoanalysts at Dinner

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, how has your work been influenced by your mother?”

Josh spoke thus:

A Freudian invited a Jungian friend to dinner.

“My cook is a Behaviorist,” the Freudian told the Jungian over soup, “That explains the game.”

The cook’s game was that the soup was alphabet soup.

“Are we to interpret the soup?” the Jungian asked the Freudian.

“I’m not sure,” the Freudian said, “We are either to interpret it or to learn something from it.”

“Or behave according to it, no?” the Jungian said.

“My cook does control my life, I must admit,” the Freudian said.

“Does your cook ring a bell to call you to dinner?” the Jungian asked.

“I conform to the household schedule, “the Freudian said, “I’m not so much conditioned as reinforced.”

“So you are less individual and more conventional?” the Jungian asked.

“Less egotistical and more cooperative,” the Freudian said, “That way I eat.  So what do you see in your soup?”

“I see potentiality,” the Jungian said.

“That’s cheating,” the Freudian said.

“May I see symbols?” the Jungian asked.

“You may interpret symbols,” the Freudian said, “Preferably lexicographically.”

“I see cigars,” the Jungian said, “What do you think that means?”

“It means you see cigars,” the Freudian said.

“When did you become such a strict objectivist?” the Jungian asked.

“Since the game was alphabet soup,” the Freudian said, “It will make my cook happy if we play.”

“I will defer to the cook,” the Jungian said, “What do you see?”

“I see, funnily enough, cigars,” the Freudian said.

“That’s a pleasant coincidence,” the Jungian said.

“I do not believe in coincidence,” the Freudian said.

“I suspect all is coincidence,” the Jungian said.

“I suspect the cook has sought to control the game,” the Freudian said, “All I see are cigars.”

“All I see are cigars, as well,” the Jungian said, “Call the cook and let us investigate.”

The Freudian called the cook.

“Explain the meaning of the soup,” the Freudian said to the cook.

The cook shrugged and said, “Sometimes all cigars are just all cigars.”