Inkblots

“OK, this is a simple test. I will hold up a card and you tell me what you see. Got it?”
“Yes, Dr.” (Dr holds up an inkblot) “Umm—a woman with a long flowing dress.” (another inkblot) “That looks like a spider.” (another inkblot) “I think that looks like a couple clouds in the sky.” (Dr looks worried and discouraged) “Is there something wrong?”
“Well, yes. You failed that test miserably, to be honest.”
“How so?”
“There were no pictures on those cards. They were just abstract blots of ink.”
“Oh, well I knew that, but I thought the point of the exercise was to—”
“Never mind what the point of the exercise was, it’s fairly clear to me that you are delusional to the point where you could present a danger to you or the people around you.”
“With all due respect, Dr., even if I was delusional, which I can assure you I am not, how does seeing objects in the place of splotches of ink present a danger to anyone?”
“Oh sure, you’re calm now in this office. But what happens when the day rolls along where someone spills ink on their shirt and you see a gunman, and you grab a knife and stab your poor innocent friend directly in the abdomen? Now where are we?”
“That seems unlikely.”
(Dr. spits on the floor in fury) “I’ve seen it happen plenty of times! Why just yesterday, I dealt with three murderers, all of whom attacked inkblots they thought were kidnappers or cougars or something! And if I hadn’t had my wife carry my inkblot cards to the car one afternoon, she might be alive today and I might be dead! So if you don’t think I take this affliction seriously, you are dead wrong!”