Phillip McGraw. Dr. Phil. Bald? Mustache? Exploits people in bad situations for TV ratings? You know him. He owns a mansion in Beverly Hills that was recently put up for sale. For $5.75 million. The pictures on the listing are causing quite a stir on the internet because they are, to put it bluntly, insane. It's definitely not what you would imagine from the TV therapist with a Texas drawl. The house looks like it was designed for a straight-to-video Beetlejuice sequel.
From the outside, it looks totally normal.
From the exterior, the house looks like your standard Beverly Hills mansion owned by a famous person. It's got that vague Spanish style, an in-ground pool, hot tub, and a very manicured lawn. I could picture Dr. Phil living in a house like this.
But slowly, things start to seem off.
Huh, that gate seems a little whimsical for a guy who's written books with titles like Life Strategies, Life Code, and Self Matters. He generally seems to be a pretty straitlaced guy, and this looks like something the Wicked Witch of the West put up to keep out members of the Lollipop Guild. Then, all at once...
Let's take this one thing at a time. Yes, those seem to be petrified tree trunk style bar stools. Yes, the bar is lit with hideous blue lighting. Yes, a chandelier drips with what honestly look like a bunch of sperm. And last but definitely not least, yes, that is a staircase designed to look like it is entangled in Jumanji-like vines. Oh wait, can't forget the giant pair of lips above a dangling teddy bear (??) in the upper left corner. This! House! Belongs! To! Dr.! Phil!
Now, to be fair, it seems that while Dr. Phil owns the house, he doesn't live in it, nor is he responsible for things like the gun wall, the creepy cartoonish animal statues, or the hairy-looking light fixtures. According to E! Online, the house is mostly lived in by Phil's son, Jordan McGraw, who once proudly described his decor choices as, "The idea is kind of Tim Burton threw up on a canvas and it turned into a house."
It sure looks like someone threw up in this house, anyway. I will never ever in my wildest dreams understand people who buy cityscape paintings or photos. Not to mention oh, everything else in this room. The pool table with lion legs is a particular monstrosity.
It must have taken lots of money to maintain this gothic clown nightmare energy throughout the whole house. Hilariously, the listing claims, "The interior has been dramatically remodeled and updated with eclectic finishes that can be kept or transformed into your own vision."
I can't imagine anyone who would want to keep the decor as is, but I also can't imagine the space without the vine staircase or the neon "Hello There" sign, which is clearly a message from an otherworldly steampunk spirit trapped in the mansion's walls. By the way, have you been counting the sad mice in the pictures? I think we're up to 8,000. It's like your own private, horrifying Disneyland.
I cannot stress this enough. There are 6,170 square feet in this house, and every single one of them is filled with nonsense. That's five bedrooms, six bathrooms. I'd be afraid to sit on the toilet for fear of being enveloped by vines.
Guys. That bunny statue/ stool thing with a handlebar mustache won't stop staring at me. Please, help. It's searing into my soul. I can't move. I can't even make fun of all the purple in the room. It's making me...sleepy. I'm closing my eyes now. My slumber will be deep, but it will not be restful. Goodnight.
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