When somebody is in competition to another, it is not so much whether he is actually better that counts.
It is whether the voices that most people listen to judge his performance as better.
The “critics’ consensus”. The consensus of the voices that most people think are reasonable and informed. Whatever that means, right?
When you trust a source that says “Trump totally owned Hillary, that bitch”, then that is the truth.
When you trust a source that says “Hillary is the rightful winner, Trump only tricked himself into winning”, then that is the truth.
But it’s much more apparent when there is no actual competition rules, like in a presidency.
In a debate.
Take a public debate. Most people afterwards will gravitate towards sources that proclaim that their preferred debater “won” or “totally burned” the other one.
In a debate there is no objective winner. What counts is not so much whether someone has actually won, but whether you can convince people that some particular part of the debate marked a participant’s victory.
And suddenly, after the critic says it, “it becomes obvious”. Well, why wasn’t it obvious before the critic or “expert” said it?
Continue reading “Arguments are power plays”
You are in a big prom hall. You hear beautiful fairy tale songs from your childhood. Everyone seems in ecstasy and full of joy. Your grandparents are around you and you remember being with them while you were small. And the almost Christmaslike innocent kitsch music fills the room with childlike wonder.
Now a group of men walk in. They carry axes and swords. They start killing and ripping apart all your loved ones.
If this was a normal avantgarde movie, that in itself would be provocative enough. The music would now switch to some weird horror music.
But not in hell. No.
In hell, the innocent childlike music keeps playing, lulling you into feelings of comfort and joy. And at the same time you see the horror before your eyes … and since you are so nicely conditioned to be hypnotized by beautiful music and let it dictate your judgment and mood ….
Continue reading “A vision from a weird kind of hell …”
Man is not meek nor does man fear his own cruelty. But he fears that if he admitted his own cruelty, he would validate the cruelty of others, which would put him in danger.
Thus hiding his own cruelty he convinces others that he is meek, thus winning their trust and resources.
Many who pretend they are meek then so find together as a community.
Thus community is something born entirely out of selfish interests. Pretending to be meek is the best way – at least in our society that I know – to ensure safety of the self. Selfish satisfaction.
And when one stops pretending, he is shunned. Not because he is ‘worse’ than the others. But because someone else who doesn’t feel obliged to pretend is an inherent danger to the self.
Ironically, you can not ‘explain’ to that person why he should be pretending. So what you do is – you unleash your own beast on that non-pretender. And he ‘learns’ that the pretense is better. And on the surface you may say to that person ‘You have been bad and this is your punishment.’ But that’s only the surface. The real communication is through pain and that one doesn’t lie. It says: I am a beast and I will keep hurting you until you do as I wish you to do.
Unfortunately this contradiction between verbal and non-verbal communication leads to madness. Classical double bind. It creates a disconnect between the mind and the body. And the result is what we all know as ‘hypocrisy’. It is a man whose mind doesn’t understand his body and whose body doesn’t understand his mind.
I really never understood why people thought ‘altruism’ was not selfish…
There was this fat black bitch in a therapeutic living community I was residing at for some time. She had this tick … whenever she saw somebody in a uniform, she went haywire. She literally was getting into fights with cops and ticket inspectors. She knew all the local ticket inspectors by name. And the boss of those ticket inspectors – I think she called him Nicolini – he was like her nemesis, evil arch angel. She could ramble about what a basterd he was all day. It was like listening to some epic mythological saga.
Well, anyhow, one day it turned out that when she was a kid, her daddy was a police officer somewhere in Africa or something like that. Her house was under surveillance by lots of men with uniforms. And those men raped her best girl friend.
I found it a little silly back then, but the world being funny as it is, turns out I suffer from a similar affliction. I also developed kind of a strong hatred for police officers and people who think they have authority over me. At first, it was just unreflected rage. I did not know where it came from. But I’ve had time to introspect since and it turns out, when some cop barks at me, it triggers emotions in me of myself having been raped.
Of course, the cop is not the person who raped me. But the mind does not care. It is a defense mechanism. And if you think of it, it is a somewhat valid one.
When somebody traumatizes you, your mind creates this image of an “oppressor”. It may be some emotion that this person displayed while harming you. It may be something about his looks. Basically, the brain just goes haywire associating and trying to find a pattern. Why? To avoid it from happening again.
Continue reading “How everybody is your rapist – and how not. Or: Beating the devil”
I started smoking in the psychiatry 7 months ago. I continued smoking because smoking brought up some kind of diffuse but strong fear in me. A few days back I dropped the fags, because it is starting to deteriorate my teeth.
In those days without a smoke, a strange sort of peace sneaked into my life, but I did not realize it until today, when I intuitively felt the necessity to smoke one more cigarette.
The moment I tasted the smoke in my mouth, the memories all came back. The intense fear and helplessness of being bound to a bed, disrespected, forced to take medicine, looked down upon by the stupid staff.
It was a strange moment. One moment I had peace in my mind. I had practically forgotten about the incident. And then, just by the taste of the cigarette, it all came back at once. It was as if I was suddenly another person. I think this is what they call triggering.
Not for the first time has such a dramatic and sudden change in my mood forced an insight upon me: This pain is not my identity.
Continue reading “Cigarettes & Memories”
Nietzsche suggests in his book On the Genealogy of Morals a historical account of a nation that was harmonious and peaceful inside, while periodically going on crusades against other nations, committing the most heinous crimes; rape, murder, torture. And they enjoy it. He suggests that this nation has developed this mechanism as a way to vent the more animalistic tendencies that are suppressed inside its civilization.
Why do we get so angry about politics? Why do we see a flag or a famous monkey and are so hyponotized by it that we elevate it, in our minds, above all of those who oppose it? Why are we seemingly ready to kill people who disagree with us about political issues – and yet seldom dare to speak our own minds if they oppose that which is morally accepted?
I think the answer is simple.
Political issues and political leaders give us the permission to be angry. Something we are generally not allowed to be.
To be angry and violent, those are qualities that are looked down upon in society. To use force and power to get your own way, that is perhaps the greatest crime of all. Beware the selfish man. Serve the others, always be compassionate and so on. And yet, when our personally chosen leaders talk about the enemies of their values, we become feral, with foam at our mouths, ready to do almost anything to silence them. Very peculiar.
Continue reading “Anger hypnosis – why do politics enrage us so?”
A double bind, as I see it, is a situation where one is confronted with two conflicting desires, effectively rendering the person helpless and making a solution of the problem impossible. It is the scenario of being between a rock and a hard place. Having to evade an approaching train by jumping down from a bridge.
One of the meanest double binds I have experienced and lived with most of my life is something I would say is typical for co-dependent men, especially when it comes to dating, or, to be more precise, living out the sexual drive. But it does not only apply to fucking girls. It also applies to situations of open confrontation and conflict.
The double bind goes something like this:
- You have to be liked, wanted, desired and respected.
- To be liked, wanted, desired or respected, you have to be confident.
- To be confident means to not be dependent on being liked, wanted, desired or respected.
Now, note that I am not talking about objective truths. I am talking about deep, ingrained beliefs and compulsions.
Continue reading “The devilish male co-dependent double bind, or, anatomy of a cuck”
I will try and make a logical argument that morals are an exclusively human invention and therefore less important in the big picture than we may think. A part of the argument is of Machiavellian nature, but without the negative connotation.
A fine conclusion from it is that it is okay to forgive ourselves and others even the most so-called heinous crimes. And let go of pain.
My argument is really simple. I will give you the short version now and then elaborate a bit. It goes as follows:
Morals in the way we know them are exclusive to the human species. God likely does not punish animals for acting in a manner that would be considered immoral from a human perspective, nor is it likely that they feel guilt or shame for such behavior. Also very likely, our soul – the essence of our being – is not human. Therefore, it is unlikely that God favors human souls over animal souls, since the soul in itself is not human and is thus equal to any other soul. Hence, morals are an exclusive human instrument, primarily used for intra-species power plays – be that a good or bad thing, if you get the pun.
Well, that turned out to be not quite as clear as I hoped it would, but it should suffice to give you the gist for now.
So now, let me elaborate a little.
Continue reading “Proof (?) that morals are man-made fiction”
You walk the streets and you see some stupid protesters, do-gooder activists, hippies, oh damn, whatever thing you can think of that makes you want to throw up. You sneer at that thing or person. You say to yourself, society is going to hell. You say to yourself, but I know better. You say to yourself, I know who I am.
And you walk the streets and think of yourself and fancy what you see. A man of integrity, a man with a firm set of values, a man who thinks for himself. You know stuff like:
- Homosexuality is a mental illness.
- Liberals suck and are dumb.
- Life is hard.
- (fill in whatever fits you)
So that’s you. That’s your identity. You know who you are, because you know what you believe. You think, therefore you are. And the thing that keeps you You is the strength to stand by your beliefs. Standing by your beliefs is a good thing, you heard it many times. Not giving in to people who want to manipulate you, change who you are.
You grew up in a culture that constantly wants to feed you its propaganda, constantly wants to control your life in every which way. You are smart, because you look through it. You know who you are.
Continue reading “Does rejecting societal influences make you more You?”
Paul got a letter from his daughter. He hesitated to read it. He put it away for a long time until he brought up the courage to open it. It said:
I had this voice in my head all my life. A voice that was telling me that I am a miserable piece of shit. That I don’t deserve love, don’t deserve pleasure, don’t deserve a fulfilling sex life.
Once the voice appeared in my dreams. It was the devil. A horrifying black cloud of terror. In that dream, I tried to fight him. Was it a him? Or was it an it? I tried to fight it, but my limbs were frozen. I could not move, as much as I tried. It ridiculed me and said You are mine. I whimpered and kept repeating to myself, No, no, no, oh please, god, no! Reality was disintegrating.
I woke up shaken and out of my mind. I pushed it all away, it could not be. I forced myself to forget about it.
Continue reading “A letter from his daughter”