PARTIES ARE FOR THE PATHETIC

by Mr. Mean-Spirited



There are few things on this planet more unpleasant than a party. There is nothing more disagreeable in life than having to enjoy yourself in public. There is nothing more horrible than having group fun. There is nothing more embarrassing than getting joyful in front of other people.

Consider a party as a sort of cultural re-education camp. Brainwashing is always more efficient when it is disguised as leisure time. Indoctrination is more easily accomplished through recreational activities, than in any other area of societal interaction. Mind control is something that happens when the subject has a smile on his face.

There is a reason why people call what you do at a party “socializing”. The last thing that a genuine individualist will ever allow is for the life-of-the-party to come over and try to mingle.

A party is an environment where everyone demonstrates that they are cheerfully and correctly acculturated. The purpose of a party is not to have a good time, but to perform appropriate sentiments. You don’t just say something to a person of the opposite sex, you yell some platitude across the room; you don’t just chuckle at a witty joke, but you laugh as loudly as possible to everything. A social gathering is just an occasion for conspicuous displays of enjoyment.

When it comes to a party, you don’t want any part of it. There is nothing at a party that is going to do you any good.

Sure, there is music – but everyone is talking all at once, so you can’t really hear anything (even if that were what you wanted). The stereo speakers are blasting at high volume simply because there is supposed to be music at such occasions. There is a song in the background because everyone expects to have music going for things to get social.

Sure, there is liquor – but you will only find a haphazard accumulation of bottles, so you won’t be able to get a proper cocktail (even if you craved as much). Only the nastiest booze turns up at a “mixer”. Never assume that there will be anything worth drinking at a social gathering.

Sure, there are snacks – but you don’t go to a party expecting to find anything worth eating (even if you so desired). The chow has been sitting around so long that the bread is stale and the cheese has crusted over. By the time you work up enough courage to risk the possibility of food poisoning, you might not even notice all the cigarette butts that have already been extinguished in the clam dip. Hors d’oeuvres are something you do at your own risk.

Sure, there are possible new friends – but there are far too many guests crammed into far too small a room for you to have a decent conversation with anyone (should you be so inclined). Even if the goer were chatting with Jesus Christ, the guest would still be looking over the Son of God’s shoulder for someone else more interesting.

Sure, there are females willing to hookup – but no beautiful woman will ever want to go home with you (even if that were what you fancied). Believe me, any cute girl is looking for someone a hell of a lot more attractive than you are, pal. With plenty of better choices in the opposite sex at a “successful” party, no lady is going to be the least bit interested in you.

What I hate most about parties is that they are always crowded with people like you.

CHILD EATER FOUNTAIN

by Mr. Mean-Spirited


 

There is a fountain in the old city of Bern, Switzerland, which is topped by a curious bit of sculpture: a statue of a man devouring a child while holding a bagful of additional kids for later snacking. Even when it was first carved back in the 16th Century, the Swiss may well have eaten children by the sackful – like Sliders from White Castle. The local German-speakers call the fountain the Kindlifresserbrunnen, but I wouldn’t try pronouncing that name without fist fortifying my vocal cords with a glass of Swiss absinthe.  

Even in the most favorable moments in history, human beings are ambivalent about raising children. Every person realizes it necessary to sow offspring in order for culture to continue, but that propagation comes at quite a cost. There are moments in a fellow’s life when the price is too high.

Sometimes, though, you might endure enough disappointment and disgust in life that you decide eat your seed corn. The Child Eater Fountain exhibits the way that an adult male truly feels about kids – a grown man knows that he better consume his offspring before they can consume him. Eat the little bastards before they can eat him out of house and home.  

Think of the sculpture as a glimpse into the subconscious of an average father. Consider such Renaissance effigies to be a sort of metaphor for the resentment all dads feel for their children. There is no parent alive who never had moments when he wished he could take it all back. Regard the Child Eater Fountain as a watery representation of a breeder’s real antipathy toward kids.

JUAN SOLDADO, PATRON SAINT OF REPROBATES LIKE US

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

Juan Soldado is an uncanonized folk saint of northern Mexico – the supernatural recipient of illicit prayers and inexpensive floral arrangements and lighted candles; but Juan was once a genuine living, breathing, and fucking human being. During his days in human form, Juan Soldado was a soldier executed for raping and killing a young girl in Tijuana – a rather strange biography for what is now a divine being.  

Although the locals now provide him with all the offerings befitting a spiritual entity, Juan Castillo Morales was an actual historical person; back in 1938, Castillo had the misfortune to be conscripted into the Mexican army and stationed in the sin city of Tijuana, Mexico. When the decapitated body of the 8 year-old Olga Camacho was found in the border town; Castillo was accused of the butchery. However, his true guilt is still a matter of dispute.

There were several possible perpetrators of the crime. First, Castillo’s commanding officer had a certain predilection for young girls, and Castillo might well have been a convenient scapegoat. Second, a pedophile ring was involved in a labor dispute at the local casino, and a transient soldier would have been an excellent fallguy. Third, Juan Castillo might well have done the deed. However, what seems most interesting is not who might have molested and murdered the girl, but that a sex crime gave rise to a celestial being.  

After a hasty burial, mournful sounds and materializations began to appear at Juan Castillo’s grave. Local Mexicans began using the deceased offender as a sacred intercessor. As a guardian spirit, Juan Soldado has now become a supernatural defender of anyone manipulating the system. Asking for Soldado’s assistance gives you an edge when subverting social rules. This tutelary spirit gives you a work-around when facing the prospect of conventional morality; this heavenly being has become the protector of everyone involved in the underground economy. Juan Soldado is an otherworldly patron of all of us who transgress against the established order, a guardian spirit for lawbreakers indulging their nefarious proclivities. A true badass of the borderlands.

You do not approach Juan Soldado on behalf of your neighbors – as much as improving life for yourself. You don’t come to Juan Soldado make the world better – as much as getting away with some questionable activity here on earth. Juan Soldado is not about world peace – as much as ensuring that the bureaucracy is so inefficient that you aren’t caught. You don’t pray to Juan Soldado to feed the hungry and cure the sick – as much as to work some trick against the authorities. Juan Soldado isn’t about doing good deeds – as much as playing the system. A supernatural being isn’t there to put meaning in your life – as much as money in your wallet.

Juan Soldado doesn’t require you to mend your ways. Juan Soldado doesn’t compel you to change your life. The folk saint wants only for you to become more successful at being yourself. If you are an outlaw, then Juan Soldado makes you a triumphant outlaw. If you are an illegal immigrant, then Juan Soldado helps you to sneak past the Border Patrol. If you operate on the black market, then devotion to Juan Soldado makes you a more profitable criminal. Make no mistake about it, Juan Soldado does miracles – but such wonders do not ever make the world more fair and just: no, certainly not – the miraculous just puts a little extra in your pocket at the end of the day.

EMPATHY IS AN EVIL THING TO FEEL

by Mr. Mean-Spirited



I don’t want to understand you. I am simply not interested. 

I really don’t care about your anguish. I don’t give a shit about your agony. Suffering is one of those unseemly acts that should be done in private. Sorrow is something that you need to keep to yourself.

Empathy involves a perception of someone else’s emotions – but there are always, always, always ulterior motives in trying to perceive another person’s most personal experiences. Trying to uncover the misfortunes and misery of others is an immoral thing. Busybodies and serial killers are always insufferably empathic.

Empathy is an invasion of emotional privacy. Only a true voyeur wants to know what someone else is feeling. Somebody else’s torment is actually none of your business. Another person’s hurt ought to be kept private.

Empathy is a means of controlling you. There is a reason why successful politicians can always manage to “feel your pain” – these bureaucrats use that knowledge of your weakness in order to control you. If you allow someone else to know your deepest fear, then that outsider has an advantage over you.

Empathy contaminates your own worldview. You need to perfect and purify your own unique take on the world. Somebody else’s perspective is just a form of mental pollution. Empathy is just a form of emotional toxic waste.

If you walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, the only thing you’re going to get is a foot infection. The only way to see with someone else’s eyes is to purchase body parts on the black market. The only person who wants to get into someone else’s skin is a psychopath.

Only a torturer is concerned about what you are feeling. Only an interrogator has any regard for your pain. A normal human being does not bother about what some other person might be experiencing. Only a sociopath wants to know all about your suffering.

MISOPHONIA – A HATRED OF SOUND

by Mr. Mean-Spirited



I hate noise.

I just read about an “ailment” that I just realized I have: misophonia – a hatred of sound. Perhaps the most repellant thing about humanity is the noise they make.  Perhaps the most repugnant thing about mankind is their hideous chatter.  Perhaps the most revolting thing about human beings is the commotion they inflict upon your ears.

Spend enough time around people and you will end up with a hatred of noise too.  You can’t very well hear the squeak and squawk of another person without ending up with a migraine.

Hear some kid screaming outside, and you will want to scream yourself.  Ever notice how baby talk always lowers the intelligence of everyone in the vicinity?  What is truly distressing is that the general public assumes a yelling child to be normal.  It is not actually the misophonia that is the real disorder – what is truly disturbed is that society seems willing to tolerate this incessant background noise.  

Give an ear to somebody laughing nearby, and you can’t help but feel sick to your stomach.  The less sincere the guffaw, the louder and longer it goes on.  Ever notice how a laugh is a weird cross between a bark of a dog and a squeal of a pig?

Listen to the latest tune, and you will come to loathe all music.  You can’t subject yourself to another song without wanting to strangle the singer.  Ever notice how the louder the volume, the less intelligent the person?

Overhear someone eating and you won’t have any appetite again.  Ever notice how the most repulsive sounds a human being makes are when objects exit and enter their bodies?  Slurping soup and expelling diarrhea make exactly the same noise.  Have you heard the commotion a senior citizen makes when masticating corn on the cob?  At least a starving man has the good manners to keep silent.

If only human beings would just shut the fuck up.