Photo: Monkey playing with his balls during my visit to Safari West in Santa Rosa.
I want to take a moment to discuss a particular phrase I’m quite fond of, “Go fuck yourself.”
I’ve been using this phrase a lot lately, luckily more in my own head than in real conversations with other people. In my head though, I am in real conversations with other people and they can all go fuck themselves.
Sometimes, the assertion is less qualified, per se, than others. For instance, the other night I was eating vanilla ice cream on top of a warm brownie and I thought, where’s that Ben & Jerry’s flavor? A la Mode? And not that Chocolate Fudge Brownie shit. Like, A la Mode, where Ben and Jerry somehow find a way with nitrous or jizz or atom splitting chemicals to keep the brownie warm in the pint with vanilla ice cream and caramel and SUPER gentle walnuts. Then, I thought about all the assholes who are just like me, sitting in their houses talking about, “Oh I should be hired by Ben & Jerry’s to come up with ice cream flavors and make them millions of dollars on these ridiculously creative flavors no one else could ever think of.” And then I thought, “You can all go fuck yourselves. Ben & Jerry already make millions and they probably just hire their friends or chicks they wanna bang and sit around and brag about how the American public is stupid enough to buy out their entire stock of a flavor called ‘Schweddy Balls’. You’re stoned and you’re not going to work for Ben & Jerrys.”
So, there’s definitely some anger here, I know. It’s sort of being directed toward myself, sort of these imaginary stoners, and definitely Ben & Jerry (sorry, but seriously fuck you for Schweddy Balls it was not good). And I’m aware that getting angry at imaginary people who think about being ice cream flavor designers is just not efficient. But I’m not going to discuss what I’m really angry about (it does go a little deeper than ice cream) rather, I want to elaborate on the unique duality of the phrase “Go fuck yourself”.
So, if you’ve ever “fucked yourself” before you know it feels good. Yes, I’m talking about masturbating. The whole idea that we can orgasm without being touched by another human being is seriously awesome. Like that is legitimately really something. The question “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” should really be “Do the chickens masturbate?” because then we would really be learning something about nature and the meaning of life. Consequently, this also begs the question, why would we tell people we’re angry with to do something that would ultimately make them feel pleasure? The answer, simply complicated, is masochism.
We get pleasure from taunting others with crude references about their deepest vulnerability- their genitals and their capacity to procreate. And we also get pleasure from expelling our own anger in a lewd way- cursing in someone’s face. I know these are not new ideas. However, I do think it’s interesting that this phrase, which is intentionally meant to hurt someone, revolves around an act of deep personal pleasure for that person.
I think what I’m trying to say is that pleasure cannot be disembodied from hate (or, for that matter, love). And I think that’s fucking cool as hell. It’s similar to the way a vaccine must contain the same virus our body needs to kill. Pleasure is both a part of the disease and the cure. It’s like the hedonic glucose we have to digest to convert any emotion into positive or negative energy. That is just a fucking genius mind trip.
Furthermore, the idea that someone you hate more than anything in this world is also conjuring the same material you need to love that person more than anything in this world, well that is just crazy. More often than not, it seems, we likely hate the people we really wanted to love us.
Now they can go fuck themselves in a giant vat of Schweddy Balls.
- July 25 2012 | - Read More →