Schadenfreude

Since my 2010 mantra was ”to take more risks”, I’m going out in such fashion.

This is a guest blog post from The Evil Cyclist. (And, yes, his bio at the bottom is legit.)  

When SCooper asked me about guest blogging, I felt keen pressure ( not unlike a prostate exam ) to dig for something in common with her. Something that would reach out to her readers, something that would grip them, keep them enthralled and have them wildly praising SCooper for her decision to lend me some bandwidth.

I had nothing.

So, I tried to think like SCooper. I found I had to envision SCooper as being from another planet, in an inner space kind of way. A planet entirely composed of loving, caring, wrenching angst, intersecting with an unending plane of Waiting for Godot pathos paved by joyful, unfulfilled  anticipation for the right relationship to come along. For those who are more visual ( i.e. “Men”), picture some sort of Salavdore Dali landscape, but with puppies and kittens and perfect men just out of reach. And  IUD’s creeping in unbidden along the edges. It’s not my world; I just report what I see.
 
This is difficult for me, mainly because it clashes with my inner space. For a view of my inner space, picture this: a Vincent Van Gogh world where you can drive as fast as you like, shoot guns anywhere, visit  bungie jumping  martini bars on every corner, worship at the Charlie Sheen chapel and Hunter S. Thompson is the Mayor for Life. (He earned this honor because he introduced me to this quote by Samuel Johnson- “He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.”) Like a blurry Las Vegas, but with even more showgirls and without all the labor unions.

I still had nothing (except an interesting mental picture).

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? A synaptic connection is formed. (On an ethereal plane, Shakespeare just soiled his woolen leggings in dismay) Although much of SCooper’s emotional diatribes are alien or simply uninteresting, I may have seen a common thread.

That thread is emotions. More specifically, Schadenfreude, my favorite emotion.

Not that emotions are my specialty, but I do have favorites.

If the term Schadenfreude is new to you, read about it, say it, let it roll off your tongue a few times. It will be hard. The Germans have a knack for combining great philosophy with a very difficult language. It may take some mental re-alignment to get used to the fact that something you have felt guilty about is both common and natural, no matter how disturbing. Stop and take a break if you need to. Have a cup of strong coffee, the caffeine seems to help dull the sympathy center in your brain.
Technically Schadenfreude isn’t even listed as an emotion on the gold standard of unimpeachable information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotions

Although  clearly the  black sheep of emotions, it does have its own Wikipedia page, here. Street cred for standing on its own!

That page is worth reading, especially for this tidbit:
“This was indeed the case, but for male subjects the brain’s pleasure centers also lit up when someone else got a shock that the male thought was well-deserved.[22]”

I add this tidbit:
Where do I sign up for the experiments where I get to shock the snot out of a well deserving bastard? God as my witness, I would wear that farging button OUT!

I’ve come to grips with Schadenfreude. Actually, I’ve embraced it semi-officially in my blog. Some would say I have embraced it with a troubling zeal. But the truth is inescapable: I often find pleasure in other’s misfortunes, more so when I feel that, rightly or wrongly, they somehow deserved it.

Ex) I got huge joy out of John Edward’s misfortunes, despite the obvious tragedy that it involved his wife, family and unexpected child. Such is the double edged sword of Schadenfreude. It’s very much a guilty pleasure. Well, guilty for some. You know who you are…

It’s petty, it’s immature, it’s un-Christian and my mother would be sorely disappointed.  “But He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone..” ( here ends any religious references. I’m not a religious/spiritual person at all, so to use that as a reference in a blog is improper).

What I’m saying is that I know in my black heart, even the sweetest, kindest, most caring of you readers have felt some joy at another’s misfortunes at some point, whether it be a politician caught in the act or a co-worker getting fired. Heed my advice: Embrace that pleasure.

This is important: Schadenfreude does not make you a Sociopath. That is different. Stop beating yourself up (Unless you’re physically beating yourself up. Then post it on YouTube)

So, get in touch with your Schadenfreude.

Start small with something that is less morally challenging. It may help to then rationalize your joy.

Did your prom queen spill punch on her perfect dress? You never liked her anyway.

Did some “Head of the Pace Line” over-cheery show-off twit with perfect glutes get a flat tire on your last group ride? (**** See how I cleverly worked in cycling content****)

Move on from there. Maybe picture Marion Barry getting busted with crack cocaine. You don’t really like him, he really was a jerk and the “Bitch Set Me Up” line was so funny..

You know you are ready for the big leagues when you can look at what is happening with Venezuela and take joy in the crumbling of their Democracy, rationalizing it by telling yourself it is their fault because they keep electing that putz “Rule by Decree” Chavez.

See, isn’t this fun? The Evil Cyclist always takes you on a wonderful trip to the fun side of town.

Now here is the challenge, in the form of the crowd participation part of the blog.

Confession is good for the soul AND makes great reading! Take some time and post you favorite Schadenfreude moments in the comment section of Scooper’s blog. Or, if you prefer to remain anonymous, send them to me (Evil@Evilcyclist.com ) and I will post them  in an anonymized fashion.

If you are one of Somer’s hot female friends, include a picture. No real reason, just prurient curiosity. Those of you who are “Not Hot” can substitute a random picture from the web ( It’s full of them. Start here. ) and just tell me it’s you. I appreciate a smoking hot lie more than the ugly truth. In any case, your feedback is now mandatory.

Don’t be lazy and skip this. If you have invested the time to read this far, invest another 5 minutes and contribute. We need to know. If you fail to comply, we WILL know, and Somer will guilt you to death. It’s like her secret super power.

Next, if you have found this diatribe to have scratched some secret itch or found some naughty niche, feel free to join my minions over at the Evil Cyclist.

-Evil C.

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The Evil Cyclist is just a crotchety IT guy, but he has seen a few things.

Born in Monrovia, Liberia, when it wasn’t such a cesspool. He lived in a fraternity house for four years at a large ACC college, bartending his way through most of those years in downtown Annapolis. Scored very well on LSAT’s and was accepted to law school but  decided instead to become a partner in a start-up Caribbean hotel development company, while also running a Country Western bar at the peak of the line dancing craze and then being a landlord in Baltimore. He’s worked for Capital One, and Microsoft, as well as at family businesses and non-profits.

He’s bungee jumped over the Queen Mary, and hunted Cape Buffalo in Zimbabwe and Tanzania.  He’s sipped Scotch  overlooking the Ton Le Sap river in Cambodia and browsed through the shops in Old Delhi. He’s even shed a few tears at the Hanoi Hilton. He’s snowboarded in Killington and jet skied off Malibu.  He rode his first bike century about 5 years ago, and hasn’t quit since. His current passion is taking his late 80′s Porsche to the race track and driving as fast as he can.  He’s also happily married and raising three surprisingly good kids.

 He’s done a lot, and  not ashamed to brag a little.  He is the Evil Cyclist.