Swim Good: Frank Oceans Letter

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When I first heard, I had the unique luxury of a friend reading Frank Oceans poetic letter out loud to me.

“Whoever you are, wherever you are…I’m starting to think that we’re a lot alike”.

And everything suddenly stood still. I’m not musically inclined, I have minimum artistic qualities, and I’m straight. But I felt Frank Ocean. I clung on to each word and because I wasn’t reading, I was seeing.

We’re in blackness. Did you even know there was blackness? There is a struggle. There is truth. If you can’t accept the sexuality of others, then this isn’t for you. There’s little for you. This is for those who oversee these differences but have yet to empathize. We can try. Recently, there has been an even stronger theme for progress from social pioneers. Each story heavies my chest but this one I really felt. Its raw.

We’re all in blackness, attempting to live truthfully.

I’ve carried a motto within me the past few years that has helped me through anything and everything: Empathize often. If you can place yourself somewhere foreign, then you know what’s right. It has helped me find everything good in my world. So how much would it hurt if I felt like a prisoner in my own body?

Because I couldn’t be honest with myself.

Because I couldn’t tell my friends who my heart felt for.

Because my parents wanted everything else of me.

These prisoners spend their lives with mixtures of guilt and confusion. They never want to know what’s at the end of a sentence that begins with homosexuality and ends with God. Why isn’t this darkness a part of our past already?

By the time Frank Ocean realized he was in love, it had become “malignant”. Anyone who has loved knows what that means.

I see Frank sitting, stiff because his words are fleeting too freely to his friend. I see his tears. I picture the sad years passing because he didn’t know his feelings were reciprocated. But he harnessed what he was given. He told himself he was going to be fine, and so he was. He spent years developing his craft and creating great music.

I admire what he’s done with his words. I’ve always enjoyed his music but now his letter injects a new spirit into my breaths. His dialogue has resonated in my thoughts for a few days now.

I’m going to be seeing him in concert soon. I hope I get a chance to tell him: “Hey Frank, we’re nowhere near a falling sky”.

I Am Saving You from Fifty Shades of Grey

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If I ever dislike something, I have at least given it a try. I ate papaya once; it tastes like vomit pretending to be fruit. I endured 3 paragraphs of Twilight and the first movie. So obviously I went ahead and gave this media-frenzied book, Fifty Shades of Grey, an earnest read.

The title presumably sounds like a literary classic. I think all these women that have raved about this book just really appreciate dominant and submissive sex, which is not the issue. The real issue is the lack of any coherent rhetoric in this novel. I am genuinely disheartened by how poorly written it is; the book is a complete farce. For this to become a best seller is a stab at any real author who is struggling to make a name.

The main character is Anastasia Steele (Ana), who is given the exact attributes of the Twilight chick. Ana is pale, doubts her beauty, and is clumsy. She’s about to graduate college but is aloof about the concept of sex and has never done more than kiss a guy. No comment on the likelihood of this scenario. She works at the hardware store, dresses in sultry t-shirts and jaw-dropping converse shoes, and gathers the attention of Ivy League guys. The fact that Ana is a shameless replica of Twilight chick explains the infectious notoriety of this romance novel.

Ana then has an encounter with a young, self-made, and entrepreneurial billionaire (not to be confused with an average millionaire). His name is Christian Grey (all the characters in this book are given medieval names). Homeboy is adopted and develops a multi-faceted persona. He’s viciously handsome, a philanthropist, has adventurous hobbies, and harbors the attention of every woman. His fingers produce Bach-like symphonies on a piano and in the bedroom. He reveals a unique vice that carries this book into the hands of every female: he likes sadomasochists. He is immediately drawn to Ana by her supposedly alluring demeanor and elusive mind.

Ana maintains the lexicon of a home-schooled teen that keeps a diary. The way the author portrays Ana’s subconscious is insulting to any woman in her twenties. Christian tends to her needs, is protective of her, and rescues her. Her reaction: He’s so freaking…hot!!! Although Christian is considered to be supremely attractive, the only adjective the author can summon is hot.

Holy shit …he’s about to stand up. He’s actually talking to me…woah. I should cite that last sentence because it is probably a direct quote from the book, including the ellipses. If you took out all the parts about her blushing, saying jeez, biting her lips, and holy-crapping, the book is cut to 34 pages. A kindle search shows that “Crap” alone is used 93 times.

Ana is some sort of lit major in 2012 but doesn’t initially own a laptop? Crap. Each time Ana begins to use her Macbook, she addresses it as “firing up the mean machine” as if it runs on Windows 95. Double Crap. What? This author is on some potent crack. Triple Crap. And everyone in the book “murmurs” and either grins or frowns at every moment. Why can’t everyone just talk? Keep in mind this book has sold 10 million copies.

The first time Ana visits Christian’s home, he shows Ana his Red Dungeon of Pain and Sex and Horror and Play and Etc. The room is full of cuffs, chains and other BDSM equipment. But before she can exhibit any fear, she is oogling over his mere existence. He can simply touch her into an orgasm. It was tolerable to read the first time but after the third “body-shattering” experience, I am hysterical and irritated.

At times, Ana almost exhibits a real personality where she is afraid of his needs. She once utters an entire sentence with proper syntax in front of Christian. When she’s not too busy lusting his luscious hair, she is swallowing the idea of signing a contract into submission. Christian is a control freak who fuels his sexual drive by commanding Ana to eat and dress in a certain manner. He punishes her for rolling her eyes at him by spanking her. Ana becomes emotionally conflicted by Christian’s fetish, unsure of whether she can ever accept this pain. For the author to romanticize physical and mental abuse is totally irresponsible.

Throughout my rant and dilemma, I had a choice: just stop reading. Unfortunately, the literary spin on this sexual expedition and wanting to know the end of this ridiculous premise has led me half way into this book. I don’t read romance novels but I’m sure I would still appreciate one with actual language and character development. I don’t care how sexy it may seem, why are intelligent people recommending this book? WHAT IS GOING ON?

I Do vs. You’ll Do

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I want to say that I would never get a tattoo because it’s tacky but really, I’m afraid of commitments that involve eternity. We see that two people fall in love and wither away once deeper factors begin to join the ruse of forever, “I do”.

Our parents grew up outside of the digital realm, which limited their personal encounters to their small towns. They automatically shared a large common base with everyone they met. With the omnipresence of the Internet today, we are given unlimited choice for companions paired with more tolerance for divorce than our predecessors. We marry outside of our ethnicity, religion, city and even lifestyle. We assume that by fine-tuning our needs, we can perfect our decisions. However, several studies have formulated the Paradox of Choice: the more options there are, the less likely you are to be satisfied because your decisions are subject to comparison.

The explosion of options has made men and women only more uncertain of their decisions, in all aspects. Regret tarnishes what is good. Perfection is complicated and, ironically, leaves a lot of room for the inevitable mistake.

Freedom of choice has been an integral aspect of our individualistic society. And although some choice is good, what America offers its society now—as a consumer, as a student, as a parent, as a person—is confusion. Something basic like milk has nine different options at the grocery store. If I want to “see what’s out there”, nothing is keeping me from joining a plethora of dating sites or browsing a social network.

The excess of choice is conditioning us to search for contrived happiness, crippling our outlook on trueness. In the pursuit of perfection, we distort necessity. I have high expectations for a pair of shoes; the level for a spouse runs even further. It is too easy to imagine the attractiveness of the options you reject. Just the digital presence of someone seemingly perfect can diminish your current state of happiness.

Even if you choose the perfect person, you allow your self-induced opportunity cost to gnaw away at your decision. This is still not to say that we don’t limit ourselves when choosing a partner. Whether you have self-imposed or parentally mandated filters, your mind still acknowledges your constant freedom of choice. Unfortunately, equating freedom with choice has not facilitated our social well-being. We are too prone to feeling defeated by our wants, especially if we barely know what it is.

To keep myself from feeling derailed, I’ve spent the past few years simplifying my general “wants”. Now that I’m 22 and have acknowledged the word “marriage”, all I feel is uncertainty for the stability in the future of my generation.

Why I Don’t Need Millions of Dolla Dolla Bills, Ya’ll

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I have become increasingly un-materialistic. I’m hoping I snap out of it because school can be very difficult to go through when you’re not motivated by monetary gain. But if you pointed a paintball gun to my face, threatening to colorfully bruise it if I didn’t spend loads of money, I would the following:

1. I will pay the Kardashians to become irrelevant. If the Mayans are correct, then the world does not need to end while Kim Kardashian is live airing the finalization of her divorce.

2. I eat and cook a lot so perhaps I’d furnish a spectacular kitchen. I would order a heaping carton of caviar to swoosh around in my mouth while I watch movies on my wall sized 3D television. Afterwards, I can walk across my aquarium floor to my beachy backyard because my house is actually on a private island.

3. The hip-hop community dictates that I should make it rain at all times. You have not lived your life until you’ve paid for your gas with flying 10′s while gyrating to T-Pain.

4. I could probably get the writers of LOST to redo their cheap, upsetting Finale. Seriously, they were in purgatory the entire time? AS IF that ending was not predicted after episode 2 in the Loser Lost Fans Club forum. Yeah, I checked!

5. With a million dollars, I would copyright overused phrases and place a premium on their usage.

  • Fail $1
  • SMH $The Weight of Your Head In Dollars
  • Cray $1 for me and $1 for Kanye
  • It Is What It is $1 is $1
  • Just Sayin’ Shouldn’t have said anything, $1 please.
  • Totes $0, my mother told me to never cheat the handicapped.

6. I will run for Presidency. I’m a little pretentious when it comes to valuing non-coastal states so touring across America would be good for me. How do the people of South Dakota feel when no one outside the US (or even inside) knows where they’re from? I can’t even picture people living in Wyoming and Indiana and Illinois are only important in Monopoly. Again, I refuse to do any research on this matter.

7. I will make Google become more considerate of the worlds’ 1%. I searched:

  • “How to spend more money” Nothing.
  • “How to spend money like a boss” Nothing.
  • “How to spend money without f-ing bitches” Nothing.

Thanks to the tags in this post, all those people searching will now find some meaningful answers.

 

 

I Do Brunch

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If I’m going around town breakfasting with you, consider yourself important. I get up in the morning and think to myself “I love this person so much that I will sacrifice sleep and the comfort of my memory foam to haphazardly make jokes over coffee and eggs”. But the same way I consider breakfast a major event on my mental calendar, I hype up super late night tomfoolery. It’s only possible because it’s rare.

So at 11:35 am I’m standing in line to pay for my drink and gasoline. My first ethical dilemma stems from what’s socially acceptable to drink at this time. If I’m a morning person, I grab juice. If I’m a sleeper-inner, I grab a coffee. I decide that I’m not ready to make a crucial decision at this point in my life. Mmm, water.

Behind me I have a man who is screaming, “MY DAY HAS ALREADY BEEN 4 HOURS LONG AND I LOVE IT”. Chill dude, no need to remind me of everything I will never be. Actually, he said none of that. I just inferred from the sunshine rays beaming from his face. Behind him is a Sleeper-Inner. Yuck lady, we all know you hate life right now considering the wrinkles on your “business casual” ensemble paired with Crocs.

I cannot wake up before 10 am like Morning Dude, but life is definitely not long enough to start at noon like Sleeping Beauty. Second dilemma: are people who wake up between the delicate but refined hours of 10 am and 12 pm worthless?

No, we’re quality people. We’re the moderates in life. We’re shnazzy but not spazzy. We kind of skip the most important meal of the day but not really because it still happens. And as it turns out, the world loves us.

1. Most restaurants don’t bother opening till 11 am.

2. Traffic ends before we wake up and starts back up after we arrive at whatever our 1pm destination is.

3. Brunch includes the best of breakfast and the sizzle of lunch.

4. Excuses are endless when you don’t want to hang out with either extreme.

  • To: Crazy, Uptight Morning Person

“Oh my gosh, 6 am yoga sounds absolutely riveting but I’ve scheduled a REM coma at that time.”

  • To: Lax, Sloppy, Sleeper-Inner:

“Whoa that party that starts at 1 am seems life changing but I unfortunately have to get my career on the next day.”

And finally,

5. Nothing in life can be excluded.

The most important business meetings take place during our peak hours of 10 am and 3 pm. Those 8 am meetings only pretend to be important because people had to buy donuts for them. Brunch makes gluttony classy. Brunch provides conversational segues from Nietzsche’s philosophies to the parallel between global decay and Lindsay Lohan’s teeth.

As a Brunch person, you can function at an Electro-Concert one night and still produce pseudo-intellectual comments in class the next day (which you ingeniously scheduled for 1 pm).

Modern, Classic Pop Songs I Hope I Never Relate To

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1. Britney Spears ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ (1999)

Go Ahead And Click Here Since You’re Pretending To Not Remember The Lyrics

If ‘my loneliness was ever killing me’ then you better believe I would turn into a rampant whore. Spears roams through the halls sulking, begging her boy toy for another chance so he can show her how ‘he wants it to be’. She knows she’s ‘BLIGHN-ded’ but ‘there’s nothing she wouldn’t do’…the reason she ‘breathes is you’. Eeeeeek, get it together, girl. Play MASH to find out if he’s really The One.

2. Justin Timberlake ‘Cry Me A River’ (2002)

Britney Is Actually In This Video Too

The heartache in this song is so fierce that Justin needed heavy rainfall and Gregorian monks to echo his sorrow. His first mistake was making a rising pop star his “sun” and “earth”. She didn’t cheat on him with just one guy, ‘NOooOoo….DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW IT!’ Her river of apologetic tears weren’t enough so Justin broke into her house with (his bro before his hoe) Timbaland to stalk and torment. I hope I’m never the cheater or the cheatee because really, who ever looks good in a pool of sorry tears?

3. The Cardigans ‘Lovefool’ (1997)

Forgot How Awesome 90′s Music Videos Were

‘Love me, lovvee me’ should never be an actual sentence in any language.“Pretend that you love me. Leave me, leave me, just say that you need me,” is sung so whimsically that you almost forget that this is a desperate plea from a delusional ex. Anyone that can manage to relate to this song in its entirety is hopeless.

4. Cher ‘Believe’ (1998)

I Believed Before I Beliebed

At first listen, you want to relate to this songs strong will undertones and a central theme of moving on. This may be my bias against Cher’s vocal identity crisis but I really feel that ultimately, the message is more bitter than hopeful.  The whole, “no, I don’t need you anymore” and the continuous mull over “do you believe in life after love” has me left feeling hollow. The question is never answered but I’m going to assume that Cher found life after love happily ever after.

5. Taylor Swift ‘You Belong With Me’ (2009)

Dont Mess With T Sweezy, Yeezy

I can’t deny that this song is precious. However, we cannot forget to grasp the severity of a lunatic with a guitar—convinced that she should have your boyfriend. How exactly does Swift know what this boy is fighting over ‘on the phone with his girlfriend’? “She’ll never know your story like I do,” what story? Rule of Thumb: Do not tell stalkerish neighbors your life story because she may try to kill your girl friend behind the bleachers after cheer practice. Taylor, because I love you, I’m going to pretend that this song is hypothetical and not a page out of your diary like the rest of your songs.

6. Maroon 5 ‘She Will Be Loved’ (2004)

The Girl With The Broken Smile Tattoo

Has there been a standing ovation for all those foolish shmucks waiting on their girl best friend to fall in love with them? Despite her ‘always belonging to someone else’, he drives for ‘miles and miles just to wind up at her door’. And does he even ‘mind spending everyday out on your corner in the pouring rain’? Hell no he doesn’t. In fact, he spends all that time wondering if she’ll ever properly be loved—since it apparently cannot be him. Um, is there no justice left in this world? Why can’t it ‘always be rainbows and butterflies’? Dear ‘Girl With The Broken Smile’, that poor guy is starting to get pruny.

7. Spice Girls ‘Wannabe’ (1997)

Scary Spice Decided To Go Full Feminist With Her Tank Top

Does this song know how to get old? Whatever this “zigazig-ahhh” is, is keeping you from your woman so ‘forget her past’, ‘you gotta make it fast’ and ‘if you really wanna be her lover’ well, you ‘gotta get with her friends.’ This relationship deal is a snag! You don’t deal with her pasts’ baggage. Since its fast, it’s easily hittable and quittable. And if you want to later upgrade to ‘Friends With Benefits’ then you must also agree to “Friends and Friends with Benefits.” Can anyone complain? Actually yes, because the song isn’t over it yet.

Your Nights’ Itinerary If You Agree To The Terms of The Song:

  1. “You got M in the place you who likes it in your face.”… Urrh, alright he may be down.
  2. “You got G like MC who likes it on a easy V, doesn’t come for free, she’s a real lady.” …Okay, negotiable.
  3. “And as for me, ahh you’ll see….” …Nope, zero surprise tolerance. Her V might turn out to be a D that you really don’t want inside your Mel B.

 

The Mating Game Part II: Beware of the Sirens

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Before you begin to dance away with her on the ocean floor, beware: she may be a Siren. Sirens are bird-like seductresses originating from Greek Mythology, notably in Homer’s The Odyssey. Odysseus and his men were venturing through the treacherous oceans to finally make it home when they ran into the Sirens. Their song is equally sad and sweet—luring sailors into their ultimate death.

You’re a player who’s starting to feel sly and in control. Women are throwing themselves at your sultry, suave demeanor… yeahhh. Unfortunately your complacency will most likely prevent you from filtering women, dooming you to hear song after song from vicious Sirens who have no intent of letting go of their ravenous grip.

Sirens entrap men. They are typically bright, alluring women with a thick layer of charisma to mask the decaying spirit inside. If your relationship consists of cyclical break ups and fictional love then you are probably in a Siren’s empty trance.

A Domestic Siren is the trophy on your mantel. She makes gourmet sandwiches, folds your socks while you watch ESPN after dinner and the dishes are totally cleaning themselves. But all that time at home, all work and no play, turns the Siren straight away. Yes, I advocate milfhood and glorify domestic duties, but without hobbies and interests this Siren will feel caged. Goodbye Domestic and hello Desperate Siren from Wisteria Lane.

The Carnivorous Siren can start off as the beak to your worm. And as delightful as woodpeckers can be, this Siren is more naughty than nice. As psychology would reiterate, the lack of a good father figure, traumatizing first boyfriend experience, or unyielding need for attention will cause her to gnaw your heart away. Carnivorous women are convinced that all men are evil and use it to justify their selfish tendencies. These women first manipulate and then learn to chirp your tune. She lusts you but she lusts herself more. Vultures.

Some women do not have confidence and Flightless Sirens sing this pitiful song. At first, it’s precious, their self-loathing antics and cute failures. However, there is dust gathering on her wings. Life isn’t about finding yourself, but making yourself and if you’re too busy helping her, you’ll both fall. And yikes, it never helps that insecure women are usually boring because they’re too afraid to just be. Flightless Sirens are prone to fling their man-woes on “the universe”, never themselves. They preach cynicism and predict holes in others’ happiness. Keep thy ears covered!

The Migratory Siren is a Player’s female counter-part. Perhaps this is your ideal gal. She’s the right balance of party owl and career chick but in that shuffle, you hardly come up. If you were trying to keep score in the mating game, you will see no victory with her. She’s the only Siren that will want things to end between you two—and that very objective is what keeps you clasped on.

Running into one of these Sirens marks the end of your Playerhood. Women who display Sirenistic qualities (look at me, making up words already) are hopefully in a phase as well. So if you’re wasting your time, at least know what you’re wasting it with.  What’s worse than a woman without standards? A man without standards. Men are supposed to maintain composure so when they’re found at a dark corner wallowing in their female misery, it only fuels the darkness of the pit a Siren wishes you to remain in. No, women don’t like “jerks”, but we’d like to secretly know that you can make a firm decision when necessary.

“Nice guys” don’t finish last, push-overs do.

 

The Mating Game Part 1: The Player Phase

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If you are undeniably old, as in a forty-something loser who has yet to grasp the woo-ing process, then you may find yourself hitting on some poor twenty something who’s just trying to buy kit-kats in the self check out line.

GET A GRIP, old man.

Why does this happen? How do people go through high school and even college unaware of the intricacies behind getting a woman? The advantage that women have is that we never have to pursue anyone unless we really want to–which we never do because it’s too easy to then categorize us as a sluts. Noted.

The woo-ing process is necessary and do not let yourself turn thirty without knowing it. This is for the men without sisters: YOU NEED A PLAYER phase. Guys with sisters do not seem to have any confusion when it comes to understanding the basics of women.

You need that player period where you dream of a different woman every other night and fall in love as a hobby. You need that phase where all you want is women in general. That chapter of enlightenment may be more valuable to you than the years sprung on one girl. The player period will quickly reveal what women are sensitive to. You learn that women interact completely differently with each other than men do with one another. You need to know that periods are not a myth and what impresses fictitious women in movies is not real life. And as a player, you learn how to harden yourself against our bitchy tendencies and adapt to our childish nuances.

You learn that you cannot just start a conversation with “Can I have your number?” Because as funny as that one Mad TV clip is, it is disturbingly true. “Nah I don’t think I’m interested, but thanks!” I plead. I also used to be an honest idiot who would go ahead and admit that I didn’t have a boyfriend and of course the creepiness took a sudden leap towards psychopathy, justifying an arrest warrant. So do I have a boyfriend? Absolutely I have a boyfriend—all year long, in fact.

If you don’t have sisters to become perceptive with, I suggest a player phase for any guy. Wear Ed-Hardy and cause scenes in public places if you must but just do it. You will appreciate real women so much more afterwards because you’ll easily be able to detect them and attain them.

It’s become a carrying joke that this blog thrives on lists so I’m going to avoid spilling the ancient secret known as The Female Woo-ing Process because it’s up to all the players out there to discover it.

The kit-kats were totally worth it.

Hate List Part II

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1. I Hate Olive Garden Commercials

I carb-load for a living but this makes me associate never ending breadsticks to forced family time in a quasi-Italian dining experience. I think I’d rather watch Jersey Shore than swallow the sap-fest displayed in Olive Garden commercials.
Case in point #1: A recent ad about the importance of time with cousins.

Female Cousin: “Whenever the whole family gets together, we always make time for just us cousins. Like the other day at Olive Garden…”
Male Cousin: “Hey Susan, you gotta tell the Aunt Jesse story!”
Gee wiiiiiz, that’s a funny one.

Case in point #2: Mother and Son bonding

You just need to watch this.
So..Dad’s working his tortellini off while Mother and Son go out for dinner? Wow, I guess they really wanted to try Olive Gardens new Chicken and OEIDIPasta!

2. I Hate It When Ugly People Are Mean To Their Not-So Ugly Significant Other.

If you’re ugly, that’s fine because very little can be done to counter it, just know that you have no right to be a rude girl to your boyfriend. And guys, if she’s a walking dime, be nice to her because she really doesn’t have to be with you.

The assumption is that if you’re ugly, you compensate with wit and kindness. No biggie. If you’re beautiful, people will be more likely to accept your rudeness and relate it to your ego. No biggie.

Obviously it’s never okay to treat anyone poorly but if you’re ugly, it’s just sinful.

3. I Hate Witnessing Mismanaged Cheapness

My family owns a restaurant and we were once changing the prices since our costs went up. We took the 6 out of $6.99 and before we could put a 7, some guy tried to pay us .99 for an entrée. It’s totally understandable if you want to pay .99 for a side of fries or a “beef” taco but why would you want to pay .99 for a Goat curry? How did you convince yourself that it would be safe to ingest? This guy walked out UPSET because he couldn’t get an elaborate dish for less than a dollar. Way to go, bro.

You are not doing your wallet or yourself a favor by being cheap where quality matters. Being thrifty is a SKILL and very few can master it. Mismanaged cheapness will ultimately lead you to buy and pay more later on or sacrifice your dignity.

4. I Hate Cave People

I recently met someone from 2009. This girl had somehow managed to avoid the viral impact of social media and remain cliché.  I think its weird when people are somehow unaware of overly broadcasted information that most of us can’t avoid knowing. I still hear rants about how Kanye is so awful, how auto-tune is killing the music industry, oh Sarah Palin doesn’t know where Russia is, Omg Toms are the greatest thing ever, Ugh facebook privacy settings are so horrible, and hey let me show you this cute video where this boy is going home from the dentist and is all whoozy from the meds HaHA lol, lolcats, lmao, lollerskates, LollisterCo…
WTF. How hard did you have to work to avoid the refresh button on your browser?

5. I Hate It When Super Cute Babies Are Murdered And No Explanations Are Sought

Twitter went from being in a frenzy over Casey Anthony to throwing a hissy fit when she was declared Not Guilty. Rest assured, some of the greatest twitter jokes were made today. But seriously, nothing that happens in Florida ever makes sense. Every other day there I read a headline about the most heinous crimes: ballot mix ups, serial killers (real ones, not just from Dexter), tons of senile people with drivers licenses, gruesome deaths with no explanations, and unwarranted hate crimes. FLORIDIANS, check your water supply because there is something infesting it and your minds. Perhaps, tourists.

Defining a Villain

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Serial killers destroy families. Corporate, religious, and political psychopaths ruin societies.

Author of Men Who Stare At Goats, Jon Ronson, explores the underlying causes of psychopathy and characteristics that define a psychopath. The book, of course, took a journalistic approach—adding background research, personal insight and humor.

Why is the world so unfair? “Why all the savage economic injustice, those brutal wars, the everyday corporate cruelty? The answer: Psychopaths”

For some time now, I have believed that there are no villains in this world. Every action is a product of nurture and people’s experiences define their morals. To the villains, they are the heroes—they are right. They are just. So what are rapists, murderers and schemers? They are just “jagged rocks thrown into the still pond.”

They are charmers. They are people who study the rest of us being normal and then imitate. They are eloquent, capable of disguising madness as logic. They will listen to you ramble about your morals and beliefs but pity you in their head for being restrained by your conscience.

If you were to unknowingly marry a sociopath (basically synonymous with psychopath), just leave. You will not hurt that person because they associate no real emotions with that kind of a loss. In the book, Ronson describes an experiment that reveals a critical, physical difference between a psychopath and a normal person.

When intense electro-shock therapy was legal (before the 1970′s), several psychiatrists would conduct tests on prisoners for their research. Psychopaths were then considered to have personality disorders. Prisoners would volunteer to be a part of these experiments, unaware of what it entailed. They would be seated on the chair and told that they were going to be shocked at high levels. The prisoner would begin to sweat and tremble at the anticipation of the shock and after it was done, they would never volunteer again. That’s a normal person. The prisoners that were labelled to have personality disorders would not even sweat or twitch before the shock was delivered. It was as if their mind could not process the anticipation of pain and once it was endured, the memory of the pain would be fleeting. It was later discovered that psychopaths have a short-term, emotional memory—basically they lack a functioning amygdalae.

Stare hard enough and you'll see what I mean

Psychotic prisoners are easy though; they like meeting researchers to break the monotony of their day. CEO’s and politicians, however, find ways to bury their madness.

The right information is not covered about Anthony Weiner; he is a likely psychopath. Faking tears is the first thing they learn to do. His life ambitions are limited to fame and power and having (attempting to have) extramarital affairs is common. Let’s be real, most congressmen do not have sext worthy abs. Each of his six packs seemed to need a virtual mistress. This kind of superficial tendencies and need for continuous admiration encompasses a psychopath. His wife is intelligent, beautiful and accomplished, so he obviously had to be cunning and manipulative to deceive her. Yes, any politician would be all of these to an extent but Weiner displays a little more that aligns with the research Ronson did.

Jon Ronson even took Bob Hare’s course on identifying psychopaths; he describes it as both a power and flaw. After reading the book, it was difficult not to over analyze the people in my life. However, it’s also really helpful to notice these traits unwillingly. The Hare PCL-R (Pyschopathy Check List-Revised) lists all the characteristics that allow psychologists to diagnose psychopaths. If you read these and think “I’m all of these things sometimes, I may be a psychopath!” then you’re probably not. It’s those who ways to justify their behavior and psychotic ideologies that score high on this list.

Clearly, I really enjoyed this book. Buy it, Kindle it, Nook it, iPad it, Torrent it, Read it.