My dear, good friend, Chris (founding member of the Green Monkeys Writer’s Group) has started a blog.  It is a good blog.  He has also commented here in his e-incarnation, TheEvilCub.

     I have to take an aside here to state that I don’t think he is so much an Evil Cub, as a Maliciously Mischievous Cub…but perhaps that is too long and complicated for an e-moniker.

     At any rate, me being new to the blog scene, and him being newer yet, I thought that I would take the next step in blog evolution, and link to his blog.  Here goes…hold your breath…

I Must be Right, I’ve Got a Gun

     There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?  Now you merely need to clicky-thing this link, and you will be de-molecularized and instantly transported to his blog article about violence.  Nifty, huh?  Just like the Star Gate.

     The reason I’m sending you over there to view this blog entry is that I think Chris pretty much has it sorted.

     Violence is what people do when they reach the limits of their ability to deal constructively and rationally with things as they are.

     People who initiate violence see it as the most effective and most expedient way of getting what they want, whether it be money for the next fix, the temporary cooperation of someone who is standing in their way, a feeling of power and control, or even just a distraction from the chaos of conflicting impulses clashing between their own ears.

     Something that Chris touches on, and I would like to explore a little deeper, is the fact that not all violence is physical.

     If you yell abusive language at someone, the law recognizes that as assault.  I’ve encountered people who think this is ridiculous, as “words cannot hurt you”. 

     For some people, this is true.  I certainly found in my High School that the bulk of the student body was immune to put-downs or bon mots that were any more clever than “You’re a ho.”, or “You stink.”  They didn’t know they had been bested.

     For instance, if you will permit me another digression, there was a young gentleman who called me a “dyke”…not that I really cared or anything, having already decided that gay people were just another kind of green monkey, and therefore my people after a fashion.  Still, the intention was to do harm, and it had to be answered.

     I replied that he thought any girl who wouldn’t take a ride on his little hobby horse was a dyke, and went on to say that my lack of interest was not because I was a dyke, but instead because his mother told me HIS little pony was a little too fast out of the gate.

     Nothing.  Not a flicker.  Blank stares all around.  Huh.  From the smell of him, I could have sworn he’d get a horse analogy.

     He just said something on the level of “You talk weird, dyke.”

     Everybody laughed.  They seemed to enjoy his quip immensely.  More proof that early hominids were indeed, capable of making their own fun.

     Eventually, of course, this guy and I had a knock-down drag out fight.  He grabbed my breast.  I knocked his hand away, grabbed his neck with both hands and squeezed.  He blackened my eye, I kneed him in the groin, and left him with deep, ragged fingernail gouges and bruising on his neck, a foggy, near-throttled sensation, and a deep yearning for an ice-pack.

     All-in-all, a fair trade.

     At any rate, I have another fish to fry in this blog entry.  Let’s call him, Fred*.

     Fred is a very smart man, and prides himself on being very evolved and non-violent.  He would never, for instance, hit anyone, or grab their breasts without their permission.  He also insists that he would never lie, and as a general rule, he doesn’t.

     Fred is very civilized.  Fred fights with lawsuits and biting sarcasm (he is quite good at fun, harmless sarcasm as well.) and snide, demeaning comments.

     Fred likes to play games with people.  He likes to keep things stirred up.  He likes to keep people off balance and uncomfortable.  And he likes to be able to manipulate and control them…

     …and he likes to hit them in their most vulnerable spots.  He finds the one place that you are most afraid of being hit, and if you cross him, he hits you there.

     He studies people to find out what their weak and vulnerable points are, what the buttons are for turning their opinions and changing their minds about things.  He is fascinated with the workings of the human mind and decision making.  He often gives a bunch of isolated facts together as if they are related, and then let’s people draw their own conclusions.  When they pass their conclusions on to others, it creates a general impression that can poison the reputation of the person involved.  When rumors come back to Fred in a form he recognizes as his handiwork, it makes him smile a soft, enigmatic smile.

     If you asked Fred if he’s ever been violent, he will insist that he never, ever has.  He is far, far too evolved to resort to something as brutish and base as violence.

     No, Fred has mastered the art of social engineering.  He’s a chess master, planning his strategy several steps in advance.  He may not know exactly what he’s going to do, but he knows how to position himself, and he knows how to set up trigger points for conflicts between people.

     So, what’s Fred’s problem, you may ask.

     Well, I don’t know.  My current working hypothesis is that Fred is a scared little boy.  He’s scared of people.  People are scary, if you haven’t noticed.  Any person, at any given time, is capable of almost anything.  Good lord, people who can predict the actions of other people make literally tons of money.

     People scare Fred, and it is reassuring for him to discover their buttons, levers and switches.  It makes him feel safe.

     The thing that I find most repugnant about Fred is that he’s smart enough to know better.  I mean, those chimps in High School?  I can look back on them with pity.  Some of them aren’t even alive today.  Some of them don’t even have a majority of their own teeth.

     They couldn’t change, could not have been any different if they had tried.  They didn’t have the imagination, the intelligence or the self-awareness to be anything other than what they were…although they were capable of limited learning when brutalized in the soft-and-squishies.

      Fred is another matter entirely.  He is a brute by choice and by self-training.  He should know better, but is willfully, arrogantly persistent in his delusion of himself as a civilized being.

     It doesn't matter that he has destroyed people's relationships, or cut them off from vital support networks, even destroyed family relationships.  He doesn't care that some people have taken months to recover from his little games, or that some of the people he has messed with by involving them in his games are innocent children.

     He can't admit any of this, because he KNOWS beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is an evolved, civilized, and gentle human being who would never harm anyone.

     He can't face his irrational fear and insecurity.  He can't face that his only coping mechanizm is inherantly harmfull and destructive and anti-social.

     And so his cycle will continue until he is ready to face reality.

*As will often be the case with me, Fred is not one specific person, but is instead an amalgam of several similar people that I have encountered in my life…an archetype.