Trumpzebub

Open Art / Creative

Hello. Here is today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll.

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Aaand The Gene Pool:

Higgledy Piggledy
Donald from NYC:
Screwed, now is screaming out
Pure bloody moida.

Jurisprudentially
Justice prevailed so I
Say it’s okay to feel
Pure schadenfreude.

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That’s the topic for today, Schadenfreude, specifically the mass public gloating over the legal and financial headaches being endured, if adolescently, by Donald Trump. (I’d like to note that Avenue Q, the great puppet-musical Broadway comedy, actually has a song “Schadenfreude,” and, ahem, even they did not have the sheer nerve and/or skill and/or bad judgment to try to rhyme something with the word itself.)

Since Trump’s financial and legal troubles exponentially intensified last week, I have heard and seen and read only unmodulated expressions of triumph and joy from friends, colleagues and people I notice on the Internet. This was predictable, of course, and understandable, but the unalloyed, unqualified, naked, top-of-the-lungs delight has been just a little surprising to me, since Schadenfreude is something over which many people — right or wrong — feel varying degrees of guilt; it is often concealed within, as a sort of secret. That is a social phenomenon psychologists label “Schadenfreude shame,” or, in my iteration, “Schadenshame.” (Headline in the Guardian: “Is Our Zeitgeist a Spitegeist?”)

The world is watching the potential financial and psychological dismemberment of a human being, after all. When Bernard Madoff went down, I didn’t feel at all sorry for him — he ruined lives — but I did feel sorry for his two sons, seemingly decent people born to unimaginable unearned privilege but who evidently had known nothing of their father’s rampant criming and were, in the end, the ones who turned him in to the feds. (One of his sons soon hanged himself, and the other died of a rare cancer a couple years later, embittered, disillusioned and in anguish, saying that his father had killed one of his sons quickly, and tortured the other to death over time. Neither guy ever visited his father in prison. They knew fury and shame.)

But, frankly, I don’t give a shit about Ivanka or D.T. Jr., or Eric or Melania. Nor, I suspect, do most of you, largely because they are complicit. All in all, the blast of positive emotion that accompanied Trump’s teetering downfall, amplified and immediated by social media, might be one the biggest hemorrhages of simultaneous public schadenfreude in human history.

I know you know what Schadenfreude is — taking pleasure in the misfortune of others — which, despite its presence to some extent in nearly everyone, carries an inevitable stigma of disrepute. You may or may not know that the German term, which appears to have originated in Leipzig in the 1750s, means, succinctly, “damage joy.” You probably don’t know that there is a delightfully obscure word in English that means the same thing: “Epicaricacy.” (Ep-ih-car-IK-asy) And you almost certainly don’t know that that the entire Schadenfreude/Epicaricacy phenomenon has been studied ad nauseam by social scientists, who have come up with certain social scientist-type theories. Attend, please. They are about You. And Me.

Schadenfreude is said to break down into three distinct types. People tend to belong to one of them, exclusively. Part of the explanation for the strength and ubiquity of schadenfreude / epicaricacy over Trump may be that he checks all three boxes. And, in my opinion, a fourth. The superfecta of Schadenfreude.

Justice Schadenfreude is about deserved punishment for misdeeds. We see it as confirmation that the law abiding such as ourselves, are rewarded for our decency and maturity and civic-mindedness, and the wicked are punished. Check, for Trump.

Aggression Schadenfreude relies on group social identity — followers versus detractors of the person — and misfortune helps distinguish between the odious “them” and the noble “us.” Well, there is no greater polarization in modern American society than between Trump supporters — an amalgam, in my view, of losers, bigots, apologists and blithering ignoramuses — and Trump detractors.

Rival Schadenfreude is complicated. It seemingly doesn’t fit neatly here, because it is basically joy over the elimination (or humiliation) of a social rival. It is hard to imagine a billionaire as a rival, except this one has crossed over into the public disservice sector, where he depends on our votes for validation, and pretends to ordinary-guy populism, and his actions have directly impinged on our lives. In that sense, he is a peer, and, in theory, our employee. Trump gets at least half a checkmark here.

The categories above are universally accepted, and were best delineated in an article in the journal New Ideas in Psychology. I would humbly propose to them a fourth:

Dickishness Schadenfreude is uncomplicated. You feel joy at this person’s misfortune because you just don’t like vicious petty vainglorious ignorant boorish bullying unprincipled infantile lying semi-literate asshole crybaby would-be tyrants. It’s just a thing with you.

Four for four, maybe.

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BREAKING NEWS: A new survey of political experts places Trump as the worst president in American history, finally bumping the Civil War enabler James Buchanan from that ignominy. Even conservative historians agreed with that finding. Barack Obama has vaulted to seventh place, right behind Harry Truman, and just ahead of Dwight Eisenhower. Joe Biden ranks 14th, ahead of Woodrow Wilson and Ronald Reagan, and just behind John Adams.

Interestingly, Biden was given his highest marks for his signature achievement: Ending the disastrous presidency of Donald Trump.

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I want to leave you with one more semi-disturbing thought: Psychologists say people with lower self-esteem tend to experience schadenfreude more frequently and more intensely. The reason is sort of self-evident; it’s the scapegoat effect, summarized elegantly in Dylan’s Only a Pawn in their Game.

So gauge your level of Schadenfreude, and think about that.

Or better, don’t.

If you want to silence Donald Trump
You could bake him in a fricassee
Or ball-gag him, or pants that chump:
Embrace your Epicaricacy.

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On another subject, one small thought that is bugging me. I am appalled by people — usually Gen Zs or younger Millennials — who pronounce “important” this way: “Impor-ent.” I am hearing this everywhere of late. I hate it. Okay, that’s it.

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We are now entering the real-time question and observations segment of The Gene Pool, in which I respond to your questions and observations. Many of today’s entries are in response to my Weekend question: What have you seen or experienced, in the past or present, that was intended to be innocent and harmless, but on reflection, seemed less so? If you are doing this in real time, please remember to keep refreshing your screen to get new questions and responses.

And please send your questions and observations to the questions and observation button, here.

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Also, Mr. Trump would particularly hate it if you do anything that could help keep the Gene Pool, which he hates, afloat — such as upgrade your subscription to “paid.”

Q: When I was about six, I found several advertising characters scary. One was Reddy Kilowatt, who looked like a human Tesla Coil or Van de Graaf generator or Old Sparky, poised to shock passersby, maybe fatally. But my big fear was The Hamburglar.

Masked man. Striped convict shirt. Eerily clashing tie. Sinister hat like some horror show villain -- Freddy Krueger or that kid from Children of the Corn. What's not to be scared of?

A: Excellent! I especially like the Hamburglar. Rachel adds that it’s mighty suspicious that he says “robble robble.” Apparently it initially sounded like gibberish, but after a few years McDonald’s finally came clean and translated it. It is an exhortation to a felony.

Q: There’s the logo for the 2012 London Olympics, which many people claimed looked like Lisa Simpson performing a blow job. 

A:  It kinda does! With a little imagination and an eye for impressionism!   Also, I have always found “performing” to be a peculiar, prissy verb to use involving a sexual act.  Is it like performing a Chopin etude?

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TIMELY TIP: If you’re reading this on an email: Go back to the top of this post and click on "View in browser" to see the full column live and online, and to read and make comments.  If you are doing it in real time, refresh from time to time to see the new questions and answers that appear as I regularly update the post.

(Please note, the tip above is new. It used to be just a little harder to get to the full column online. As it happens, this shortcut was always available. How did we not know about it before? Easy answer: D’OH.)

This is Gene.  More breaking news!  Trump has finally addressed Navalny! It’s about time! Here is how he did it, in a Truth Social posting: 

“The sudden death of Alexei Navalny has made me more and more aware of what is happening in our Country.  It is a slow, steady progression, with CROOKED, Radical Left Politicians, Prosecutors, and Judges leading us down a path to destruction. Open Borders, Rigged Elections, and Grossly Unfair Courtroom Decisions are DESTROYING AMERICA. WE ARE A NATION IN DECLINE, A FAILING NATION!”

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Q: Dumb ideas from Smart people: My office, which is full of very smart people, decided in 2020 that as part of their DEI efforts, they were going to have Ramadan-themed lunches. Yes, lunches, which are eaten in the middle of the day, themed around Ramadan, that month when Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset and most certainly would not be eating lunch. Then COVID happened and this all got cancelled as the office was closed. And we would never have known about this stupidity had they not forgotten to cancel a scheduled post about it.

A: Haha.  At the Miami Herald I once proposed to the food section that they have a Jewish holiday themed page with great new recipes, and call it “YUM Kippur…”

Q: I used to watch Thomas the Tank Engine with my kids, and privately thought the language about couplings with the deliberately gendered engines and rail cars and pulling trains, all to please a stern taskmaster had certain undertones. Maybe I was just a perv. But then in more than one sitting, various friends and family independently made jokes about the same thing. It wasn’t that I was a perv, it was that I and everybody I hang out with are pervs.

A:  Have you ever seen the opening credits sequence in Dr. Strangelove?  It is priceless. Here it is.  

Yes, it is one bomber plane refueling another, as with a giant penis.   No accident, obviously.  Sex is what the whole movie is about.

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Q:  Okay, I think the precise thing you are asking about was magnificently delivered by Leslie Jones here.   

A: Yes.  Magnificent.   It reminds me of two statues in DC.  The first, in Capitol Hill, is supposed to be a tribute to Lincoln emancipating the slaves.   Locals call it “The Lincoln Blow Job.”

The second one is a statue to The Boy Scouts, across from the Department of Commerce which features, for some reason, 1) a boy scout, fully clothed 2) a woman in a toga, and 3) a well-muscled he-man, completely naked.   I don’t know what the locals call this.   I would call it The Statue of Ew. 

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Q: I've always pronounced "schadenfreude" so that the last syllable rhymes with "brood." Am I a Philistine?

A: I am afraid you are. Shad-en-froyd-eh

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Q: Back when I was half-assing my way to a bachelor’s degree, staying one step ahead of the Selective Service, I was befriended by a lovely young lady named Marsha. Marsha was proper a Christian, future Junior Leaguer who tried hard to proselytize me back to the righteousness. With no success. Anyway, Marsha met and married this fellow Scott, a fellow every bit as Christianated a decent person as the fair Marsha. I ushered at their wedding. A few months after their wedding, they invited me to dinner at their garden apartment in suburban Baltimore. The place was decorated in that terrible early-70s decor of beaded doorways, beanbag chairs and lava lamps. Above the headboard of their marital water bed, they had hung huge, plastic gold letters, proudly acquired at Pier 1 Imports, that read S & M. Apparently, I was the first of their many family and friends to suggest that they reverse those letters to let the lady’s initial lead. They believed my advice to be just misplaced chivalry and changed nothing. We enjoyed a fine Mateus and fondue meal, then played Scrabble. I never explained my rationale.-- Jon Ketzner 

A: Lovely.  And well written.

Q: Apparently, this place in Wisconsin isn't what I thought it was. – Tom Logan, Sterling VA

A: Dang.

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Q: I received an email from corporate with an announcement from the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion team that a new group had been created to produce a path forward towards a future of vibrant, varied workplace. The group was named Formation Of Rising Career Employees or FORCE for short. When I saw that DEI policy was going to be implemented through FORCE, I thought that someone really didn't say it out loud first just to test how it sounds. I guess it's better than Formation Advancing Rising Career Employees.

A: When I was in junior high school, a classmate swore to me there was a Sam Houston Institute of Technology.  He was lying.

Whoa.  I have just learned exclusively, from Rachel, that there was briefly an “Antonin Scalia School Of Law” at George Mason University.   The name was quickly changed to “Antonin Scalia Law School” when several students noticed the problem.

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Q: TV commercial for Ro, a company that sells weight loss drugs like Ozempic which are given as a weekly injection. The actress says "who knew that such a little prick could have such a big impact?" 

A: Okay, that’s funny but that’s not inadvertent.  It’s what they WANTED you to take away.  

Q: The other day Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” started playing on my car radio and I was reminded of the conversation in your chat years ago speculating that it was really about anal sex. I will simply repeat what I wrote then: It’s a SONG. About a GIRL. With BROWN EYES. For f*ck’s sake. – Anne Paris

A: Hey, Anne.   The Web is STILL full of exactly this speculation, some new, and it does show how you can twist and interpret lyrics to mean just about anything. It’s like the interpretations of Nostradamus. This guy might be serious, or he might be kidding, but it makes for good reading.  Alert: It is pretty vulgar.  I particularly like his bizarre interpretation of “the days when the rains came…”

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This is Gene. This disgusting thing just came over the transom.

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Q: Can you rank liquor from your favorite to your least favorite?

A:  Sure. Assuming good quality:  Canadian whisky, vodka, rye, brandy, bourbon,  (long dropoff), rum, tequila/mezcal, (loong dropoff) scotch, (another drop, to the dungeon abattoir) gin. 

Q: What about “Deaf child in area” signs?  Is the driver supposed to assume such kids are not being supervised near streets or not savvy enough not to go into one? Our human nature is aroused too, to look for and gawk at the subject. They read too: do they like being objectified by a town’s whole highway department and driving population, and typed as incompetent at safety near streets?

A:  Hm. So you say this is a seemingly benign and helpful warning, but one designed to patronize and humiliate kids and their parents.  I was going to agree but it has just been pointed out to me that this is a warning to drivers that using their horn will not alert certain people to their presence.  So, no. That seems to be prudent and reasonable.   

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Q: I have two tubes of similar size, but with different contents, on my bathroom sink.  Yesterday, I was in a hurry and I brushed my teeth with muscle rub.  How Loserly is that???

A: It depends.  How far did you get in the brushing before you realized what you’d done? 

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Q: Regarding Trump being credited for the fast development of a Covid vaccine.  You compared him to Alexander Fleming, the accidental discoverer of penicillin when he noticed what happened to bacteria in a petri dish.  He shared in the Nobel Prize with the two scientists who actually figured out how to make the stuff work on disease.   I feel like Trump is the agar in that scenario.  (He's the bacteria in most scenarios.)  The agar doesn't get a prize. The agar is pivotal, it has to be there or the experiment can't be completed.  It still doesn't get a prize.  

A: I like the analogy. 

Q: I have another medical aptonym for you. Wonder if she specializes in post menopausal patients.

A: Whoa.  I am instead just going to let that marinate there.

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Q: On smart people doing stupid things:  A few months ago I took a cab.  The cabby was from (I think) Ethiopia or Eritrea.  He was very smart.  He had NPR on the radio, listening to a highly technical broadcast about foreign affairs.  He kept making comments or asking me questions that showed he was far more knowledgeable about world events than I was.  So engaged was he in this that he then proceeded to miss my destination by two blocks, and THEN proceeded to back up in traffic at high speed as I quaked, a move that he proudly assured me would not add to the meter total.

A: Very nice. 

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Q: For some reason I have this recurring dream where I rent another apartment forgetting that I'm already renting one, and then I wonder how I could possibly afford to pay rent for two apartments. I think this is a very Millenial-esque recurring dream but I don't know what it means. Do you?

A: One great mystery of life to me is how it can be that we are 7.7 billion people, each an individual with an individual brain, and individual experiences and yet there are basically variants of five or six basic dreams we ALL have from time to time.  Yours is a variant of the “college test I haven’t studied for” generalized anxiety genre.   It’s about feeling overwhelmed by life, confused, a failure.

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Q: Last October while wandering around St. Andrews, Scotland, we happened on this street sign, and I immediately thought of the Gene Pool. Turns out the "Butts" was an area where archery practice was held, and "wynd" is Scottish for lane or alley.  – Jonathan Paul

A: Superior. We’re going to “end” on this one.

We meet next on Thursday, as usual, for the Invitational, the results of which are splendid. PLEASE keep sending in questions and observations, which I will address, at length, on Thursday. We need you.

And again, please do not upgrade your subscription to “paid.” It would piss Donald Trump off so badly if you did. We must keep his feelings in mind.