A Junged-out Freudian Couch Analysis

 "If dat plow stays in yo'han'
  It'll lan' you straight in de promis' lan'...

        Once there was a man whose mother and father taught him that he should strive for perfection; that he should be a 'man's man' and always do the very best he could.  So he went about trying to fulfill their life-long ambition.  He earned top grades throughout his scholastic career, that is, after his mother scolded him severely once when he was in the first grade for pulling a little girl's ponytail and looking up the young teacher's dress.  His father couldn't understand why she would be so unreasonable with such a 'regular guy' as his kid and they fought long and hard over this, what color the living room drapes should be and other matters of earth-shaking importance for six months and more, but whose counting?  The more the man excelled at scholastic achievement, the prouder and prouder his mother became of her wonderful son and the more and more distant his father grew, becoming ever harder for the unfortunate lad to please.

        When the man reached the age of puberty more or less, he became somewhat confused about the nature and purpose of sex.  Unfortunately for him and the rest of society, his mother and father, his friends, his teachers, his society's psychologists, sexual advisors, talk show hosts, self-help gurus and other assorted mental misfits of sound-bite sophistry, didn't know one damn bit more about human sexuality than he did---they only pretended to.  His minister, who his mother revered as an upright and Godly man, understood even less than the rest, secretly working out his own frustrations on certain members of the boys' choir.  Even more unfortunately for this man and in turn, the rest of society, he wasn't aware of this universal truth of human sexual ignorance, thus he endured many years of tears and frustration, trying desperately to please everyone and become a true, "man" among men.

        Adding to his already significant frustrations of puberty, he began to pay a certain particular attention to Playboy Magazine, which somehow seemed to end up in one or the other of his friends' lunch-pails nearly every school day. Thus, he pursued only unattainable blue-eyed blondes of certain defined proportion, ignoring ninety-nine percent of the eagerly eligible student bodies. They also had to be 'nice' church girls, as his mother was insistent on this, so the already paired-down field became even more intolerably narrow.  His father was too busy taking advantage of the seventh day of rest snoring away in the family pew to take much notice and besides, he wasn't all that thrilled about advising his son regarding matters that his father and his father's father had failed to address likewise, to him.  Like many well-meaning fathers, he just gave his son the keys to the family car and begged him to try and bring it home in one piece---he figured his son would discover soon enough what automobiles are mainly used for in high school.

        At first, the man was frustrated by such a narrow field of choice, but he soon became aware of the well-known universal truth that 'nice' church girls (and often their mothers as well) aspired to alleviate his frustrations of puberty as readily, or as was generally the case, more readily, than the young 'easy' girls that his mother so seemed to fear.  After discovering this celebrated universal reality for himself, he no longer minded the idea of church so much, that is, as long as he could invent some excuse to slip out (with one of the "nice" young girls) sometime before the end of the 'uncool' singing and the beginning of the infinitely more intolerable preaching.  He was careful not to stumble over his sleeping father while attempting such---not that his father would have particularly minded if his son had missed the same dreary sermons he himself studiously avoided---but it was just that his father was a deacon and church folk somehow, always seem to be looking for something new to gossip about and besides, nothing angered his father more than someone interrupting his usual Sunday slumber and thus, forcing him to endure a consistently dreadful conscious-searing assault by the self-righteous, hog-jowled, lard-bottomed preacher of eternal doom.

        Upon completion of the mandatory twelve dreary years of tedious regulation learning, the man obtained a scholarship for Harvard University, where he eventually graduated with honors from a somewhat loosely associ- ated school of law.  After which, he immediately set out to campaign for a seat in Congress, which of course, only accentuates the well-known universal truth that lawyers and politicians crawl out together somewhere from under the same slimy rock.  Soon after a brief career of unknown accomplishment and considerably less brilliance, the man was elected Speaker of the House, wrote a best-selling book of little substance and even less perspective and was named "Man Of The Year" by a major publication of the United States liberal press media.

        Following a few years of speakering for the house, contracting for America and being publicly castrated by Sam Donaldson, George Will and various other political pundits of somewhat dubious philosophy and more-or-less, equally contradictory action, the now much beleaguered man resigned in utter frustration.  Wiling away a year or so playing golf and making lucrative speeches covering much to do about nothing, he somehow managed to enhance among the party faithful, his already established reputation of astute economic insight and political genius.   Returning to his old alma mater, Harvard University, he was appointed professor emeritus of political malfeasance and economic astrology, where his increasingly robust frame severely over-burdened a chair in the department of political corporate endowment of inhumanities and injustice for all.

        While professoring at Harvard and re-working out his frustrations of an earlier puberty, the man hastily resigned one day before it could be forced upon him to do so in much utter disgrace.  Having never before actually worked for a living, he decided to try his hand at being a truck driver, but soon tired of driving lonely big rigs down lonelier roads all day long and half the night.  So, he applied for the more interesting but lesser societal status job of 'bobtail' city delivery driver, which was easier on him and thus, utterly failed to please his mother and father.  They just could never quite understand why their son would be happy with a job driving smaller, less romanticized-type trucks that allowed him to stay in one place, have a little free time in the evenings and, due to the daily physical labor of unloading cargo which helped offset the mental stress of driving, afforded a conscience such as his a little more restful sleep at night.

        He soon however, grew weary of this mundane task as well and, concluding that truck driving in the real world of untrained and obnoxious drivers and the economic serfdom of blue-collar capitalism is not quite as much 'fun' as various and sundry Hollywood films portray it to be, he decided to pursue employment in the building industry and, after nearly being crushed to death on a 'scab' high-rise project, he signed on as a "Class-A" union construction laborer.  Such a laborer is theoretically at the bottom of the construction status scale of accomplishment, but this man found it to be the over-all, best job in the industry he could find---it required a lot of physical, but little mental strain and, after long days of jack-hammering, ditch digging, concrete raking and three-quarter inch plywood shuffling, it afforded even more peaceful rest for his troubled conscience.

        One day while toiling in a profession he was at last relatively content with, the man hurriedly bent over to pick up a pile of lumber, felt an excruciating pain in his lower back and had to be carried off the job in a stretcher.  After which, he was forced to endure a couple of months sitting in a chair, viewing a variety of experts on Oprah and Geraldo talk about sexual and various and sundry other dysfunction---a seemingly endless parade as it were, of social, psychological, spiritual and self-appointed self-help gurus explaining how, if people would only listen to their totally unique and earth-shattering insights of and their cures for, the entire erstwhile human condition, if we would think positively and if we would try real hard to apply their unique and specific mind-empowering formulas, we would then all be physically and mentally well, every one would get along with each other, pollution, war and rush-hour traffic would be nightmares of a long forgotten past and we would all together, experience nirvana, inner-peace, world peace and Katmandu simultaneously.  Why, we may grow up some day to be a famous educator, philosopher and author of a best-selling, self-help videotape collection promoted nationwide in a thirty-minute infomercial.  Better yet, if we are young enough, attractive enough, rich enough and immoral enough and, if we work very, very hard at getting rid of every nuance of conscience, morality and integrity we may inadvertently possess, we might even one day become President of the United States or even, Speaker of the House.

        Since the man in our story had already reached the somewhat dubiously defined societal pinnacle of success by having previously attained the ultimate grandiose position of congressional chicanery, Speaker of the House, he finally decided that enough is more than enough and, from that day forward, he determined in his heart that he would never again try and please anyone else or listen anymore to anyone's supposedly sound advice.  This man had always liked being around people, or at least people of the young and female persuasion, so he located a pizza parlor near a cluster of small universities and applied for a job as delivery person, box folder, dishwasher and floor mopper-upper.  He is now, not very happy in this new-found profession of the food service servile industry, but nevertheless, he is more content than he has ever been previously, engaged in a profession he more or less half-way enjoys some of the time and something that his mother and father would never be proud of in a million years or more, but who's counting?

        Some people now think that this man is an utter failure in life, but this man believes in his heart that he is probably as much of a success as any other man he has had the misfortune to stumble across.  Actually, he is kind of proud of himself in his own way, as he is the only man he has ever met who truly understands that neither his mother or father nor the vast assortment of educators, preachers, self-help, beyond help, far-out, tripped-out and otherwise, way-off informational-type gurus and pretenders to the salvational throne of health and happiness who insist on polluting our already greatly overburdened fable-inundated society, know one damn bit more about universal truth or any other truth than he does.  And, though he would never have the courage to openly say so, he believes way down deep in his heart that he is probably wiser than the majority, in that he now realizes how very little everybody, including himself, actually knows about life in general and human sexuality in particular.*  He would like to believe that comprehending this little known universal truth about our vain and self-contradicting species makes him to some extent a success in life, but possessing such rare knowledge so far appears to have gained him nothing except a colossal and permanent ongoing migraine headache and a totally incurable mental disease of complete, utter and lasting depression.

        There is a lesson here somewhere, for the wise and the savvy, but this man generally calls up Jim Beam and does his best to forget it.

...Keep yo' han' on a de plow, hol' on"

Assist International

Missionaries of Charity
Please Support:  Sr. Nirmala, MC, Missionaries of Charity, 54A
Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose Road / Calcutta 700 016, India

DEDICATED TO:  Joseph Carey Merrick, also known as "The Elephant Man", a true man among mere children and to Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who seems to have had more courage than all of the men in America of her generation combined.

*FootNote:  Socrates is reported to have said that he considered himself wiser than most people because he alone it seemed, understood how very little he actually knew.  It is kind of hard to fool a man like Socrates and all of the common people all of the time, though our modern preachers, educators and self-appointed, self-help maharishies of confusion's delusion go right on trying anyway.   Regarding self-help gurus, preachers and priests for profit and similar frauds, if they really knew what is good and best for humanity, then they would give their excess to the poor.  It is very wise not to trust those who earn huge fortunes by providing advice and supposed cures for life's problems, rather than working with their hands contributing like the majority---in particular if they maintain extravagant lifestyles at the expense of those they are supposedly helping.  It is one thing to become wealthy by inventing, producing or promoting something that everyone wants or can use, such as someone successful in business, or to become wealthy because one is good at what one does, such as a motion picture star or professional athlete.  It is quite a different thing indeed to become wealthy by claiming to have the 'answer' to humanity's problems.  Charlatans who claim to have a cure and yet, continue to live in lavish abundance from the toil and sweat contributions of others, the wise man or woman will seek to separate themselves from as far as the East is from the West.
        If one wishes to judge the positive value of some newly proclaimed 'gospel' of whatever or the worthiness for our contributions of an organization promoting such, one need look no farther than the money trail.  Individuals who have walked on our planet who truly promoted good news for humanity invariably earned the same or less than the average common person; i.e., Jesus, Schweitzer, Gandhi, Mother Teresa and similar.  Other individuals, regardless of how wealthy, who volunteer their excess, talent and/or time for various charitable causes, are to be commended and not condemned.  As the Biblical author Paul, who worked with his hands to support himself and taught that sincere promoters of the truth should do likewise, also wrote that the hand can not say it has no need of the foot and as Mother Teresa echoed, "you can do some things and I can do some things", i.e., we all have a talent, a place and our chance in life to make a positive difference.  There are positive contributions that benefit We The People of Planet Earth and there is the ever-growing cowpie tower of Babylonian ignorance---the difference can invariably be separated by the money trail, for as a truly wise man once said, who some claim actually did heal the sick and raise the dead, "where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."


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Copyright © August 20th, 2003 by Richard Aberdeen.

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