To Give Or Not To Give

It was only seven years ago that I learned the meaning of the word altruism. I don't mean I learned it in the sense that I was taught a lesson in altruism. I mean I literally didn't know the meaning of the word. If you're as uneducated as I am, here's a quick definition: 

"the principle or practice of unselfish concern for or devotion to the welfare of others (as opposed to egoism)." 

Doesn't sound very attractive, does it? I mean, sure, it's a quality that's attractive in others, but I certainly don't want to sacrifice my creature comforts for your well-being. Maybe you're not as selfish as I am. Good for you. I'm not proud of my ways. I'm just aware of them. Which is a far cry from where I came from. Because where I came from was a place where I believed I was a good, generous person. As most of us do. I don't know anyone who openly admits to being greedy, not even those whose greed is readily apparent to the rest of us. I think most of us basically take more than we give, but believe in our heart of hearts that we're givers rather than takers. Again, I don't speak for everyone. Maybe I'm just a particularly selfish person surrounded by particularly selfish people, but I somehow doubt that.

Belief < Action

There's a comedian by the name of Louis C.K. who does this really funny bit which perfectly illustrates my point. I'll try to paraphrase it for you (or you can just skip ahead to the video below and see for yourself). When traveling on a plane, Louis flies first class. But he often sees military personnel in uniform flying in coach. He believes the soldiers are more deserving of a first class seat than he is. So, he thinks to himself, “I should really give up my seat, and trade with this soldier.” But he doesn't. However, just the thought of this good deed warms his heart. He's actually proud of himself for having come up with the idea! Seriously, just watch the clip.

I love this bit because it describes us. Maybe not all of us, but many of us. At least 2,894 of us, which is the capacity of New York's Beacon Theater, where Louis' joke was met with hysterical laughter.

How many times do we fool ourselves into believing that we're good people simply because we have altruistic ideas? A real good guy would actually get up and act on these ideas, but that's just too much hard work dammit! I hear you, fellow sluggard.

Guilt ≠ Goodness

I used to feel I was a good person simply because I felt guilty about something I did (or didn't do). Those subtle voices in the back of my head would tell me things like, "A bad person wouldn't feel guilty about this" or "You're a good person because you have a conscience." False. If, like me, you experience guilt, congratulations, you're not a sociopath. But not being a sociopath is still a far cry from being a decent human being. A good person is someone who not only hears their conscience but listens to it. Ack! My brain popped when I first heard this. I had been fooling myself for so long! I had been playing the same brain-game with myself that Louis had joked about. 

Now, you may be assuming that I've written this post to tell you all how I've changed. What a kind and generous person I am today. Except this isn't a feel-good American film. It's reality. And in reality, change is often slow and painful.

Sure, I've shared and given away many things over the years, but to be perfectly honest, most of that "giving" and "sharing" didn't hurt too much. My (possibly idiotic) idea is that if it doesn't hurt, it's not good enough. In other words, no pain no gain. That may sound masochistic to some of you. And surely you don't need to follow the same game plan. But I've found that when something hits me where it hurts, there's a change a-happening. After all, having your ego slowly and painstakingly chiseled away must surely hurt. I used to have this idea that spiritual acts (a.k.a. selfless acts) were supposed to feel good. If I'm doing good, then I should feel good dammit! I mean isn't that why people do good in the first place? Where's my reward?! Waaaaaaah!! 

Stuff < People

If I had a bag of apples, chances are I'd give you one. I might even give you a few apples. As long as I had enough apples for myself, you see? What if I had only one apple? Would I share it with you then? Sad to say, this depends on some very fickle factors: (a) How hungry am I? (b) How much do I like you? (c) What will you give me in return? All selfish thoughts. My point is this. Is it generous to give away that which you don't need? Or that which you don't want? Are you a good person because you're kind to the people you love? What about being kind to the people you can't stand? Hmm...

"Two for you. Four for me. They're not poisoned either, I swear, heh-heh."

Truth be told, the good thing is usually the harder thing (no pun intended). The process of giving away something cherished may not feel good, and I'd like to tell you that those thirty seconds of pain and loss are then rapidly repaid with the joy of a thousand smiles (or for you materialists, the joy of a thousand bills; or for you sensualists, the joy of a thousand wenches). But that's not true either. Sometimes there's just more pain and loss. Surprise! Bet you weren't expecting that one, huh? Some sappy "spiritual guru" websites might try to sell you on the idea of altruism, promising you heartwarming fuzzy feelings. But they lie! A good deed never goes unpunished. Put that one in your pipe and smoke it.

So why bother? Well, that's a tough question to answer in words. Perhaps an interpretive dance would work best. But I jest. And rhyme (apparently)! Getting back on track, despite the suffering that comes with altruism, I'm drawn to it like a moth to a flame, or like a hobo to a nickel if you will. Let me just clarify that when I say I'm drawn to altruism, I don't mean to imply that I'm an avid practitioner. I just mean to say that I'm convinced (at least on an intellectual level) of its merits. Partly because the universe has convinced me that living a life of self-indulgence and self-concern leads only to despair (trust me, I tried really, really hard to succeed at this). And partly because I've found that making an effort in the direction of generosity (or in any direction that feels like a death of a thousand stabs) has long-term positive effects which I can't even begin to describe here. Let's just say that the more that is chiseled away, the lighter and freer I become, and leave it at that.

Belief x Action

Now, it's fine and dandy to harbor such belief. However, acting on this belief is another matter altogether. Can I even claim this as a belief if I'm not acting on it? Wouldn't that just make it a "lie I tell myself" rather than an actual belief? Like most of you, I don't like pain and discomfort, which, unfortunately, is what selflessness requires. In fact, I'm strongly attached to my creature comforts. Sure, if I have time on my hands, I can spare a minute for your BS. But if you catch me en route to some place or in the middle of something (it could be something as negligible as checking my email inbox), then see how willing I am to put my crap aside and give you a minute of my time. How interruptible are you?

"I dont' have time for this, you worthless sack of shit!"

How about when you're cutting up a piece of cake or serving chicken to your dinner guests (if you're not that fancy, imagine splitting a bucket of KFC)? Do you take the biggest piece of chicken? The cake slice with the most frosting? Or, god forbid, the last piece of cake?! I've done exactly these things and many times over. Perhaps you're not as attached to cake or to chicken as I am. But if you look, you're sure to find something that you are attached to (unless you're enlightened, in which case namaste).

Such examples may seem innocuous, I know. But I specifically chose these itsby-bitsy, teeny-weeny, yellow polka-dot examples because they're things we can all relate to. Not all of us rob liquor stores or steal money from our friends when they're not looking. But most of us are selfish at least in miniscule ways such as in the chicken and cake examples. Mmm... chicken and cake.

Or, for you more adventurous types, chicken cake!

You see, I've lived a life of hedonism and the result was misery. Not just the "Gosh, I feel a little blue because life isn't measuring up to my expectations" kind of misery, but the "Gee, maybe if I OD on my psych meds I can put an end to this" kind of misery. So, in a way, you could say I was painted into a corner of altruism. By a painful process of deduction, I came here, to the last house on the block. Well, you can just imagine my disappointment.

Good - Bad ≠ 0

Sometimes I still try to get away with "Let's make a deal" altruism. This is when I try negotiating with the universe and it goes something like this: "Okay, universe, I will give this old lady my seat on the bus, but now you owe me one." Then I try to cash it in, for example, by "allowing" myself to make a rude comment to my sister (sorry, Jana). This is not kindness. This is a business deal. You can't play tit-for-tat with the universe. I say this as an experienced tit-for-tatter.

Every time the universe dealt me a rough hand, I felt entitled to deal a shit hand to someone else. Maybe it would be the waitress, maybe a co-worker, or my mom. Who knows. But everyone got a taste, eventually. And conversely, I'd only be kind to people if I felt the universe was being kind to me. Only when I was in a good mood would you see me being a "good" person. Little did I realize that the universe doesn't owe me shit and that the goodness of one deed does not negate the badness of another.

Me > Mao, But Ghandi > Me

For a long time I patted myself on the back for not robbing a liquor store or stealing money from my friends. But that's no different than patting yourself on the back for not being a sociopath. It just doesn't cut the mustard. At least not for this gal. It's easy to look around and think to yourself, "Well, the world's fucked up anyhow, so what difference does it make?" or "Fuck all those motherfuckers! It's a dog-eat-dog world and I gotta take care of me and mine!" Another good one is, "I'm not as bad as that guy!" Bullocks to that I says. 

I've comforted myself with thoughts such as these in the past. Sure, if I compare myself to Chairman Mao, I'm a kind and generous person. Comparisons are sneaky because, although meaningless, they're extremely convincing and comforting. Don't compare yourself. Just stop it right now. You will always be more generous than Mao (if not, I don't want to know you) and you will always be greedier than Gandhi. There will always be people on this earth you can point to in order to justify your behavior. And nothing is easier. I should know. I was an expert finger-pointer.

Chairman Mao: Setting the Bar Low Since 1945.

I remember the first time I served coffee to a friend of mine, but in my favourite mug. My favourite mug, people! It was baby blue and covered with butterflies, a souvenir from the lovely Průhonice Park (for those of you shocked to hear I drink coffee from a butterfly mug - surprise!) Now, you may think I'm a swine for having had any difficulty serving coffee to my friend in this mug. Or you may be chuckling to yourself in understanding. Let me make it clear that it wasn't the giving of the mug that was important to me, but the fact that it burned (the giving, not the mug). Am I selfish because this simple act of generosity made me suffer? Or am I selfless because I did it despite the pain and suffering? I'm not here to answer such philosophical questions. I'm just throwing it out there as food for thought.

Pain ≠ Growth, But Growth = Pain

I'm not saying selflessness has to hurt. I'm saying that growth hurts. And if you're as selfish as I am, then yes, selflessness will hurt. On the subject of suffering, here's some news you can use:

"There are two kinds of suffering: the suffering that leads to more suffering and the suffering that leads to the end of suffering. If you are not willing to face the second kind of suffering, you will surely continue to experience the first." - Ajahn Chah

By suffering through random acts of selflessness, I've managed to grow a little bit as a person. And consequently, I suffer much less today than I ever have before. By "forcing" myself to do difficult things (this will certainly be different for each of you and may or may not involve coffee mugs) I believe I've rerouted some of the well-worn paths in my otherwise diseased brain. I like to think of it as water wearing away at a rock, until a groove is formed and the water simply follows the groove, flowing freely to its destination (wherever that might be). 

Well, that's enough out of me. I can't quite figure out how to end this post, so I'm just going to let this song do the work for me.

Give It Away - Red Hot Chili Peppers (1991)

This Is Not an Anti-Smoking Campaign

Go on, get angry. I'm not usually one to advocate anger. Or hostility of any kind. But sometimes anger can be put to good purpose, for example, as an antidote to apathy. Now, most of you probably know me as the Queen of Apathy (or maybe just her devoted servant). But as I was reflecting on my decision to quit smoking a few years ago, I realized that on this rare occasion anger had been my ally. So I thought I'd share a bit of that with you – in case you wanted to get in on the action.

Anger wasn't my first response. No, at first I responded with apathy, genuine indifference. I sensed that these anti-smokers were making much ado about nothing. Or at least nothing much. That is, until I saw that the apathy itself was part of their programming. Damn it all to hell! I thought you were mine, Apathy! I thought you were miiiiiine! But, alas, she wasn't.

Whatever.

This is not an anti-smoking campaign. Or is it? Maybe that's for you to decide. Every anti-smoking campaign I've ever seen has only caused me to crave a cigarette, that is, back when I still smoked. The craving was two-fold. Firstly, the image of a cigarette (regardless of whether it was being smoked by a vibrant young woman or by a stage 4 cancer patient) reminded me that something was missing from my hands and/or lips. Secondly, I couldn't shake the feeling that the Man (I'm not a hippy, I swear) was trying to control me by telling me what I could and could not do. And nobody – I mean nobody – was gonna tell this gal how to live! (Or die as it were.)

I didn't care that cigarettes caused death. Or at least my level of care could not compete with the level of pleasure and relief I felt when I was sucking on some nicotine. In the end it was anger that spurred me to quit. Not fear of death or aging or cancer or emphysema. Not Surgeon General warnings or pictures of tumors, or guilt trips about children and the environment. Not tax hikes or smoking bans. Nope. It was rebellion. Once I woke up to what was really happening (which was kind of like waking up from a blackout next to some creepy dude), I got angry – angry at the tobacco industry tycoons for lying to me, manipulating me, and basically playing me like a fool (or, in keeping with the blackout analogy, screwing me when I wasn't looking).

But let's not forget the media. After all, this duplicity is only made possible by their clever craftwork (bet you can't say that three times fast!)

Rebellion

Rebellion: (1) open, organized, and armed resistance to one's government or ruler, (2) resistance to or defiance of any authority, control, or tradition.

The media are masters at co-opting our beliefs and desires, so much so that even our rebellion or resistance to the media has been co-opted by the media and sold back to us. The buggers! They know what we want because advertising is a multibillion dollar industry that employs measures specifically for this purpose – to find out exactly what it is we want and then to package it and sell it to us as if it were our own idea. God forbid we should actually rebel against society by not smoking. That kind of rebellion is unacceptable.

In contrast, here are some "acceptable" forms  of  rebellion (although the acceptance is usually implicit), according to the media: drinking, smoking, taking drugs (both street drugs and prescription drugs), promiscuity, adultery, tattoos, breaking the law (at the very least, infractions such as running a stop sign, not wearing a seatbelt, speeding or otherwise “breaking the rules” but also offences like theft and larceny), driving a "dangerous" vehicle (as defined by advertisers, most often a motorcycle or sports car, or most recently an SUV), and particularly for teenage girls, painting your nails and dying your hair "wild" colors, having casual sex, dieting, disobedience to parents and other authorities (of course, disobedience to the advertisers is never suggested as that would put them - and their clients - out of business). Too bad none of this "rebellion" actually changes anything. Ho hum.

No explanation needed

The advertisers never suggest that it's okay to get angry (at Big Tobacco, that is). Instead, they suggest that we bury our anger in nicotine or redirect it at the Man. The funny (or evil, depending on your mood) thing about this is that those advertisers are the Man! In fact, cigarette companies have secured their profits by encouraging us to get angry at anyone who threatens our God given right to smoke. Smoking is, after all, a fundamental freedom we're told.

Freedom

Freedom: (1) the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint, (2) exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc., (3) the power to determine action without restraint, (4) personal liberty, as opposed to bondage or slavery.

Slavery: (1) the state or condition of being a slave; a civil relationship whereby one person has absolute power over another and controls his life, liberty, and fortune, (2) the subjection of a person to another person, esp. in being forced into work, (3) the condition of being subject to some influence or habit.

Did you know that tobacco companies have spent a shitload of money to convince us, through advertising, that cigarettes (or at least our right to smoke them) equal freedom? That's right, they're just little torches of freedom. Conversely, they've convinced us that anti-smoking lobbyists are the enemy – commies and dictators. The result is that if you're a smoker you're most likely defensive about your smoking. I was the worst – and I mean the worst (some of you will even remember me blowing smoke in your face – unintentionally, of course). I laughed at the Surgeon General’s Warnings and the FDA’s feeble attempts to get me to change sides. I bristled with antagonism at anti-smoking ads, defied anti-smoking laws, loathed ex-smokers (those guys are the worst!) and vehemently defended my right to kill myself if I wanted to. After all, it was my choice, wasn't it?

Do you see what they've done here? How crafty of them. Not only are they (subliminally) convincing us to smoke, or to continue smoking, but the rebellion and defiance against health warnings and against the System in general, which I believed was an active part of my own free will, was actually planted there by the cigarette companies themselves in order to keep us in their back pockets! Not only is this good for business, but it makes it virtually impossible to stage a counterattack. Sorry, anti-smoking campaigns, as clever as some of you really are.

"Please, sir, let me blow you just one more time! I'll pay whatever you want!"

You probably have your own experience with this. Even if you've never smoked, you probably have a friend or family member who smokes. Have you ever made a comment about their smoking? I’m going to go ahead and predict that any comment or concern you expressed was met with defiance and contempt, akin to someone threatening to deprive them of their constitutional rights, their freedoms, their mojo! Those are the direct (and desired) effects of advertising and are also common symptoms of addiction. And the effects are powerful. We also have the right to commit suicide, which hasn't been a crime (at least in Canada) since 1972, but you don’t see anybody advertising suicide booths - or at least not yet. But most people will not admit to being duped because, let’s face it, nobody wants to be the butt end of a joke. Of course, the fact that we don’t believe we’re being affected just makes the advertising that much more powerful. We don’t believe we’re drug addicts. We may think we’re sticking it to the Man but in reality he’s sticking it to us. And hard.

Unfortunately, a colluding factor is that society itself has become an addict and therefore addictions of all kinds have become acceptable, or at least trivialized, which aids in creating a breeding ground for apathy. And apathy is perhaps even more pernicious than defiance or denial.

Apathy

Apathy: (1) absence or suppression of passion, emotion, or excitement, (2) lack of interest in or concern for things that others find moving or exciting.

Apathy is often the alternate reaction to defiance or denial. Denial often sounds like intentional ignorance (I use the word intentional because I don’t actually believe anyone is that ignorant. It’s more like they choose to turn the other way): “I’m not addicted. I just like to smoke. I’d quit if it ever became a problem.” Now imagine a heroin addict saying that. Apathy, on the other hand, sounds more like, “Well, I’m going to die anyway. Might as well go like this.” Or one of my personal faves, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.” And finally, “I know I should quit, but….”

See if I care.

Contrary to the horseshit we've been fed, it’s not actually that hard to quit. Physically speaking. We don’t need nicotine patches or nicotine gum, or whatever other nicotine replacement exists these days. If you’re anything like me, you will smoke while chewing nicotine gum and you will smoke while wearing a patch. Most of the “withdrawal” symptoms are actually withdrawal from the brainwashing we've undergone. And, yes, that can take a while. There are times when I see someone “enjoying” a cigarette and still think it looks mighty tasty or attractive. But those crumbs from the colossal shit sandwich (another tongue twister!) are now few and far between. And so far I've had no problem ignoring them and turning my thoughts elsewhere. Suck on that, John Player! (Or Joe Camel, for you Americans.)

I didn't even know the joys of not smoking until… well, until I no longer smoked. Makes sense, I guess. What I’m trying to get at is that I could not have imagined how liberating it would be. Sure, I imagined I’d save money, breath easier, etc. But the effects went even deeper. Much deeper. And, unfortunately, it's difficult to put into words. Let's say it was like being released from a prison I didn't even know I was in because I thought the prison was home. It wasn't. Now, imagine walking out of a prison to discover there’s a whole other world out there, one that nobody told you about, or at least one they said was not for you. Wow.

Oppression

Cigarette ads have historically (and continue today, albeit with more subtlety, meaning more subliminal messages) encouraged women to smoke in order to (1) stay thin (2) suppress anger (3) release tension. After all, you deserve it ladies! Hard day at work? Light up! Boyfriend forgot your birthday? Have a smoke! Having an uncomfortable emotion of any kind? Smoke it up, Annie! Cigarettes (as well as “comfort foods” and basically anything else we can shove into one of our holes) are marketed particularly to women, who are far more vulnerable to this kind of marketing because we've been socialized to suppress anger. So cigarettes become a way of achieving that necessary suppression. Of course, gorging on food is also unacceptable because it leads to weight gain, so we are further encouraged to either take up smoking as an alternative and/or diet, another multibillion dollar industry shaming us for the way we are and selling us instant “results” as an antidote. But I digress.

For the discerning customer, we also have crack and crystal meth.

The mere idea of quitting (or even cutting down, for that matter) used to stress me out to the point that I would smoke almost twice my usual amount! Then I’d get angry (at myself, for being such a pathetic weakling), which would again result in intensified nicotine cravings. Basically any emotion I experienced would draw me to Flavor Country. In addition there was fear. Fear of putting on weight. But eventually my hatred of propaganda KO’d my fatphobia. Here’s the reality of the situation: I put on a few pounds – a few pounds! – which I later lost anyway. So there you have it. My fears were unfounded. Which makes sense in light of the fact that they were planted there by the media. Of course, the fatphobia itself has been planted there by the media (but I won’t go into that rant right now).

Julius Caesar said, “Men willingly believe what they wish.” This is an age-old phenomenon, making it kid's play to sell us virtually anything, including death itself, as long as its cloaked in sweet-sounding promises. The lie sells itself. We want to believe what the advertisers are selling us. We want to believe their snake oil has magical properties. After all, it's not cigarettes we're being sold. It's pleasure, relief, flavor, time to ourselves, a mid-morning break, an escape from it all. Sometimes it's rebellion, freedom from responsibility, freedom from oppression, our parents or our boss, and a sense of control (over our lives and our emotions). The irony is endless.

Many times for me it was sheer boredom: walking to the bus stop, waiting at the bus stop, waiting for my meal to be served, waiting for the check, and so on. I would even subconsciously arrange my schedule so that I would arrive at my destination at least 7 minutes early, allowing me to squeeze one in. However, this “boredom” I later came to find was actually a feeling of emptiness. I would smoke with my coffee, my drink, while on the telephone, while walking from point A to point B, after sex, after a meal, whenever I got into a car or whenever I stepped outside. Eventually, every time gap was filled with smoke. And if it wasn't, I felt terribly empty and insecure.

The sick thing is that the cigarette is presented as a solution to a problem that is in fact caused by the cigarette in the first place. It's a doublefuck! Or perhaps more accurately, an infinityfuck, seeing as how it’s an endless cycle of fucks. Endless, that is, until we end it.

Influence

Tobacco companies are not only hawking their wares in ads, but in film and television, at sporting events, film festivals, you name it. And to sell you their poison they romanticize, sexualize, idealize. Who smokes? The writer, the philosopher, the intellectual, the "bad" girl, the struggling artist, the poet, the bohemian. Or the tough guy, the rebel without a cause, the loner, the cowboy. If you identify with any of these labels, chances are you're a smoker. Hell, you're probably smoking right now! Or maybe you no longer identify with any of these labels, but either way they've already got you and you're not going anywhere. Congratulations, you're hooked on the most addictive substance known to mankind (followed, in case you're interested, by alcohol, then cocaine, then heroin).

I smoked for 18 years and for most of that time I believed I was choosing to smoke. Can you still call it choosing when you've been groomed by Philip Morris, or one of his brethren, to make this choice? It’s not an overstatement to say that cigarette companies and their goons, the advertisers, are reaching into the deepest recesses of your mind and controlling you like a puppet on a string. If you're a smoker that sentence probably angered you. But you're not angry at Philip Morris, the perpetrator. You're angry at me, the messenger. Or maybe even at yourself, for being so gosh-darned gullible. That’s how "good" those goons are at their jobs.

Even if you've never seen an ad (for those of you who've been hiding out in the woods, Kaczynski style), chances are you've seen your parents smoke, or your favorite musician or a famous actor (those classy looking dames of the 30's and 40's always did it for me). Or maybe you've seen me smoke and thought, “Damn, I wish I looked as cool as Dita does with that cigarette hanging from her lips.” So sexy, right?

The morning smoke is the best.

If you're one of those people who doesn't want to quit, you may at least want to ask yourself why it is you want to smoke. If it's because… you're irritated, you're bored, it's a pleasure, you're scared of gaining weight, it makes you feel alive, it makes you feel in control… just know that these are all cigarette company slogans. If you still don't believe you're at the wrong end of the greatest hustle of all time, Godspeed. 

For decades the Man has been training you to turn the other cheek. You've been paying your hard-earned cash (or, if you’re poor but crafty, someone else’s hard-earned cash) to billion dollar corporations in exchange for them fucking you in the ass. With radioactive dicks no less (not sure if that add-on changes anything for you). They want you to be apathetic, passive, like a junkie or a child prostitute, or a junkie child prostitute – and, no, I don't think I'm going too far with that analogy. They've been carefully grooming you into apathy and subservience for decades by making you believe that you're the exact opposite of apathetic and subservient by smoking their product. What a royal assfuck! I mean, really impressive. Of course, that's what billions of dollars in advertising will buy you – loyal (a.k.a. addicted) customers that will keep coming back for more till death do them part.

We've been taught to feel we don't have a choice. Or that it doesn't really matter. Our saviors (from anxiety, from boredom, from depression) are in fact our oppressors. We're being sold to slavery all the while believing that what we're really getting is revolution and freedom. What a mindfuck. But we can be untaught, retaught, re-educated. The fact is we do have a choice. I'm not trying to convince you that "smoking is bad for your health"… blah, blah, blah… but rather I'm trying to suggest that your "reasons" for smoking are not your own, that you've been had, and that it's perfectly okay (in fact it's downright decent) to give the tobacco industry a big Fuck You. And ultimately that it is possible to revolt and be free!

Elephants

Let us assume, for a moment, that you want to train an elephant. Perhaps you own a circus and business has been lagging. Your circus consultant (if that's not a real job, it ought to be) has advised that an elephant would be a wise investment. However, as a responsible circus owner, you don't want your elephant trampling your Chinese acrobats, and least of all your paying customers. What do you do? Well, I'm no circus consultant (sadly) but I would bet you'd have to train your elephant before letting him into the circus ring. Lucky for you, it's surprisingly easy to do!

The best way to train an elephant is to get 'em while they're young. That way you can tie them to a post with a rope or chain and they're not yet strong enough to break away. Naturally, your baby elephant will try to get away. It will push and pull and twist and turn, but eventually it'll give up. When it realizes that resistance is futile, it will just say "fuck it" and stay where it is. Ultimately, when the elephant grows up, all you have to do is put a rope around its neck, without tying the rope to anything, and your 15,000 lb elephant will stay put. Is it magic? No, it's simply been trained to believe it can't escape. It's been trained to believe that freedom is hopeless. You are this elephant. Except, of course, that you are not an elephant. And when you see that the rope around your neck isn't actually tethered to anything, maybe you will dare to say "fuck this" and walk away.

"I'm outta here. You coming?"

Disclaimer: Elephant training is used in this post for descriptive purposes only and does not reflect the writer's opinion on animal captivity, or elephants in general (P.S. I think they're awesome).