I started seeing a new therapist this year, and it has been life-changing. He is smart, funny, sensitive, and has done his own time with depression. I feel such a strong connection that I’m hoping he’ll want to be my friend once ethics allow.

Last week over Zoom, I told him about an essay I read, primarily a take-down of Viktor Frankl. We discussed the sacrosanct regard for Frankl, as a Holocaust survivor, and the viability of Primo Levi’s work, since he ended up jumping out a window.

The essay takes Frankl to task for a bunch of things, but most pertinently for his insistence on finding the positive in even the most horrible experience. It’s not exactly like finding the silver lining of concentration camps…but it comes close.

Frankl maintains that we always have a chance to exert our will, to make choices even when all seems lost. If you’re in a camp and you have a piece of bread crust, you can choose to share it, for example.

Anyway, it was a really good, thought provoking essay. The part I wanted to talk about with the therapist was the false notion that suffering brings you closer to god, or that suffering has any point at all. The bible teaches (apparently) that god imposes suffering on you for a reason. Suffering in this life is a preparation for heaven. Maybe you’re supposed to be grateful, for all I know.

Here’s the paragraph that struck a chord for me:

Because infant and childhood deaths were so common it is not surprising that the rabbis of the Talmud tried to inject a glimmer of metaphysical hope into this most tragic of tragedies. Rabbi Yochanan had lost no fewer than ten children, and his colleagues attempted to console him with the promise of a reward to come: “If one engages in Torah and acts of charity and buries his sons, all his transgressions are forgiven.” That might have consoled Yochanan the Rabbi, but it did not console Yochanan the grieving father. Rabbi Yochanan rejected the very notion that suffering -of any sort-was worth a reward. “I want neither this suffering nor its reward.”

What a powerful statement for those of us who are beyond consolation.

Suffering leads to nowhere good, and teaches you nothing. You might be more  compassionate to your fellow man, but surely at a preposterous price. Trying to find value in suffering seems so American to me, but I guess it’s actually religious dogma. I used to listen to Joel Osteen in the car, and we would snicker at his promises to his deluded followers: “Your wife has incurable cancer and your dog died? Cheer up! God is just biding his time, preparing to send you a spiritual check in the mail!”

Haha, there is no check! Not to mention god. Here’s what came up when I googled “suffering is”:

Never for nothing, eh?

I love Rabbi Yochanan’s quote so much that it might be my next tattoo. It looks good in Hebrew:

So then, I don’t remember how we got there, but my therapist and I talked about guilt and how it was okay to just go to bed in the middle of the day if that’s what you need. He said ice cream would be okay too, a form of self-care. Somehow, maybe we were talking about our mutual dispositions, and he said, “Being sensitive and intense isn’t a bad thing, right?”

I disagreed, and said that the pain of being that way is only valuable if you channel it into art. If it’s just suffering that doesn’t produce anything, it’s like an oyster without a pearl. Then, it’s just suffering; there is no pearl.

“Like the Holocaust,” he observed brightly, like the smartest kid in the class. We both started laughing hysterically.

A good therapist always wraps up the session by returning to the beginning, so it comes full circle. UCLA will only cover a certain number of sessions with its doctors, and I’m near the limit with mine. I will miss him terribly!

And this post is the pearl.

Someone just remarked to me that calling Mother Theresa ‘bad’ was only relative; on a scale of 1 to 10, was she as bad as Hitler, or Pol Pot?

So now, probably because I’m a little stoned, I’m trying to organize Bad People, which is harder than it sounds.

On the spectrum of Bad People, with Hitler being the Most Bad, who would be the Least Bad? I can’t even begin to figure out how to define the lowest rung of Badness.

So fuck that.

How about just creating a list of the top ten Worst People? That shouldn’t be too hard.

If we include everyone in history, we might not even get to Hitler, so we have to limit this to 20th and 21st Century, because on everyone’s list, Hitler is always number one. It’s a given. Hitler never gets old. Just look at your cable history channel or go to a book store.

So now we have Hitler and we need 9 more Worst People.

Here’s where I am:

hitler
dick cheney
bill cosby
roman polansky
manson
ted bundy
madonna
kissinger
mobutu
leni Riefenstahl

I’m too stoned to capitalize, and they’re not in order, obviously.

Is it wrong to include Roman Polanski? It took me years to admit he was bad, and I may have magnified his badness to make up for lost time.

Don’t argue about Madonna. She launched a million pole-dancers pretending to be singers. She can be number ten, how’s that?

Okay, now I need help.

Would it be easier to make it Top Twenty? Or can we agree on ten?

Godwin’s law (also known as  Godwin’s Rule of Nazi Analogies or  Godwin’s Law of Nazi Analogies) is a humorous observation made by  Mike Godwin in 1990 that has become an  Internet adage. It states: “As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler  approaches   100% .”  In other words, Godwin put forth the hyperbolic observation that, given enough time, in  any online discussion–regardless of topic or scope–someone inevitably criticizes some point made in the discussion by comparing it to beliefs held by Hitler and the Nazis. –   Wikipedia

~

I love this. This is the type of discovery that brings joy to my heart.

The definition continues:

Godwin’s law is often cited in online discussions as a deterrent against the use of arguments in the widespread  Reductio ad Hitlerum form.   – Wikipedia

“Reductio ad Hitlerum” ?!?!

I fucking love language.   In fact, I made up a good word the other day:   Whateverism.   It’s the modern malaise, basically, and I’m against it.   Please feel free to bandy this word about, if you’re not comfortable with Reductio ad Hitlerum.

Here we are, trying to digest the news about the crazy polygamist ranch in Texas, when a maniac in Austria admits to fathering seven kids with his imprisoned daughter. Can’t these people take turns getting arrested, so we can focus on one story at a time?

The guy in Austria clearly wins the Worst Father in the World award. Anyone whose grandchildren are also his children is a real bastard, in my book. God only knows how this tale will end. His wife will probably have to admit that she knew what was going on, and people will probably agree that she has Battered Wife Syndrome.   He will be rightly vilified as a monster of unthinkable proportions. First Hitler, now this guy, what’s up with Austria? It’s clear that paternalistic societies are dangerous, and not just to women.

Trouble comes in threes, as we know, so it stands to reason that Miley Cyrus has to choose this moment to implode, or whatever it is she’s doing via her publicists. Big deal that she posed with a bed-sheet in Vanity Fair! She’s fifteen going on thirty, and teenagers today are horrifyingly casual about sex and nudity.

I’m much more concerned about Miley’s relationship with her dad. Ever since I first saw them together, my feeling has been, Eeoow. There is something inappropriate going on, and you’d have to be blind to not see it. Why are they always all over each other? Why is she always out on a red carpet with him as her date? Miley’s mom better get her ass in gear before it gets uglier.

Years ago, I worked for a woman who was molested by her grandfather when she was a girl. Her story shook me to the core, and for a long time, I couldn’t look at an old grandpa without thinking, ‘Child Molester!’ I got over it, mostly.   But now I’m going to feel creepy about old Austrian guys.

Thank goodness I’ve always felt creepy about Billy Ray Cyrus.