Human Wisdom in Two Phrases: "Don't Be a Pussy" and "Fuck 'em" · 11:28am Nov 29th, 2018
Have you read The Count of Monte Cristo? You probably should, boys, because it'll blow your fucking socks off. Please, for the love of your skin, wear some socks while you read the damn thing—skinless feet ain't exactly the hottest fetish these days.
Now the point of this blog, and don't worry, it ain't about skinless feet or some book. This blog is about you, for you, and perhaps, if you'll allow me to be selfish, might help you.
The boys know it's helped me.
Now. The ending passage of The Count of Monte Cristo:
“All human wisdom is contained in these two words, “Wait and hope.”
The modern interpretation of this passage goes a something like this:
“All self-improvement and self-esteem are contained in these two adages: “Don't be a pussy,” and, “Fuck 'em.”
We've reached the point of the blog.
Pussy. This interptation will please Flare, and send the rest scouring Derpibooru.
“Don't be a pussy.”
I shook my head: what the fuck did I just hear? “The fuck you say?”
“I said: Don't be a pussy,” Jackripper's voice blares from my speakers. “Is that what you are, B, a pussy? You gonna keep being a pussy?” He claps his hands like a robot beating human meat. “Don't be a pussy, B!”
“I...” The fuck was this? I'm not a fucking pussy, right? Who the fuck calls someone a pussy nowadays? “I'm not a fucking pussy.”
“Why the fuck are you being a pussy right now, B?”
“Stop being a pussy, B.”
“I'm not a pussy!”
“Pussy!”
This conversation can go on forever—and it has. It'll sneak up on me when I'm least expecting it: when I'm whining about Silent Hill lore, when I'm complaining about sucking at Fornite, when I'm crying about being inept writer doomed to be—
“Don't be a pussy!”
“FUCK YOU IM NOT A PUSSY.”
Do you know how it feels to be called a pussy? It does something to a man, boys, something that I'm not sure words can be contained like all that wisdom Alexander Dumas was going on about. Waiting around and hoping would cause Jack to call me a pussy more and more. It gets him off; it would get anyone off.
Tell someone to stop being a pussy and see the reaction they get. Even the mutes are bound to twitch an eye. But do you want to know who the best person to say that to? It'll be a big surprise, a contradiction even, but its potency is worthy of the demeaning behind it.
Look in a mirror. Let the screen turn off for a second—stare at that reflection. Maybe you're ugly and full of acne; maybe you have a nice face but a lazy eye; maybe your fat, or maybe, there's nothing wrong with you, and yet, you suspect otherwise.
What would a horrible surprise that would be? Ha! You thought you were perfect? Little did you know there's a mole the size of your back on your, well, uh, back.
Forget it. Whatever horrible thoughts, feelings, emotions and other pesky things that come to mind, toss 'em—say fuck 'em if you're a fan of foreshadowing. For now, however, what I want you to do is say to yourself: Don't be a pussy.
It works. It does! You're feeling down because a story hasn't done well, and you sink into a depression, wondering why you even write at all, keeping you from going outside to meet friends because you're too busy feeling bad for yourself, unable to escape from some pit that obscures basic logic?
“Don't be a pussy.”
Your body will react at once. Veins fill with lava; pecs swell with pride. Who fucking dare call you a pussy? You're not a fucking pussy. These shallow feelings and thoughts don't matter so much, you realize, after some distance away and some ego injected via the left bum cheek.
It really does fucking work: I'm not making this shit up. Trust me: I am a weak, ugly, and mostly unmotivated man who thinks more than he acts. Most people are better than me for good reason—I consider myself beneath most in depressing reflections in the deep of some nights.
Am I worthy of friendship? Am I actually unfunny and trying too hard? Should I give up on everything and anything due to my ineptitude? See? Shit like this sinks you (and probably stinks you, socially speaking).
But wait. Your eyes snap open, you become conscious from your thoughts, and in the back of your mind, the words emerge: “Don't be a pussy.”
“Fuck you.”
It's all you can say to that line. Don't feel like going to the gym? Don't be a pussy. Don't feel like hanging out with friends because you're feeling down? Don't be a pussy. Don't want to write because the words will be shit anyway? Don't be a pussy.
All human improved has its way paved with that line. It is all the motivation and discipline you need to, at least, endeavor after your desires, which will give you a fighting chance, and maybe, allow you to keep working at it, through all the dark nights, to become decent enough and confident enough to endure harder hardships.
But, for now.
Just don't be a pussy.
Don't be a pussy.
You'll do just fine.
We've come to understand that, if you want to do something, no matter your fears or feelings, you can do it by the phrase of Don't Be a Pussy.
But life ain't that easy. Some would say: “We wish it was!” But you know what? I call bullshit. The problem with peace is there's no conflict in it. The fuck would we do if life was easy? Talk about topics we all agreed on? Noding to an opinion everyone shares? Never a raised voice or excitement our tone?
Peace is a nice respite, but Lola forbid, we get too much of it.
You go for your goals. You get in the ways of others. You don't have things go your way.
What now?
Easy!
“Fuck 'em.”
Whereas the previous adage would get you punched, say this to a mate, and it'll make them feel slightly better. They had a bad friend, a terrible boyfriend, an arrogant father that sounds a tad like your's truly? Say: “Fuck 'em.”
Enjoy the nod, possible hug, and the response of: “Yeah.”
Beware the power of this phrase. Where the former could encourage, the latter is able to render you arrogant and ignorant all at the same time—plus, there's a reason why those two sound similar.
Fuck 'em should not replace logic. You should do your best to talk to others, understand why they're fighting you, why they find you to be wrong—reaching out, one on one, clears away misinformation and muddled feelings. Reason and respect resolve rivalacy.
But what if it doesn't work? What if you try to talk it out to no avail? They interrupt and shit talk you with no chance of a rebuttal. Their friends won't listen. Their points to make sense. They're being childish. Reason and respect are terrific things not to be wasted on the unworthy.
So how do we deal with these leeches? The wastes of time able to hurt as still, if only because we have too much time ourselves? Easy. Fuck 'em.
Fuck 'em, fuck 'em, fuck 'em.
It does wonders. It sets that whispering voice in your head to rest: “What if you had done, had listened, had...
Fuck 'em. They don't matter. Being able to say something catchy and curt clears the mind. So use it. Savor it. Fuck 'em—my savior as much as yours. It'll help. It may not fix, resolve, or make the world right, but it'll render you alright for the time being.
And, at the end of our days and lives, that's all we can really ask for.
Phew! Got that done. Took me a little while to write all of that. The tone of these blogs is still a puzzle to me—the fight to be B and me without many discrepancies between. Getting my voice recorded in prose will take some getting used to.
And yes. I'm aware, horrendously aware, of the edge, cringe, and the other third thing these blogs contain. Skirts and Aragon, the masters of blogs, are worth your time. They're great; they know their shit.
Me? I got nothin'. Writing through my problems seems like the way to come into my own. Maybe it'll work. Maybe it'll be a cringefest worth a year of weeping for. Who fuckin' knows and who fuckin' cares.
Should I care? Fuck no.
“Don't be a pussy.”
Should I care what others think of the edge and cringe made into one? Fuck no.
“Fuck 'em.”
May this serve you well, boys.
PS. For those interested in The Count of Monte Cristo, a classic that ain't boring, check the book for those who still read; the musical for those who still listen to musicals; the movie for those who are of the majority; the anime for my fellow weebs wanting to fit in with the other three.
For the record, I didn’t call you a pussy when you were whining about Silent Hill lore (even though you were being one).
4974331
Fuck 'em.
A bit crude but inspirational nevertheless!
Something I heard somewhere...
Considering the monthly pain and hemorrhaging that the uterus goes through...
Considering the heavy punishment endured during coitus... ...
And considering the horrifically bloody yet survivable evisceration that is called "child-birth... ... ...
... ... ... ... being called a "pussy" should essentially be a compliment. Because to be a pussy means that you're "tough." And you can "take it." At least it's sure as hell tougher than being a floppy, sensitive dick.
Just sayin'.
-SS&E
insightful
4974601
Better than balls, thats for sure. But "Don't be a ballbag" or "Don't be balls" doesn't have the same, stinging power.