Why We Enjoy the Suffering of Others.

Mindful

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Sep 5, 2014
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The tricoteuses point to a dreadful truth about the suffering of others: that we enjoy it. We are relieved by it; it makes our day. We need you to fail, we hope ardently you might – and it will be an ecstatic moment if you ever do so. We will show up with a gang and point and laugh, we will remark on your clothing and your hairstyle as you march up the steps, we won’t care a jot that you were once a child and that you have goodness still in your soul; we will latch on to every reason to believe in your outsize wickedness, we’ll trust in the rumours, we won’t scrutinise the allegations, you won’t appear in any way human to us any more – and our hearts will stay cold as your neck is placed in a wooden holder and a razor-sharp blade ruptures your arteries.

By what mysterious process do humans become like this? What needs to happen to a newborn to turn them, over the years, into a tricoteur? If only the journey were more arduous or uncommon. All that seems to be required to fill up the mind with reserves of vengeance and fury is a steady drip feed of humiliation, of a kind every life is always likely to provide. We have all been made sufficiently unhappy not to gain extraordinary respite and satisfaction from the downfalls of others.

 
I enjoy practicing full body massage with Happy ending and g-spot focus work with women because I enjoy helping them overcome their Bad attitudes and become sugar and spice and everything nice. xoxo
 
You can leave me out of your "we". I've never understood sadism and it seems I never will. The best I can do is to feel a little satisfaction when the universe puts an ironic end to some else's sadistic bullshit.
 
There is nothing worse than watching the life drain out of some poor souls eyes , and knowing there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it
:oops:
~S~
 
Not necessarily bad.

Maybe broken, damaged.
Some have experienced suffering and maltreatment during childhood. That is a major reason for people to become bad.
Also, some have learned they are above others. Those also can tend to maltreat others.
But many are simply bad. They have indeed no other reason but the joy they feel when others suffer.
 
The tricoteuses point to a dreadful truth about the suffering of others: that we enjoy it. We are relieved by it; it makes our day. We need you to fail, we hope ardently you might – and it will be an ecstatic moment if you ever do so. We will show up with a gang and point and laugh, we will remark on your clothing and your hairstyle as you march up the steps, we won’t care a jot that you were once a child and that you have goodness still in your soul; we will latch on to every reason to believe in your outsize wickedness, we’ll trust in the rumours, we won’t scrutinise the allegations, you won’t appear in any way human to us any more – and our hearts will stay cold as your neck is placed in a wooden holder and a razor-sharp blade ruptures your arteries.

By what mysterious process do humans become like this? What needs to happen to a newborn to turn them, over the years, into a tricoteur? If only the journey were more arduous or uncommon. All that seems to be required to fill up the mind with reserves of vengeance and fury is a steady drip feed of humiliation, of a kind every life is always likely to provide. We have all been made sufficiently unhappy not to gain extraordinary respite and satisfaction from the downfalls of others.

Sounds like a load of projection to me.
 
Growing up my relatives and classmates all seem to get a kick out of seeing me lose or get hurt. And losing to me was so traumatic they were sent to their child therapist. I do not like seeing people get badly hurt even in a sporting event.
 

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