thecages

I have often been accused of/admired for a taste for Schadenfreude: 'A malicious satisfaction obtained from the misfortunes of others'.
And the recent events around the Brett Goldin murder crystalised this.

Let's be clear, I loathed the motherfucker[1] - even though I had never met him and he had never done me any harm.
However, he had a crap hairstyle and him and his Eurotrash friends (in their Prada sunglasses which I covet) talked too loud at Mellissa's where they were nursing their coke hangovers at a Sunday brunch.

Upon hearing of his (and Richard Bloom's) murder I kneejerked: 'Drug-deal gone wrong! Open and shut!'
This of course wasn't the case.

A few definitions:

• Wikipedia - Pleasure taken from someone else's misfortune.
  
• Merriam-Webster - Enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others.
  
• Dictionary.com - Pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.

What a frickin' moron.
Well, not actually. More like, what a frickin' ruthless moron.

I invariably filter any news of either the US or GB himself or his administration exclusively for juicy bits of embarrassment or failure.
Anything else (the real impact of the news on the world) is secondary to my lust for his downfall.

Example:

'President George W. Bush cancelled a long-awaited trip to Alaska to enact new legislation that would put the Northern territories beyond the clutches of evil oil companies due to a case of uncontrollable intra-pants pooping after a Mexican meal at a roadside truck stop.'

In reality there's nothing good about this news.
: Much needed legislation postponed - uhm.
: Possible derailment of hard-fought victory for sensible environmental types - uh yah.
: Intra-pants pooping? Hot dog and whoopee!

In my defense I could say that it is actually mechanism to stave off total disillusionment and despondency.
But shedding these types of defenses is exactly what becoming an adult should be about.
So, if I qualify it as a defensive measure, it points to immaturity.

And this is where the truth has me. Schadenfreude; while the idiots certainly do deserve it; isn't about restoring or maintaining a balance. It's about extracting retribution from wherever you can get it.

He died three years after me -- cancer too -- and at that time I was still naive enough to imagine that what the afterlife chiefly provided were unrivalled opportunities for unbeatable gloating, unbelievable schadenfreude.
-- Will Self, How The Dead Live

[1] I should qualify this, I didn't loathe him - I loathed the image/symbol/concept that was presented to me through him.
Phew! Luckily Structuralism let's me neatly detach myself from the person of Brett Goldin.