Eat Shit and Live
When people are disgusted with one another and need to find a horrible thing to say to them to just show them how mad they are and how much they dislike them in that moment, they sometimes say something like, “East shit and die!” When you think about it, it is quite a nasty thing to say to another person. When we say, “Go to hell!” We are telling that person that we hope they die and that the worst thing should happen to their soul, which is, in a religious context, that they pass right by Pergatory and go straight to the further depths of Hell. I suppose we could add well-read color to that by making a Dante reference by saying “Go to the innermost part of the frozen lake at the center of the Ninth Circle of Hell!” That is very specific and it reflects one’s familiarity with Dante’s Inferno and its description of where the vilest of the vile, the people who have betrayed the trust of someone special and close, should go. The problem is that not everyone will get the subtlety and it somehow feels less pointed than the straightforward “Go to Hell!” declaration.
But suggesting that someone should eat human excrement and its contents of horrible germs and maleficence which should cause one to become ill and expire, is to say that you hope the other person goes through indignity and degradation, not to mention the stomach-churning ugliness of one of our worst nightmares. That seems to be a way of saying that merely dying is not enough of a punishment for whatever act has been committed by the offender, but rather that they should suffer before dying. We see this in the movies all the time. Villains of all sorts often offer the option of a quick and painless death, perhaps even a warrior’s death of honor as a reward for divulging some secret or confessing some sin. Death itself is simply not seen as the horrible outcome, which I suppose is because for all our lives we have all been raised to understand (whether we accept it or not is another thing altogether) that we will all die sooner or later.
When I was young and my oldest son, Roger, was in his car seat in the back, I happened to pass by a dead deer on the side of the road. He took note of that and asked what it was. I explained that the deer had likely been hit by a car and that it had died. He asked why. I explained that dying was a natural part of life and that all living things eventually died. This opened Pandora’s Box to be certain, but I did not see a way to avoid it. I am not a person who believes we must make children aware of this cruel world they are entering, but by the same token, I do feel it is our obligation as parents to be realistic with kids with a gentle hand of guidance. They will learn about death sooner or later, so better that they gain their first exposure to it with a gentle guide who will keep their delicate feelings in mind. Roger responded to the notion of things getting older and dying by asking if his Grandmother would die. He was particularly close to his Grandmother Janak so I knew it would be something that would trouble him. I told him she would eventually die, but not for many years. That settled in and I could see his two or three year old eyes going through the obvious thinking process. He then asked if his Mother and I would also die. I knew that was coming, so I told him that yes, we would, but that would likely not happen for many, many years and that he really shouldn’t focus on it or worry about it. I tried to put it in the context that he would likely be a grown man of my age at the time before that happened. I suspected that might distract him into thinking about himself growing up that much since I’m sure he would have a hard time imagining himself as someone of my size and age. Instead, it caused him to get to the ultimate question of the moment, “And will I die some day?” He said with slightly quivering voice.
Sooner or later we all become aware of our mortality. I doubt if we come to grips with it in a car seat. It has been suggested by psychologists that we usually are forced to confront the reality some time in our thirties when someone we know or are close to actually does die. The point is, that most of us who become well adjusted to life find a way to contextualization death, set it in its place and carry on with the business of living. As Andy Dufresne says in The Shawshank Redemption, “Get busy living, or get busy dying.” So, I think we all figure that death, while not a great thing, is a tolerable thing that will eventually come and may even be a comfort at the end of our lives. Of course, the basis for much of organized religion is geared to helping people grapple with this reality by inculcating them with the belief that the soul is immortal and that there is everlasting life in one way or another. We are all led to believe that we will see our long lost loves and that we will spend eternity in a better place than we suffer through here on earth. One might suggest that is more about dealing with the hardships of life, but it has the added benefit of making death less epic or scary.
As for the burdens of life, they certainly do exist. Few, if any, can say that life is all a bowl of cherries. The term “Life sucks and then you die” was the catchphrase of an obscure British band by the name of Cerebral Fix, who launched an album with that name in 1988. It has become a phrase we all use in jest as another way of saying “Whatever!” or to belittle the complaints being made by someone who is whining about their situation. I think we all, in our own ways, feel the need to acknowledge that the nature of life is one of struggle and that we must all bear up under that struggle and carry on. The British propaganda poster from WWII said simply, “Stay calm and carry on”. That may be the most elegant way of saying that life sucks and then you die. It turns it on its most positive head and says that we all have our burdens in life, our crosses to bear, as it were, and that we must simply deal with it. My framed advertisement from Skol Chewing Tobacco says “Some men never compromise, they cope” is a version of the same sentiment. Coping is a big part of life, and the better we do it, the happier our lives can be. At least that’s been my experience.
So, I am driven by circumstances in my life to suggest that the imperative of life is to “Eat shit and live”. That sounds gross, but here is my reasoning. We are all confronted with situations every day that give us a choice to fight and take on a belligerent manner or to simply let it go. I have often called that my version of being forced to eat a shit sandwich. It is said to denigrate the grossness of it. Anything you can make a sandwich of cannot be all that bad. Eating a shit sandwich sounds finite and manageable and so much less difficult than simply eating shit. Don’t ask me why this seems so, but it does to me. If I can eat a shit sandwich and carry on (to mix metaphors), I am a better man for it. I have learned to cope and coping is what gets us through the day and maybe gets us through life’s unpleasantness. I am all about carrying on, all about coping, all about eating the shit sandwich when necessary. Some people cannot seem to fathom that and their pride is such that they reject the notion that they need to lower themselves to such degradation. Something is only as degrading as you allow it to be. I, for one, always choose to eat the shit sandwich when confronted with it. It is like Betty chewing on her butt, it just makes me feel better and I am able to carry on. Just don’t let me lick your face right afterwards.