About Jeff Cribb DVM, Super Nerd Boy, Warrior Poet, Etc, Etc.

I am a boy who was once terrified to be separated from his parents, a boy who once thought our family might be locked in department stores inadvertently after their closing, a boy who once stuffed pillows over his head to muffle the all night verbal attacks that my mom bombarded my father with. I am a boy who suffered from extreme insecurity and because of such, I vomited every day on a school bus for probably a year or more, and my normal desire and attraction to sex became clouded and confused by religious dogma, feelings of possible inadequacy, and a perpetually destructive guilt of sexual desire that is often and pathologically imprinted upon children. I am a man who chose to open his eyes and see the perpetual cycle of insanity running its crooked course between my parents, and decide that somehow, anyhow, I would break that damn cycle. I am a man who saw and still sees similar cycles of hypocrisy, delusion, dishonesty, and ultimate, infectious self-destructive behavior, applied in extreme prevalence as the glue that supposedly cements most family bonds, the majority of friendships, the employer-employee-customer relationship, governance of any sort, and even most people's relationships with their pets. I am a man who sees almost everyone everywhere trying to convince themselves and one another that the lie that everyone else is living, and obviously suffering from, is still "the only way", still the "best approach", to an existence that reaches its potential for oneself and for all. I am a man who believes that these cycles can be broken and I am a man who will do anything within his power to aid anyone who attempts to do so. I am a man who made the high school All-City football team. I am a man who initially planned to be an English major, so that I could teach the philosophy inherently injected within literature. I am a man who was admitted into the UGA College of Veterinary Medicine, much to the overwhelming surprise of my family, and perhaps many of my limited friends. I am a man who has always been drawn to the untainted, savage beauty of the nude bosom of mother nature. I am a man who skipped many days in veterinary school to white water kayak on the Chattooga River (amongst others) so I could sustain my soul through the process of such "learning". I am a man who one day decided to build a castle, and who then proclaimed to himself that within his castle and on his grounds, life would be different. I say this knowing that I am far from perfect and that I must battle my own imperfections with priority for all of my remaining days, but I also say it nonetheless with truth. In these walls, life is different. I am a dreamer, "but I am not the only one." I am a veterinarian. I am a naturalist. I am a friend. I am a landscape designer. I am a lover. I am a listener. I am a reader. I am a knight. I am someone crazy enough to believe in it all. I am a brat. I am still a moody person (but so much less than previously). I obsess. I misjudge. I am impatient and I still have a temper (also much improved from my past life). I am an alpha-male. I am a person who knows that everything really should contain at least a smidgen of laughter. I am a tuque lover, and an adult, a child, a geriatric, a hero and a villain, all in one, and I might even be a little bit of a dead man or a ghost, or half angel and half devil, trying to save you one moment, just so I can trick you the next. And who really knows what all of that means? It could mean everything or it might mean absolutely nothing. Can I even believe my own self-description? Can others believe my words? What is the true relevance of the letters that are joined to form these words that are supposedly accurate in representing and conveying my thoughts to you? Well, it is my guess that even after I attempted so very diligently to weave together all of those letters and words and postulations in some declaration of profound meaning, the only irrefutable and easy conclusion we might be able to actually agree upon is that now, for better or worse... I am most definitely a writer.

The Poison and Wine of Laughter – Part 1 (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 199)

The difference between these two forms of laughter, better stated as amusement or willfully applied humor, might be the most tragically misunderstood and misinterpreted experience in the universe.

The Poison

Amusement has become the expected and the demanded law of the land by the herd. People declare their overt fondness and preference of friends and mates that keep them amused on a perpetual basis while they discount or minimize the need and importance of all of the person’s other qualities and character traits. Internet dating sites clearly display this knee jerk regurgitated “Isn’t it obvious, just like everyone else knows and says, duh?” proclamation; being amusing is the one trait cherished above all others and an absolute must have in any potential suitor interested in a possible relationship or even one simple encounter.

It is also a prime defining trait of psychopaths and the psychopathic manipulation of others. The uncanny ability of a psychopath to intoxicatingly bedazzle their “victims” into a giddy state of apathy and unconcern for reality, consequences, and ramifications, is well documented in the psychological and behavioral literature. Players seducing their prey for the night, slick willy businessmen sealing a deal, con-artists conning, heretical revival preachers enunciating and gesticulating their flock into hyper-emotional overload just prior to the passing of the collection plate, and corrupt politicians charming the masses into blind passionate obedience via the bombast and hyperbole of vitriol against a scapegoat, all exemplify amusement being implemented in its more malignant version.

A more benign form of amusement involves much less overt manipulation and a significantly lower conscious awareness of  intent by the implementer. This manifestation typically expresses itself via more basic, mundane, crude, unintelligent, and a lowest-common-denominator-bonding-experience that thrives and energizes itself on folly, ridicule, debasement, trash talking, or blubbering non-contemplative mesmerization. Fart jokes, burp songs, practical jokes emphasizing cruelty, engaging in trash talk with rival sports fans or about a previous romantic experience, and the subtle influence imposed on specific independent individuals by their larger group amusement state or more accurately, their larger group – pseudo, pretend, and feigned – amusement state, all exemplify this dynamic. Even the use of boring and uninteresting conversation, or numb and fake conversation, with only a subconscious intent to unconditionally ensnare another’s attention, is an example of this woeful benign amusement.

While the benign form of amusement may sometimes be harmless and/or a simple break from reality and contemplative awareness, typically both forms are dastardly and heinous. They both promote delusion via withdrawal and distraction from visceral perception and awareness; they negate reality, serving the same effect on people as that of an addict succumbing to a fix or a hit. But the drug of amusement is tragically and counterproductively swallowed under the satiating pretense of enlightenment and a desired interaction with the best aspects of life. Nothing could be further from the truth. Amusement is the doublespeak-doublethink bastardized child of, the Bizarro antivilian to, and the Dark Sided Sith, of aware and willfully applied  humor. Do not mistake this poison for wine, no matter the sparkle, spectacle, and charmful elegance of the decanter it resides within.

(continued and completed in Part 2)

Cribb          2017

A Capacity for Irrelevant Dancing (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 198)

Blood beats in the ears. Beat, beat, beat. A slow drum in the darkness, beating in the ears of one who lies wakeful with fever, with the sickness of too much misery. It beats unceasingly, in the ears, in the mind itself. Body and mind are indivisible and in the spirit blood painfully throbs. Sad thoughts droop through the mind. A small pure light comes swaying down through the darkness, comes to rest, resigning itself to the obscurity of its misfortune. There is resignation, but blood still beats in the ears. Blood still painfully beats, though the mind has acquiesced. And then, suddenly, the mind exerts itself, throws off the fever of too much suffering and, laughing, commands the body to dance. The introduction to the last movement comes to its suspended, throbbing close. There is an instant of expectation and then, with a series of mounting trochees and a downward hurrying, step after tiny step, in triple time, the dance begins. Irrelevant, irreverent, out of key with all that has gone before. But man’s greatest strength lies in his capacity for irrelevance. In the midst of pestilences, he builds cathedrals; and a slave, he can think the irrelevant and unsuitable thoughts of a free man. The spirit is slave to fever and beating blood, at the mercy of an obscure and tyrannous misfortune. But irrelevantly, it elects to dance in triple measure—a mounting skip, a patter of descending feet.

Antic Hay

Aldous Huxley          1923

Love Not of the Real Child (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 197)

It is one of the turning points in therapy when the patient comes to the emotional insight that all the love she has captured with so much effort and self-denial was not meant for her as she really was, that the admiration for her beauty and achievements was aimed at this beauty and these achievements, and not at the child herself. In therapy, this small and lonely child that is hidden behind her achievements wakes up and asks: “What would have happened if I had appeared before you, sad, needy, angry, furious? Where would your love have been then? And I was all these things as well. Does this mean that it was not really me you loved, but only what I pretended to be? The well-behaved, reliable, empathic, understanding, and convenient child, who in fact was a never a child at all? What became of my childhood? Have I not been cheated out of it? I can never return to it. I can never make up for it. From the beginning I have been a little adult.

The Drama of the Gifted Child: the Search for the True Self

Alice Miller          1994

Supernerd Boy and Mr. Robot (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 196)

During my shared little shit fits and grumblings of frustration over observing people and their disheartening behavior towards themselves and one another, my girlfriend has often asked me if I believe that everyone is unstable and delusional. My answer is always the same; the overwhelming majority by far. Her response to my retort has become set in stone. “If you think everyone else is delusional and unstable, doesn’t that mean that you are the common denominator and suggest that you might be the only one who is delusional and unstable and not everyone else?”

I believe it to be an oversimplified and distractive question, but I still understand and acknowledge its merit. At this point in the dialogue, I have to remind her that I have never really declared my sanity or used it as a pedestal to stand on in front of others. If anything, I have flayed myself wide open in admission and vulnerability for anyone who desires to know the real me. I remind her how much time, how much desire, how much effort, and how much luck has been necessary for me to escape most of my demons and achieve the degree of stability and enlightenment which I have. I further remind her that it is a constant and never ending process for me, just as with anyone else attempting the same, to keep the delusion in check and to perpetuate personal stability.

Maybe it is an exchange and exercise she needs to test me with periodically, a barometer to see if I will continue to remain true to my thoughts in the challenges of time and redundant inquiry. Sometimes, questions and answers need to be repeated to fan the flame of motivation necessary to willingly engage your fear. And I should always re-challenge and reevaluate my perceptions and conclusions. One should never be allowed to become stagnant in the acceptance of such beliefs.

So, with all of this forever branded into my mind, I found it quite intriguing last night when watching a brilliantly written television show, to observe an imaginary character from the subconscious of a paranoid schizophrenic empathic genius, deliver an eloquent and comprehensive monologue, defining and illustrating how despite his existence as a delusional construct of a psyche, his inherent awareness still defined him as being more real, specifically far more real, than what the rest of the world had become and was systematically continuing to be with its collective awareness, perceptions, and behavior for over at least the last fifty years.

Bravo Mr. Robot, bravo.

Cribb          2017

You Have Awoken Them (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 195)

supernerdboywarriorpoetworld

Pretext Note: For those interested in a more detailed understanding of some of the psychological or behavioral  terms I have used in this piece, I have included a few definitions as a postscript. The definitions are limited in greater scope, but suffice to give the reader a general understanding of these terms.

There are those who have always focused on trying to control others, who come up with every excuse in the book to justify their own personal superior authority or the superior authority of the “cause” they have chosen to champion so that they might impose their rule or ideals justifiably on others. The weaker people who are compelled to do this, but lack the drive and skill necessary, turn to association with a larger group, often lead by a powerful psychopath, which harbors the same demented over-dominating compulsion and intent. The “cause” may be the righteousness of…

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You Have Awoken Them (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 195)

Pretext Note: For those interested in a more detailed understanding of some of the psychological or behavioral  terms I have used in this piece, I have included a few definitions as a postscript. The definitions are limited in greater scope, but suffice to give the reader a general understanding of these terms.

There are those who have always focused on trying to control others, who come up with every excuse in the book to justify their own personal superior authority or the superior authority of the “cause” they have chosen to champion so that they might impose their rule or ideals justifiably on others. The weaker people who are compelled to do this, but lack the drive and skill necessary, turn to association with a larger group, often lead by a powerful psychopath, which harbors the same demented over-dominating compulsion and intent. The “cause” may be the righteousness of the mighty dollar, patriotism, religion, family values, or company loyalty, to name a few. The demented group might be a business/corporation, a church/religion, a socio-economic association, the military, an aspect of the government, a bonded group of those who have attained a higher education, or even a street gang. The forms of the “cause” and the demented group may vary tremendously in appearance and proclaimed purpose, but the root intent is always the same for those, individually or collectively, who possess this pathologic desire within their psyche. The package matters little and is often only a disguise to their acknowledged consciousness, but the telltale sign is when they implement their agenda and it quickly becomes sacred doctrine which may not be questioned or opposed in any manner whatsoever. They judge and the only unforgivable sin is for others to not comply, to not obey, to not submit to their over-dominance. These “controllers” are apaths, destabilized empaths, and lesser psychopaths, who are damaged and broken in many ways, but especially by their insecurity and personal feelings of ineptitude and worthlessness. This is why they are so susceptible to the manipulative charisma of a psychopath and the thought of being warmly enabled and unquestioned in their delusion as a member of a delusional group. Those standing against all of this, against those who are trying to control others, dare I say everyone, through any of the various forms of infectious destabilization, are empaths. The empaths have finally had enough. They are tired of ignorance, apathy, unawareness, hatred, scapegoating, bullying, imperialism, war, the whip of the mighty dollar, and prejudice. The empaths are now rising up once more. You have awoken them with your insanity, and if you are lucky, they might just save the world again. If you are luckier, they might even save you from yourself and your beloved psychopath.

Cribb          2017

The sociopathic-empathic-apathic-triad (SEAT) is a real psychological dynamic of relevance. This isn’t some obscure mysticism or mumbo-jumbo of fiction. For clarity of those unaware, but interested, I provide the brief definitions below.

Apath – Constituting the largest percentage of humanity, probably somewhere around 60% of the total. Apaths tend to lack awareness and empathy. They may be intelligent or not, but regardless they are always highly prone to following the orders or succumbing to the orchestrations of a psychopath (aka sociopath).

Empath – Approximately 36% of the population are empaths. They tend to be independent and highly aware of others feelings and perceptions. They will most often disobey orders or collective behavior (peer pressure) if they feel such behavior is unjust. Empaths are often readily able to see a psychopath for who they truly are. Psychopaths most often target empaths because of this.

Psychopaths/Sociopaths – Perhaps somewhere around 4% of humanity classifies primarily as a psychopath. This does not mean these people are serial killers. A psychopath is defined primarily as lacking empathy, lacking fear, possessing excessive charisma, often being highly intelligent and manipulative, and focusing only on over-dominating the rest of the world. They love to pull puppet strings, turn others against one another, and display how much power they possess.

 

But Not (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 194)

Pretext Comment: This passage is the most succinct yet comprehensive statement I believe that I have ever come across which explains the overwhelming majority of ongoing mental illness in any of its various forms.

I knew

what had been done to me,

but not

what I had done to myself.

thoughts without a thinker

Mark Epstein          1995