Manifestation of the subconscious mind

I'm an empiricist. That means I believe that if you can't observe it and measure it, it's balderdash. This is why I scoff at things like “global warming” and yoga. The only people who lose weight and get fit doing yoga are those who were already thin and fit, and queer. Empiricism, by the way, is why I don't believe in the subconscious mind.

Psychologists theorize a subconscious mind resides in each of us. Operating below our awareness, the subconscious mind exacts tremendous influence over our feelings, behaviors and perceptions. The subconscious is ubiquitous. It's part of our every mental operation. It composes the crux of personality (habits, likes and dislikes, temperament, etc). Indeed, some psychologist put mastery of the patient's subconscious as the goal of therapy and the touchstone of mental health. If you can reprogram the subconscious, psychologist explain, you can reinvent yourself into the person you want to be. Via the subconscious, you can tap into a cornucopia of knowledge and power. You can control your emotions, lose weight, learn the piano, lower your blood pressure, heal your body. You can even win on American Idol or pick the right suitcase on Deal or No Deal – all by tapping into your subconscious mind. Or you can just “program” yourself to actually enjoy watching those crappy shows. It's that powerful.

Psychologist explain that the subconscious mind works like a computer. You have to program it. Most people operate according to the default programs installed in our subconscious by parents, schools, society and beer commercials. But with effort we can delete all the bad programs and reprogram it with stuff we want. To that end, the sleeping person's subconscious is primed for programming. Sleeping people's conscious mind, the “gatekeeper,” is shut down (this is the goal of hypnosis, by the way). But sleeping people can still hear. Therefore, the ears are a ladder straight into the subconscious mind. I saw huge potential in this back in 1993. I had this girlfriend who was into naps. I waited until my girlfriend fell asleep and played a tape recording I'd made. It repeated the following: “You want to have sex all the time, and you love giving blow-jobs.” Three weeks later I caught her in my apartment's laundromat, in a trance, sucking off my landlord while still wearing her night shirt and her mineral mask. It wasn't all bad, though. I got my security deposit back without a fuss.

I abandoned the theory of the subconscious mind because I couldn't observe or measure predictable results after tinkering with it. Like the physics theory of aether, it withered away from lack of proof. My girlfriend's escapade notwithstanding, I was never able to influence my or anybody else's subconscious mind. I tried affirmations, hypnosis, positive thinking, self-suggestion. Nothing worked. No matter what I told my subconscious, I was still a pathetic douche bag.


John Paul Satre declared, “Hell is other people.” If I may borrow the great philosopher's phrase, Hell is old people. What's my point? The point is, I hate old people. I don't really hate them. "Hate" is too strong a word. I just don't like them. Why am I an misagethope? One reason: they take an inordinate amount of time to do everything. Old people steal several minutes of your every day. Especially if there's machinery involved, like a car or a vending machine or something, old people distort time worse than a bad acid trip under a strobe light.

Most old people today were mesmerized by the locomotive engine, the phonograph and nickelodeon pornography. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that today's mechanical doodads perplex seniors. They need several minutes to apprehend the intricacies of say, the soda vending machine at Carl's Jr. Look at all those choices, Mildred. They've got half a dozen flavors of soda pop. There's lemonade. And then there's this damn “Gatorade.” Hell's Bells, Mildred. When did these kids start juicing alligators?

An old person will spend a minute and a half contemplating their senior-discounted beverage at the soda fountain. Such was the case when I dined at my local Carl's Jr. I purchased my Number 9 combo, grabbed my value-sized cup and beelined for the soda fountain. I spotted an old lady who, given her speed and trajectory, would make it to the fountain a moment before me. I had to act fast. The problem was, I injured my lower back earlier in the week. I couldn't bob and weave the way I usually do. My back was too sore to pounce ahead of Betsy Ross. This meant I'd be stuck behind her and have to wait until I was about her age before I could gun-up on Diet Coke. So, I queued up behind her. Sure enough, sure eh-goddamn-nuff, she stares in confusion at the fountain. Also, she's blocking access to the Diet Coke. Five, ten seconds pass. No movement, no signs of life. Was she having a stroke? Had the Good Lord seen fit to take both her and me out of our misery? No such luck. After a couple ice ages came and went, she raised her glass at a glacier's pace to the ice tea spigot. She tentatively shimmied her cup against the lever. Each spurt from the soda gun startled her, and so she recoiled. Imagine a teenager learning to drive a clutch. Come on, Betsy. You're not taming a cobra. You're filling a cup. Don't you have a few dozen pills to take with that iced tea?

I'd had enough. I conceived a plan that just might work. It had to work. I'd slip aside her, stretch my arm out and maneuver the glass underneath the Diet Coke spigot. She'd never know. Her glaucoma obscured her peripheral vision. As long as I loitered in the periphery, my breach of etiquette would go undetected. I could fill up, make my escape and hope she'd be done before I returned for a refill about 20 minutes later.

I executed my plan with success. Slipping aside her, I filled a 44-ounce glass to the brim with nectar of the gods, aka, Diet Coke. Now for my escape...

Just then, disaster struck. Or was it cosmic justice? I'll let the reader decide. You see, the awkwardness of my stance and the spasm in my back conspired to exact revenge/exact justice. I dropped my drink on the beverage bar and sprayed the old broad with soda. Yahtzee! The moisture liberated from her polyester pants the smell of mothballs and Bengay. My first instinct was embarrassment. But milliseconds later, an odd, unfamiliar satisfaction fizzed inside me. It foamed over into ecstatic joy, contemptuous mirth. It was that beautiful feeling you get when you witness someone taking a dose of their own medicine. Elation. The old bat paid the price for her indolence. And as it was an accident, I was blameless.

Still, prudence required the pretext of regret. I apologized several times: “Sorry. I'm sorry. That one got away from me.” The Coke-soaked old lady said nothing. She just sneered at me. I remember thinking, If only it were piping hot coffee instead.

As I ate my meal, I contemplated things. I reexamined my opinion of the subconscious. I'd ruled out its existence long ago. But now I had a big, steaming pile of empirical evidence substantiating subconscious behavior! What had happened was obvious. I internalized my anger. It settled in my subconscious where it fermented into malice. At the conscious level, my sense of civility prevailed; I simply endured the old lady's imposition. I remained calm, even stoic. Even the keenest eye couldn't discern my frustration. Meanwhile, my subconscious mind contrived an “accident” which it staged at the Carl's Jr. beverage bar, sniping the stimulus of my discord, namely, the slowpoke senior citizen.

Readers might attribute the dropped soda to chance: maybe it was just an accident. What readers don't know is, I don't drop soda. I've been drinking 7 sodas a day for 20 years. Haven't spilled one yet. I'd drop a newborn baby before I drop a soda. It's uncanny. The better explanation is, the subconscious mind rose and asserted its will.

What does this all mean? It means the subconscious mind is alive and well. The possibilities are endless. Now that I have a subconscious mind, I have to start programming it, posthaste. I'm no longer using my digital audio recorder for blog ideas. I'm recording affirmations to play while I sleep. To wit:

  1. “I'm a kick-ass guitar player and a rock star. Attention: subconscious mind – I don't mean the video game craze, Guitar Hero. I mean the actual six stringed instrument. And don't forget to make me an actual rock star like Bono or someone like that.”

  2. “I'm a kick-ass professional athlete. I'm super fast and strong, too. I'm like those UFC guys who can kick anybody's ass. In fact, I am a UFC Pride Fighter. Undefeated. And I've invented my own patented choke hold with a cool name that you, subconscious, will implant in my brain when I wake up.”

  3. “I'm wealthy. I have tons of cash and a gold-plated house and a sweet-ass sports car. Imagine that Donald Trump fucked Bill Gates in the ass and then Bill got pregnant and had a kid. That kid is me. I'm every bit the entrepreneur, but I don't have a train wreck of a hairdo and also I'm not a dork.”

  4. “I'm a graceful dancer. I'm even better than that Riverdance guy.”

  5. “I can eat whatever I want and not gain weight. My body thrives on frozen pizzas, Mexican food and candy. My metabolism takes care of all that stuff so that I always look like Brad Pitt in Fight Club.”

  6. “All the guys envy my savoir faire manner and the ladies, too, who all want my phone number because they can't resist me what on account of me being a wealthy rock star and UFC champ and because I'm a great dancer who looks like Brad Pitt, as I mentioned above.”

Goodbye for now, dear reader. I have a nap to take.


Enemy of the Republic said...

C'mon, LBB, that isn't your subconscious, that's reality! You are a god! All of the above, yes!

Still not back to blogging yet, but I miss my buds.

Leighann said...

No fair. I want to take a nap.

ZenDenizen said...

Great Diet Coke story!

Loving Annie said...

Good Tuesday evening to you, Lightning Butt !

Hmmm, the spilled drink being a cosmic act of subconscious revenge on the slow old people, is my scientific psychological answer :)

Keep repeating affirmation number 3in your sleep - and add that I'm your older sister and therefore deserve a part of the spoils :)

Anonymous said...

am I the only one curious why Gates is automatically the taker? I'd definitely figure Trump to ne the one fiending for a gape.

Muze said...

awww. you can still ask questions. i'll answer. lol.

Doug said...

LBB...dude you totally missed it. Bad back, losing your grip (probably arthritis). You're getting old. Before too long you'll be asking a boy scout to carry your 44oz DC

random moments said...

I can't decide if you're brilliant or crazy. Either way, I like it! Old people urk me too. I'm always telling myself I will never be that type of old person.

Okay my turn:

I can have a cheeseburger every day if I want and it will only ward off cellulite.

I can just think about exercising and lose weight.

My sex drive will double and my boyfriend will buy me presents because of it.

Okay the last one was silly and not my style, but it was fun for a second to pretend.

Christina_the_wench said...

Can I be your groupie?

Call me Maniac. said...

Thanks for making me spit coffee everywhere upon the phrase, "contemptuous mirth!" LOL

snowelf said...

(Oh Gates would definitely be the taker)

LBB, I think you've provided some mighty fine insight here. As someone rather fond of psychology and the mysterious power of programming the subconcious, please keep us abreast of your progress.

Can't wait to see you on UFC!


Stacy The Peanut Queen said...

You're killing me with the old people stuff. I see my mom in almost everything you typed. Now I feel bad about seeing her in all that. It's a guilt trip and she's not even here to give me one!!! GAH! ;)

And my body thrives on Mexican food too...I've got the ass to prove it. ;)

tornwordo said...

Oh how I wish I could do frozen pizza, mexican food and candy. Every day. Nowadays, my subconscious stomach won't allow it ; )

Turnbaby said...

Thank you. You managed to 'accidentally' do what I've wanted to do for years.

And thanks for making me spew at "Yahtzee"!

MsPuddin said...

I tried yoga once, I ended up having to do it with the DVD set in fast motion…speed yoga yes! In fact, that’s how I stay so slim after I eat cheese pizza.

I have a prejudice against old people too. I hope at about 60, 65 someone puts me out of my misery.

Serendipity said...

I'm with Sarte...and not sure about old people, but I think you're right too.

The only old people I like is Grandma Mazur from Stephanie Plum series written by Janet Evanovich. She really rocks.

Midas said...

Talking of taking a nap, I've been taking lots of nap lately. Ever since I turned 35, I got old. The horror!

Just Say These Words

Demon Hunter said...

LOL. Funny story. Your affirmations are closer to what's been coined, "The Secret" rather than the subconcious mind.

That's the wonderful thing about our subconcious mind; we cannot control it for the most part, but it controls us... ;*)

Sue said...

Hahaha, that crack about the yoga people being queer--hilarious!

You feel like you know me? From where?

Lyvvie said...

Yoga is good for making you limber and that's about it. I kind of like the advantages being limber brings.

Now, LBB, by your account that "...the subconscious mind rose and asserted its will." that could be used to say that because murder is wrong, and although we really want to kill someone we know it's wrong and we repress the urge until one day "Yahtzee" we make an oopsie and kill someone. "But officer, it was my subconscious will asserting itself, I was helpless to stop the events from unfolding."

You should watch some Derren Brown. The man is a God of the mind fuck.

Oh, did you read about the studies in Japan that prove that old people smell?? It was rather funny.

Ashley said...

Has anyone ever told you that you are a man of few words? ;)

Breazy said...

Just stopping by to see how things are going for you. I like a bit of Mexican food from time to time myself.

Happy Spring!

Thanks for the birthday wishes for my daughter!

upset waitress said...

Oh for shit's sake. Have you tried Yoga LBB? It's a pretty intense exercise. Well I've never done yoga actually. But pilates is similar right? It will kick the lightening out of your ass my friend. And you don't have to be gay either! I mean, if you are that's OK too. :)

Anonymous said...

as a dumbass "polack" myself, LBB, this is all a little over my head. i'm sure you understand. but if you ever want a killer pierogi or kielbosa i'm your polack. ;)

Hope you have a great weekend and Happy Easter to you and yours!! :)

Peter said...

This is the second time I've had to reprimand you for your attitude to us old folks Richie, any more of it and I'm gonna have to come into your sub-conscious mind and beat the crap outa you with my walking stick.

Ari said...

Just the other day I cut off a professorly type at the La Madeleine self-serve coffee nook. I felt kinda bad about it later, but I just justified it by stating how "that damn coffee corner is too crowded!" out loud to myself in the car. That and the delicious infusion of fine French caffeinated bean juice assuaged my guilt.

Franki said...

Hmmm...I'm thinking it's more karma than subconscious, letting you know that you'll soon be old and feeble, and clumsy too.

I am totally jealous that you can go to Carls Jr.

ChickenStrip said...

I so wish I could have seen the diet Coke incident.

The Kept Woman said...

1. In accordance with your subconscious mind thing I'll go ahead and tell you that learning through osmosis (specifically sleeping on your text books) is a load of crap too.

2. Anytime I see "Buick" on the car in front of me I immediately give up any hope of being on-time to wherever it was I was going.

Bigg said...

You left one item out of your subconscious programming list: You should convince your subconscious not to let you age so you don't turn into one of those old people...

Tequila Mockingbird said...

i'm a big yoga fan. but youre right, yoga only tones you up, it doesnt make you lose a metric ass ton of weight. especially if youre still eating fried chicken and washing it down with a large cup of bacon grease. it's to be used in tandem with other exercising. same thing goes for diet pills. there is no magic beans that will make you not be a disgusting slab of ick. ya gotta lay off the haagen das and hit the treadmill.

Cynic with Flair said...

Wow, you have given me a positive affirmation to record and listen to in my sleep: "The only people who lose weight and get fit doing yoga are those who were already thin and fit" (I'm deleting the "queer" part, because I'm more "gay", like retarded, not homosexual. I want a man like a big juicy steak and right freaking now.) But I digress. I live in Florida, so just imagine your Diet Coke experience with old people in every situation, every minute of the day. Traffic jams up at 4:00 pm everyday for the early bird specials. The only upside is that I can sometimes actually be the youngest person in a room. But it's not a room I want to be in.

OldHorsetailSnake said...

You ain't kidding me. You ain't none of them things. No. This song was writ about you:

"Hallelujah I'm a bum,
"Hallelujah bum again.
"Hallelujah gimme a handout,
"To revive me again."

Bum, that's you.

(Take that, bumster. Teach you not to pick on us old people.)

just me said...

I'm AFRAID of old people.

Mirrors to what I will become someday. Especially the really weird ones. I'm afraid I'll become a really WEIRD old person.

...how depressing is that?

Bella said...

Scoffing at global warming and yoga???

Aw, LBB, you just broke my heart.


C said...

I bet you nap on a yoga mat. subconsciously you believe in yoga.

NWJR said...

I find this entire post disturbing, and I don't know why.

Tell me you're not REALLY like this...

Anonymous said...

All the guys envy you already.

Mona said...

Now that the presence of the subconscious mind has been proven in lieu of the psychologistic theorizing cum explanizing, from the Empirical evidence gathered from Experiment-e- Big Butt no. XIII raised to the power twenty seven, in the sublieu of which again, it got sanction from Think Tank Big Butt Pvt. Ltd. ; I hereby Command you my subconscious mind, To make me six stringed guitar, a patented choke hold, a sweet ass sports car , a frozen pizza, and a savior faire manner antidote!

Do I have a nap to take too? I guess I must be already hypnotized...er ... asleep. A fact which my subconscious mind will implant in my brain when I wake up.

Also My subconscious mind seems to be pinching phrases , albeit subconsciously ( for what else will it do, but that which has been empirically QEDfied of doing ) from what is being littered by one conscious mind to be picked up by its counter subconscious.

Does that make me a thief on the subconscious level?

Jahooni said...

has the heat gotten to you already in AZ? Let me call my cuz that lives there just to check before I drive the 5 hours to go visit.

your blogs are getting to long to read after 3 glasses of merlot.

Memphis Steve said...

"liberated from her polyester pants ... ecstatic joy, contemptuous mirth. ... Elation ... indolence ... prudence "

Hey, what's up with this? Have you been taking classes? I think you're cheating. I think you're actually learning to be a real, honest to God, writer. No casual blogger uses such terms. You've been studying, haven't you? AUGH, CHEATER!

Beth from the Funny Farm said...

Thank you. I have a productive life with a ton of things to do today. Now I am freaking lost in your blog.

Is that a real email address? (I dropped you a line btw.) For I almost spammed you just from the email address and then for some reason.. I thought.. what the hell.. click on the link... and now..now... I'm addicted.

I have two people such as yourself in my life. Yes, I know another man who can keep pace with yourself. I also sicced him onto your blog. :-D I can't wait for the fun to start if he decides to comment! ;-) Hee! He loves you and now hates me for making him come and take a look. For like myself, he has actual WORK to do today too!

**laughing, so laughing**