Schadenfreude!

Note: This post was originally written on November 21st, 2017.

Schadenfreude — German for ‘happiness at the misfortune of others’. Here, have some examples.

Even before I learned that there was a word for it, I knew the feeling. Let’s be honest, we all do. It’s part of human nature. We’re relieved when something not-so-nice happens to someone who is not us. Obviously there’s a point beyond which you’re actually a monster if you’re elated when something gawdawful happens to another person or group of people, but there’s a lovely big playground of middleness from which you can derive a whole lot of laughter.

A lot of it is on television.

With people doing it on purpose.

I mean, come on. Reality TV is a breeding ground for schadenfreude, and we can’t seem to get away from it. There’s an audience. There’s an audience because there is something in all of us that, perversely, likes to see the other guy fail.

You might be sitting there thinking “No, actually, I don’t get any sort of elation from other people’s failings,” and maybe you don’t, so I guess you’re just a better person all around. Or you’re lying because you feel bad about the buzz you get when someone slips on the pavement and nearly falls but rights themselves at the last minute and tries to play it off like nothing happened but eeeeeeverybody knows it did.

The chances of that person feeling bad for not feeling bad about the same thing happening to you are slim to none, my friend. I don’t care how nice you are on a regular basis, if you don’t at least smirk when the guy feeding the ducks gets chased by an overly-amorous swan, you need to reevaluate your life choices.

I could keep wittering on about all of this, but I’d rather tell you a funny.

My commute to and from work every day is just full of douche-canoes. Usually in very expensive vehicles. (Seriously. I got passed by a McLaren once. Teslas are as common as pigeons. And Porches? Oh, puh-LEEZ, they’re practically passé!) As you can imagine, I am liable to witness an egregious amount of fuckery on my commute as a result. Clearly, these people are far more important than the rest of us, and we should be falling all over ourselves with gratitude that they allow us to partake of their personal asphalt pathways to and from their Very Important Places. We should all pull right over when their two-seater Jaguar comes into view, and then wait an appropriate five minutes to get back on the road once they’ve gone, lest we come just a touch too close to them for their liking. We should always allow them to cut into our lanes at the very last moment because they’re too important to keep track of the fact that they’re in an exit-only lane, and it isn’t the one they want. I mean, usually their butlers would take care of that for them, but occasionally even Jeeves needs a day off, don’t you know.

And sometimes, they just run up your ass and try to run you off the road, even though you’re already going ten miles per hour over the speed limit in the slow lane. ::tears out hair, screams, and throws things::

Generally, all of this is just cause for plenty of swearing on my part.

This morning, however, the law was on the side of the mild-mannered motorists.

I was toodling down the freeway in my usual manner, and the traffic started to slow dramatically (which is very normal along this stretch of road because Californians don’t know how to deal with curves in the road, but that’s a story for another time) and, oh look, here comes Mr. Lexus barreling down behind me.

Off he slips into the new toll lane to get around things.

Oh, look, there’s the FastTrack reader!

::SWERVE:: Mr. Lexus is back with the rest of us.

This repeats once more while I can still see the Lexus. I had a lovely shout at him, just for my own health and recreation.

Then comes Chippie, casual as you like, trawling the toll lane. (California Highway Patrol = CHP = Chippie. You learned a thing!) I cheered Chippie on, knowing full well he could see Mr. Lexus from his patrol truck.

After that, my lane slowed again, and they left my line of sight. Obviously I hoped I’d see them off to the side at some point later, but figured I probably wouldn’t.

But I was wrong!

Just after the exit before mine, there was Chippie and Mr. Lexus off to the side. I may or may not have done as much of a happy dance as is possible when driving a car.

Call me a flawed human being if you like, but the whole thing just made my day.