In the nineties, on those old black and white macs, there was a game called Despair. Oh man, I loved that game. In a way, it isn’t a game, in that there are no rules and no way to lose. Basically you are God, and you have these little stick-figure people walking around, and you have a handy-dandy drop down menu of threats, such as fire, big rocks, a rolling wagon wheel, or my favorite, lightening. And you spend your time employing said threats on the little people and listening to them scream as the die. At the top of the screen was a single word: suffering. Sound horrible? Well, it wasn’t. It was the most wonderful stress release I have ever encountered. I mourned that game over all else when we had to let that mac go.

Here is a modern version: Taser the Gnome. You go here and you watch the very funny, short movie, and then at the end, after Strongbad talks about playing Tetris in the men’s room, click the word “work.” It won’t be obvious, you just have to trust me. Click ‘work’ and get to tasering that gnome. Report back after you’ve completed this mission.

Okay, did you go do it? Wasn’t it great???? I mean, I’m a peaceful person. I value peace, I reject war and violence as a way to solve problems, I’ve studied Non-Violent Communication, I don’t hit my kids, etc. But there is something about pretending to maim and kill, in the super-safe venue of a game, a game that does NOT have realistic graphics (note that Despair was little stick figures), that totally works for me. I get so happy and relaxed taking it out on those little pixels. A few minutes is as good as an hour of yoga for calming me down. Weird, huh?

Well, the fly situation at our place is out of control. We have ordered fly traps for the barn and hope that it makes a difference–the little sticky rolls aren’t doing it. So until we implement the final solution, every day, Sophie and I walk around the yurt for a few minutes with our fly swatters, making ninja moves and karate-chop noises, and we kill flies. Ha-YAH! It is totally, completely, gross. But strangely satisfying. Sort of like tasering the gnome. I ignore the messages from my compassion centers that whisper things about the suffering of the flies, and I whack the holy bejezus out of them. After a few minutes, some primal part of my reptilian brain feels victorious and starts strutting around, “I’m bad. I know it.” It is ridiculous. But true.

ETA: It has been brought to my attention that not everyone might recognize the literary reference in the title of this post, making it seem…strange. It’s from Anthony Burgess’s Clockwork Orange.  And since the ‘violence’ I’m talking about is about as non-violent as violence can be, it’s meant tongue-in-cheek. So there.