Howard Jones Was Wrong.... You're Fucking To Blame

As a society we have evolved over the past three decades into blame seekers. Let's face it, no one takes responsibility these days. We have been psychologically trained by every information outlet that NOTHING could be our inherent fault; there must be someone else to blame. It goes back to when we were kids and instinct told us, if you don't feel good about yourself, pick on the fat kid. Even the biggest loser could gain self esteem by picking on the fat kid. Or, if you were lucky enough to have a gay kid in school, there's an even better target. The fat kid could pick on the gay kid and gain self esteem. I was that gay kid. Sometimes I did have a few friends who were girls, but they just stole my Barbies and made me cry – bitches.

As a self proclaimed whack-job, I believe I have traced the single man solely responsible for transitioning our society into a bunch of spineless pussies whom now feel they are responsible for nothing. This fucker is Dr. Thomas Harris. He is the douche bag who wrote the 1969 best seller I'm OK, You're OK. Harris has a medical degree but can't spell “okay”? Um yeah....

The reason I am writing about Harris and his book specifically is because it was the first self help publication which gained worldwide notoriety. It spent two years on the New York Times Best Sellers List and has sold over 15 million copies to date. This fucker opened the door for hundreds of thousand other freaks to spew and publish other books proclaiming self help and inner improvement to readers. Shit, I would go as far as to blame Harris for the fact we have to look at Oprah's fat ass on television. No matter what the content of any self help book, the basic theory is always the same – You're not to blame, some other asshole is.

Let's examine first, why Harris's book was such a success. This is fucking easy. It's 1969, you had a bunch of lost souls getting out of college who didn't study and blew their parents cash. They were too busy running around protesting, burning bras, doing any form of synthetic drug that could be made in a garbage can, and trying at any expense not to be like their parents. Now add in all the guys coming back from Vietnam who got blown apart and had access to even better drugs abroad. All these drug heads were raised under the Judeo–Christian principles of guilt. They all knew how they totally fucked up and the guilt was killing them. Enter in Dr. Thomas Harris with this toilet paper book. It clearly stated that nothing these young adults did was their fault, and presto, it's all okay! Shit, it's Harris who in essence got Slick Willie off the hook for shoving a cigar up Monica Lewinsky's twat.

Harris made a good fiction writer. He took the theories of Freud, threw them in a Cuisinart, added a few studies of Eric Berne, then pushed the puree button. Garnished with a shit load of adjectives and personal pronouns, and presto! I'm OK, You're OK was ready to serve. Consumed by the college fuck up crowd of that decade, Harris told them it was all their parents fault. If you were digesting Harris's book upon return from Vietnam, Uncle Sam is to blame for your fucked up-ness. If someone was really fucked up, then blame both the parents and Uncle Sam! No matter what, just know you are not responsible and by placing blame elsewhere, no one will care what the fuck you did!

Obviously, this little snowball Harris threw back in 1969 has created more avalanches in theories and blame. Alcoholics blame a parent. Pedophiles blame other Pedophiles. Wife beaters blame alcohol. People who default on loans blame the banks. Prolife advocates blame Maude. I could ramble on however I think you get the picture. I keep trying to figure out who to blame for my small penis. That's a tough one because I really cannot demand male family members to drop trou', get wood, and start measuring during a holiday party.

As a fresh start to the New Year, I encourage you starting today! Even when the smallest thing goes wrong in your life, stop, place blame elsewhere, and feel good about yourself. If you are a loner, get a dog! Dogs are easy to place blame on. They cannot talk back. If you cannot get a dog to take blame... then you're really fucked up and should just end it now.