Last night I had just cleaned out the cats’ litter boxes and was walking out to the garbage bin with a bag of cat poop when I suddenly had a very vivid mental image of a man lying on his back with his mouth open, and someone stuffing the contents of the bag into his mouth and up his nose, packing it in tight so as to be able to stuff in even more. And I felt a surge of pure righteous hatred for the man being thus punished, as if I somehow knew he really deserved it.
The image and the feeling quickly passed, but they left me a bit disturbed and confused, since they had just come out of nowhere. Well, in a sense it was obvious what had inspired the image — I had just been stuffing cat poop into a bag — but what could have moved me to imagine it being stuffed into the orifices of a human face? And why the surge of hatred? It would have been more understandable if the face had belonged to some particular person I hated, but he was no one in particular — and I was a calm, cheerful, benevolent mood that evening (that one brief episode excepted) and was not conscious of hating anyone at all. All very strange.
Then the next morning I was checking a few blogs, and found a long eloquent rant by John C. Wright (qv) which included the following lines:
I spoke above of the Unreality Principle. Here is where it comes into play. The Unreality Principle is the moral imperative to ignore and deny reality at all costs, and remain loyal and faithful to the make-believe illusion-choked funhouse-mirror Wonderland of Liberal Bullshit. You must bathe in the bullshit, eat the bullshit, drink the bullshit, and stuff the bullshit up your nose as far as far can be, because from now own the offal will be feast and wine to you, and will be your baptism and your oxygen. It will feed and sustain you. [emphasis added]
The image of stuffing feces up someone’s nose (as far as far can be) is surely not a common one, and the way it came to me out of the blue shortly before I read about it makes it seem more like precognition than like common-or-garden synchronicity. (Or, as always, it could be a mere meaningless accident, since we have no way of calculating how often such things “ought to” occur by chance.) I keep noticing and documenting these oddities in the hope that some intelligible pattern will emerge. So far, “coincidence,” as unsatisfying as that is, is the best explanation I can manage.