Hello, shoulder devil

*Yesterday, I went to visit the chiropractor. The first thing he said to me was, "So, I guess you're voting for Obama." I looked at him dubiously, as if to say, "There's an alternative?" He said, "What's the appeal?" What ensued was a small skirmish in which he asked me why he should pay more taxes to support people who don't work as hard as he does (You rub asses for a living, dude. And you're subsidied by bloated health insurance companies. When you work three jobs and still barely break $40K a year, then you can come talk to me about how you work harder than people who make less money than you.) and I said, "Consider it punishment for voting this last joker into office. Twice."

Perhaps we don't have the most orthodox patient/doctor relationship. He's used the f-word in my presence before. *blush* 'Course, so have I, in his. But sometimes it hurts.

Then the appointment began in earnest. He said, "I'm mad at you now. I'm gonna make it really hurt this time." In my last couple sessions, I think, at last, he's found the exact locale of my hip injury. He dug his thumb deep into the most inflamed nook of my hip socket. "I'll stop of you say 'Nobama.' I'll press harder if you don't," he said. I said, "Press harder." The gasping and sighing that followed (mine) might lead the casual observer to consider that we are better friends that we, ahem, are.

All this is just to say that, if he really wanted to change my long-ago-decided vote, the poor man was totally taking the wrong tactic. The sort of pain that he exacts upon me is intense, for sure. But it's the good pain. It's the kind of pain that loosens the blood flow or sends sparks out the top of my spine. And as I've told him a hundred times, I can take it. More than that, though, I like it. And he really doesn't believe me when I tell him that. That what he does makes all my nerve endings perk to attention.

In other words, I'm no kinda sadist. It's debatable as to whether the foil to the sadist is the masochist or the saint-- is it the person who enjoys receiving pain or is it the person who's never felt even the slightest schadenfreude? Regardless, sadism really is not one of my vices. Too prone to tripping into the sinkhole of empathy am I. Also, too deserving of the whip-sting am I. But, that's another story.

I bring up my chiropractor's slightly unusual voting coercion tactics because, in my travels today, I found this interesting ethics paper about sadistic satisfaction. It's basic premise is an inquiry into whether an argument can be made that would assert that there is moral value in enjoying the pain of others. Ultimately, however, agreeing with its author is neither here nor there. For a scholarly ethics paper, this thing it truly an entertaining read. Watching this guy spiral in an out of his own logic is something of a joy unto itself.

More than that, though, his underlying argument is based on the assumption that there is intrinsic value in pleasure, in specific regard to our well-being. Regardless of the source of the pleasure. That's an exciting idea. Is that a dangerous idea?

Read the article. It's a fun jumping jack. Pleasure, in other words, waiting to be had.

*The story related in the opening paragraphs of this post is true. Mostly. His portion of the dialogue is transcribed almost exactly. Mine is edited to make me sound cleverer and more on-the-spot than I am in real life.