Since the dawn of time, we’ve liked to break things. Prehistoric people killed time by breaking each other’s skulls. This may raise some moral issues for you now but, honestly, those guys weren’t the kind of people who said their prayers every night before going to bed either. We later invented wars to pass time. I’m not suggesting that we bomb countries for fun, but there is an element of adrenaline rush to all of this. No one would fight to regain a lost territory or to respond to a threat if, instead of dropping bombs and destroying everything, it took a long bureaucratic process to win a war. You know, filling out a hundred administrative forms, standing in line at the tax bureau, and filing paperwork at 10 different windows. Before getting the first paper stamped, you would have lost any desire to win the war, focusing your anger instead on tearing out the clerk’s eye.
There is nothing more violent than a pacifist.
Our relationship with peace is paradoxical. During the last Iraq war, I ran into a guy at a traffic light coming from an anti-military intervention march in the center of Madrid. He was carrying a wooden stick with a big sign that said “Peace” and wore a Che Guevara t-shirt. I was driving. We had a brief exchange of views on whether or not I had run a red light (something that I denied with the conviction of someone who has, in fact, just run the red light), and then it was this guy who turned red and began to bash my car with his “Peace” sign, making some very unpleasant accusations about the profession of all the women in my family. I thought for a moment about getting out of the car and making him swallow his placard, but the pacifist was surrounded by a bunch of guys coming from the same demonstration and were as eager for peace as a Tomahawk might be. I sped up for about 20 meters and slammed on the brakes, and shouted through the window, “Give a war a chance!” Then a cloud of angry pacifists ran out behind my car, intent on killing me. I repeated the accelerating and braking several times. Those kids need more exercise. The moral of the story is this: there is nothing more violent than a pacifist.
On another note, men and women have different capacities for destruction. Girls prefer to be destructive with hints (“Honey, are you really going out for drinks with your friends tonight?”), while boys, from a young age, enjoy things like ripping off dolls’ heads and throwing toy cars down the elevator shaft. Not that guys are violent by nature; we shan’t give feminists that satisfaction. It’s just that we love to hear the noise they make when they hit the ground.
The fascination with destruction is so old that there are scientists who still defend the thesis that God created the world with a great detonation. As a man and a Christian, I find it reassuring to think that God also likes to blow things up. Although creating beauty from an explosion can only be achieved by the divine. Try to break a beautiful porcelain vase on the floor and you will understand that men do not have the same good fortune. God is the only one capable of exploding a bud and making a flower.
The Yanomami are one of the most brutal tribes in history. According to anthropologists, they ally themselves with strangers and help them fight in exchange for their women. In other words, they go to war with the surprising goal of getting married. Unlike the rest of the world, which gets married and that is when the war begins.
Generally, history shows that, sooner or later, people feel the urge to destroy something. The Democrats, for example, tend to destroy their own country as soon as they get the chance. While Republicans, at least until Trump came along, were more comfortable breaking up other people’s countries. True, there have also been Democrats with amazing centrifugal-centripetal qualities, like Obama, who was capable of destroying his own and others’ countries at the same time.
I tell you all of this because a British company that buys and sells scrap cars has organized a “Rage Yard,” a destruction therapy to release the pent-up anger accumulated during this annus horribilis, 2020. The idea is that the participants spray-paint a “2020” on an old car, and, provided with guns, explosives, and baseball bats, they can shoot it, smash it, and detonate it at will. Finally, they lend you a 61-ton armored tank to drive over the car and flatten it into rolling paper. Don’t tell me it’s not a great idea. I’ve always wanted to do the same thing the A-Team did to the bad guys’ cars.
No wonder it’s an English invention. This is the kind of thing the British do with Madrid’s urban furniture every time they come to support their soccer teams. That and depleting our beer reserves. So I’m sure the initiative will be a success over there. I’m not so sure it would work in the United States, but, honestly, Antifa demonstrators have been trying it for months, and I reckon their anger is still at peak levels. If you don’t believe me, just tell them tomorrow that Joe Biden has not won the elections and see how long it takes them to put their particular Rage Yard together again.
2020 has been a bad year. Let’s wreck a car. Sometimes I love being a man.
Itxu Díaz is a Spanish journalist, political satirist and author. He has written nine books on topics as diverse as politics, music, and smart appliances. He is a contributor to the Daily Beast, the Daily Caller, National Review, the American Conservative, The American Spectator, and Diario Las Américas in the United States, and is a columnist for several Spanish magazines and newspapers. He was also an adviser to the Ministry for Education, Culture, and Sports in Spain. Follow him on Twitter at @itxudiaz or visit his website www.itxudiaz.com.
Translated by Joel Dalmau