being scared shitless – (en)

Scientists spend a lot of time studying fears, and arguing over how they can be treated. They should invest more effort in studying stupidity. Fears are largely potential and theoretical, but stupidity is practical. Men go to far great lengths reacting silly to fear. In front of it we lose any sense of dignity —needless to say the amount of crap we do when we are afraid.
When we’re going to get a shot, what we do? We break into a cold sweat while putting the ass so hard that the needle bounces! We know that will hurt more, but we can’t help.
We go down to the basement and the light is broken. The heart starts pumping full of fear, scared of what the dark could be hiding, and what do we do? Singing! That is, given more info. Launch a flare!
You go in the night down the street and suddenly you see someone you think could assault you. You start hyperventilating as you change your sidewalk! Brilliant. As if a mugger would think: “Shit, another one that has changed my banquette, what a fucking night!”
The other day I was in an elevator with a woman I didn’t know, and suddenly the lift made ​​a strange “brramb”. What did the lady? Grab my arm! It is a typical reaction of women. They must think men can fly when an elevator goes off.
Ladies… You are at night in bed and hear a strange noise, and what do you do? You shiver down the spine, and cover with the sheet! Great! Are they bulletproof? If the bad guy comes with a knife won’t it be able to get through? Would the blade bend? Come on, please!
Or we have a look under the bed. Man, we already have some age! Furthermore, assuming there would be a murderer under the bed, looking straight to him, what’d be the point? He’ll kill you before!
Okay. Let’s imagine one day you finally find someone under the bed? What would you say?
—Goood niiight … So what? Killing, right?
—You see, doing something for a living.
—But man, get out there! You’re going to get cold. Come on, get up, you’d get asthma with so much fluff. Kill me in the bed, it’s more comfortable!
Another situation. You hear at night a strange noise and shuddering you get up, in briefs, and ask: “Someone there?” But do you really think if someone is there is going to reply you? Then you search the whole house and come to the conclusion that if someone is there the only place left is behind the bathroom door. What do you do? You poke out your head slowly, mostly because if someone is there he could welcome you better!
Another one. You are in a car and suddenly the driver begins to speed as if he were Mario Andretti, but without Mario and Andretti, and makes your blood run cold. What are you doing? You protect yourself: you grab the little plastic handle above the door! Now he can smash the car if he wants, you are holding the grip … In the same situation your mom would grab the handbag and put it on the lap, like an airbag!
And we can’t forget that along with our stupid reactions are those the body has on its own. One is shaking. If we hide behind a curtain, they won’t have trouble finding us, as if we were a fucking vibrating cell-phone.
Another stupid body reaction is to be paralyzed. A speeding car comes towards you and is about to run you over. Is that all your body can do?  Abso-fuckin-lutely petrify?
Or screaming. Sure, very logical. You’re frying eggs and the pan gets on fire, so what would you do? Yelling! You start screaming like crazy: “My eggs are burning!” And if someone else comes, joins you with the cries: “Your eggs are burning!” But what do you think? Could you kill the fire screaming? Man, please!
And finally, when you shit the pants [I’m not going to stir this one…].
Being scared shitless – Dugutigui, on some ideas from the net.
Dugutigui - I Like This Post

Acerca de Dugutigui

In the “Diula” language in Mali, the term « dugutigui » (chief of the village), literally translated, means: «owner of the village»; «dugu» means village and «tigui», owner. Probably the term is the result of the contraction of «dugu kuntigui» (literally: chief of the village).
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32 respuestas a being scared shitless – (en)

  1. ane dijo:

    fear – it’s human alarm system! It manifests itself differently. you have no fear?
    Stupidity is infinitely more fascinating than intelligence 🙂 I Liked it humor ..

  2. I’m afraid to comment on this post. }:-)>

  3. kaldina dijo:

    Je! Soy culpable de cubrirme la cabeza con la sábana… Pero no con los ladrones sino cuando pienso que hay fantasmas (Ya sé, ya sé, no existen los fantasmas), pero tanto ver pelis de terror me jodió el cerebro… Ahora un niño jugando con un balón en mitad de la calle a las 2 a.m. hace que me muera de miedo, corro a la cama y me tapo con las sábanas y, ya sabes lo que dicen, si no lo veo no existe.

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      Supongo que lo de tu sabana es una extraña forma de la verdad y, sin embargo, no un hecho; pero que dulce 🙂 Me causa sentimientos contrapuestos, como el verano que no es nada sin la dulzura del invierno… Y eso me trae a una pregunta que siempre me hago: ¿lo opuesto realmente atrae? Ahora sé a ciencia cierta que si. Gracias por compartir ese dulce terror [debajo de las sabanas] 🙂

  4. smilecalm dijo:

    i’m told
    all become fearless
    after death 🙂

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      You are right. Not bullshit in heaven… 🙂
      I think that if I ever convert would be because it’s better that a believer dies than that an atheist does. 🙂 🙂

  5. cessology dijo:

    We each have our own moments succumbing to fear, only it varies. Different strokes for different folks 😉

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      You are right: “different strokes for different folks”. The funny part is how many folks have not style at all [when reacting to fear]
      Thanks for your wise words!

  6. George Valah dijo:

    These days it snows hard in my place… Kids enjoy it, mature people are amused, some older ones are depressed, the authorities are scared!
    Which way I should take? 🙂

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      I think it depends on your age 🙂

      Just kidding! What about this:

      The storm roared on. A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things. The snow began to fall again … unceasing snow, drifting soundlessly against the windows, politely begging entrance and then falling with disappointment to the ground. As a kid I was missing the snow. I miss looking at it, walking in it, tasting it. I used to love those days when it was so cold everyone else would be tucked away inside trying to stay warm. I would be the only one out walking, so I could look across the fields and see miles of snow without a single footprint in it. God, I missed snow. The stars, the moon, the wind, and blankets of pure, pristine snow. I made a snowman and my elder brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea. My mother was falling apart, one part after another. Falling down on the world like the snow outside, looking through the glass, asking herself, probably, “is it snowing what we are? Outside the city was free of sin. The storm has given it absolution, but for authorities time always changes the magical to mundane.

      Note I am not a writer … but I think an intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.

      Thanks for this unexpected comment!

      • George Valah dijo:

        Well, the truth is…”you are” a writer, even before being a thinker, or an intellectual or anything else … And I find a reason in “your style”. We can think in sophisticated ways, we can mix simple and elevated arguments for the purpose of “authenticity”, but the style is the one to bring fascination inside the reader… However, you are scared to admit it! 😀

      • Dugutigui dijo:

        In the best case I’d be a non-writing writer. Some writers enjoy writing, I am told. Not me. I enjoy having written. I hate fishing for the right words like fishermen fish for, um, whatever those aquatic creatures with fins and gills are called 🙂
        Thanks for you nice opinion!

  7. One thing I admire about Errol Flynn was his lack of fear…which was probably one of the things leading somewhat indirectly to his death. Many people do not know that he was actually a real-life adventurer prior to becoming a legendary movie star who actually performed all his own stunts. He was once quoted as saying: “I want to get so close to my fears that I can lick them.”

    As a Marine, I once tried to adopt this mentality. I ended up making an ass of myself when my horse took off and broke away from the group on a trail-ride at Fort Bragg Army Base! But I’m glad that philosophy worked out so well for Errol…or did it? His fearlessness in putting many strange substances in his body may have led to his liver deteriation. Oh! I forgot. With Errol Flynn there WAS no such thing as a strange substance!

    Thanks for yet another thought-provoking article, my friend!

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      Very interesting comment! I didn’t know a word on the life, legend, career, and legacy of Errol Flynn, but it sounds as he was a very talented, intelligent and complex human being, a truly fearless person [a kindred spirit I could have been friends with]. My image of him, now changing thanks to your comment, was the dashing, elegant, heroic screen icon that was very much a lost, and a lonely little boy at heart. Which is bringing to my mind the following, what would we do if we weren’t afraid?
      Thanks to you!

  8. sknicholls dijo:

    If I am really scared, I get out the 9 mm or the shot gun, but maybe i am different that way.

  9. puzzleblume dijo:

    Cannot remember doing strange things with my handbag, but like the latest comment of George Valah.

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      I haven’t you in mind when I wrote the post 🙂 Above comedy was aimed to fabric-softener, tuna-salad-on-white, PTA-meeting normal people.
      Re Mr. Valah, I like all his comments [three at the moment] 🙂

  10. Kev dijo:

    😀 Nice!

  11. Remigio Sol dijo:

    Mi hermana y mi esposa se caían mal mutuamente.
    Un día vino mi hermana a visitarme. Mi esposa se retiró a la cocina mientras mi hermana y yo hablábamos en la sala.
    Fui al closet y bajé la palanca del interruptor de la electricidad. La casa quedó completamente a oscuras.
    Me puse a gruñir como si fuera un animal.
    Un minuto después encendí la luz.
    ¡Mi esposa y mi hermana estaban abrazadas! Desde entonces son grandes amigas, pero nunca me han perdonada lo que hice.


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