Inside me there are two wolves. One is a polite and well-adjusted member of society, always willing to lend a hand. The other one is a non-conformist free thinker sick of all the hypocrisy. It's the second wolf who's writing these words. And he's pissed, so you don't wanna fuck with him. Word to the wise, anger is just one letter away from danger.

"Cringe". I hear it already. Is that all you have to say? It's all you've been taught to say. Your shackles of conformism are showing, dear, and they're not flattering. You probably don't even realize it, but you're a cog in the mechanism of control. Who am I, you ask? Well, I'm the wrench thrown in the gears.
You see, cringe is how they control you. Every time you physically clench your ass and curl your toes, you voluntarily give away some of your power. Every time you laugh at the debonair madman who doesn't care about social stigma (such as myself), you oil the machinations that control us. The whole time, you think you're asserting your individuality, but all you're doing is feeding the wolf inside you that simply follows orders while the other one withers away and starves to death. Let me ask you something. You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight? Of course you haven't, you obedient lap dog. Probably too scared to go out and do it. You know who has? I have. When the pale moonlight's on, catch me outside dancing with the devil. That's who I am, the Jack Nicholson Joker. Only a select few can get away with saying something like that and not looking incredibly stupid.

People are afraid of those who are deemed deviant, of those who bare themselves to the world. Cringe and hypocrisy are the two major forces of society, even above money or sex (both of which I'm an expert in). If there's one thing I learned from Heath Ledger's Joker is that cringe makes it impossible to look away from the deviant. His hair, his clothes, what he says. It's all so hideously embarrassing, especially when people quote him in real life. But that's part of the spectacle. We encourage the weirdo to act that way, only to laugh at him afterwards. Hypocrisy makes us condemn those who are being watched.
Some of us get to escape the dichotomy of cringe and hypocrisy. We just call it as we see it. If that means we're outside the norm, we'll pay the price gladly. Yes, we can be seen as cringe by some, but we don't participate in their social economy. You might recognize us for our scars (like in the movie).
Let's think back to Giorgio Agamben's words in Homo Sacer. The wolf as the bandit, the man who is both outside the law, but intrinsecally a part of it. In terms of shame and cringe, that's what I am, what the Joker represents.

Allow me to give an example. When I do something embarrassing, I'm outside the social circle. Sorry, sir, your fedora is simply way too offputting for us. But by being socially exiled, I'm still part of the system. By being an outsider, I'm part of the system. I'm the consequence, the one you don't want to end up like:
The life of the bandit is the life of the loup garou, the werewolf, who is precisely neither man nor beast, and who dwells paradoxically within both while belonging to neither.
If that's the case, then call me the cringe bandit. Wanna know how I got these scars? I got them by being born into this society of shame. It took me a while to understand its rules, and each failed attempt left a mark on me. That's why I used to think that my life was a tragedy, but now I realize it's a comedy. Now that I see how pointless their rules are, I can't help but laugh. A little nugget of wisdom I learned from Jared Letto. In this case, I mean the actor, not his Joker. Different types of second-hand embarrassment. Damaged.

We live in a society. One of control, of course. And one of the many ways we control each other is through shame. We shame others into shape and, in doing so, manufacture cringe. The master-pleasing wolf inside us is in constant vigilance, looking out for unacceptable behaviour. And when the wolf finds its scent, it doesn't let go. So, we police others and ourselves.

We've moved past the society of discipline where these behaviours would be punished. Instead, we're so much more cruel. We immortalize these moments on social media, meme-ify them. We are all curating an endless wall of shame where there's no hope of ever being forgotten. Gather round and laugh at the weird one, but be pedagogical about it. Learn not to be him, learn what happens to the ones that are like him. Cast the stone of shame upon him because he tells it like it is. Inspired yet? I learned how to rile the masses by studying Joaquin Phoenix's Joker. I've never been one to go along with the status quo.
And so, the society of control is constructed on embarrassment. We all control each other, we are all controlled by one another, and we all fear stepping out of line. And the thing is, this society sells us the idea of freedom. We go about our lives thinking we're free, but we're being watched all the time, by the authority, of course, but also by our peers. And then we turn around and watch them,. Who watches the watchmen? We all do, phones out and ready to share the cringe. A circlejerk of vigilance or a uroboros of shame?
Not me, though. No cringe in this mind, no sphincter in this body. Call me shameless if you must, but I know sometimes the wolf has to be a wolf, and they don't always play nice.
I'm standing outside the society of control. I'm the Joker and the wolf.

If you want to learn more about how cringe is used as a form of control, I recommend these texts:
"From Embarrassment to Prejudice: Online “Cringe Culture” as an Affective and Social Phenomenon" by Maxwell Seebold
"Cringe Content in a Society of Control" by Caroline Brody
Homo Sacer by Giorgio Agamben




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