Who Knew They Had Balls? Resistentialism & the Need for Constant Vigilance

I saw this product in a store the other day, and I thought that it explains a lot in regard to the theory that inanimate objects are out to get us. The theory, called Resistentialism, is one to which I have subscribed for most of my life.

Wikipedia describes it thusly:

Resistentialism is a jocular theory to describe "seemingly spiteful behavior manifested by inanimate objects."^[1] For example, objects that cause problems (like lost keys or a fleeing bouncy ball) exhibit a high degree of malice toward humans and lend support to resistentialist beliefs. In other words, a war is being fought between humans and inanimate objects, and all the little annoyances objects give people throughout the day are battles between the two. The term was coined by humorist Paul Jenningsin a piece titled "Report on Resistentialism", published in The Spectator in 1948^[2] and reprinted in The New York Times.^[3] The movement is a spoof of existentialism in general, and Jean-Paul Sartre in particular (Jennings identifies the inventor of Resistentialism as Pierre-Marie Ventre). The slogan of Resistentialism is "Les choses sont contre nous" -- "Things are against us".

It does not surprise me that things are out to get us. What does surprise me is that there are so many people who do not believe it. My dad didn't. Nor do a couple of my brothers (although my mom, my sister, and my brother M are in the know). Over time, I discovered that there are lots of people out there who think that inanimate objects are, in fact, inanimate and do not plot our downfall, in spite of the overwhelming amount of evidence to the contrary. My sister-in-law, SW (who is married to my brother R, who is not a believer), knows good and well that things are, indeed, out to get us. I'm glad that at least one of them gets it, as she can then try to defend her poor, misguided husband from the onslaught of attacks from "things."

But my brother is not the only one who doesn't believe. Ironically, when I googled "things are out to get us" (because I can never remember the word for this phenomenon), more than half of the results were for-real professional psychological resources to "help" me overcome my fear that inanimate objects have a life of their own and that they hatch malevolent schemes against us. They have obviously gotten the psychiatric world into their corner: a powerful move on their part, considering that mental health professionals can join the inanimate objects and the other human nonbelievers in convincing us that this notion that things are out to get us is "all in our heads." A little therapy, a few meds, a little reprogramming, and you'll be good as new. But many of us have escaped this societal brainwashing, and we are ever vigilant to protect ourselves and others from this threat.

Back to the picture. This gives me hope that my species is not so clueless as it seems. Maybe we have turned a corner, and now we are not just acting defensively but have taken an offensive stand. It looks like we are out to get the inanimate objects before they can get to us. Certainly, harvesting their balls--and then displaying them on store shelves like the heads of our enemies on a pike at the main gate into the city--should be a move in the right direction. It not only humiliates them but it also keeps them from procreating. That's what they get for "disappearing" our socks--only one of a pair--for generations.

I hope to see more products like this in the stores and "advertised on TV!" in the future. Maybe this will finally put a stop to chair legs that grab our bare toes, keys that creep off into dark corners when we know that we "left them right here," and TV remote controllers that do the same thing as keys, except that they prefer nice, soft hiding places, deep between the cushions of the living room furniture. Do you think it a coincidence that toilets back up on Thanksgiving Day when you have a houseful of guests? No, they know that you will have to pay about $750 an hour for a plumber who will come out on a holiday—but they’ve got you by the…where they want you: completely subjugated to them. Is it happenstance that your computer gets the blue screen of death with the most recent changes to your doctoral thesis on its hard drive? (You knew you should have backed it up to a jump drive, but you couldn’t find one handy, and you thought, “No big deal, I’ll do it in the morning.”) This computer had always acted in a trustworthy manner before and had never given you any reason to think that it was unreliable. That’s how they do it, you see. They’re very sneaky. In fact, computers and other digital technologies have their own section in the Inanimate Objects’ Manual of How to Screw With People’s Minds.


I have all sorts of stories of being vexed by machines and other things. I once almost smashed a recalcitrant VCR with a hammer. Now, admittedly, I shouldn’t have been working on a VCR with a hammer to begin with, but it had come to that. Fortunately, just before I took the hammer to it to “fix” it for good, I recalled that it wasn’t my VCR, but one I’d borrowed from a friend. I was so angry at it that I literally had to leave the room. Speaking of hammers, I once pounded the fuel filter casing off of the carburetor of my old Ford by using the wrench—with which I was trying to remove the filter in the traditional way—as a surrogate hammer. Another time, I almost launched a hammer through a large picture window because whatever project I was working on was not cooperating with me. I was standing on the back of the couch, which I’d pulled out several feet away from the wall (what on earth *was* I doing? I have no recollection now, but it involved using a hammer on the wall above the window.) The materials required by this project were not only not cooperating, but they were taunting me. In a rage, I pulled the hammer back over my shoulder, took aim at the big window, and, just as I prepared to fling it, I had a rare moment of clarity that allowed me to assess the satisfaction:consequences ratio of this act. It was a rental house. It belonged to my brother’s boss who was renting it to him at a very low cost. My brother R, had graciously allowed me to move in with him when I was in a housing crisis.  R would be dismayed to come home to find the living room furniture in disarray, the picture window with a large hole in it, and me, balled up on the floor, weeping uncontrollably, and saying something like, “They’re out to get me, they’re out to get me, they’re out….” My quick mental analysis worked. I put the hammer down, went to my bedroom, and proceeded to throw all of the lightweight things I could find at the wall. It wasn't as satisfying, but it also didn't have negative consequences.


Now you can see why I think that this is a very real threat to the human race and not just some sort of psychological issue. Please, friends. Be ever watchful. Warn others. Carry a hammer.