If I had a Myspace page...

In the "who I'd like to meet" section, I would have Carl Gustaf Jung listed.

Why?

Because I would like to punch him right in his goddamn jaw, and say "What does that represent, Carl? Huh, huh? Does that 'spring forth' from something?"
"Of course not" he would say, as "Once the archetypes become conscious they fail to have meaning."

Fucking Carl.

As I continued to beat him, in between "Ow" and "Ahhh" he would probably mutter something about how the physical personification of the animus was quite painful, and that the aggression built into it was what made the beating possible. Marvelous, Carl! Marvelous!

And can you picture the trial? If it would even go that far...

The firey and eloquent prosecutor would point a finger, trembling with passion, in my direction and scream "...and this is the man before you today!" The crowd, enraptured by his sermonous tone, would be affected to the point that they would, themselves, feel guilty.

"If you would please, Carl, explain to the court what transpired that day."

"Yes" he would say, pointing in my direction, "This is the man who punched me in the face."

He would pause, and gulp nervously -- a clear sign that something profound was working its way out of the old CGJ...

And with the crowd captive, he would continue: ".... But as I sit here listening to this... this assassination of character that we civilized persons call a 'trial' I cannot merely proclaim: guilty! Not with all I know, not with all that I've seen." Carl would look down, head in hand and say quietly to himself "Oh, mother, you were right! Damn you, collective unconscious! How you haunt me."

Then, summoning the courage of one-thousand warriors he would somberly say: "You see, my fellow citizens, an indictment of this man is not just an indictment of a single brutal act, committed by a single man. No, this would be an indictment of all of US!

And there would be UPROAR in the crowd as people lept from their seats, with cries of "outrage... blashpeme" clearly audible over the cacophony of vocal rumbling, and shuffling bodies.

"And I, Carl Gustaf Jung, could not and will not, be so brazen and ignorant as to place judgement on all of us! For we are but... but... Humans! Thinking, feeling creatures... Don't you see? We all punched me! Oh... my... MY! Demeter! Gaea!" And in a final plea, not to man, but to something greater and undefined, Carl would stand and shout to the sky: "Why gods? Why have you cursed me? Why?