Freud had to invent the concept of “death drive” because the simplistic notion that we are all motivated by pleasure couldn’t explain many of our self-destructive behaviors. Something within us drives us to repeat things we know are bad for us. In that pursuit of excess, pleasure turns into pain but we keep going.
A cronut is a symbolic embodiment of this death drive. A butter-loaded croissant is not good enough; it needs to be deep-fried, sugar-coated, and topped with frosting. Wait. Even that’s not enough; it needs to be filled with cream too.
Repetition is a hallmark of death drive. Freud observed that traumatized soldiers tended to re-enact traumatic experiences, over and over again, like zombies. When you look at a cronut, you are reminded of this infinite loop; your self-destructive drive keeps going around and around in a circle, and it can never satisfy you because it just goes around a hole, a void, a lack. It never reaches any goal. It’s endless. The death drive wants to keep going forever.
Is it any wonder that cronuts are popular?
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