Once a bitch always a bitch, what I say. I say you're lucky if the only thing you're worried about is her getting out of school. I say he should be down there in that kitchen right now, instead of up there in his room, slurping paint in his face and waiting on six niggas who can't even get out of a chair unless they got a pot full of bread and meat to balance them, to prepare her breakfast. And the Mother says: (113) Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay In a harsh, sarcastic voice of insolence, Jason's section roars with a start that immediately distances itself from the first two. No longer in the incoherent worlds of an idiotic, suicidal young man, the monologue that follows seemingly marks a return to some form of sanity. But the fluent speech does little to help the reader decipher the disturbing mind of this implacable villain. His discrepancies between thought and action portray a man helpless and lost in a world he foolishly believes he understands. His reiteration of “As I say once a bitch always a bitch” at the end of his speech shows a man out of touch with a tangible world, consumed by a past over which he has no control. He thus emerges as a tortured torturer; a sarcastic man who himself is the object of satire. Because he is as much a part of the family madness as Benjy and Quentin are forever Compsons, doomed from the start. Jason's character is absolutely abominable. The gross disrespect he shows towards anything and anyone leaves not a single opportunity to see him in a positive light. Most overtly seen in the reduction of people to sanctimonious orders, his thoughts repel the reader from an attempt to bond with him. No group is safe from his blind rancor; not even small townspeople, old maids, and preachers are spared from his verbal lashings (154-155). Swallows are also prey (155). As a proud Southerner, he has a place in his black heart against Yankees, Jews (120,121,147), college professors (156), and foreigners: but I'll be damned if he hasn't come to a good place where any damn foreigner who cannot make a living in the country where God has placed him, can come to this one and take money directly from the pockets of an American (121). Not surprisingly, the two groups he deals with most, women and blacks, are especially prone to his indifferent scrutiny (his entire section is fairly sample-based). Similarly, he characterizes each member of his family, dehumanizing them so that they become nothing more than repugnant objects to him: his father is an alcoholic; the mother is a demanding neurotic; brother a drooling idiot; sister and nephew prostitutes. With each cutting remark Jason reaffirms his superior notion of himself, leaving the reader in a state of aversion. If Jason's internal thoughts disgust, his overt actions only serve to anger. Bitterness and irony envelop his every social encounter; he doesn't offer a kind word or gesture to anyone, even those who supposedly deserve it (e.g. the sheriff, his boss, or his mother). Likewise, it foolishly induces conflict in perfectly harmless situations. Over and over he tries to get Earl's kind-hearted dismissal and beats up his fellow investors despite their attempts to befriend him. In his most blatant display of provocation, Jason senselessly attacks the old man (while in pursuit of Quentin), almost convincing the reader of his inherent evil (192-93). And the manic way his life isdictated by money only increases the reader's disgust. Attempting to gain social status, he seeks financial gain by any means possible. But it is not surprising that his honest efforts to do so are complete failures. Compulsively bad at the stock market ("I just want a chance to get my money back") and stuck on a meager pay as a lowly salesman, Jason descends to an unforeseen low by robbing young Quentin of $40,000 without questioning his integrity. He executes this elaborate plan with criminal delight, enjoying every step of the process, from his forgery to his mother's burning of the forged check and, finally, the obsessive counting of the looting. It becomes quite obvious that people have no place in his heart, but money certainly does. Yet all of these shocking traits are drastically overshadowed by the perverse pleasure Jason derives from his own depravity. An obvious change in voice and behavior is clearly seen when he suggests simply inflicting pain. His tone rises to a new level of haughtiness when he nobly states that the only way to handle women is to "keep them guessing. If you can't think of any other way to surprise them, hit them in the jaw" (122). . But seeing others writhe in anguish (specifically the anguish it creates) seems to elicit this state of childlike joy more. He recounts Benjy's imposed castration without reservation, proudly stating that it was the right thing to do even though the idiot had no idea what he was doing (164-65). His unyielding treatment of Quentin also shows this sadistic quality. Whether through verbal degradation, display of physical strength, meticulous torture of his mind and spirit (161-62), or all-out pursuit, Jason takes pleasure in making his life a living hell. The scene with the concert tickets adequately demonstrates his shocking mind (158-59). Sensing a window of opportunity when Luster says, "I wish I could go? I could if I had a quarter," Jason takes the opportunity to cause agony. Knowing full well that the "nigger boy" will not be able to provide a single penny (and with no real need for such a small sum of money), he ruthlessly tricks the servant into believing that he will give away the ticket. But instead of giving the free ticket to Luster, whose family is drastically underpaid, he gleefully taunts the boy, demanding a penny in compensation. When nothing is produced, he gently drops the puree into the stove and leaves the room; without even thinking about what he just did. This scene, combined with his incredible contempt for Caddy and his desire to see her baby (127-29), solidifies the reader's opinion of Jason as a complete asshole. One could too easily end their character evaluation at this juncture. But simply dismissing Jason as a reckless misanthrope is as foolish as his own reduction of people into narrow categories. Because while the reader can decipher much from his overt thoughts and actions, there is just as much to be learned from what he chooses not to acknowledge, namely the trauma of his past and the futility of his present. By examining these issues, a new perspective on his identity opens up. By serving not as a justification for his actions, but rather as a means of understanding them, they radically shift our response to this “villain.” Jason's inability to connect with his past should be easily recognizable in light of the first two sections. While Benjy and Quentin are totally fascinated by "yesterday," Jason doesn't delve significantly into the old days, save for the memory of his father's funeral.father. Despite this absence, her reiteration of Mrs. Compson's "Because you're a Bascomb, except in name" (in one form or another) and obsession with money sound suspiciously familiar to the themes revealed in the first chapter. Indeed, a closer examination of Benjy's story reveals the importance of Jason's past in his present. An intense identity complex ruins Jason's childhood. Benjy's memories of Jason overwhelmingly confirm this: he is not an exuberant, innocent young man, but rather a detached soul who finds no comfort in the familiar realm. Much of her isolation stems from Mrs. Compson's dedication to an extinct philosophy and her presumptuous efforts to shape it. Believing she has failed as a mother to her first three children (which she did), she pours out all her maternal "ignorance" on Jason. This "disregard" has its roots in the idea that the ultimate duty of a family is to occupy a prestigious position in the social hierarchy. The irony here is, of course, that her inheritance is less than that of her husband, Mr. Compson, who could care less about the matter. And because her first two competent children despise her and her beliefs, Jason becomes the last possible outlet for her illusion to become reality. It prescribes that he denounce his namesake (even if he carries his father's legacy) and accept an idealized version of what family should be. To ensure this he distances him from the family circle; he sleeps in the same bed as Damuddy and is constantly told that he is the only good Compson. It has a naivety and blind adherence. Yet Mrs. Compson is not the only reason for Jason's separation; the other family members treat him as an outsider from the beginning, considering him a counterpart to his mother. In a chapter filled with the persistent wails of a mentally incompetent (who is most often not comforted by his family in youth), there is a striking repetition of "Jason cried." Only Jason's cries are met with a "shut up" or "shut up" from Dilsey, "do you want to whip yourself again" (44) from Mr. Compson, taunting from Caddy, and total silence from her mother. Seeking some kind of attention, he receives none and further alienates himself from the clan. Caddy shows the boldest behavior towards her younger brother. She completely severs ties with him by disparaging every statement he makes (24), provoking him to chatter (when he has no intention of doing so) (13), and cruelly mocking the loss of his only protector: "Do you think the buzzards are going to strip Damuddy ." Caddy said. "You're crazy." "You're a skizzard." Jason said. He began to cry. "You're an idiot." Caddy said. Jason cried. He had his hands in his pockets. (23)The reader now sees the terrible consequences of these actions; Jason seeks refuge from this hatred by entering his mother's world, putting his hands back in his pockets. The combination of these situations has a detrimental effect on Jason's life. Since he never gets love from Mrs. Compson (she loves the ideal over him) or others, he seeks comfort through the physical supply of money. In this way he takes complete control of his destiny and still maintains the ideals he accepted as a child. The only time he breaks out of this solitary mode is to take a job produced by Caddy's marriage. But the ensuing consequences destroy what little faith he had in faithfulness and instigate his vengeful torment on the world, particularly Quentin. It completely abandons empathy in the process, building walls that permanently block human attachment. It is this image of a man, dominated by money but devoid of feelings, that emerges as the reader's Jason. He approaches life with a shot on the.