To be supercained is to be temporarily freed of the enslavement of mass consumerism and material wealth. One is rocketed and novacained into a cocoon of nirvanic bliss: a womb-
like state of oblivion where care,
pain, and external reality cease to exist.
The term has become particularly popular amongst the Hollywood elite; often used to describe the euphoric bliss that occurs shortly after they insufflate a copious helping of high grade
cocaine. The celebutantes are, for a brief moment in
time, released from the cage of superficiality and disillusionment to which they have been eternally chained.
The origin of the word 'supercained' is often ascribed to the highly dysfunctional gated community: Malibu Colony. However, the word's
real roots stem from the novel 'Super-Cannes'; a novel written in 2000 by
English author, J.G. Ballard (a.k.a. Bad Boy Ballard).
The novel depicts a
real village in Vallaurius,
France called Super-Cannes--an Eden-Olympia where the European ultra-elite have gathered in the hills above Cannes, forming a closed
society that offers its privileged residents luxury homes, private doctors, private security forces, their own psychiatrists, and other conveniences that only the excessively wealthy can possibly be privy to. Super-Cannes was one of Ballard's final novels before he passed in 2009.
Braxton: "I walked in on my
father banging Maddison this morning. Not that it was unexpected. It'
s not
like Maddison was really my girlfriend. I mean we fucked, we went to prom and all, but it's not as if either of us were emotionally attached. I admit, seeing my
father defile her anus did piss me off a bit. So I went into my
father's adamantium-plated vault, you know, where he keeps his stash of the 'pure' that he thinks I
don't know about. He must think I'm some sort of Wolffian Duct degenerate b/c the dipshit couldn't have made the pass-code any more obvious..i mean...he has it tattooed along the sheath of his penis, which he's so fond of flagellating in my presence. Anyways, dove into the never-ending dunes of white surrounding me and SUPERCAINED myself into a blizzard of oblivion, fresh powder and snow
flake flying everywhere. Feeling superhuman, I took his
mint Ferrari Enzo and drove it off the cliffs past the Mulholland turnpike. Shit went up in flames. I ejected myself of course, escaping unscathed I thought...however, the
cocaine must have had a numbing effect b/c my left femur and gastrocnemius have been throbbing for the past hour. Abatement with a dollop of lidocaine and a cortisone injection should remedy the cankle effect that seems to be hemorrhaging at an abnormal rate--which is beginning to make me feel mildly self-conscious. Pass that bowl of Lorna Doones, would you?"
