The Age of Arrogance

"The true period of arrogance for talented men comes between their twenty-sixth and thirtieth year; it is the time of first ripeness, with a good bit of sourness still remaining. On the basis of what one feels inside himself, one demands from other people, who see little or nothing of it, respect and humility; and because these are not at first forthcoming, one takes vengeance with a glance, an arrogant gesture, or a tone of voice. This a fine ear and eye will recognize in all the products of those years, be they poems, philosophies, or paintings and music. Older, experienced men smile about it, and remember with emotion this beautiful time of life, in which one is angry at his lot of having to be so much and seem so little. Later, one really seems to be more — but the faith in being much has been lost: unless one remain throughout his life vanity's hopeless fool."
- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An Arrogant Monologue -
(In Jest)

Once, if my memory serves me well, there was a point to all of this. There were underlying themes, friends becoming enemies, enemies becoming friends, and a series of resolutions destined to build into an epic crescendo. My life was a banquet of dissolute hopes and despairs unlike any other the earth had birthed, and all of it lie ahead.

Until I discovered that I was living my unique life already. Just like every one else. And I found this brutally unfair - hadn't the judges read my papers? Didn't I get voted "Most Likely To Revolutionize Human Thought And Transcend The Limits Of Imagination?" And I am supposed to share my kingdom with you?

Just yesterday the U.S. population grew to three hundred million individual souls, each one a shining idol onto itself. Six point seven billion people breathe air from our atmosphere every day. I see this as direct competition.

In order for a winner to exist, there must be a loser. And because I can identify this obvious symbiotic relationship, I must also deduce that you, my dear reader, must be that loser. It's just statistics. Because I will eventually win, or die in the process thereof, which still counts.

The morning will not consist of punching in a time-card for me, oh no, it'll consist of napalm-flavored mind warfare and victory over the irrevocable dumbness of mankind. I will demolish the inanity of modern life, and bring you closer to God (yourself), and you will validate me by ignoring my existence. I will know then for certain that I am a genius, because all of you will be in confederacy against me, and you, without a doubt, are total dunces.

Once I reach transcendence, I won't call you back anymore. I will hold grudges, and you may or may not be sorry that you ever met me, depending on the circumstances by which we parted. Either way, you probably ought to start being nice to me now and see where that gets you.

posted by ZHorton at 11:04 AM