Yes, dear friends, and what genius are we to recognize in the sociopathic dribble that falls from Satyr’s mouth like rabies infested froth. He clearly wants us to recognize it as is indicated in such self-referencing statements as:
Where, and how would we recognize it having been brought up with crap and made to admire the base?
Where and how would we even find it within all the information overload and this avalanche of crap?
Or:
How would a genius “stand out” in a world where he cannot speak his mind, unless he defers to the emotions of the mediocre?
Or this clear reference to his own frustration:
A genius will stand out but only amongst those who can appreciate the content, to the average moron, like this retard, he is as good as invisible or not “what he pretends to be” because even the idea of “genius” comes with a cultural and social definition.
Now my use of the term “genius” was a little frivolous since I tend to think the term is best left to historians. To me, to call someone a genius who is alive only means that they have done something that happens to have blown one away. Satyr clearly thinks differently. He thinks it is something that must be recognized by a select few –a few I assume to be like him. Once again:
A genius will stand out but only amongst those who can appreciate the content….
So how does this work? There are a few elite like Satyr who recognizes such a quality even if it doesn’t last in popularity? So basically the genius of Nietzsche only exists because elites like Satyr recognized it and not because everyone who has read philosophy has generally read Nietzsche? I mean how does he separate the notion of genius from the fact that people generally recognize it? All this sounds like to me is a fallback for when he dies unrecognized like the rest of us mediocre apes.
On the other hand, Satyr clearly knows all the cues. You approach him and act like you understand him and he will rip you down and exclaim “you don’t know shit about me!” And of course you don’t. This is because Satyr resorts to a strategy of elusiveness for the sake of elusiveness with no content-based justification for doing so. He’s little like the point in Thus Spake Zarathrusta about poets who will muddy shallow pools and act as if it is depth. In fact, I would argue that between the above, Wittgenstein’s nastiness, Diogenes condemnation of society, and Nietzsche’s self imposed isolation, Satyr has pretty much latched on to every philosophical cliché he’s found. It’s no wonder he’s also latched onto a philosophical criteria of “if it snarls, it must be meaningful.” This is why he would make such a nonsensical statement as this little gem:
And this, dear fiends, is what a liberal retard is all about.
The idea of being more efficient with his search scares the shit out of him because he might be excluded from the discovery…and the idea that genius is more than just accidental hurts his feelings because of what it says about him and all his ancestry.He’s hoping that after thousands of years of clattering away one of his own blood will rise to the level of what he might call genius. He wishes to retain that possibility, even if there is an entire past which contradicts it.
What past is he talking about? The one of Dickens? Rousseau? Mills? Van Gogh? Williams? Wordsworth? Marx? Whitman? Steinbeck? And how did our culture progress without progressives? According to Satyr, we should have stopped some time ago. Or maybe these people don’t count because they don’t to the “elite” like Satyr. And what uncompassionate bastards brought us to the point we are now? Spencer?
And, of course, Satyr wants to believe “genius” is something more than accidental. He wants to believe it is merely a matter of exerting one’s will. What else could he think he’s doing when he uses such heavy-handed tactics as referring to me as “Moron” or “retard” or “boy”. He acts as if the shear forcefulness (or willfulness) of the terms would somehow feel like a club over my head. But, ultimately, all it feels like is overcompensation: an attempt to gloss over the failures, pretentions, and weaknesses of his arguments through force and momentum.
And this, dear friends, is what an authoritarian ape is all about. He is afraid that others will have made up their own minds about what “genius” or beauty is. And he clearly doesn’t want us to be part of it. That would make it less than esoteric knowledge and undermine his own fanciful bid to superiority. One can almost imagine him sitting in front of his keyboard snorting and grunting approvingly at what he has managed to produce from his mostly primal mind.
This will get them, he must snarl while drooling on himself, then break into a victorious “Hah!”
The irony (and self defeating aspect) of it is that he doesn’t want us to get it. If we did, we would be his equal. And that just wouldn’t do; now would it?