"Well, I guess you either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." - Harvey Dent as quoted from The Dark Knight (see also A Riddle from the Dark Knight)In considering the French homonymies, that are by no means unrelated or accidental, between vil and villain(e), that is, between 'vile' an 'villain' which, at least in their French semantic intention, retain something of an aristocratic disdain for and looking down at the lower, less privileged, less high-minded and less beautiful orders of co-existing human beings, I was wondering how that might come to infuse the English meaning of those words in a newly creative way that reflects the urgency of contemporary Being.
For is it not more and more the case today that, to keep a relatively good, free and heartfelt conscience (see Skull and Bones and Importance of the Heart), one that refuses to give in to the monstrous, conformist demands and machinations of capital and the (social and technological) horrors of the employed life-path (see, inter alia, The Meaning of CV, Capital as Head and Enchanting Magic v Stupefying Sorcery), one needs to become a hero (or fool) determined to follow one's gut instinct of ergophobia, even as it dangerously goes against the grain and leads, as it did in my case, to temporary madness (see Stages and Contexts of My Thoughts) and a life at the margins of civilised life (on which see What is Decadence?)?
In other words, once removed from the rat race and caught in the logic of repeated State-benefits claims as an almost inevitable result of an initial refusal to comply with the manipulations of those who control satanic currency, however heroic (or foolish) the down-going - via, let us make it abundantly clear, ill-suited, crappy jobs and a passage through the mad-house - that led to that outcome and however noble and creative the path trod as enabled by such claims, does one live long enough to see oneself become the villain, at least in the eyes of the State and the employed, tax-paying population who are not afforded the privilege of leisure that enables something like a ScruffyOwlet's Tree which, as far as I know, only a couple of souls actually read, and even then only with great irregularity and not a little bemusement?
Am I not much rather a vile villain, a parasitic form of existence making the most of enforced, tax-enabled redistribution (see The Problem of Taxation and Market Victory), leading an artistic and philosophical life that really only apparently satisfies my needs and desires, than the courageous, magnanimous knight of thinking I like to think I am (see Thinking Knights)? Have I not simply become a lazy, navel-gazing, layabout philosopher who likes to disappear up his 'superior arse', to employ a phrase used against me by a disabused Daily Mail reader?
As regards these matters, the question of whether I rate as a villain, a hero or a fool, as a vile economic parasite (in the sense of the monetary system - see my poem Welfare) shunning collective suffering or a fee-spirited, wealth-creating artist-philosopher (in the sense of one who brings-forth spiritual wealth) feeding those who are hungry for foods not uniquely aimed at bodily sustenance, or simply an over ponderous and pompous fool who is letting life pass him by by thinking too much - that is, to put it differently, the question of whether or not I have earned or am satisfactorily earning my keep in the form of my words and works as shared here on the inter-trap, I fully hand myself over to the judgment of my readers and audience, whomever they may be, and whatever the horizon-ing, i.e. delimitating, boundary (ὁρίζων) of their manner of evaluation and the kind and quality of their knowing sensibility (on which see Knowledge and Sensibility).