First of all, a Satyr is a benevolent host for a traveller in the forest in winter. The satyr is bewildered by the man’s claim to be able to blow hot and cold with the same breath, first to warm his hands, then to cool his porridge, and turns him out for this inconstancy.
I guess the nature of this thread is to identify the characteristics that makes one a scumbag or not. I am sure every individual knows at least (or has heard) of one scumbag in his/her life. An ex-close friend of mine comes to mind in this topic and surprise surprise he is a professional telemarketing salesman. The scummiest of all giving cold unwanted calls with no awry shame as to who and what it is he does. Sure, not all incumbents in this profession are scumbag but this particular individual I am referring to takes his work arrogance to outside the work environment and believes that individuals can simply be manipulated against their will through words - traits of a scumbag alright. Fair enough, there is a Satyr in him, he is a great entertainer and makes great spectacles of himself in his grand quest to be number one. And the scariest thing is he is improving on his scumbag skills as the years go by.
I would like to think that every individual has a Satyr like friend like I just described somehow associated with his/her life. It does add to variety and learning opportunities about the sheer nature of human folly. My lesson would be not to hate or envy the Satyr’s success ought that occurs, they suffered enough.
If values take precedence, even more than matter, then would satyrs camouflage and shed their hide, and wrap tumours for thick skins about them? Or would they dare dye their beards in vermilion tincture and leave their hoof-prints into the market?
But the satyrs have never suffered from a lack of higher vantage. they are the ones at the height who having looked down into the abysmal valley have suffered the pangs of wisdom, the nausea of too much knowledge.
The cure for nausea is to speak out this excess knowledge, and that is exactly what such an age as ours prevents.
In any case, today everyone fancies himself wise. The “wise silenus” would be a banality, a comedy.
The man-child, still high from last-night’s orgy with the whores he purchased, will have to allow me a few seconds of his precious time, to express my admiration.
I could never be, like him…happy, and worldly, and in the know.
I only want to experience modern garbage vicariously, trying to find in the crap something to salvage…for my own use.
I can appreciate how easy it is to mesmerize stupid cunts, and impress morons with large pockets, but what I cannot relate to is living an entire lifetime doing only that.
The average man-child sometimes discovers how empty words are…and how much fakery he is surrounded by.
Having nothing else to fall back on, being so void of past, of family, tradition, culture, he settles for playing along, and becoming good at pretence, and bragging, and posturing, and using words to create false images.
Neither can I. But go ahead and convince yourself of whatever makes you comfortable old man. Go shove a fistful of feta down your face and have some tabouli.
i could, only it’s only ambrosia i would accept, and only delicately, piecemeal, with determined and measured gestures, hoping at least the style to survive. otherwise,? lostness, forever.
A word of caution, dear.
Digging in the mud is an occupation for the swine. Do exercise parcimony when engaging in these vicarious explorations. You may grow a snout.
