Maybe I'm getting better at reading the tea leaves of politics and language. It's been a hobby of mine for a long time, watching how they influence each other.
Yesterday I wrote a quick The Bus Arrives blog, and said I was throwing the word "intellectual" into the path of the next Greyhound. It's a silly word, conjured up by people who think they've cornered the market on human "intellect." They are the elite. The bright. The smart. The thoughtful. They dress their ideals up in prom dresses of language, then dazzle us with their beauty.
Today I saw an article called Conservatism and the Intellectual. It's a two-page piece that worries itself to death over what an intellectual is, and why the Left is more comfortable in the role of intellectual.
Waste of time. For the record: there are no intellectuals. Absolutely none. Zero. There has never been an intellectual on this planet, and there never will be. "Intellectual" is not a role you can achieve for yourself, nor is it a title you can apply to others.
There are only people. If they say things you agree with, throw in the odd bit of Latin, quote Montaigne, have only been wounded by household appliances, and cross their legs knee-over-knee, you call them intellectuals. If they say things you don't agree with, you call them an idiots. End of story.
"A great man you say? I always see only the actor of his own ideal."
That's me quoting Nietzsche. I even think I understand it. In fact, I think it sums up every "intellectual" on the block. It's no Montaigne, but can I play, too?
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