Disclaimer: the following rant is severely angry and frustrated, and will include Malcolm Tucker language. (Malcolm Tucker being: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_The_Thick_of_It_characters)
Disclaimer II: the following rant includes hints at specific traits of specific persons. So if you feel targeted, you probably are.
We all agree to disagree when it comes to defining intelligence. But everyone loves to call themselves an idiot just to prove to themselves that they are the opposite. Do not deny it, we’ve all been there. It’s like your own little version of checking the account of someone you hate and being thankful for the mute option; a sense of reassurance that you are not the next member of the Jersey Shore cast. It’s avoiding the pity of you by pitying others, which most of us do at a very reasonable rate of insecurity.
But ho-ho-ho, do some people have their cake, drop it on a public school’s restroom floor, lick it off, get diarrhea, then stand with their bottoms facing a fan to magnificently shit that cake of desperation for intelligence all over those daring to be intrigued. They call them “pseudo intellectuals” if my absolutely-precise analogy threw you off. This spectacular brand of people would quote Carl Sagan when you ask them what their favorite salad dressing was. They would bombard you with half-quotes, almost-thoughts and near-convictions which, upon scrutiny, prove to be as valid as Snoop Dogg’s – sorry, Lion- testimony. You know them; they’re all over the Internet with their self-validation which they derived from a Wikipedia page on Absurdism. Self-contradictory to the point of bipolarity, they parade their “knowledge of the world” by using big-boy vocabulary just to prove to you that signals do go through their nervous systems as well.
Said signals do go through their brains, but they go in the fashion of Morse code which neither the recipient (us, oh, glorious common people) nor the sender (ass-faced, over-developed sperm) comprehend. A festival of all adjectives sewn together and tossed over a tattered, ugly, purple couch of palpable thought presenting you with a lovely sight but a horrid experience is what a closer look at pseudo intellectuals will provide you with. Starting with their love for the ambiguous (which ends up being a thought revolving around craving attention) and ending with the regular process of vomiting all their says and dos through a thesaurus into declares and renders, pseudo-intellectuals will practice the perfect wedgie on your sense and understanding.
This very pity-worthy array of characteristics which somehow found its way to manifest wholly within one person at a time is exactly why I’m starting to appreciate the hardcore Foursquarers more. Away from all the nebulae , the agnostic mania, the atheistic spread, the self-pity, the self-loving, the self-referencing , the self-absorption and the 3-syllables-and-up, strict rule, the Foursquarers at least express an original (whole) thought by heading to Applebee’s.