So I was having coffee and cigarettes with Esqueleto and our conversation turned towards ancient Greek philosophers. I said:
Everyone sees the great thinkers and storytellers of Ancient Greece as these dusty old farts immortalized in stone. Socrates, Plato, Sophocles, Homer, Aristotle... that entire gang of toga-wearing cerebral cosmonauts. You know what I think? I think they were more like us. Each one of them was too lazy to get a real job, too conceited to serve other people, and too egotistic to follow commands on the battlefield. Maybe some of them did such things for a time but quickly thought that they were too good for normal work. Like us, they hung around all day talking loudly about everything and forming audacious opinions. Like us, they clung to the belief that the cosmos has reserved some grand destiny for them. Like us, they knew that their role in the human race wasn't to save lives or to grow food or to build houses but to contribute to the group consciousness by talking mysteries to death and telling tall tales. Greek mythology didn't come up by itself. Someone had to be bullshitting really well. Speculative thought wasn't born of a woman. Someone had to be a know-it-all.