January 4, 2021:
Along with and following in the footsteps of every other narcissistic wanker in the history of the universe she'll generously donate instructions while firmly declining the opportunity to work.
"I'm the ideas guy," said once-upon-a-time her compatriot in wankerdom. With his feet on the table in the most smugly smugass tone possible of radical self-satisfaction.
She thinks her ideas are so valuable that her mission is therefore to preserve her idea-generating time from counterproductive distractions like, say, implementation. Execution is someone else's concern. Her role is guidance. Her wanker compatriot comes from a different history, but the outcome is the same for him as it is for her. He dreams the dreams, others do the work.
Naturally — obviously — of course — does it go without saying? In both their cases their ideas are stale, backward-looking, derivative, pointless. He thinks up nothing better than pale recreations of responses to the conditions of his earlier life. "We should do a theoretical journal, like New Left Review back when it was good." As if conditions were unchanged, and as if he has the editorial chops. As if. She repeats wisdom she's gathered from Internet sources who've impressed her not for their expertise but rather their sheer volume, as though raised voices in ALL CAPS are avatars of excellence. As though.
I imagine they each would be mightily offended to be compared with the other. That's the inevitable corollary to their shared flavor of narcissism. They each expect credit for originality. As if as though.
There is a difference. Her goal is control. She wants to be a cult leader. His goal is ego strokes. He wants to be complemented. As if as though.
Someone should introduce them. Although, I fear if they ever met the universe would collapse inward on itself in an implosion of narcissistic overload. The origin of a new black hole.