What Is the Age of the Imbecile?

For centuries, names of ages have been selected to reflect the zeitgeist pertaining to each, and in alignment with the outlook of predominant philosophers of a particular epoch. One could name some: the Dark Ages; the Age of Science; and, the Age of Reason; the Baroque Age; and, the Rococo Age, etc. The age we live in, however, represents an anomaly.

It is highly probable that in spite of all characterizations and analyses conducted by IYI, intellectuals yet idiots (A term coined by Nassim Nicholas Taleb (2018) in his book, “Skin in the Game.”), no one has given naming it any serious thought. As for the pathetic attempts at the task, well, one is rather inclined to deal with them in the same way one deals with those seaweed-like residues of grossly awkward moments from childhood: he simply, and conveniently, pretends they never took place. Their very names won’t even be suffered herein, for that matter.

[Note: the following tale is entirely a fabric of imagination, inspired from Socrates discourse with Diotima on Love in Plato’s (4th century B.C.) “Symposium”]

Five centuries heretofore, a goddess was praised: her name was Folly (suggested read: Desiderius Erasmus (1511), “The Praise of Folly”). At an indefinite moment in the distant past, the Greek gods of old were feasting for some unknown reason, and Bullshit the son of Lie, having frivolously indulged himself with nectar, retreated to the garden of Zeus for a nap. Folly espied him leaving; and, she herself inebriated; went after Bullshit with the intent of conceiving. Cunning, who was lurking in the same garden for some action, heeded the manner in which Folly trailed Bullshit. Intercepting Folly half-way, 

Cunning whispered: ‘Oy! Folly! It is Bullshit you’re after, eh? Contemplating to conceive his seed, aren’t you?’ 

Folly replied: ‘This is my intention, indeed.’

Cunning proceeded: ‘But, you are quite intoxicated; this might impede your fertility, hence your ability to conceive!’ 

Folly inquired: ‘Are you privy to any immediate remedy thereto?’

Cunning: ‘You see the berries over there? Those are the remedy you seek!’

The truth of the matter was that the berries, Cunning had pointed at, contained a rare form of sedative element that would put the fetus in a state of hibernation—which would last for eons after the fetus is delivered. 

In a moment of anxiety and lust for Bullshit, Folly followed Cunning’s instruction and consumed a handful of berries. Few minutes had passed hence, then Folly made her advance on Bullshit. 

Folly conceived and delivered a comatose infant. She realized then Cunning’s ploy. Since Folly fell victim to Cunning’s deception, and given that the child is hers and Bullshit’s, she gave the unconscious newborn the name, Imbecile. It would be millennia before Imbecile gains consciousness and revive from his hibernation, which inadvertently happens to have taken place in our age of social media, highlight reels, and the dominion of unfounded opinion over sound reason and judgment. 

An inexperienced junior god in the business of having influence over the affairs of mankind, Imbecile first sought ubiquity. He initially capitalized on the foundation his parents have established—i.e. Folly and Bullshit—in order to insinuate himself into the human mind. Getting a taste of divine influence firsthand after millennia of hibernation, Imbecile developed an insatiable desire for it—in the same manner a child craves manufactured sugar once he’s introduced to it. Unbeknown to him that time has changed since his birth; thinking that it was still the norm for gods to father human offspring; and, being seduced by human beauty; Imbecile went on few trysts and ended-up fathering human children of his own. 

Today, his progeny traverses and dominates Terra. One needs not run a DNA test to determine who are Imbecile’s descendants—their idiocy testifies for their lineage. Given that they have ‘multiplied and inhabited’ every corner of the earth—surpassing every other bloodline in number—it only appears fitting that they ought be credited with being the eponym of this age of ours, thus: the Age of the Imbecile. 

 

Reference

Taleb, Nassim N. Skin in the Game: Hidden Asymmetries in Daily Life. Random House, 2018.