SKYWALKER

The genius of an artist, Aristotle says, lies in his texne, the root from which we get our word "technology"; but texne basically means skill or craft, or the ability to make things that never existed before. Negative Entropy, i.e., in-form-ation . . .

The musician and the architect, the poet and the physicist -- all inventors of new realities -- all such Creators may be best considered late evolutionary developments of the type that first appears as the shaman. Please remember that shamans in most cultures are known as "they who walk in the sky," just like our current shaman-hero, Luke Rey Skywalker . . .

SCENE III. Woods and cave, near the seashore.

Enter TIMON, from the cave

O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth

Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb

Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,

Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes;

The greater scorns the lesser: not nature,

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,

But by contempt of nature.

Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord;

The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,

The beggar native honour.

It is the pasture lards the rother's sides,

The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,

In purity of manhood stand upright,

And say 'This man's a flatterer?' if one be,

So are they all; for every grise of fortune

Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate

Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique;

There's nothing level in our cursed natures,

But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd

All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!

His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:

Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!

Digging

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate

With thy most operant poison! What is here?

Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,

I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!

Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,

Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.

Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this

Will lug your priests and servants from your sides,

Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:

This yellow slave

Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,

Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves

And give them title, knee and approbation

With senators on the bench: this is it

That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;

She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores

Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices

To the April day again. Come, damned earth,

Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds

Among the route of nations, I will make thee

Do thy right nature.

March afar off

Ha! a drum ? Thou'rt quick,

But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief,

When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.

Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

Keeping some gold

Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA

ALCIBIADES

What art thou there? speak.

TIMON

A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,

For showing me again the eyes of man!

ALCIBIADES

What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,

That art thyself a man?

TIMON

I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,

That I might love thee something.

ALCIBIADES

I know thee well;

But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

TIMON

I know thee too; and more than that I know thee,

I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;

With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:

Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;

Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine

Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,

For all her cherubim look.

PHRYNIA

Thy lips rot off!

TIMON

I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns

To thine own lips again.

ALCIBIADES

How came the noble Timon to this change?

TIMON

As the moon does, by wanting light to give:

But then renew I could not, like the moon;

There were no suns to borrow of.

ALCIBIADES

Noble Timon,

What friendship may I do thee?

TIMON

None, but to

Maintain my opinion.

ALCIBIADES

What is it, Timon?

TIMON

Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou

wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art

a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for

thou art a man!

ALCIBIADES

I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.

TIMON

Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity.

ALCIBIADES

I see them now; then was a blessed time.

TIMON

As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

TIMANDRA

Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world

Voiced so regardfully?

TIMON

Art thou Timandra?

TIMANDRA

Yes.

TIMON

Be a whore still: they love thee not that use thee;

Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.

Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves

For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth

To the tub-fast and the diet.

TIMANDRA

Hang thee, monster!

ALCIBIADES

Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits

Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.

I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,

The want whereof doth daily make revolt

In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved,

How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,

Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,

But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,--

TIMON

I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.

ALCIBIADES

I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

TIMON

How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?

I had rather be alone.

ALCIBIADES

Why, fare thee well:

Here is some gold for thee.

TIMON

Keep it, I cannot eat it.

ALCIBIADES

When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--

TIMON

Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?

ALCIBIADES

Ay, Timon, and have cause.

TIMON

The gods confound them all in thy conquest;

And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!

ALCIBIADES

Why me, Timon?

TIMON

That, by killing of villains,

Thou wast born to conquer my country.

Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on;

Be as a planetary plague, when Jove

Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison

In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:

Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;

He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;

It is her habit only that is honest,

Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek

Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,

That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,

Are not within the leaf of pity writ,

But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,

Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;

Think it a bastard, whom the oracle

Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,

And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;

Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;

Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,

Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,

Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:

Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,

Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.

ALCIBIADES

Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou

givest me,

Not all thy counsel.

TIMON

Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse

upon thee!

PHRYNIA TIMANDRA

Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?

TIMON

Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,

And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,

Your aprons mountant: you are not oathable,

Although, I know, you 'll swear, terribly swear

Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues

The immortal gods that hear you,--spare your oaths,

I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still;

And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,

Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;

Let your close fire predominate his smoke,

And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six months,

Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs

With burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd,

No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still;

Paint till a horse may mire upon your face,

A pox of wrinkles!

PHRYNIA TIMANDRA

Well, more gold: what then?

Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.

TIMON

Consumptions sow

In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,

And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,

That he may never more false title plead,

Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,

That scolds against the quality of flesh,

And not believes himself: down with the nose,

Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away

Of him that, his particular to foresee,

Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate

ruffians bald;

And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war

Derive some pain from you: plague all;

That your activity may defeat and quell

The source of all erection. There's more gold:

Do you damn others, and let this damn you,

And ditches grave you all!

PHRYNIA TIMANDRA

More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

TIMON

More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

ALCIBIADES

Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:

If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

TIMON

If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.

ALCIBIADES

I never did thee harm.

TIMON

Yes, thou spokest well of me.

ALCIBIADES

Call'st thou that harm?

TIMON

Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take

Thy beagles with thee.

ALCIBIADES

We but offend him. Strike!

Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA

TIMON

That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,

Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,

Digging

Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,

Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,

Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,

Engenders the black toad and adder blue,

The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,

With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven

Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;

Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,

From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!

Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,

Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!

Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;

Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face

Hath to the marbled mansion all above

Never presented!--O, a root,--dear thanks!--

Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;

Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts

And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,

That from it all consideration slips!

Enter APEMANTUS

More man? plague, plague!

APEMANTUS

I was directed hither: men report

Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.

TIMON

'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,

Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!

APEMANTUS

This is in thee a nature but infected;

A poor unmanly melancholy sprung

From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?

This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?

Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;

Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot

That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,

By putting on the cunning of a carper.

Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive

By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,

And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,

Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,

And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;

Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome

To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just

That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,

Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.

TIMON

Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself.

APEMANTUS

Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;

A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st

That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,

Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees,

That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,

And skip where thou point'st out? will the

cold brook,

Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,

To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures

Whose naked natures live in an the spite

Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,

To the conflicting elements exposed,

Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;

O, thou shalt find--

TIMON

A fool of thee: depart.

APEMANTUS

I love thee better now than e'er I did.

TIMON

I hate thee worse.

APEMANTUS

Why?

TIMON

Thou flatter'st misery.

APEMANTUS

I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.

TIMON

Why dost thou seek me out?

APEMANTUS

To vex thee.

TIMON

Always a villain's office or a fool's.

Dost please thyself in't?

APEMANTUS

Ay.

TIMON

What! a knave too?

APEMANTUS

If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on

To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou

Dost it enforcedly; thou'ldst courtier be again,

Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery

Outlives encertain pomp, is crown'd before:

The one is filling still, never complete;

The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,

Hath a distracted and most wretched being,

Worse than the worst, content.

Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.

TIMON

Not by his breath that is more miserable.

Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm

With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.

Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded

The sweet degrees that this brief world affords

To such as may the passive drugs of it

Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself

In general riot; melted down thy youth

In different beds of lust; and never learn'd

The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd

The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,

Who had the world as my confectionary,

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men

At duty, more than I could frame employment,

That numberless upon me stuck as leaves

Do on the oak, hive with one winter's brush

Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare

For every storm that blows: I, to bear this,

That never knew but better, is some burden:

Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time

Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?

They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?

If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,

Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff

To some she beggar and compounded thee

Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone!

If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,

Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.

APEMANTUS

Art thou proud yet?

TIMON

Ay, that I am not thee.

APEMANTUS

I, that I was

No prodigal.

TIMON

I, that I am one now:

Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,

I'ld give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.

That the whole life of Athens were in this!

Thus would I eat it.

Eating a root

APEMANTUS

Here; I will mend thy feast.

Offering him a root

TIMON

First mend my company, take away thyself.

APEMANTUS

So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.

TIMON

'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;

if not, I would it were.

APEMANTUS

What wouldst thou have to Athens?

TIMON

Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,

Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.

APEMANTUS

Here is no use for gold.

TIMON

The best and truest;

For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.

APEMANTUS

Where liest o' nights, Timon?

TIMON

Under that's above me.

Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS

Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat

it.

TIMON

Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!

APEMANTUS

Where wouldst thou send it?

TIMON

To sauce thy dishes.

APEMANTUS

The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the

extremity of both ends: when thou wast in thy gilt

and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much

curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art

despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for

thee, eat it.

TIMON

On what I hate I feed not.

APEMANTUS

Dost hate a medlar?

TIMON

Ay, though it look like thee.

APEMANTUS

An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst

have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou

ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?

TIMON

Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou

ever know beloved?

APEMANTUS

Myself.

TIMON

I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a

dog.

APEMANTUS

What things in the world canst thou nearest compare

to thy flatterers?

TIMON

Women nearest; but men, men are the things

themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world,

Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

APEMANTUS

Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.

TIMON

Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of

men, and remain a beast with the beasts?

APEMANTUS

Ay, Timon.

TIMON

A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t'

attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would

beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would

eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would

suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by

the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would

torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a

breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy

greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst

hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the

unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and

make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert

thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse:

wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the

leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to

the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on

thy life: all thy safety were remotion and thy

defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that

were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art

thou already, that seest not thy loss in

transformation!

APEMANTUS

If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou

mightst have hit upon it here: the commonwealth of

Athens is become a forest of beasts.

TIMON

How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?

APEMANTUS

Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of

company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it

and give way: when I know not what else to do, I'll

see thee again.

TIMON

When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be

welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.

APEMANTUS

Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

TIMON

Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!

APEMANTUS

A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.

TIMON

All villains that do stand by thee are pure.

APEMANTUS

There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.

TIMON

If I name thee.

I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.

APEMANTUS

I would my tongue could rot them off!

TIMON

Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!

Choler does kill me that thou art alive;

I swound to see thee.

APEMANTUS

Would thou wouldst burst!

TIMON

Away,

Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose

A stone by thee.

Throws a stone at him

APEMANTUS

Beast!

TIMON

Slave!

APEMANTUS

Toad!

TIMON

Rogue, rogue, rogue!

I am sick of this false world, and will love nought

But even the mere necessities upon 't.

Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;

Lie where the light foam the sea may beat

Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,

That death in me at others' lives may laugh.

To the gold

O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce

'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler

Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!

Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer,

Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow

That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,

That solder'st close impossibilities,

And makest them kiss! that speak'st with

every tongue,

To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!

Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue

Set them into confounding odds, that beasts

May have the world in empire!

APEMANTUS

Would 'twere so!

But not till I am dead. I'll say thou'st gold:

Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.

TIMON

Throng'd to!

APEMANTUS

Ay.

TIMON

Thy back, I prithee.

APEMANTUS

Live, and love thy misery.

TIMON

Long live so, and so die.

Exit APEMANTUS

I am quit.

Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.

Enter Banditti

First Bandit

Where should he have this gold? It is some poor

fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the

mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his

friends, drove him into this melancholy.

Second Bandit

It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.

Third Bandit

Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not

for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously

reserve it, how shall's get it?

Second Bandit

True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.

First Bandit

Is not this he?

Banditti

Where?

Second Bandit

'Tis his description.

Third Bandit

He; I know him.

Banditti

Save thee, Timon.

TIMON

Now, thieves?

Banditti

Soldiers, not thieves.

TIMON

Both too; and women's sons.

Banditti

We are not thieves, but men that much do want.

TIMON

Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.

Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;

Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;

The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;

The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush

Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?

First Bandit

We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,

As beasts and birds and fishes.

TIMON

Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;

You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con

That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not

In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft

In limited professions. Rascal thieves,

Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape,

Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,

And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;

His antidotes are poison, and he slays

Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together;

Do villany, do, since you protest to do't,

Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery.

The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction

Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,

And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:

The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves

The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,

That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen

From general excrement: each thing's a thief:

The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power

Have uncheque'd theft. Love not yourselves: away,

Rob one another. There's more gold. Cut throats:

All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,

Break open shops; nothing can you steal,

But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this

I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! Amen.

Third Bandit

Has almost charmed me from my profession, by

persuading me to it.

First Bandit

'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises

us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.

Second Bandit

I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.

First Bandit

Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time

so miserable but a man may be true.

Exeunt Banditti

Enter FLAVIUS

FLAVIUS

O you gods!

Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?

Full of decay and failing? O monument

And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!

What an alteration of honour

Has desperate want made!

What viler thing upon the earth than friends

Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!

How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,

When man was wish'd to love his enemies!

Grant I may ever love, and rather woo

Those that would mischief me than those that do!

Has caught me in his eye: I will present

My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,

Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!

TIMON

Away! what art thou?

FLAVIUS

Have you forgot me, sir?

TIMON

Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;

Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee.

FLAVIUS

An honest poor servant of yours.

TIMON

Then I know thee not:

I never had honest man about me, I; all

I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.

FLAVIUS

The gods are witness,

Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief

For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.

TIMON

What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I

love thee,

Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st

Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give

But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping:

Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!

FLAVIUS

I beg of you to know me, good my lord,

To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts

To entertain me as your steward still.

TIMON

Had I a steward

So true, so just, and now so comfortable?

It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.

Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man

Was born of woman.

Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,

You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim

One honest man--mistake me not--but one;

No more, I pray,--and he's a steward.

How fain would I have hated all mankind!

And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,

I fell with curses.

Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;

For, by oppressing and betraying me,

Thou mightst have sooner got another service:

For many so arrive at second masters,

Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true--

For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure--

Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,

If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts,

Expecting in return twenty for one?

FLAVIUS

No, my most worthy master; in whose breast

Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late:

You should have fear'd false times when you did feast:

Suspect still comes where an estate is least.

That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,

Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,

Care of your food and living; and, believe it,

My most honour'd lord,

For any benefit that points to me,

Either in hope or present, I'ld exchange

For this one wish, that you had power and wealth

To requite me, by making rich yourself.

TIMON

Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man,

Here, take: the gods out of my misery

Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy;

But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from men;

Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,

But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,

Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs

What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em,

Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men like

blasted woods,

And may diseases lick up their false bloods!

And so farewell and thrive.

FLAVIUS

O, let me stay,

And comfort you, my master.

TIMON

If thou hatest curses,

Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free:

Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.

Exit FLAVIUS. TIMON retires to his cave

SCENE I. The woods. Before Timon's cave.

Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON watching them from his cave

Painter

As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where

he abides.

Poet

What's to be thought of him? does the rumour hold

for true, that he's so full of gold?

Painter

Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and

Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor

straggling soldiers with great quantity: 'tis said

he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.

Poet

Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.

Painter

Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens

again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore

'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this

supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in

us; and is very likely to load our purposes with

what they travail for, if it be a just true report

that goes of his having.

Poet

What have you now to present unto him?

Painter

Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will

promise him an excellent piece.

Poet

I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent

that's coming toward him.

Painter

Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the

time: it opens the eyes of expectation:

performance is ever the duller for his act; and,

but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the

deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is

most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind

of will or testament which argues a great sickness

in his judgment that makes it.

TIMON comes from his cave, behind

TIMON

[Aside] Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a

man so bad as is thyself.

Poet

I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for

him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire

against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery

of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

TIMON

[Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in

thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in

other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet

Nay, let's seek him:

Then do we sin against our own estate,

When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Painter

True;

When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,

Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. Come.

TIMON

[Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. What a

god's gold,

That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple

Than where swine feed!

'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam,

Settlest admired reverence in a slave:

To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye

Be crown'd with plagues that thee alone obey!

Fit I meet them.

Coming forward

Poet

Hail, worthy Timon!

Painter

Our late noble master!

TIMON

Have I once lived to see two honest men?

Poet

Sir,

Having often of your open bounty tasted,

Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off,

Whose thankless natures--O abhorred spirits!--

Not all the whips of heaven are large enough:

What! to you,

Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence

To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot cover

The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude

With any size of words.

TIMON

Let it go naked, men may see't the better:

You that are honest, by being what you are,

Make them best seen and known.

Painter

He and myself

Have travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,

And sweetly felt it.

TIMON

Ay, you are honest men.

Painter

We are hither come to offer you our service.

TIMON

Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?

Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.

Both

What we can do, we'll do, to do you service.

TIMON

Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;

I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men.

Painter

So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore

Came not my friend nor I.

TIMON

Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit

Best in all Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the best;

Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

Painter

So, so, my lord.

TIMON

E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,

Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth

That thou art even natural in thine art.

But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,

I must needs say you have a little fault:

Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I

You take much pains to mend.

Both

Beseech your honour

To make it known to us.

TIMON

You'll take it ill.

Both

Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON

Will you, indeed?

Both

Doubt it not, worthy lord.

TIMON

There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,

That mightily deceives you.

Both

Do we, my lord?

TIMON

Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,

Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,

Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured

That he's a made-up villain.

Painter

I know none such, my lord.

Poet

Nor I.

TIMON

Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold,

Rid me these villains from your companies:

Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught,

Confound them by some course, and come to me,

I'll give you gold enough.

Both

Name them, my lord, let's know them.

TIMON

You that way and you this, but two in company;

Each man apart, all single and alone,

Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.

If where thou art two villains shall not be,

Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside

But where one villain is, then him abandon.

Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves:

To Painter

You have work'd for me; there's payment for you: hence!

To Poet

You are an alchemist; make gold of that.

Out, rascal dogs!

Beats them out, and then retires to his cave

Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators

FLAVIUS

It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;

For he is set so only to himself

That nothing but himself which looks like man

Is friendly with him.

First Senator

Bring us to his cave:

It is our part and promise to the Athenians

To speak with Timon.

Second Senator

At all times alike

Men are not still the same: 'twas time and griefs

That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand,

Offering the fortunes of his former days,

The former man may make him. Bring us to him,

And chance it as it may.

FLAVIUS

Here is his cave.

Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!

Look out, and speak to friends: the Athenians,

By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:

Speak to them, noble Timon.

TIMON comes from his cave

TIMON

Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak, and

be hang'd:

For each true word, a blister! and each false

Be as cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,

Consuming it with speaking!

First Senator

Worthy Timon,--

TIMON

Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.

First Senator

The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.

TIMON

I thank them; and would send them back the plague,

Could I but catch it for them.

First Senator

O, forget

What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.

The senators with one consent of love

Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought

On special dignities, which vacant lie

For thy best use and wearing.

Second Senator

They confess

Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:

Which now the public body, which doth seldom

Play the recanter, feeling in itself

A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal

Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon;

And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render,

Together with a recompense more fruitful

Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;

Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth

As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs

And write in thee the figures of their love,

Ever to read them thine.

TIMON

You witch me in it;

Surprise me to the very brink of tears:

Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes,

And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.

First Senator

Therefore, so please thee to return with us

And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take

The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,

Allow'd with absolute power and thy good name

Live with authority: so soon we shall drive back

Of Alcibiades the approaches wild,

Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up

His country's peace.

Second Senator

And shakes his threatening sword

Against the walls of Athens.

First Senator

Therefore, Timon,--

TIMON

Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus:

If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,

Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,

That Timon cares not. But if be sack fair Athens,

And take our goodly aged men by the beards,

Giving our holy virgins to the stain

Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war,

Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it,

In pity of our aged and our youth,

I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not,

And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not,

While you have throats to answer: for myself,

There's not a whittle in the unruly camp

But I do prize it at my love before

The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you

To the protection of the prosperous gods,

As thieves to keepers.

FLAVIUS

Stay not, all's in vain.

TIMON

Why, I was writing of my epitaph;

it will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness

Of health and living now begins to mend,

And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;

Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,

And last so long enough!

First Senator

We speak in vain.

TIMON

But yet I love my country, and am not

One that rejoices in the common wreck,

As common bruit doth put it.

First Senator

That's well spoke.

TIMON

Commend me to my loving countrymen,--

First Senator

These words become your lips as they pass

thorough them.

Second Senator

And enter in our ears like great triumphers

In their applauding gates.

TIMON

Commend me to them,

And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,

Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,

Their pangs of love, with other incident throes

That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain

In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:

I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.

First Senator

I like this well; he will return again.

TIMON

I have a tree, which grows here in my close,

That mine own use invites me to cut down,

And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,

Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree

From high to low throughout, that whoso please

To stop affliction, let him take his haste,

Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,

And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.

FLAVIUS

Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.

TIMON

Come not to me again: but say to Athens,

Timon hath made his everlasting mansion

Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;

Who once a day with his embossed froth

The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,

And let my grave-stone be your oracle.

Lips, let sour words go by and language end:

What is amiss plague and infection mend!

Graves only be men's works and death their gain!

Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.

Retires to his cave

First Senator

His discontents are unremoveably

Coupled to nature.

Second Senator

Our hope in him is dead: let us return,

And strain what other means is left unto us

In our dear peril.

First Senator

It requires swift foot.

Exeunt

Make Christmas Viral

“Invite Them in. Let’s take Them in. 

Let’s be like the diseased prion that destroys its host, and CJD.

Let’s go in there and give Them something They cannot digest. 

Something They cannot process. Something so toxic, so dangerous, so powerful.. that it will breed, and destroy Them utterly.

Not destroy Them – turn Them into Us. 

Because that’s What We Want. 

We want Everybody to be cool. 

We don’t want to go in and think: “That Guy over there’s gonna kill me; That Guy hates me; That Guy’s got some fucking weird agenda.”

Don’t We just wanna talk? And let it all go, and just say: “Hey, I’m interested in You; What have You got to tell Me?”

That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? 

We communicate; 

We join up; 

We make networks; 

We make things happen.

And there are Some People in The World who don’t wanna do that.

So let’s infect Them.

Infect Them to the point where They become Us.

Where there’s nothing left in This World, but Us.

And then Some Kid’ll come up and fuck that as well.

And that’ll be exactly what We need at the time.

And that’s Me finished, so Thank You very much.”

GM.

The Villain is a Hero

For a Delusion to thrive, other, More Rational Ideas must be rejected, destroyed.

Only then can The Delusion blossom into full-blown psychosis.

LINDSEY

(grins)

That's what I like to see... the Angel of yore. 

Takes no prisoners, suffers no fools. 

How 'bout this? It's Here. 

It's been Here all along. Underneath. 

You're just too damn stupid to see it.

ANGEL

(leans forward)

See what?

LINDSEY

The Apocalypse, man. You're soaking in it.

SPIKE

I've seen an apocalypse or two in my time. 

I'd know I one was under my nose.

LINDSEY

Not an apocalypse. 

The Apocalypse. 

What'd you think, a gong was gonna sound? 

Time to jump on your horses and fight the big fight? 

Starting pistol went off a long time ago, boys. 

You're playing for the bad guys. 

Every day you sit behind your desk and you learn a little more how to accept The World the way it is. 

Well, here's the rub... 

Heroes don't do that. 

[Nor do Villains.]

Heroes don't accept The World the way it is. 

They fight it.

[As do Villains.]

ANGEL

(sits back)

You're saying everything we do... it's a distraction... to keep us busy from looking under the surface.

LINDSEY

(snaps fingers)

Ding! We have a winner! 

The World keeps sliding towards entropy and degradation, 

and what do you do? 

You sit in your big chair, and you sign your checks, just like The Senior Partners planned.

The War’s Here, Angel.

And you're already 2 soldiers down.

The Hero is a Villain

SISKO: 

Let's think about it. 

A Starfleet security officer is fascinated by a nineteenth century French melodrama, and now he's a leader of the Maquis, a resistance group fighting the noble battle against the evil Cardassians. 

DAX: 

It sounds like he's living out his own fantasy. 

SISKO: 

Exactly. And you know what? 

Les Miserables isn't about The Policeman. 

It's about Valjean, the victim of a monstrous injustice who spends his entire life helping people, making noble sacrifices for others. 

That's how Eddington sees himself. 

He's Valjean, he's Robin Hood, he's a romantic, dashing figure, fighting the good fight against insurmountable odds. 

DAX: 

The secret life of Michael Eddington. 

How does it help us? 

SISKO: 

Eddington is The Hero of His Own Story. 

That makes me The Villain. 

And what is it that every hero wants to do? 

DAX: 

Kill The Bad Guy. 

SISKO: 

That's part of it. 

Heroes only kill when they have to. 

Eddington could have killed me back in the refugee camp or when he disabled the Defiant, 

but in the best melodramas The Villain creates a situation where The Hero is forced to sacrifice himself for The People, for The Cause.

One final grand gesture. 

DAX: 

What are you getting at, Benjamin? 

SISKO: 

I think it's time for me to become The Villain.

“The answer to all of this, everything that we’re talking about, is education into early history. 

Until people understand the Stone Age, the nomadic period, the agrarian era, and how culture, how civilization built up. . . 

In Mesopotamia - the great irrigation projects. Or in Egypt where you had. . . Centralized government authority became necessary to master these. . . 

You had a situation, an environmentally difficult situation like the deserts Mesopotamia, or the peculiar character of Egyptian geography where you can only have a little tiny fertile line along the edges of the Nile. 

Otherwise, desert landscape. 

So [understanding] civilization and authority as not necessarily about power grabbing but about organization to achieve something for the good of the people as a whole. 

Peterson: 

That’s exactly the great symbolism of 

The Great Father. 

Paglia: By reducing all hierarchy to power, and selfish power, is utterly naive. It’s ignorant. 

I say education has to be totally reconstituted, including public education, to begin in the most distant past so our young people today, who know nothing about how the world was created that they inhabit, can understand what a marvelous technological paradise they live in. 

And it’s the product of capitalism, it’s the product of individual innovation. 

Most of it’s the product of a Western tradition that everyone wants to trash now. If you begin in the past and show. . . And also talk about War, because War is the one thing that wakes people up, as we see. 

Peterson: And as we may see. 

Paglia: Yes, War is The Reality Principle. 

My father and five of my uncles went to World War II. 

My father was part of the force that landed in Japan. 

He was a paratrooper at the time of the Japanese surrender. And a couple of uncles got shot up and so on. 

When you have the reality of war, when people see the reality, the horrors of war - Berlin burned to a crisp and so on. 

Starvation and all. . . Then you understand this marvelous mechanism that brings water to the kitchen. 

And you flip on a light and the electricity turns on. 

Peterson: I know, for me, and I suppose it’s because I have somewhat of a depressive temperament. . . 

I mean one thing that staggers me on a consistent basis is the fact that anything •ever• works. 

Because it’s so unlikely, you know, to be in a situation where our electronic communications work, where our electric grid works. And it works all the time, it works one hundred percent of the time. 

And the reason for that is there are mostly men out there who are breaking themselves into pieces, repairing this thing which just falls apart all the time. 

Paglia: Absolutely. I said this in the Munk Debate in Toronto several years ago. All these elitists and professors sneering at men. It’s men who are maintaining everything around us. 

This invisible army which feminists don’t notice. 

Nothing would work if it weren’t for the men. 

Peterson: A professor is someone who’s standing on a hill surrounded by a wall, which is surrounded by another wall, which is surrounded by another wall - it’s walls all the way down - who stands up there and says I’m brave and independent. It’s like, you’ve got this protected area that’s so unlikely - it’s so absolutely unlikely - and the fact that people aren’t on their knees in gratitude all the time for the fact that we have central heating and air conditioning and pure water and reliable food. . . It’s absolutely unbelievable. 

Paglia: Yes, I mean people used to die. . . The water supply was contaminated with cholera for heaven’s sake. People don’t understand. To have clean water, fresh milk, fresh orange juice. All of these things. These are marvels. 

Peterson: And all of the time. 

Paglia: All of the time. Western culture is heading - because we are so dependent on this invisible infrastructure - we’re heading for an absolute catastrophe when jihadists figure out how to paralyze the power grid. The entire culture will be chaotic. You’ll have mobs in the street within three days when suddenly the food supply is interrupted and there’s no way to communicate. 

That is the way Western culture is going to collapse. And it won’t take much. 

Peterson: Single points of failure. 

Paglia: Because we are so interconnected, and now we’re so dependent on communications and computers. . . I used to predict for years it’ll be an asteroid hitting the earth, and then we’ll have another ice age.

Morpheus, The Hopeless Prophet

It was a lie, Morpheus.

Morpheus: 

The Matrix is a System, Neo. 

That System is Our Enemy. 

But when you’re inside, you look around —

What do you see?

Business people, teachers, lawyers, carpenters. 

The very minds of The People We are Trying to Save. 

But until we do, these people are still a part of That System, 

and that makes them Our Enemy.

You have to understand, 

most of these people 

are not ready to be unplugged. 

[ and most of them never will be. ]

And many of them are so inured, 

so hopelessly dependent on The System 

that they will fight to protect it. 

[ and why not? Why shouldn't they? ]

Were you listening to me, Neo?

Or were you looking at The Woman in The Red Dress?

Neo: 

I was…

Morpheus:

Look again. 

Freeze it.

Neo:

This…this isn’t The Matrix?

Morpheus:

No. It’s another training program 

designed to teach you one thing. 

If You are Not One of Us, you are one of Them.

Neo: 

What are They?

Morpheus:

Sentient Programs. 

They can move in and out of any software 

still hard-wired to Their System. 

That means that anyone we haven’t unplugged 

is potentially An Agent.

[ and also Cypher. Who you unplugged personally -- because he choses to be An Agent of The System and is completely fed up to the back teeth of you and all your bullshit (and he's RIGHT.) ]

Inside The Matrix, 

They are Everyone and They are No One.

[ But never THE One -- Jam Yesterday, Jam Tomorrow but never Jam Today. ] 

We are survived by hiding from them by running from them. 

But they are The Gatekeepers. 

They are guarding all the doors. 

They are holding all the keys, 

which means that sooner or later, 

someone is going to have to fight them.

Neo:

Someone?

Morpheus:

I won’t lie to you, Neo. 

Every single man or woman who has stood their ground, 

everyone who has fought an agent has died.

But where they have failed, 

you will succeed.

Neo:

Why?

Morpheus:

I’ve seen an agent punch through a concrete wall.

Men have emptied entire clips at them and hit nothing but air. 

Yet their strength and their speed are still based in a world that is built on rules. 

Because of that, They will never be as strong or as fast as you can be.

Neo:

What are you trying to tell me, that I can dodge bullets?

Morpheus:

No Neo -- I’m trying to tell you that when you’re ready, 

You Won’t Have To.

AXIS MUNDI : Heading Rapidly South

They •always• get started. 

They happen everywhere there's People. 

Mondas, Telos, Earth, Planet 14, Marinus. 

Like Sewage and Smartphones and Donald Trump —some things are just Inevitable. 

People get the Cybermen wrong. 

There's no evil plan, no evil genius. 

Just parallel evolution : 

(People + Technology) — Humanity = 

The Internet = Cyberspace = Cybermen. 

Always read The Comments.... 

Because one day, They'll be An Army. 

The Architect: 

The function of The One is now to return to the Source, allowing a temporary dissemination of the code you carry, reinserting the prime program. After which, you will be required to select from the Matrix 23 individuals – 16 female, 7 male – to rebuild Zion. Failure to comply with this process will result in a cataclysmic system crash, killing everyone connected to the Matrix, which, coupled with the extermination of Zion, will ultimately result in the extinction of the entire human race.

Neo:

You won’t let it happen. 

You can’t. 

You need human beings to survive.

The Architect :

There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept.

And it comes to one great statement, which for me is a key statement of the understanding of myth and symbols. He says. “I saw myself on The Central Mountain of The World, the highest place. And I had a vision, because I was seeing in a sacred manner, of the world.” And the sacred central mountain was Harney Peak in South Dakota. 

And then he says, 

“But the central mountain is everywhere.”

 That is a real mythological realization.

BILL MOYERS: 

Why?

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: 

It distinguishes between the local cult image, Harney Peak, and its connotation, the center of the world. 

The center of the world is the hub of the universe, axis mundi, do you know, the central point, the pole star around which all revolves. The central point of the world is the point where stillness and movement are together. Movement is time, stillness is eternity, realizing the relationship of the temporal moment to the eternal not moment, but forever -is the sense of life. Realizing how this moment in your life is actually a moment of eternity, and the experience of the eternal aspect of what you’re doing in the temporal experience is the mythological experience, and he had it. So is the central mountain of the world Jerusalem, Rome, Banaras. Lhasa, Mexico City, you know? Mexico City, Jerusalem, is symbolic of a spiritual principle as the center of the world.

BILL MOYERS: 

So this little Indian was saying, there is a shining point where all lines intersect?

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: 

That’s exactly what he said.

BILL MOYERS: 

He was saying God has no circumference.

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: 

God is an intelligible sphere, let’s say a sphere known to the mind, not to the senses, whose center is everywhere and circumference nowhere. And the center, Bill, is right where you’re sitting, and the other one is right where I’m sitting. And each of us is a manifestation of that mystery.

“I’d become fascinated by the power and the existence of the evil-has-won narrative and resolved to explore it further in a major DC universe crossover event. I was asked to complete what Dan DiDio was now calling his Crisis trilogy with a wrap-up book to be called Final Crisis. 

Dan wanted to use this series as a showcase for Kirby’s New Gods characters, and if I was excited by the idea of having to improvise on that theme, I was even more overjoyed to know that I had access to Darkseid himself, the ultimate supertyrant with his Anti-Life Equation. 

As far as I was concerned, the Anti-Life Equation was being rammed down my gullet every day in the papers and on TV, and I was sick of it; sick of being told the world was dying, and it was all because I’d forgot to turn off the bathroom light; sick of Fina(ncia)l Crisis, the War, and the teenage suicide bombers willing to die for the promise of a cheesy afterlife that sounded like a night out with the lap dance girls at Spearmint Rhino. 

With J. G. Jones and later Doug Mahnke on art, we set about dramatizing the breakdown of the rational enlightenment story of progress and development as it succumbed to a horror tale of failure, guilt, and submission to blind authority. 

I brushed up on the cheerful literature of apocalypse and doomsday, refamiliarizing myself with the various revelations, Ragnaroks, and myths of the end times to construct a thoroughly modern Armageddon in which half the human race was possessed by an evil god who announced his arrival in the form of Anti-Life Equation e-mails and small acts of cruelty that grow to consume the world. 

What would it look like if a comic-book universe died, and what could it tell us about what we were doing to ourselves? 

The “final crisis,” as I saw it for a paper universe like DC’s, would be the terminal war between is and isn’t, between the story and the blank page. 

What would happen if the void of the page took issue with the quality of material imposed upon it and decided to fight back by spontaneously generating a living concept capable of devouring narrative itself? 

A nihilistic cosmic vampire whose only dream was to drain the multiverse dry of story material, then lie bloated beneath a dead sun, dying. 

I tried to show the DC universe breaking down into signature gestures, last-gasp strategies that were tried and tested but would this time fail, until finally even the characterizations would fade and the plot become rambling, meaningless, disconnected. 

Although I lost my nerve a little, I must confess, and it never became disconnected enough. 

This, I was trying to say, is what happens when you let bad stories eat good ones. This is what it looked like when you allow the Anti-Life Equation to turn all your dreams to nightmares. In the end, there was nothing left but darkness and the first superhero, Superman, with a crude wishing machine, the deus ex machina itself, and a single wish powered by the last of his own life force. 

He wished for a happy ending, of course. 

Final Crisis was a bestseller, but it divided the Internet crowd like Alexander’s sword. One outraged reader even confidently predicted that I would, someday soon, be brought to account for the “evil” I had done. For a comics fan scorned, it seemed, the measure of evil lay not in genocide or child abuse but in continuity details deliberately overlooked by self-important writers, of plot points insufficiently telegraphed, and themes made opaque or ambiguous. 

If only one-tenth of the righteous, sputtering wrath of these anonymous zealots could be mustered against the horrors of bigotry or poverty, we might find ourselves overnight in a finer world. 

That’ll catch on.”