Going Rogue: Faces of Morality
#1: Meet the Rogue
Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste.
Well, actually I'm a man of other people's wealth. And I admit, my taste can be quite bad.
But hey, I maintain that no matter how vulgar other people consider it to be, there's still a primordial appeal to precious metals and jewels. The universal bling, yeah? Or just the allure of shiny things. Ooh. Shiny.
I like having money. Please, don't give me that look. You do too. Everyone does. See, I've been poor. I've been rich. Rich is better. Trust me. Take it from me. Would I lie to you? I'm an honest and trustworthy man, you know. For a given value of 'honest' and 'trustworthy', anyway. But that's not the point.
What I'm saying is...people don't work because they like it. Well, I suppose some people do. But it's not the main reason, for most. The vast majority of labourers out there toil and struggle for income because they need it to survive. Without a paycheck, most poor souls would end up dead pretty quick. Oh, if you're lucky enough, you might live somewhere with a government that takes care of you. Unemployment benefits, the dole, whatever you want to call it. Welfare is a wonderful thing. But it isn't enough. It may let you live, but it won't let you live comfortably. Not so comfortably that you'll never want for more.
Everyone wants more.
Greed is not a sin. It's just part of the human condition, right? It's something none of us can deny. Too much greed, yeah, that's a no-no. All appetites are bad, when they get out of control. But the basic drive to acquire more is perfectly natural. If you try to deny it, you'll end up a monk or something, condemned to an eternal life of boring food, bad haircuts and no fashion sense. Our entire society is based on greed. The very meaning of capitalism and private property is that something belongs to you. You. Not anyone else. It's yours and yours alone. You can buy things. And you can sell them, of course...so you can buy more things.
That's capitalism. That's what it means. It's not evil. Yes, yes, many call it evil. Mostly religious types. The argument being, of course, what really matters is not the here-and-now but the world that lies beyond, and you can't take all these temporal riches with you. Something like that, anyway. I always slept through chapel in school. But that's based on an assumption, of course - that there's a great beyond, that there's heaven, reincarnation, whatever. If you believe that, well, fine. I've got nothing to say to you.
Well, actually...no. I do have something to say to you. Because even if there's life after death, you've still got life. That's what, seventy-odd years for most people? Most people in developed countries, anyway. If you're in Africa dying of AIDS or whatever, it'll probably be shorter. And quality of life matters. You probably don't want to be in Africa dying of AIDS. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Africa. Some of my best friends are African. Well. Okay. One friend. And he owes me money. Though he doesn't have AIDS.
Point is, you want a better life for yourself. Everyone does. There's no use denying it. Unless you really really want to become a martyr or saint - but trust me, that doesn't happen anytime soon. The Vatican takes decades to approve that sorta thing. I guess Heaven's paperwork is totally backlogged. God knows, they have terrible customer service. Strangely, God doesn't seem to do anything about it.
So. You want to be rich. I want to be rich. Everyone wants to be rich. Cool. We all have something in common. We should start a club or something, get together with like-minded people. Oh, right. There is such a club. It's called modern capitalist society. Neat. Where do I sign up?
Now, here's the thing, though. Once you've figured, hey, this money stuff is good and I gotta get my dirty paws on some...the next step is figure out how you get that cash. It's not just going to fall into your lap. It's not just going to grow on trees. Okay, maybe it might, if there's some flying supervillain that just robbed a bank but sprung a leak in his loot sacks. Or if some plant control type went really really crazy in their latest counterfeiting scheme, growing specially engineered money-shrubs. That's possible. It's a crazy world we live in.
But in practical terms, you have to actually make some effort to gain money. There are a few ways to do this, but broadly they can be divided into two camps:
Legal and illegal.
The legal way is the safe route. You're familiar with that, I'm sure. Nine to five work...though more like eight to six, these days, probably more. And it sucks. You know that too. See? You're smart. You're a genius. You don't need me to tell you these things.
Me? I'm a thief. Also a conman. I steal things. I cheat at cards. I lie. I swindle. I even stole candy from a baby once. Okay, actually, no, I'm making that last one up. There's no real profit margin in grand theft confectionery. It's not like there's a huge retail market for second-hand saliva-coated gummy bears with the serial numbers melted off. But there's plenty of stuff that is profitable. Very profitable. Extremely profitable. And I do all that stuff. Yes, I realise I'm being terribly vague here, but a man's got to have some mystery. He can't just show everything on the first date. What kind of hussy do you think I am?
Besides, I've got to protect my intellectual property rights. They're about the only rights I care about, since I'm clearly in the business of disrespecting the regular sort of property rights. If just told everyone how I managed to make thirty million with two hours of work and a rubber band, I wouldn't have any trade secrets left. I'm not a charity, you know. Do I look like I wear green tights and dance around the forest with other men, shooting long pointy objects at hard wooden trees? No, if I wanted to be camp, I'd be in Vegas, not St. Martial. They have better floor shows.
I steal things. I'm a thief. I'm not ashamed of my lifestyle choices. Yes, I screw over other people. Yes, I prey on the innocent. Yes, I take other people's hard-earned money and make it my own. I do all of these things. So on the ultimate scale of morality, I rank just above a cockroach but only slightly below lawyers and politicians. Not a bad place to be, really.
Sorry, sorry. Lawyer and politician jokes are way too easy. I'm better than that. Give me a moment. I'm sure I can come up with something else. Right. Okay. Try this for size:
I'm a thief. But that's okay, because I'm cool. That's okay, because I'm awesome. It makes it all better.
Really. Think about it for a sec. Why are there so many caper movies? What's Hollywood telling us, that it's okay to be a bank robber, a gambler, a cat burglar, a jewel thief...if you look sexy while doing it? Well, yeah. That's exactly what Hollywood's telling us. And they're right. If you're sexy enough, it's all good. And people wonder why so much of my proceeds go to hair care and facial products. This look doesn't take care of itself, you know.
But I'm not selfish. I share the wealth. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm telling you all this, right? I hope you've been taking notes. There'll be a test later.
My name's Triple Seven. And you too can be a dashing rogue.
Like me.
NEXT: VIGILANTE
-- Acyl
#1: Meet the Rogue
Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste.
Well, actually I'm a man of other people's wealth. And I admit, my taste can be quite bad.
But hey, I maintain that no matter how vulgar other people consider it to be, there's still a primordial appeal to precious metals and jewels. The universal bling, yeah? Or just the allure of shiny things. Ooh. Shiny.
I like having money. Please, don't give me that look. You do too. Everyone does. See, I've been poor. I've been rich. Rich is better. Trust me. Take it from me. Would I lie to you? I'm an honest and trustworthy man, you know. For a given value of 'honest' and 'trustworthy', anyway. But that's not the point.
What I'm saying is...people don't work because they like it. Well, I suppose some people do. But it's not the main reason, for most. The vast majority of labourers out there toil and struggle for income because they need it to survive. Without a paycheck, most poor souls would end up dead pretty quick. Oh, if you're lucky enough, you might live somewhere with a government that takes care of you. Unemployment benefits, the dole, whatever you want to call it. Welfare is a wonderful thing. But it isn't enough. It may let you live, but it won't let you live comfortably. Not so comfortably that you'll never want for more.
Everyone wants more.
Greed is not a sin. It's just part of the human condition, right? It's something none of us can deny. Too much greed, yeah, that's a no-no. All appetites are bad, when they get out of control. But the basic drive to acquire more is perfectly natural. If you try to deny it, you'll end up a monk or something, condemned to an eternal life of boring food, bad haircuts and no fashion sense. Our entire society is based on greed. The very meaning of capitalism and private property is that something belongs to you. You. Not anyone else. It's yours and yours alone. You can buy things. And you can sell them, of course...so you can buy more things.
That's capitalism. That's what it means. It's not evil. Yes, yes, many call it evil. Mostly religious types. The argument being, of course, what really matters is not the here-and-now but the world that lies beyond, and you can't take all these temporal riches with you. Something like that, anyway. I always slept through chapel in school. But that's based on an assumption, of course - that there's a great beyond, that there's heaven, reincarnation, whatever. If you believe that, well, fine. I've got nothing to say to you.
Well, actually...no. I do have something to say to you. Because even if there's life after death, you've still got life. That's what, seventy-odd years for most people? Most people in developed countries, anyway. If you're in Africa dying of AIDS or whatever, it'll probably be shorter. And quality of life matters. You probably don't want to be in Africa dying of AIDS. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Africa. Some of my best friends are African. Well. Okay. One friend. And he owes me money. Though he doesn't have AIDS.
Point is, you want a better life for yourself. Everyone does. There's no use denying it. Unless you really really want to become a martyr or saint - but trust me, that doesn't happen anytime soon. The Vatican takes decades to approve that sorta thing. I guess Heaven's paperwork is totally backlogged. God knows, they have terrible customer service. Strangely, God doesn't seem to do anything about it.
So. You want to be rich. I want to be rich. Everyone wants to be rich. Cool. We all have something in common. We should start a club or something, get together with like-minded people. Oh, right. There is such a club. It's called modern capitalist society. Neat. Where do I sign up?
Now, here's the thing, though. Once you've figured, hey, this money stuff is good and I gotta get my dirty paws on some...the next step is figure out how you get that cash. It's not just going to fall into your lap. It's not just going to grow on trees. Okay, maybe it might, if there's some flying supervillain that just robbed a bank but sprung a leak in his loot sacks. Or if some plant control type went really really crazy in their latest counterfeiting scheme, growing specially engineered money-shrubs. That's possible. It's a crazy world we live in.
But in practical terms, you have to actually make some effort to gain money. There are a few ways to do this, but broadly they can be divided into two camps:
Legal and illegal.
The legal way is the safe route. You're familiar with that, I'm sure. Nine to five work...though more like eight to six, these days, probably more. And it sucks. You know that too. See? You're smart. You're a genius. You don't need me to tell you these things.
Me? I'm a thief. Also a conman. I steal things. I cheat at cards. I lie. I swindle. I even stole candy from a baby once. Okay, actually, no, I'm making that last one up. There's no real profit margin in grand theft confectionery. It's not like there's a huge retail market for second-hand saliva-coated gummy bears with the serial numbers melted off. But there's plenty of stuff that is profitable. Very profitable. Extremely profitable. And I do all that stuff. Yes, I realise I'm being terribly vague here, but a man's got to have some mystery. He can't just show everything on the first date. What kind of hussy do you think I am?
Besides, I've got to protect my intellectual property rights. They're about the only rights I care about, since I'm clearly in the business of disrespecting the regular sort of property rights. If just told everyone how I managed to make thirty million with two hours of work and a rubber band, I wouldn't have any trade secrets left. I'm not a charity, you know. Do I look like I wear green tights and dance around the forest with other men, shooting long pointy objects at hard wooden trees? No, if I wanted to be camp, I'd be in Vegas, not St. Martial. They have better floor shows.
I steal things. I'm a thief. I'm not ashamed of my lifestyle choices. Yes, I screw over other people. Yes, I prey on the innocent. Yes, I take other people's hard-earned money and make it my own. I do all of these things. So on the ultimate scale of morality, I rank just above a cockroach but only slightly below lawyers and politicians. Not a bad place to be, really.
Sorry, sorry. Lawyer and politician jokes are way too easy. I'm better than that. Give me a moment. I'm sure I can come up with something else. Right. Okay. Try this for size:
I'm a thief. But that's okay, because I'm cool. That's okay, because I'm awesome. It makes it all better.
Really. Think about it for a sec. Why are there so many caper movies? What's Hollywood telling us, that it's okay to be a bank robber, a gambler, a cat burglar, a jewel thief...if you look sexy while doing it? Well, yeah. That's exactly what Hollywood's telling us. And they're right. If you're sexy enough, it's all good. And people wonder why so much of my proceeds go to hair care and facial products. This look doesn't take care of itself, you know.
But I'm not selfish. I share the wealth. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm telling you all this, right? I hope you've been taking notes. There'll be a test later.
My name's Triple Seven. And you too can be a dashing rogue.
Like me.
NEXT: VIGILANTE
-- Acyl