anti intellectual intellectual crusade

This is my scolding critique to intellectualism: the intellect can indeed become infatuated with a serpentine arrogance, a bravado over its own accomplishments, even pride-taking in its own existence... and it can indeed fall in love with its own produce, never casting an eye to anything else but what itself has created, feeling from it as if caught in the whiff of a lover's scent. This is a pathology of ideological or intellectual possession, wherein an ideology or an intellectual arrogance becomes a djinn or a hellish demon, infecting its host with all kinds of subhuman vices - but the host will only leer at you as you point it out; for him or her, what the outer eye will perceive as dumb-founded and uncredited arrogance, it has become the most high, and when the intellectual becomes enamoured with his own intellectual creations, one must ask oneself if this person is the absolute genius, or merely an absolutely average asshole with a very spectacular overbelief in him- or herself. In this, I echo Nietzsche's great criticism of the polluted stream of philosophy: a stream of just words, mere words and deep and profound abstractions but nothing more... a bone sucked dry of its marrow... so I conclude: yes, intellectualism and most of all philosophy I have ever come across is suffering from an unrootedness to the world. The intellectual may love his intellectual produce, but show me the intellectual loving his intellectual produce while living the myth of the Hero! That is an intellectual I can admire and regard with dignity... but that person is no more a mere intellectual, for this is what separates him from them: fuck that person who believes his or her knowledge to be complete, and fuck your unenactable philosophies too; are mostly piles of words and nothing else.