If you'll indulge me in some flamboyance, I'll suggest we go through three levels of Hell, bearing in mind that Hell in this metaphor is a place we like, given the sort of people we happen to be.

The first level, right off the bat, stops us from being mental clones of our parents, because the first level is thinking for ourselves. We all insist on that. Now of course it is possible to think for oneself yet not arrive at the perspective we happen to share, and that's why the process isn't yet complete at the first level.

At the second level we find ourselves applying our eyes and ears, our logical minds, our empathy, our sense of paradox, and our nausea, to life as we bump into it - and we find it wanting. So very wanting, do we find the universe, that we dismiss any notion of a governing supreme intelligence. So very wanting, do we find man, that we dismiss any notion of an angelic or celestial component to human nature. Here we have the atheistic misanthrope in full bloom, whom at this stage we would probably name a de facto Satanist.

One more level remains. Here we find ourselves taking notice of the fact that we are atheistic misanthropes, and deciding that we approve of this, in fact we delight in it. Self-aware, proud, and, crucially, in possession of an innate sense of drama, we are preconditioned to embrace some flamboyant metaphor to encapsulate the essence of what we've discovered in ourselves. The Satanic Bible or some other Satanic text provides us with just the thing, and we nod our heads, perhaps fiercely, perhaps gleefully, and hail Satan by our own name, this Satan whose flesh is our own, whose birth was our own and whose death will one day be our own.
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Elite because we smell the bullshit and do not deign to wallow in it.