Some bits and pieces from Wiki:
Sigmund Freud, in his 1927 essay Humour (Der Humor), puts forth the following theory of black comedy: "The ego refuses to be distressed by the provocations of reality, to let itself be compelled to suffer. It insists that it cannot be affected by the traumas of the external world; it shows, in fact, that such traumas are no more than occasions for it to gain pleasure."
At his public execution, the murderer William Palmer is said to have looked at the trapdoor on the gallows and asked the hangman, "Are you sure it's safe?"
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Pieces from Stirner's mostly unreadable book:
This higher thought might be enunciated as that of the movement or process of thinking itself, i.e. as the thought of thinking or of criticism, for example.
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Freedom of thinking has in fact become complete hereby...There is nothing left but the — dogma of free thinking or of criticism.
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Criticism, and criticism alone, is “up to date.” From the standpoint of thought there is no power capable of being an overmatch for criticism’s, and it is a pleasure to see how easily and sportively this dragon swallows all other serpents of thought. Each serpent twists, to be sure, but criticism crushes it in all its “turns.”
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Criticism is the possessed man’s fight against possession as such, against all possession: a fight which is founded in the consciousness that everywhere possession, or, as the critic calls it, a religious and theological attitude, is extant. He knows that people stand in a religious or believing attitude not only toward God, but toward other ideas as well, like right, the State, law; i.e. he recognizes possession in all places. So he wants to break up thoughts by thinking; but I say, only thoughtlessness really saves me from thoughts. It is not thinking, but my thoughtlessness, or I the unthinkable, incomprehensible, that frees me from possession.
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Against me, the unnameable, the realm of thoughts, thinking, and mind is shattered.
https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/max-stirner-the-ego-and-his-own#toc10
The "fight against possession" should maybe be conceived as ecstatic expansion of a system always trying to represent itself from the outside or to climb out of itself. Criticism can toss any "finite" or determinate identification into the fire. But what
is "Criticism" but a kind of restless transcendence of the given ? the transformation of necessity into contingency ? Criticism is empty, nothingness, the void itself.
To me the connection is that Stirner enjoys himself as the end of history, outside of language even, and Macbeth is out of lucky charms, facing the end without hope or attachment.