allegedly charming
to fear and brandy [sticky and sweet]
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Quote reblogged from The final sentence.We are philosophers; we cannot help being.Murray Bail, from The Pages (via the-final-sentence)
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Essentially, those who run red lights on a consistent basis have decided that red lights are not existentially significant to them. Because red lights are no longer existentially significant to them, they cannot 1) recognize the red light as an existing entity and therefore 2) relate to the red light . These individuals have decided that red lights do not fit into their worldview (a very Hegelian notion), and so are refuting their very existence. In the reality of these individuals, lights are consistently green and therefore allow for them to continue through the light, even though others’ reality insists the lights are red. Because many individuals in a group seem to follow this principle, one might refer to it as existential communication—a shared experience bound together by united ideologies.
Doesn’t change that they’re idiots, but it sounds a lot nicer this way.
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via http://xkcd.com/
the life of a philosophy major
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Quote reblogged from The final sentence.Commit it then to the flames: for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion.David Hume, from Enquiries Concerning Human Understanding (thanks, totrulyexist)
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amiable and careless are they in their gravity
those ancient balding scholars walking the
kitschy streets (almost empty amid the dust and
the dusk) their clever voices lilted in argument
—why, theirs are the most desirable voices
in the world—haughty and confident
but oh so deserving of their swagger
and I smile as I watch them go
I long to be like them
those Philosophers
too serious and too proud as they wander on their way
debating eudaimonia into the night.
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sodzomen said: You totally should. I would read this reviews, mostly for their brutality. As it happens, I anticipated such an epiphany of my latent and fully unrepentant sarcasm being put to proper use at age sixteen. For an English assignment my junior year I wrote this admittedly pretentious review for a nonfiction book called A Summer of Hummingbirds. Enjoy the arrogance!
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I don’t know much about lasting
When is permanent or together or one?
And how does it start—an “I think”
Or “I know” or “I am”? And who
do I find and where shall we go—
And what does it mean:
You and I?
Me and you?
Are we what is constant
and full and brimming
we, complete?
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Photo reblogged from Stupidity Getting Its Way
Really, Kant? How many times do I have to beat you over the head with a pointy stick until you just DIE already? As if one year of coursework on you wasn’t enough to make me want to gouge my eyes out with a spoon you have to show up in my Modern Philosophy class even though I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU EVER. JUST GO AWAY, IMMANUEL, YOU ARE NOT WANTED HERE.
