Haven't seen waking life.
Philosophy...ahhh, now there's a subject. Never have so many men shovelled so much shit for so many years to such applause. Weez, here's how you get an A on any paper. It doesn't have make any sense, you just need a good handle on jargon. Liberally sprinkle the text with words or phrases like "synchronic", "gestalt", "hermeneutics", "a priori", "post hoc", "dialectical", "semiotic"...put "neo-" or "meta-" on the beginning of words, any words, really, just be creative. Well, that's a start, anyway. I refer you to the famous hoax of Alan Sokal, who took the philosophical social critics to task for their intellectual laxity and the preposterous notion that reality is somehow a social construct. Really, it's all semiotics, which, according to my definition is "how the literary and social critic, through Deep Thought (TM), knows the Real Truth, and the Real Meaning, better, even than those who seek merely to portray some objective reality." Talk about The Game. What's the Game? It really doesn't matter. Just talk about it. Your prof will cream his/her fucking jeans. Remember, obscurity = profundity. Now get to work.
But all work and no play makes poor weezy a dull girl. You are in college, are you not? So, I suggest, at the next fraternity beer orgy, you sing along with the Bruces and their brief and cogent history of philosophy, interpreted through the eyes of the piss-drunk...kill a few brain cells with this jaunty tune...you can spare them:
Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table.
David Hume could out-consume
Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzche couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away--
Half a crate of whisky every day.
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle.
Hobbes was fond of his dram,
And René Descartes was a drunken fart.
'I drink, therefore I am.'
Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker,
But a bugger when he's pissed.
