Do You Write or Think? Mr Nietzsche's Assessment of Your Dilemma.

[onebatmotherofgoditschilly]

I had forgotten this:

"The literary woman, unsatisfied, agitated, desolate in heart and entrails, listening every minute with painful curiosity to the imperative which whispers from the depths of her organism "aut liberi aut libri [either children or books]."
?Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols

Ten years ago I would have turned the page with a sigh and a sneer.

Today...?

What? said stupid Kant.

correction VASS? said stupid kant

you are all googling aren't you?
whereas I have it AAAALLL at my fingertips.

LOL

My thesis is that realism is neither demonstrable nor refutable said Popper, removing the feather that had been partically inserted in his anus.

The diners gagged, and took a moment to consider their position.

@Verify this, Popper,' cried Frued, shoving his fist in Karl's face. 'And if I give you a few quick kicks and a poke in the idea, that all adds up to a complete proof based on the coherence concept of truth.'

That would be Freud, of course, not Frued. (But you all worked that out from his status as a foe of Popper.)

and load the dishwasher

A feudr with Freud?

I have to go to bed. But what is the collective noun for philosphers?

a stagnation of philosophers? A vacuum? A tedium? A complexity?

wittgenstein, by now SERIOUSLY freaked out, pulled out his mobile phone, and dialled the emergency services. "Come quickly," he responded to the 999 operator, "there is a man here who has thought himself out of existence! He is delusional, and asserts that "?Our knowledge can only be finite, while our ignorance must necessarily be infinite.?
PLUS.. Frued is dead!"

A disambiguation.

a Smirk of philosophers I believe Swedes

Frued is dead?
And Swede's in Bed!
What can be shown
Cannot be said!

The culprit's Popper
That verificationis rotter!

Thread! No-one told me you had to freakin' RHYME!?

You are SUCH an over-achiever.

Oooh. I like all those collective nouns. Thank you.

DP made me a lovely cup of tea, with milk so I can't go to bed yet.

My hands are like lead. Must go to bed. I have a pain in my head. I regret what I said.

night-o.

Kids! Don't Forget! Mr Popper Says:

?It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood.?

This gives you a license to say anything. Which is lucky, because I suspect you will.

In saunters Proudhon, completely at home in the anarchic surroundings.

'Cup of tea please, and none of your herbal nonsense -- because...

The brawling philosophers freeze, stilled by the ominous closeness of a terrible pun.

'...because proper tea is freedom.'

'Although, at these prices, proper tea is theft.'

Then Voldemort slips in, ignoring the 'No Wizards or Theologians' sign.

'Tea please,' he says, adding with studied casualness 'Ooh and could I have philosophers' stone with that, I'm not an evil wizard you know.'

'Certainly sir. One lump or two?'

Then, in an unexpected turn of events, John Lennon burst through the swing doors, like whatsisname in Seinfeld.

He had a right cob on, having recently realized that his early flirtation with Nietzsche had made him look rather foolish; an outcome the very opposite to that which he had desired.

"Beans on toast", he snapped at the waiter.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but beans are off," the waiter replied. "Though we have some lovely legume soup."
"I need beans!" replied the clever one from the Beatles.

There was a low murmur, and a scraping of chairs, as the restaurant's clientele rose as one to their feet, temporarily united by the late Sixties. They took out their lighters, raised them aloft, and began to sway in unison. Their voices, when they came, were suprisingly melodious:

"All we are say-ing, is give peas a chance."

Reprise.

The waiter returned to Voldemort's table: "Sir, would you like jam and clotted cream with your philosopher's stone or would you like it plain with a smidgeon of unsalted butter."
"Oh without jam, without clotted cream and without butter," replied Voldermort, kindly.

Moments later the waiter returned. "We are clean out of clotted cream, clean out of jam and clean out of unsalted butter. Might you like your philosopher's stone without cheese, we have a whole frigging trolley load of that stuff, some from one-horned goats?"