Interesting

God, do those Organisational Managers know how interesting we are? Like, how we’re transforming their lives?

They don’t deserve us. They think Philosophy’s some toy. Something they can play with. Those fuckers! They don’t understand that we’re not just some novelty. Not just some bauble. Not just something that will amuse them for a bit, before they work their disgusting Organisational Management magic on us, before they absorb us, or whatever.

Those fuckers! They think they can just toy with us. Or whatever. That they can just invite us to their party. To their party. On their terms. Making us cross their threshold (which will soon be our threshold.) Making us cross their campus (which will soon be our campus.) Which goes on forever! Which is fucking infinite! Which is taking over the world!. Making us cross it with our postgraduates. With our Doktorkinderen. Deliberately making us feel small and insignificant. Deliberately demoralising us. Rather than knowing ourselves as the heirs of the philosophical logos, or whatever. Rather than the latest descendants of the great philosophical tradition.

They don’t even understood that were crap at philosophy. That we’re a bunch of idiots from provincial universities. They don’t even get that we fall far short How stupid we are. What idiots we are. They don’t see that we’re essentially second rate and third rate and fourth rate (except Helmut, maybe. Except Kitten, probably. And she’s not here.)

They don’t understand how unique our stupidity is. How special it is. How it makes us us. Such as we are. Such as we’ll always be. Which is what Cicero treasured. Which is what she saw in us, when she combed the country for our kind – the interesting kind. Which is why Cicero brought us together, to see what idiocy could do.

And now Cicero’s gone and we’re bereft and what are we going to do without her? Without her protection? Did she know that the Organisational Management wolves would be circling? Did she know that we’d be wandering, lost on the Organisational Management campus?

We should pray, or something. We should call up to the heavens. To the real sky, rather than the fake sky. Above the satellites. A prayer, from our philosophical hearts. From the depths of our idiocy. From our philosophical pathos. From our infinite philosophical eros …