Europe’s Dead

We know Europe’s dead – we know it. We’ve already died Europe’s death, that’s the thing. We understand it.

Perhaps Europe died in England first. Having never really arrived here.

 

All this European thought was already dead. It was born dead in England. It wasn’t allowed here – not in philosophy, anyway.

Then how did it reach us?

Other channels. Other subject areas. The whole Theory sweetshop racket. All these pretty ideas ranksacked from everywhere …

 

Those few poor benighted European souls who’d somehow found their way here to the UK.

Yeah, because they couldn’t make it in Europe.

These lost, bewildered philosophy lecturers in obscure former polys. At the bottom of every league table. Wandering how did they ended up there. What had gone so terribly wrong. What they must have done wrong in a previous philosophical life. Poor fuckers.

 

The European philosophy life cycle. Do your apprenticeship. Learn your trade. Become some European philosopher tribute act …  

 

This is the time when they’ve let the idiots into the museum of philosophy. When we running wild. Smashing all the things.

 

I volunteer the whole of the humanities for the suicide pod. Better death than dishonour, right?

 

They’re using European philosophy to feed, like, self-teaching AI.

European philosophy would wreck self-teaching AI.