Come on, guys. We’re the department. We’re the DEPARTMENT.
What fucking department?
The PHILOSOPHY DEPARTMENT. Of a MAJOR UNIVERSITY. That has to mean something.
We’ve been entrusted with teaching the children of the rich. We’re not no ones and nothings. We crawled our way up, somehow. We escaped part time Hell. We’re SURVIVORS motherfuckers. And we’ll survive this!
You’re no going to have us, Organisational Management! We on the side of all the good things. We’re part of everything righteous.
PHILOSOPHY, man. We are philosophy in Newcastle. University philosophy, anyway. We’re the ones. It’s fallen to us. They can surveil us all they like. They can command all the obeisance they want. But we won’t comply.
Of course we’ll comply. We’re being moved, aren’t we? We’re going to their party.
But we have philosophical hearts. And philosophical hearts run free. Dream free. Burn free. We know the secret of freedom. We’re the winners, even though we’ll lose. We’re uncrushable, even though they’ll crush us. We’re undestroyable, even though they’ll destroy us …
Work in Progress 