I was a Teenage Heideggerian

In your younger and less Heideggerian days.

 

I was a teenage Heideggerian.

 

Were you actually a teenage Heideggerian? Were you always like this?

 

How many Heideggerians does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

 

Beat your Heideggerian chest. Strike your Heideggerian pose. Make your Heideggerian move – we’re waiting for it. Do you Heideggerian thing.

 

You need to find a Mrs Heidegger. Someone who’d understand you.

 

You always wanted to be the boy wonder of Heidegger studies.

 

Do you ever ask yourself, What would Heidegger do?

 

Sing your Heideggerian song. Be the best Heideggerian you can be.

 

Channel your inner Heidegger! Your great-great grandfather! You’re last in line!

Every philosophical gang needs a Heideggerian. Like a fat kid in gangs in Hollywood movies. There has to be one.

 

Do your Heidegger face. Is that it, your Heidegger face?

 

The guy who wrote that book, When Heidegger wept. No, it was When Nietzsche Wept, idiot.

 

Maybe they’re sending out a being-signal, like a bat signal. Only a Heideggerian can save us now.

 

All we have to offer the world is high quality anguish. 100 proof. Like the sweat of Heidegger.

 

Don’t fucking hulk out, Helmut. Don’t Heidegger out.