There Is Yet Work to Be Done

2021-09-18 · essays

Not my words: a monologue by Exurb1a, which I posted on 2021-09-18 because it said something I could not.

If you think philosophy has no purpose anymore, that's fine, but it did once. There was a time, when it was the mother of almost all knowledge, and if you should be so brave or silly, as to embark on your own undergraduate adventure in philosophy, and people wish you all the best with a future career in telemarketing, just quietly remember there is yet work to be done. We still don't know what we're doing here. Consciousness is still a mystery. The origin of matter is still a mystery.

SO YOU HEAR THAT, DAD?
With reference to all your bullshit..
DAD.
Well yeah, I might be nearing 30, and fine, I picked the wrong degree, I get it, and no, I still don't know what the stock market is, or when the post comes, or how to shave my testicles without inadvertently castrating myself, but by the power of Grayskull, if someone held us up at gunpoint, and shouted: "You better extensively explain Aristotle's position on dogs or you're both fucking dead!" Let's just say I'd be walking home a hero that night, so put that in your pipe and smoke it, DAD! Not so fucking funny anymore is it, DAD?
Who's. Laughing. NOW. Dad.

And then, [coughs] If could maybe just hurry up, and send me that money for rent that'd be great [squeaks]