Germans as Luftmenschen

Here is a delightful little passage from Brand Blanshard's outstanding essay, "The Philosophic Enterprise," in Bontempo and Odell, eds., The Owl of Minerva: Philosophers on Philosophy, p. 170. Don't take the passage too seriously, especially you denizens of the Land von Dichter und Denker.

It used to be said that to the English had been given the realm of the sea, to the French the domain of the land, and to the Germans the kingdom of the air; this meant of course the stratosphere, where philosophers are supposed to live, and indeed have been living ever since Thales wandered abroad with his head in the clouds and fell into a well.

The Philosopher as Luftmensch

Steven Pinker, The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature (Penguin, 2002), p. 11:

Philosophy today gets no respect. Many scientists use the term as a synonym for effete speculation. When my colleague Ned Block told his father that he would major in the subject, his father's reply was "Luft!" — Yiddish for "air." And then there's the joke in which a young man told his mother that he would become a Doctor of Philosophy and she said, "Wonderful! But what kind of disease is philosophy?"

Well, to adapt a chess player's expression, better to make Luft than to make war! (One 'makes Luft' in chess by moving a pawn in front of the castled king's position as prophylaxis against back rank mate.)

Causes of Death of Philosophers

Here. For example, Rescher died of incoherence while Spinoza died of substance abuse. Miguel de Unamuno expired from a tragic loss of sense. Plantinga perished of necessity, and Augustine by a Hippo. As you can see, some are nasty and one needn't be dead to have a cause of death assigned. Last I checked, Professor Rescher was still happily scribbling away. And that reminds me of a joke.

A student goes to visit Professor Rescher. Secretary informs her that the good doctor is not available because he is writing a book. Student replies, "I'll wait."

Proof that I am a Native American

A while back, a front page story in the  local rag of record, The Arizona Republic, implied  that one is either a native American, a Black, or an Anglo. Now with my kind of surname, I am certainly no Anglo. And even though I am a 'person of color,' my color inclining toward a sort of tanned ruddiness, I am undoubtedly not Black either.

It follows that I am a native American. This conclusion is independently supported by the following argument:

1. I am a native Californian
2. California is in America
3. If x is native to locality L, and L is within the boundaries of M, then x is a native M-er.
Therefore
I am a native American.

Note that (2) is true whether 'America' is taken to refer to the USA or to the continent of North America.

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook

Recently discovered.  Warning: it may induce nausea.

Excerpt:

Today I made a Black Forest cake out of five pounds of cherries and a live beaver, challenging the very definition of the word "cake." I was very pleased. Malraux said he admired it greatly, but could not stay for dessert. Still, I feel that this may be my most profound achievement yet, and have resolved to enter it in the Betty Crocker Bake-Off.

Blame Wifey!

Wives have their uses: you can blame things on them.

Can't reach the mayonnaise the instant you open the refrigerator door? Blame wifey for 'hiding' it behind a phalanx of overpriced frou-frou condiments she bought at Trader Joe's. You say your Allen wrenches aren't in their appointed spot in the tool box? Blame wifey for commandeering them for an art project. The toilet seat is not in its default position, namely, UP? Blame wifey. The toilet paper is installed backwards, or, in the patois of the pleonastic,  'ass backwards'?   Blame wifey.

Always and everywhere, up market and down, blame wifey.

If my female readers, all two of them, are offended by this, they may substitute 'hubby' for 'wifey,' or if they are really PC, 'spousy' for 'wifey.' But, to cop a line from Muddy Waters, I'm a man, and a man cannot have a spouse without having a wife. 'Homosexual' when concatenated with 'marriage' is an alienans adjective.

This message is approved by my wife. Blame her for it.

Digital Camera Warnings

My Canon PowerShot SD600 digital camera is a marvel of engineering. The amount of human intelligence embodied in this object the size of a pack of cigarettes — please forgive the politically incorrect comparison — is staggering to this old engineering student. All the more remarkable, therefore, is the ineptitude of the writing found in the User Guide. The following bolded passages are verbatim quotations:

Do not look directly at the sun or at other intense light sources through the viewfinder that could damage your eyesight.

But isn't a viewfinder that could damage one's eyes a serious design flaw?

Wrist strap: Placement of the strap around the child's neck could result in asphyxiation.

So it is not just any child that could be asphyxiated  in this manner, but only some particular child? A child whose head is so tiny that one could get the wrist strap over it?

Memory card: Dangerous if accidentally swallowed. If this occurs, contact a doctor immediately.

Is swallowing it harmless if done deliberately?

Continue reading “Digital Camera Warnings”

On Being Impacted

There are expressions whose currency is due to no good reason, but simply reflects the suggestibility of people. Let someone prominently placed commit a linguistic howler, and you can be sure that others will fall in line. The perfectly good word ‘affect,’ used as verb, has fallen into desuetude to be replaced by the miserable ‘impact’ used as a verb. Thus, ‘Mary was deeply impacted by her father’s death.’ You mean her sire’s demise induced constipation in the poor girl? Why this barbarism when ‘Mary was deeply affected by her father’s death’ is available? Part of the answer has to be that people are lemmings who uncritically repeat whatever they hear.

'Impactation' is correctly used in this curious medical article dredged up from the bowels of the Internet: Rectal Impactation Following Enema With Concrete Mix.

The White House Beer Summit

Negra_modelo

So what's on tap?  If Officer Crowley shows up with a sixpack of Negra Modelo, will he be accused of racism by Professor Gates?  After all 'negra' might remind someone of 'nigger.'  Not long ago the use of the word 'niggardly' cost a man his job because it reminded some fools of 'nigger.'  I am not making this up.  I wish it were only a bad joke.  But it is not, and it shows the depths of liberal-left lunacy.  But if Crowley were to contribute a sixpack of Coors, then he would no doubt be a Nazi: the patriarch of the Coors clan rejoiced under the first name, 'Adolph.'  And that might remind some fool of Adolf Hiter.  In the Leftist Playbook, Hitler is evil incarnate, but Stalin, Mao, and Pol Pot are not to be mentioned.

Actually, mixing Negra Modelo with Coors might be just the solution.  You'd have your dark and your light blended together, 'integrated' if you will.   And therefore dark.  Just like Obama: half black, half white, and therefore black.  You see, in 'racist America,' where no black person has a chance — unless he is an Affirmative Action hire at Harvard University, or President, or Secretary of State — when a person is both black and white, then he is black.  The first black president?  Black + White = Black?  Lefty logic for you.