I just finished putting up bookshelves in my wife’s and mine new apartment. There are a lot of books. Too many. It’s oppressive. I have read some of them. I can’t say that I am really any better off for it. I don’t have the need to show off anymore. So, I am wondering what the hell they are all doing there on the wall. Am I going to read them? This all of a sudden started to open the door to all kinds of thoughts. I mean, what is the value in reading or rereading all these books? It does take a lot of time. So was getting a degree in philosophy. But what purpose did that serve? Am I going to read these books and write about them on this blog for no one to read? That’s a cheerful thought. Philosophy takes time. And it doesn’t pay. I am not a professional writer and I am not a professor. I wanted to be at one time, but after reading enough “what can I do with my philosophy degree?” websites, I thought better of it, and decided, instead, to become a stockbroker. That hasn’t worked out either. I am, however, still a mental case. Oh well.
PURE CONTROVERSY 