So the other day I impulsively decided to email Tatiana's husband Dan, who I hadn't spoken to in a year. (I actually found his email address by Googling him, which is only mildly creepy, I hope.) I wrote to him about an article in the New Yorker about that book "On Bullshit" - August 22 issue, entitled "Say Anything," you guys should read it - and asked him how he was, if he was still writing a book, and what he was doing in Oklahoma (thanks again to Google). Dan, awesome guy that he is, immediately sent me a long and informative reply. Even though it's Dan writing and not Tatiana, I thought you might be interested in the email. Actually I think this email is so funny and well-written that I've been showing it to all my friends, but I think there's a much better chance that you will appreciate it. Just warning you, even though I edited out some parts it's still kind of long, but it is probably worth taking the time to read it when you get a chance.
( the emailCollapse )
In case you guys were wondering, "The Grand Inquisitor" is kind of awesome.
I'm just realizing this now because I found a copy of it in my house and decided to reread it because I didn't actually read it back in Existentialism because I was really lazy in that class.
So I went to drop off my brother at CTY yesterday because, um. Well, I didn't have a good reason, I just have no life and CTY owns. He's taking astronomy.
I bugged Cindy about the application process for becoming an RA (who else plans to apply next year? :D) and she made it sound like I have no chance. Ah, well.
Then I saw
Btw. Yeah. Where's everyone going to college? Katie is U. of Chicago... Caroline is Tufts... Devin and Dave are Dartmouth... Muffin? Mr. Bobzimmerman? and Sarah's a little one and has another year :D
Soooo at my writing camp we had to write a story about a superhero, and this was mine.
Dan and Brenda were sitting in a cafe having a nice conversation over a cup of coffee, minding their own business, when George came in and ruined everything. He spotted their table and approached the pair.
"Hey, guys! Long time no see!"
"Hello George," said Brenda.
"Hey Dan, how's it going?" George exclaimed.
"Not bad, George, not bad. So anyway Brenda, Michael came up to me and said--"
"You know, I haven't seen you two in ages! I'm just on my lunch break right now. Do you mind if I sit down and join you?"
"Sure, George," said Dan.
There was an awkward silence.
"So I was reading some Kant the other day," George said, "and I think he's absolutely right about the categorical imperative! One hundred per cent!"
"I mean, you have to act so that you culd will the maxim of your action to apply universally. That's just the goddamn moral truth!"
Brenda fiddled with her napkin.
"What do you guys think of Sartre? I don't like that guy one bit. All that Nausea business? If you ask me, he should have just taken some Pepto Bismol."
Dan and Brenda looked at each other uncomfortably.
Suddenly the door to the cafe swung open and in swooped a German man dressed in blac. He had an enormous moustache.
"Never fear!" he shouted in a thick accent. "The Ubermensch is here to save the day!" He picked up George by the scruff of his neck and shook him.
"Hey!" screamed George. "That's wrong! That's morally wrong! You wouldn't will that I did that to you, would you?"
The Ubermensch just laughed and threw George onto the floor. The golden umlaut insignia on his bodysuit twinkled in the midday sun.
"Thanks, Ubermensch," said Brenda. "I don't know how we would have gotten through that incredibly awkward situation without you."
"Don't thank me, children, I am just doing my job. And always remember: God is dead, and we have killed him."
The Ubermensch swooshed out of the coffeeshop. Dan and Brenda heard him rev up his motorbike outside and zoomed away.
We need a topic. So here's an intense one. vejesus, who is an RA at Siena now, says that Cindy Raglan(d? I forget) banned "Istanbul" at dances. How much does this suck? A lot.