In case you missed it by some ill fortune, get thee over forthwith to the peerless Tiberius Gracchus, from Westminster and have your clicking finger ready.
You’re about to have a feast of philosophers. Never mind the mealy-mouthed Philistine le Higham’s less than gracious remarks in the comments section. This is one of the best collections you’re ever likely to have in one place at one time. Now, my contribution, alas unoriginal, is:
Immanuel Kant was a real pissant who was very rarely stable;
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table;
David Hume could out-consume Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya 'bout the raising of the wrist;
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will, on half a pint of shandy was particularly ill;
Plato, they say, could stick it away - half a crate of whisky every day;
Aristotle, Aristotle, was a bugger for the bottle; Hobbes was fond of his dram
And René Descartes was a drunken fart: 'I drink, therefore I am.'
Yet, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed - a lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed.
Nice rhyme and thanks for the link
ReplyDeleteIn other words, they were human.
ReplyDeletePleasure, Tiberius. According to Python, Ellee.
ReplyDelete