Thursday, December 27, 2007

Gotta Keep the Devil Down in the Hole

"This is Baltimore, gentlemen. The gods will not save you." That's Commissioner Burrell, for those that don't know.

Finally here. Now. I think there are lines I need to go stand in.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey, can you post a list of assumptions somewhere on this blog? Like, should we be assuming that:

1) The authors of the blog deserve good jobs teaching philosophy?

2) There is someone who deserves a good job teaching philosophy?

3) It matters who gets jobs teaching philosophy?

4) Philosophy is an important/interesting endeavor?

I mean, the Schadenfreude has a slightly different flavor, depending on whether we imagine you guys as mediocrities desperately scrabbling for positions in an essentially pointless discipline, or as noble and heroic seekers struggling against a corrupt establishment whilst attempting to do something valuable with your lives.

Anonymous said...

Kick Ass everyone.

I'd be you a beer if I knew who you were.

Bobcat said...

In response to the devil himself:

I don't know the answer to (1), but I imagine it's yes.

The answers to (2) to (4) are definitely yes.

I'm not a huge philosophy groupie, but it clearly serves *some* role, and has been useful both in the past and now.

Of course, even if it's not useful, it doesn't follow that it isn't good. The claim that in order to be good something must serve some use is itself a philosophical claim. In fact, I bet you operate with lots of unempirical, normative claims that could be fruitfully discussed by someone with a philosophical bent.

Regardless, I got to get back to my dissertation spiel. Interviews tomorrow!

Anonymous said...

For the kinder side of Baltimore, a Baltimore of another era, go watch Diner. (OK do that after the APA). The lyrics fanatic amongst you will be rewarded, but so will every one else. (And of course, you already know about John Waters).

Anonymous said...

How is an interviewee to refer to the interviewers in conversation? By first name?

Anonymous said...

I always find 'you' and 'boy' work well.

Anonymous said...

If you're down and confused
And you don't remember who
You're talking to
Concentration slips away
Cos your baby is so far away

And there's a rose in a fisted glove
And the eagle flies with the dove
And if you can't be with the one
You love honey
Love the one you're with

Don't be angry don't be sad
Don't sit crying over good
Times you had
There's a girl, right next to you
And she's just waiting for something
To do

Turn your heartache right into joy
She's a girl and you're a boy
So get it together make it nice
And you won't need any more advice

Anonymous said...

Good luck, favourite bloggers!

Sisyphus said...

Go go go! Knock their socks off! Oh, and keep up a non-matching plaids count for me, ok?

(Here at the MLA, fashion standards are surprisingly good. I may smack the next guy I see with the big black hipster glasses, though.)

Anonymous said...

"I always find 'you' and 'boy' work well."

I was actually addressed like this fairly often at Pure Hell R1 by (at least two of) my senior colleagues.

I think, though, that was beaten out by the "uppity faggot" that I received a few times from the library staff. This was before the Dean of Libraries banned me (a TT faculty member) from the library for a month while I was working on my first book for "reading too much". Nice.

Seriously, anon. 4.35am, if they didn't introduce themselves by their first names, when I interviewed I started with "Professor Smith" or "Professor Jones", just as I'd address a senior person I'd just been introduced to. This wasn't awkward at all, and pretty much everyone switched to first names after I'd done this. Plus, I think that whereas some people might be put off by quick familiarity, noone's put off by what they see as politeness. But, really, don't worry about this sort of thing too much!

Anonymous said...

In terms of bad fashion stories, I just left a session where one of the audience members was wearing a black suit (with too short pants), a mismatched white hat and bright orange and white high top basketball sneakers, at least size 13. The guy was in his sixties too.