Muddy Waters

Coffee. Early morning brownie. Table all of my own.

Mr. I'm-a-PhD-candidate (yes, that's your clever little pseudonym, hope you LIKE it) pointed a gun to my head and forced me to rewrite every word of my paper, which I did, submissively and gladly. Then I threw it at him.

Never make friends with your teachers. Then you can't embarrass yourself over four beers and a bottle of wine at Portland's nicest restaurant while you complain about how Professor so-and-so never gave you any worthwhile feedback on your paper and how 95% of undergraduates should probably just be taken out back and shot. And also, Carnap was a freaking GENIUS (who says that? Me, drunk, that's who).

But who else can talk about logical positivism over sushi? WHO ELSE?! Only philosophy professors, that's who. And now so can Mr. I'm-a-PhD-candidate.