M: I want to complain. C: You want to complain! Look at these shoes. I've only had them three weeks and the heels are worn right through. M: No, I want to complain about... C: If you complain nothing happens, you might as well not bother. M: Oh! C: Oh my back hurts, it's not a very fine day and I'm sick and tired of this office.
....Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again.
I-I-I-Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant Who was very rarely stable. Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar Who could think you under the table. David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and 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 whiskey 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.'
Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed, A lovely little thinker, But a bugger when he's pissed.