Ever have a dream of your old philosophy professor? I did, and not the one where he’s on a mountain bike and your on a four speed bike with stolen food from the supermarket in a Swiss knapsack that’s supposed to be camouflaged, but it’s not, unless you’re in a psychedelic berry processing continent.
These dreams are always not scary enough to enlighten you. My mom says I drink too many sports drinks before I go to bed. Last night, Doctor Tarlton and I met face to face again. We were in Saratoga Springs, in the supermarket by the onion rings. He asked me what I thought of Aristotle. I told him that Aristotle is corny and he didn’t care much for animals.
The almost scary thing that happened was the way Dr Tarlton then looked at me real good like he way buying me for important fire wood he was gonna chop and he was moving to the Yukon, and said: “You think Aristotle is Corny?” He said it in such a way, that I swore it was Aristotle that said it to me, and he was so pissed off I called him corny that he sacrificed his after life meal ticket to cudgel me on the head for being an asshole or something.