Isn't it marvellous that the study of philosophy allows room for quaint anecdotes about doddering old men? Dr Ampere regaled the class with tales of his neighbour, "who must be about ninety," going for his daily walk with the regularity of a metronome and the grace of a gnome. What's more, this wasn't just to pass the time, but served to illustrate Deleuze's Bacon.
I also love the ineptitude of The Times hatchet job on P.F. Strawson and analytic philosophy. Two wrongs don't make a right - newspapers pissing on Strawson's grave is not going to make forgetting the Derrida obituary fiasco any easier.
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