The Unexamined Life III.

Despite the low ratings on my prior attempts at philosophic discourse, I am committed to raising the level of this blog – especially given the recent kitten photo posts.  Once again I’ve invited fellow observer of life and master rhetorician, Forstotle, to join me, Martystophanes, in a Socratic banter.  Today’s topic comes from Plato’s The Republic:  the question being is the “just” man happier than the “unjust” man?  And I have a lot to say on this one!  So, hit it Forstotle:

Forstotle (F):  The unexamined life is not worth living.

Martystophanes (M):  Are you really gonna keep opening with that?  That’s not even the proposition!

(F):  I don’t like this week’s proposition.  It’s just an excuse for you to rant about rich kids again.  Poorly I might add.  And what’s with all the profanity?

(M):  This is my blog.  I can fucking do whatever I want!

(F):  True, since you’re the only one reading it.

(M):  You’re a subscriber, right?

(F):  No.  I am not one of the eleven.  Spam.

(M):  I’ll have you know this blog has grown exponentially.

(F):  One to the hundredth power is still one.

(M):  And you’re an asshole.  And you have a big chin.

(F):  Classy.  How’s that Mimosa tasting right now?

(M):  Comfy in your cubicle.  The view of the Men’s room must be spectacular.

(F):  I’ll have you know, there is nothing wrong with a trust fund!  Just because my ancestors worked hard and achieved success – as opposed to being indolent dirt farmers outside Naples, is no reason to get angry at your social betters.

(M): And I’ll have you know they farmed turnips.  And I think my Irish kin were low-level bandits.

(F):  Shocking that crime is in your blood.

(M): I think it’s kinda awesome.

(F):  Did they attack people on trains?

(M):  I don’t think Ireland had trains till like a few years ago.

(F):  My ancestors owned trains.

(M):  Yet you are sitting in a cubicle.

(F):  I have my own desk!

(M):  Window?

(F):   Fuck off.  I gotta go.  My supervisor’s about to come out of the bathroom.

(M):  You’re really carrying on the family legacy.  At least my failure is a step up in the bloodline.

(F):  It’s why I go to therapy.

(M):  I thought you went because of that other thing … you know, with the shoes?

(F):  That too.  Shit, I heard a flush! See ya buddy.

(M):  Keep it real, my brutha!