The completely, totally normal Sauder student sitting next to you at Koerner's has said, “It just really feels like we’re living in a panopticon, you know, like Foucault.”
And you’ve started to panic. They’re a philosophy minor. Don’t be afraid. Just follow these 53 easy steps and you’ll get through this conversation with a wannabe centre-of-dinner-party-attention without issue.
First, confirm: You need to be sure this vaguely human-shaped individual is, in fact, a philosophy minor. Ask them something like “What do you think about the meaning of life?” If they respond by asking if you’ve seen Bojack Horseman, I’m sorry.
Second, don't ask: Though you may want to ask them to explain what they mean, don’t. The person next to you has no idea what they’re saying, and asking them to explain will only lead to a string of meaningless names that will make you feel really... existential?
Does that mean anything?
Third, try to understand: Maybe this could actually be an interesting conversation!
My editor is holding me at gunpoint asking me not to accuse all philosophy minors of being horrible people. Someone help I think she might be a philosophy minor.
Yeah! Maybe you could learn some really cool philosophy! It might be regurgitated from a video essay about Rick and Morty and remind you of what it was like to be 14 years old, but it's probably philosophy.
Fourth, spew: Remember that time your high school English teacher went on a semi-racist tangent about Buddhism for half an hour? Great. You may be concerned about saying things you neither mean nor remember at all. Don't be. Nothing you say in this specific moment matters, so just let Mr. Danbury speak through you.
You may find yourself slipping into a frightening self-assuredness. Don't worry! Your misplaced feelings of superiority may convince the philosophy minor you're a really smart person and they may respect you enough to stop talking for five seconds. It's not much, but it's a start.
Fourth, make an excuse: There is a chance, however slim, that your bar-mate has a tiny bit of empathy left over from when they were a first-year student, unbroken by the feeling of having everything figured out after misreading Nietzsche for PHIL 100.
Tell them that in the 20 seconds since your conversation began, your grandma, dog, goldfish and kindergarten reading buddy have died. It won't stop them from asking whether you've heard about Kant and agree with something called a ‘categorical imperative,’ but they may let you go afterwards.
Fourth, ask them to reiterate: If you keep asking them to repeat what they're saying, they may think your approval isn't worth their time. The philosophy minor's objective is to convince you that they know a lot about philosophy and are very cool and smart because of it. If they think you can't understand their book-jacket interpretation of Plato, then you may have won. Does your dignity really matter?
...
Fifty third, just nod: It is physically impossible for a philosophy minor to stop talking. If you simply nod along and remain silent, they will asphyxiate in just a few (long) minutes. This option should only be considered as a last resort; there is no coming back from 100 uninterrupted seconds of autocomplete philosophy.
But if all else fails, know that they are (probably) human and that is a weakness you can exploit.
It’s as easy as that! Next time you hear the name “Deleuze,” remember to [REDACTED] and you’ll be just fine.*
*The Ubyssey is not responsible for any costs, physical, mental or monetary, incurred following exposure to a philosophy minor. Further restrictions may apply.
The Dingbat is The Ubyssey's humour section. Send pitches and completed pitches to blog@ubyssey.ca.
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