BERKELEY, Calif. — We’re all thinking it, but I guess I have to be the one to say it: the fecund melisma of saturnine parlance is an enervated corpus delicti of modern ontological praxis. 

There’s just no way around it— as a society, we have to confront the fact that the dissimulation of iterative marginalia is the fait accompli of centuries of pro forma philosophical analgesic, resulting in a cultural, even perhaps doctrinal ataxia, so effusively profligate that it appears, prima facie, as a triptych of apocryphal erudition. 

I think we can all agree that it is, in fact, nothing more than patrician obfuscation. Am I right, ladies?

Listen, at the risk of coming off as intransigent or engaging in spurious ideation, I just have to say that the pablum of prosaic esoterica in academia is a solipsistic ersatz of logical reasoning that transmutes didactic praxis into the most oblique of Gordian knots. 

Does that make me crazy? It might. But it’s like Schopenhauer said: “Der Arzt sieht den Menschen in seiner ganzen Schwäche, der Advokat in seiner ganzen Schlechtigkeit und der Priester in seiner ganzen Dummheit.”

Allow me to present my ideas through a visual medium for my intellectual lessers:

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