Scrap Paper Poetry #1: Finnish Philosophy Professor

This is the crap product of sitting through the first 4 hour evening class of the quarter… where I learn about nothing more than the syllabus… and listen to the professor spout out argumentative gobble-di-gook:

Sitting in Philosophy

at half past eight o’ clock,

The professor’s a dichotomy

of a Finnish doc and cock.

He struts and clucks and flaps his arms

about arguments of incredulity-

O, the pedantry, the deductive absurdity,

this King of Meta-Normativity.

Yeah, he’s Finnish. He’s got the Swedish Chef twang going on. (Yes, that was political incorrectness. No, I do not give a damn.)

The first in a series of poems that I write in the margins of my notebook or on class handouts that I care little for. Enjoy.

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