The Philosophical Cannibal Hoedown

(Continued from a couple posts ago.)

An older man in a very professorial-looking tweed jacket hesitatingly stepped up to the podium, while Adelaid and I started on the roast beef.  He didn't look like he gave many public speeches.

He took a deep breath.  "Hello, everyone!  I..."  Here he trailed off, looking a bit nervous, and then started again.

"For... for all you who don't know me, I'm Pr-Professor Polycarp, and I know you all should know the purpose of my Society, but for those of you who don't, I... uh, decided to prepare a little song.  To make it a bit... uh, more exciting?  Also, heh, a bit of autobiography.  I hope you all don't mind.  Um.  So as you all know, I started out in the Literary Theory department.  And things... took a turn.  Take it away, Johann."

Johann (who had just finished showing in some new guests) took a seat at the grand piano just to the left of the podium.  After cracking his knuckles, he rested his fingers on the keys and started an upbeat polka tune.  The professor (looking much more animated than before) took another deep breath and burst into song.

"Oh, aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye!

Oh, aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye-di-aye!

I did some Deconstruction (and God, it was such a bore,)

And to read ol' Derrida's books was the mother of all chores;

And even Mister Foucalt (though most promising of all)

required me at every chance to murder the fourth wall!

Lit-Crit seemed in shambles--it seemed aimless, sad and tired--

and I thought the field would always be completely uninspired,

but then like a bolt from heaven, I realized my goal--

that every bad philosopher should just be swallowed whole!

I started on my old professor, Pridius L. Slant,

and next went to the head of our great English Department!

(And then I learned on eating two psychologists, alas,

that for whatever reason, social science gives me gas.)

I had to leave my old job (ate the payroll clerk, you see),

and had to look for new work-- but I soon found out with glee,

that if you restrict yourself to teachers all the freshmen hate,

you can get a good supply of meat without too much debate!"

(and here Johann joined in)

Without too much deee-baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate!"

The room filled with applause, and I gagged a little on some of the possibly-roast-beef substance I was currently eating, spitting what was left covertly into a napkin.  This operation complete (and the guilty napkin hidden in my pocket, where I resolved to throw it out at first opportunity), I turned to Adelaid.  She giggled.

"Hee!  Isn't Polycarp great?"

"Yeah, sure.  Uh.  Adelaid?"

"Yes, Paul?"

"What exactly am I eating?"

"Professor Delwar Prescott Flask."

"Wait, the Delwar Flask?  My old ID prof?  The one who wrote that unreadable book on copyright?"

"The very same. Is..." she had the look of a puppy about to be kicked.  "Is that a problem for you?"

I reflected a moment.  "Yes, it is."

"Oh."

"Specifically, he needs more salt."

"Hee!"