Let me say something, to begin with, about wanting weird stuff. Stuff like saucers of mud. The example, famously, is from Anscombe’s Intention (Anscombe Anscombe 957)) where she is, in effect, defending a version of the old scholastic maxim, Omne appetitum appetitur sub specie boni. If your Latin is rusty like mine, what that says is just that every appetite – for better congruence with modern discussions, let’s say every desire – desires under the aspect of the good, or (...) in the wording made current by Velleman, under the guise of the good (Velleman 992). To desire something is to regard it as good in some way, as having some desirability characteristic. And not just any old thing can be regarded as good in some way, as having some desirability characteristic. Obviously if this is correct, it rules against our giving desires any sort of ground-floor role in our understand-. (shrink)

Like a pack of cigarettes, a library’s philosophy section should have a warning label: “Something you learn here may ruin your life.” Only here can a flip through a book persuade someone to accept an idea without considering its repercussions. The bad side of philosophy that hardly anyone writes about, is that some philosophies cause people to become hobos. When I use the term ‘hobo’, I’m not referring to just any homeless person – that is, I’m not referring to a (...) handicapped person, an alcoholic, or someone else whose homeless situation is a result of his or her misfortune. Rather, by ‘hobo’, I’m specifically referring to a person who has lived by his or her philosophical convictions and is miserable as a result. No one wants his philosophy to lead him under a dark bridge somewhere, draped in a used sleeping bag, his only defense a rusty pocket knife. Rather, he wants the good life. But what is the good life? And how, you may ask, does all this tie into Epicureanism? -/- Around 300 BC, in Greece’s... (shrink)