Every philosopher needs a psychoanalyst to continue exploring their own psyche. ILP would be enhanced. Know thyself first.
Every PERSON, not just philosopher, is incredibly fucked up (well, not every person, but like more than 99% of them), and they all need help.
Yeah, Jesus, I could do with a good therapist to restore my faith in humanity and myself from time to time. I sometimes wish I’d never picked up a philosophy book. I preferred myself stupid, I was more fun at parties.
No no no, every Psychoanalyst needs a Philosopher!
Actually, if everyone got laid regularly, you wouldn’t need either one… 
some of the most sick people get laid regularly…
Not everyone is fucked up, but many are. I’m not fucked up at all, but dammit, I just seem to be surrounded by all sorts of fucked up people all over the place. They all need help, but if they actually got it, then who would be running this amazingly entertaining asylum called planet earth? It would be all the sane people like me, and how boring would that be? It does not bear thinking about planet tedium in the hands of the monotone khaki wearers bouncing their basketballs every day at exactly the same time. It would drive me batty I tell you, but then if that were the case, I would fit right in here and everywhere. Maybe that’s why Mr. Nietzsche fell into a twilight state never to return to this vale of confusion which looks like the inside of a golfball with all the tangled rubber bands. I thought about taking on the Herculean task of sorting them all out and laying them all out side by side in neat rows, but after much ponderous meditation, I finally decided not to take it on myself to do that in the interests of the rulers of chaos and the FUBAR results of all the powers of the universe now operating. Instead I just decided to go ahead and rearrange my brain so that the world would look sane and rational from my own vantage point while it looks utterly insane to everyone else’s, or maybe it’s the other way around. That seems like a fair solution, and that way I don’t have to wear those whirly target glasses either, they’re such fashion nightmares.
Yrs trooly,
jonquil
Not that I know anything about you, but I really doubt that. I don’t think I’ve met a single person in my whole life who could legitimately say they’re not fucked up.
And some of the most laid people get sick regularly.
Read the whole post. I’ll repeat it here.
Not everyone is fucked up, but many are. I’m not fucked up at all, but dammit, I just seem to be surrounded by all sorts of fucked up people all over the place. They all need help, but if they actually got it, then who would be running this amazingly entertaining asylum called planet earth? It would be all the sane people like me, and how boring would that be? It does not bear thinking about planet tedium in the hands of the monotone khaki wearers bouncing their basketballs every day at exactly the same time. It would drive me batty I tell you, but then if that were the case, I would fit right in here and everywhere. Maybe that’s why Mr. Nietzsche fell into a twilight state never to return to this vale of confusion which looks like the inside of a golfball with all the tangled rubber bands. I thought about taking on the Herculean task of sorting them all out and laying them all out side by side in neat rows, but after much ponderous meditation, I finally decided not to take it on myself to do that in the interests of the rulers of chaos and the FUBAR results of all the powers of the universe now operating. Instead I just decided to go ahead and rearrange my brain so that the world would look sane and rational from my own vantage point while it looks utterly insane to everyone else’s, or maybe it’s the other way around. That seems like a fair solution, and that way I don’t have to wear those whirly target glasses either, they’re such fashion nightmares.
Yrs trooly,
jonquil
There are those who claim that mankind is crazy in precisely such a way that not being so would merely be another kind of crazy.
The reason for this is that all we see of the noumena are our phenomena. Since confusing the workings in our mind with the workings in reality constitues a psychoses and all we have to go on concerning the noumena are our phenomena…
And pop goes the weasel. So which one is the noumena and which one is the phenomena: the box or the weasel. Or maybe it’s the pop.
It’s only fucked up if you judge people through a moral lense.
What’s the standard by which you can say “Most people are mentally healthy”?
No philosopher could go along with that nonsense, and say “legitimately” that he either was or was not fuckked up.
But of course any philosopher could say that Illegitimately, or anything else for that matter. On that basis I wish to declare that anyone can be as fucked up as they like just because they think so, and as unfucked up as they please on the same basis. Legitimizing this declaration, however, is a matter for the courts and the system of jurisprudence which I assiduously endeavor to avoid at all times, being of sound enough mind and body to know that “the law is a ass.”
… and what is the psychoanalyst trying to prove to himself?
I suggest that everyone make their best case for themselves being fucked up, then we can determine whether anyone here is not fucked up. What I mean is, you should take the Top 10 quirks or traits that would reasonably give someone cause to consider the possiblilty that you are fucked up and list them being as objective as possible.
If there is anyone that posts a list such that nobody even contends that you could possibly be fucked up, then we’ll take that as much proof as we are going to get that the person is not fucked up. If you can’t at least come up with ten possible reasons, then you’re probably fucked up.
I’ve always said, “He who does not occasionally question his own sanity is most likely insane.” Somebody else may have said something like that, it wouldn’t surprise me, but that’s original as far as I know:
Here are my ten reasons:
1.) I must arrange Skittles by color before I can eat them, and I must eat all of one color before starting on another. However, I can eat M&M’s, Reese’s Pieces, or pretty much any, “Piece,” candy except Skittles in whatever fashion.
2.) EVERYTHING must be ranked on a 1-10 scale (Ten being best) if it can possibly be ranked. That stems from my desire to try to find a way to quantify everything, which, of course I know is not possible.
3.) I will only start a new, “First-Level Task,” (I’ll explain what First-Level means if anyone wants me to) on the quarter-hour, half-hour, three-quarter hour, or on the hour.
4.) I will only dial a number to make a phone call if the time ends with a, “Five,” or a, “Zero.”
5.) I will never wear the same shirt twice before washing it. If I take it off, I won’t put it on again, not even five minutes later. However, I insist on wearing every pair of pants twice before washing them, unless they are disgusting.
6.) I will not wear ankle socks for any reason, ever. If I wear shorts, I just fold my socks down.
7.) I will never drink water from a kitchen sink, but if someone lacks a refrigerator with a water dispenser, I am willing to drink water from a bathroom sink.
8.) I count how many syllables are in the cumulative words in the items I am carrying (ex. wallet=2, sunglasses=3, lighter=2) and I will pick up a different item (such as a pen) and carry it with me if the result of the cumulative syllables of the items I am carrying is an odd number.
9.) I will not leave a place that I am at unless the time ends with a zero. XX:00, XX:10, XX:20, XX:30, XX:40 or XX:50
10.) I had quit smoking cigarettes for awhile, but now I smoke occasionally again. I will not re-light a cigarette, I will not allow a cigarette that has been put out to be re-lit in my presence, if I hear about someone re-lighting a cigarette, then they will be subjected to a tirade the next time that I see them.
BONUS: I always know exactly how many cigarettes are in my pack. I always know what time it is provided it is within six hours (or so) of last seeing the time…even if I take a nap! I always know the exact amount (dollars and cents) of cash in my wallet.
wow, mr ocd
I don’t think so, because these things are more habits to bring structure than they are actual compulsions.
For example, I occasionally (deliberately) break Items 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (With respect to pants, not shirts), 8 and 9 just to show that I can.
Items 6, 7, and 10 are compulsive, I will admit. I cannot wear ankle socks. I cannot drink water from a kitchen sink because the water from every kitchen sink from which I have ever drank has been vile, but I know it’s not actually vile. Other people have drank from the same sinks with no problems. Number 10 is just plain gross for someone to do.