(no subject)
It is way past my dinner time, I am too lazy to bother to cook with any immediacy - so to employ hyperbole, I'm starving - and if I ever meet Michel Foucault, I'll only pause to make absolutely certain of his identity before stringing him up by his ankles and dousing him with tar followed by a goodly smattering of feathers.
...wait a minute, is Foucault dead?
...wait a minute, is Foucault dead?