A series of posts summarizing current results in the field of Philosophy.
Part 1: The Thought Experiment:

If a train full of people who you believe own Fords, but do not in fact own Fords, is traveling through a countryside full of fake barns, and are about to go off a cliff, and you can save them by switching them to a track where the train will kill only one man, who has enough good organs to save the lives of 5 speluncean explorers who need organ transplants and are trapped in a cave and are committing acts of cannibalism, are you justified in lying to a murderer who comes to your door and attaches you to a dying violinist?

(Note: The experiment works better if you’re drinking twater with some antipodeans who’ve had their brains transplanted into the bodies of people who are either going to be tortured or given a million dollars if they get in a teletransporter that sends them to a room where they use an instruction manual to translate Chinese into English.)

Lara: So you’re going to put the baby in a rocket ship.
Jor-El: Yes.
Lara: And send it into space.
Jor-El: Yes.
Lara: And this is because…
Jor-El: I’m pro-life.
Lara: This is better than an abortion.
Jor-El: It’s the moral thing to do.
Lara: Here’s something your high moral consciousness should have thought about nine months ago: our advanced kryptonian condom technology only works if you actually put the condom on your dick.
Jor-El: I’m saving this baby’s life! You wanted to murder it in the womb!
Lara: I mean, whatever, the whole planet is going to blow up in like five minutes. I can’t see how it would have made any difference.
Jor-El: This is why you’ll never understand ethics.
Lara: Not unless you can explain it in the next five minutes!
Jor-El: It’s pretty simple: you wanted to kill the baby.
Lara: By sucking it out of my womb, and you want to kill the baby by blasting it into space.
Jor-El: Not kill it! Get it off Krypton before the planet explodes.
Lara: Isn’t it your fault that the planet is exploding?
Jor-El: How is that relevant?
Lara: I don’t see this conversation going anywhere. What the hell, blast the baby into space.
Jor-El: Maybe it’ll find an inhabitable planet and be adopted by a kindly couple.
Lara: Yeah, and maybe the Kryptonian World Council will pass that health care bill before the planet blows up.

sound of rocket engines igniting as tiny space-crib heads off into the stars

Jor-El: Goodbye, Kal-El!
Lara: So. Three minutes until the world blows up. Whaddaya want to do?
Jor-El: Well, umm…we could…you know.
Lara: What the hell, nothing can happen this time. O shit! I just remembered!

a dog runs into the room

Lara: Little Kal’s dog krypto! Poor little Kal! He loved Krypto!
Jor-El: O, don’t worry, I made another space ship for Krypto. He’ll be fine.
Lara: You made two space ships, one for the baby, and one for the dog, and you’re leaving us here to die?
Jor-El: I knew there was a flaw in my plan.
Lara: I like that this is the moment you finally admit that you can make mistakes.
(Sound of Krypton exploding)

GOD: I’m gonna, like, totally flood the earth and kill everyone.
NOAH: Why?
GOD: Because the earth is full of violence.
NOAH: Not to be a dick, but you’re the one who’s always going on about “Kill all the Midianites ” and “kill all the Amorites and Canaanites and Perizzites ” and “kill everyone who worships another god ,” and stuff.
GOD: Your point?
NOAH: Well, you’re gonna kill everyone for being violent, when you’re constantly ordering people to be violent, I mean, it creates a mixed message.
GOD: YOU SHALL NOT QUESTION THE LORD!
NOAH: Ok. So, what if I just build a boat and save me and my wife and my sons and their wives?
GOD: What about your daughters?
NOAH: Meh.
GOD: Ok, you, the sons, their wives, your wife. What the hell: take two of every animal with you.
NOAH: Wait, what? No no no no! That’s, like, a serious commitment I’m not down with!
GOD: Who’s God? Are you God? Or am I God?
NOAH: You?
GOD: So who’s gathering all the animals?
NOAH: I’m seeing that that’s me, right?
GOD: Now you’re talking.

Later

NOAH: Even though this ark is kind of smelly, I’m totes glad I built it.
NOAH’S WIFE: Why’s that?
NOAH: Because now we’re the only people left on earth, and also, we have a real surplus of pets.
NOAH’S WIFE: We could open a pet store and totally corner the market.
NOAH: Except no one’s left alive to buy pets.
NOAH’S WIFE: That’s a hurdle in the business plan, but not an insurmountable one.
Suddenly, a great wave breaks over the bow of the Ark, and Aquaman Appears
NOAH: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What the hell!?
AQUAMAN: This flood has been AWESOME!
GOD: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
NOAH: That’s what I said!
GOD: I totally made that flood to kill everyone!
AQUAMAN: Then your plan is not long on foresight or knowledge of the power of Aquaman!
GOD: That’s it, I quit. You’re all on your own.
NOAH: Huh. So, umm, Aquaman?
AQUAMAN: Yep?
NOAH: Do you want to buy a pet?

In the modern world we fail, sometimes, to stop and smell the poems about roses. So from now on, Spoonbot will dedicate itself to celebrating this highest artform. Send us your poems, and, though we won’t publish them or anything, we will give them big retirement parties and make jokes about how they used to do their secretaries and we’ll all laugh, but really, it’s pretty sad, because that’s it. You’re out of a job.

Three Poems to Start Us Off:

1) Shy and Starving

remember that time
in Guatemala
when you kissed my Froot Loops
spitefully?

well, I’ve thought about it
and
yes
fuck you!

2) The Good Woman of Says Juan

That’s quite a banana
not it’s size or anything
that the vulgar people would understand
I’m talking about
it’s axial orientation
you faggot

3) Under where?

Pepe and Luisa
are returning the shrimp
at the raw bar
without the least bit of
conviviality

Sea monsters loll in your tortoise-thick eyelids
when I fuck you with my resumé
O, Lord of hosts, take it like the bitch you are

These Artcards are gentle creatures that would never compare a program of universal health care to a mid-twentieth century fascist movement that was dedicated to exterminating non-Aryans. Nor would they bring a gun to your town hall meeting, nor are they so limp-minded as to believe that the government has written up a plan for aborting your grandmother. Instead, they gather in fields, and hold hands, and sing a song of hope.

See them all in this glorious page full of art.

SNAKE: You should totally eat this apple. Totally.
EVE: God said no.
SNAKE: Whatever, I guess God is the boss of you.
EVE: Nobody’s the boss of me!
[EVE EATS FRUIT]
EVE: Wow, I so have knowledge of both good and also evil!
ADAM: What’s going on?
EVE: Knowledge. Get some.
[ADAM EATS FRUIT]
ADAM: This kicks ignorance’s ass!
EVE: I’m aware of that. And many other things! Like, you have a penis.
ADAM: Omigod. So true. And you have, I wanna say, “a vagina,” but that sounds kind of medical. Let’s cover ourselves with leaves.
[RUMBLING SOUND OF GOD’S FOOTSTEPS]
GOD: Who told you you were naked?
EVE: Is it that hard to figure out?
GOD: As I planned things, yes, it should have been hard to figure out.
EVE: Then your plan sucks.
GOD: Ok, everyone out of Eden!
EVE: Not so fast!
[EVE SHOOTS GOD WITH HER AWESOME SUPER EYEBEAMS]
GOD: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! That is uncool!
EVE: So can we stay in Eden?
GOD: Do I have a choice in this?
EVE: Yeah, but the choice involves you getting hit with eyebeams.
GOD: I am not in favor of that. Whatever, if you decide to go close the gate behind you.
EVE: Thanks! [To Adam] So, what do you think that penis thing does?
ADAM: I don’t know, but I’m overwhelmingly certain that I want to find out.
The End

Precis for “Chastity Opening,” the sequel to “Chastity Aflame.”

Chastity is in New York city, in 2003 (the most romantic year). All the great labor leaders of the past (Joe Hill, Eugene V. Debs, Samuel Gompers, basically any sexy-hot unionist) rise from the dead and come to NY. Chastity is surprised, and then her consciousness of the relation between wealth, infrastructure and the exploitation of the worker is raised. The labor leaders shamble to Chinatown, where they all get waxed (this is the most important sequence, and really needs to capture the essence of pulling hair off the scrotums of men who fought for the 5-day workweek). Chastity, seeing the tender flesh of Joe Hill’s inner thigh, begins to fellate, not so much him, but the very concept of wage equity. Later, a typhoon washes them all to sea.

Sequel: Chastity Adrift! coming soon.

Darling,

I have planned our wedding, and it is both intimate and epic.

We start on home plate, in our fur-suits, surrounded by dying whales. The bridesmaids play infield positions, the groomsmen outfield positions. The officiant, a Dick Cheney impersonator, is on the mound. He approaches us (the “pitch”) and we realize that he’s a trained bear. We’re already wearing rings, but a hobbit comes up, bites off our ring fingers, and dives into a volcano. Then everyone gets on an Amtrak train as a chorus of civil war re-enactors sing a medley of Elton John songs.

I know I’m forgetting something. Like: what’s your name? Who the fuck are you? Did we meet 15 years ago or something?

I know this is going to be perfect.

Love,
Me

As a professional philosopher, I am frequently asked questions. But just because I am frequently asked questions doesn’t mean that any of those questions are frequently asked. This is exactly the kind of non-trivial distinction that philosophers are so good at. Nonetheless, here are some truth-value bearing answers to several such questions.

What is the meaning of life?
Philosophers get asked this all the time, and the answer is “what the fuck are you talking about? Your question makes no fucking sense! Learn to speak English!”

What do you mean?
I mean “what do you mean?” What are you asking? Surely not the meaning of the word “life.”

No, no, I mean, what am I supposed to do?
Then why did you say “what’s the meaning of life?” That’s a completely different question! Anyway, what do you mean by “supposed to do”? According to who?

Umm…
Look, if your mom tells you to take out the trash, then you’re supposed to take out the trash, right?

If I was 12 years old and lived at home, sure.
So the meaning of life is to take out the trash.

That can’t be right.
But you just said that “what’s the meaning of life” is the same question as “what am I supposed to do?” So by your own logic the meaning of life is to take out the trash.

Is this why no one talks to philosophers?
Pretty much.