Mao has problem with Nietzsche and he surely makes the most out of his position while on the surface giving him advices, but in fact trying to bend him to his will thus showing everyone that Nietzsche is his subject colleague. He has something to say about everything Nietzsche does: his tone, the color of his shirt, the language he speaks, etc., etc.
Met Mao, unfortunately, earlier this afternoon when Nietzsche was on his way to the library in his usual tomato shirt, and a shower of shells firing from Mao's mortar downed on Nietzsche inquiring him whether he belonged to a specific political party due to the color match. And then he continued with his crap, kindly "informing" him that some students deliberately spoke twanenish to him and he should refrain from speaking that language during the class because it's not the dominant language in Twanenland.
These words filled Nietzsche's chest with rage, all he wanted to do was to slap Mao square in the face and kick him off the bench, but of course, as an employee of the uni and educated decent young man he can't do that, unfortunately. So he just replied, well, I'm a poor guy who can't afford to buy more clothes than the one I was having on me, and I can't really and shouldn't prohibit the students from speaking my mother tongue with me if they wanted to. What would that make me if I don't allow them to speak their language? Besides, take note, if your memory fails to do so, I wasn't speaking twanenish, but wankerin, your so-called dominant language, in my classes, precisely because there're irresponsible parents not teaching it to their kids, not passing on the culture, but only outside of class, that is to say, in my goddamn free time. And don't get too political, the color of my shirt is none of your fucking business.
So Nietzsche argued with Mao, in a lighter tone of course, normally he doesn't argue, but just smile, but this time he had to because he doesn't allow anyone to tell him which language he shouldn't speak. Then he excused himself because he needed to go to the library, just some 20 meters away, but seemed so distant and far away, before it closed in half an hour. As Nietzsche walked away, he had a feeling that something ominous was gathering its force in the dark.
Met Mao, unfortunately, earlier this afternoon when Nietzsche was on his way to the library in his usual tomato shirt, and a shower of shells firing from Mao's mortar downed on Nietzsche inquiring him whether he belonged to a specific political party due to the color match. And then he continued with his crap, kindly "informing" him that some students deliberately spoke twanenish to him and he should refrain from speaking that language during the class because it's not the dominant language in Twanenland.
These words filled Nietzsche's chest with rage, all he wanted to do was to slap Mao square in the face and kick him off the bench, but of course, as an employee of the uni and educated decent young man he can't do that, unfortunately. So he just replied, well, I'm a poor guy who can't afford to buy more clothes than the one I was having on me, and I can't really and shouldn't prohibit the students from speaking my mother tongue with me if they wanted to. What would that make me if I don't allow them to speak their language? Besides, take note, if your memory fails to do so, I wasn't speaking twanenish, but wankerin, your so-called dominant language, in my classes, precisely because there're irresponsible parents not teaching it to their kids, not passing on the culture, but only outside of class, that is to say, in my goddamn free time. And don't get too political, the color of my shirt is none of your fucking business.
So Nietzsche argued with Mao, in a lighter tone of course, normally he doesn't argue, but just smile, but this time he had to because he doesn't allow anyone to tell him which language he shouldn't speak. Then he excused himself because he needed to go to the library, just some 20 meters away, but seemed so distant and far away, before it closed in half an hour. As Nietzsche walked away, he had a feeling that something ominous was gathering its force in the dark.
4 comments:
Hahn, as you'd predicted, this is the first of the Professional Venting Posts.
Yes indeed, but it's not half as bad as one might expect a venting post to be.
oh well, what can I do? I'm the talented and educated decent young man after all!
Oh? That being said, I shall take the liberty of congratulating you on the creation of a brand new acronym! PVP, I like it. (Who's spending too much time alone now?)
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