Written by Nathaniel Daw. Brad DeLong found it. Patrick passed it on to me. It was originally published in the Subgenius Digest, but never mind that. [Incorrect! See below for a note on its actual provenance.] Here’s a chunk:
I don’t have to explain that, right?
Aristotle: Shut up, motherf*cker, how can you understand my perfect city when I haven’t explained it yet?
Socrates: No, dickhead, not that, I understand what you were saying before, about perfection. It’s all about forms.
Socrates: Yeah, motherf*cker, forms. Like, something don’t have to physically exist for it to be perfect; it exists as the perfect ideal, the perfect form, beyond mortal comprehension.
Alcibiades: Socrates, you’re supposed to pour your libations on the ground, not drink them till you’re talking like a crazy Bacchae bitch.
Socrates: Normally, I’d be pouring libations with your spinal fluid right now, but since I’m feeling at peace with the universe I’ll try to enlighten your sorry ass instead. Imagine there’s this dark, underground cave.
Socrates: And there’s this rapist-motherf*cker, and he’s got this gimp, right, tied up in the cave. See that?
Socrates: And this rapist, he’s a sick motherf*cker, so let’s say one day he sends down a coupla pipe-hittin’ negroes to cut the gimp’s ear right off.
Alcibiades: Cut his ear off?
Socrates: Yeah, and gouge out his f*cking eyes. Now wouldn’t you say that the ear and eye are the proper receptacles of the senses of sight and hearing, respecitively?
Alcibiades: Clearly so.
Socrates: So, moreover, would you not agree that this gimp’s senses are imperfect?
Aristotle: Why, yes, Socrates, I suppose they would be a trifle damaged.
Socrates: And what do things look like to someone with imperfect senses?
Socrates: No, motherf*cker, nine letters, begins with “I.”
Socrates: Bingo. So you’d say this gimp, you’d say this gimp motherf*cker would be unable to perceive true perfection—but that don’t mean it don’t exist. Now if you brought him out of the cave, into the light, things would be less dark, and his eyes might heal a little, he might begin to see a glimmer of light, thereby gaining the idea of true perfection—
Aristotle: What kind of argument is that? Your theory of the forms rests on an arbitrary and vicious act of violence.
Socrates: [Draws his gun.] Aristotle, you’re Plato’s student, I respect you, but I will put f*cking bullets through your heart if you don’t take back what you said about me being violent now!
Aristotle: [Also drawing gun] You shoot, you’ll be dining with Lord Hades tonight. I repeat. You kill me, your ass is eating pomegranate f*cking casserole for the rest of eternity.
Alcibiades: Shit, man, you’re acting like a bunch of f*ckin’ Spartans. Am I the only philosopher around here?
Socrates and Aristotle: [To Alcibiades] Shut up!
Alcibiades: Guys, guys, calm down. Look, I’ve got it. Let’s have a symposium—we can all drink wine and make speeches in praise of love.
Aristotle: What are you, some kind of pansy?
Socrates: Shoot that dipshit.
[Socrates and Aristotle turn in unison and shoot Alcibiades, then turn back and again aim at each other.]
Socrates: [To Aristotle] Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. You ever read Plato?
Aristotle: Of course.
Socrates: There’s this little passage I got memorized that I like to recite in situations like this …
By the way, the thing in the briefcase? The Holy Grail. Gotta be.
Actually it wasn’t originally published in Subgenius Digest—it was just something I wrote in college that got forwarded around the net a lot. The Subgenius guys must have picked it up at some point.Adam Fields has put up a post about it on his own weblog:
I can personally attest to being present around the time of the original writing and presentation, at or near Columbia’s Philolexian Society … sometime between 1992 and 1996. Nat says 1994, and I believe him.
In fact, I made a poster for its theatrical (okay, in the basement of River) performance as part of a series of one-act plays, Onion Days and Starry Nights in the Zero-Sum Republic.