A Philosopher's Thoughts

Philosophers are all the same. No matter whether they are married with a dozen children, whether they live in a big city that only comes to a rest at days like Christmas, they all live by themselves, in a world that is seemingly so quiet that even a sloth would be bored to death.

Potex was no exception. Quite the contrary: He was the typical philosopher. He lived in a small district in which everybody knew everyone. That is, except for Potex; even a small and quiet district like this one was too big and loud for him. Some people only knew him by sight, others only from stories, like a legendary figure from a fairy tale they’ve heard in their childhood.

The cashier from the small Union-supermarket was the only one who could tell her curious customers what Potex looked like and what he shopped for, even though both weren’t anything worth mentioning. He was the type of guy who always stood in the background in big crowds even if he’d dyed his hair with 4 different colours.

Not that Potex ever dyed his hair. Philosophers don’t do those things. He always took care that he didn’t look like a bum but that’s where his caring ended. The world inside could be more colourful and exciting than any clothing, haircut or dye. A blizzard could rage in your head while it’s 40°C in the shades outside. While the people on the streets were worrying about money and wealth you could ask yourself their meaning and whether the people go about a senseless business to achieve them; you could come to the conclusion that all of this wouldn’t be necessary if they’d only start thinking in a different way.

Right now, Potex had discovered the topic invasion. He had decided to write a book on this. He didn’t know what it would be about exactly but he knew that invasion would be the plot. He was busy looking at the term from different angles. And like every reasonable philosopher he thought about what invasion actually meant and had spent a whole day looking up the word in different dictionaries and creating the definition in his own words. He was quite young and had difficulties formulating his thoughts.

With a pen in his hand he sat at his desk and scribbled the meaning on a blank page:

Invasion [in’va’sion], n: intrusion of an alien entity into an area that is already inhabited by a second party.

All in all he was satisfied with the definition but it wasn’t enough. He needed examples. Examples helped him understand more easily. And so he continued:

A nation that has exploited all its resources and conquers an already inhabited country to get hold of its resources.

He reread the last sentence and was happy with it. He looked over to the TV which was running quietly in the background.

He didn’t need the picture, only the sound. It was showing crap anyway. If it wasn’t commercials or brutal or just plain stupid it was porn. Strangely the tube helped him think. He made a mental note that he should fathom this phenomenon.

The television was showing an old lion, cast out from his own herd, roaming around the hot savannah. You could see in his eyes that this wasn’t the first time. Also, you could see that he hasn’t been in a herd for quite some time; his ribs showed through his thin skin.

It doesn’t take a philosopher to see that the lion probably missed his harem – and not only because of the free food. To Potex it was out of all question that animals also had feelings. Claiming the opposite was completely absurd. Those kind of people would probably think that the world is a disc.

The lion suddenly stopped and held his nose high up in the air. He noticed a smell it didn’t recognize. His organ guided him straight to the source: a pile of muck, sieged by fat flies. The lion took another deep sniff, sucked it in so deep that everyone else would’ve thrown up and refused food for the next couple of days. Complex biochemical procedures created a picture of the one that has left its mark: big, muscular, a marvellous mane und an expression full of strength. Every pore of its body screamed potency. The Adonis of the lions’ world.

And thanks to his experience the old – and quite thin – lion did what everyone else would’ve done: In an accomplished manner he ignored the warning signal and entered the area.

This also was a form of invasion, and Potex hadn’t realized this until now. His pen scribbled on the paper: Invasion also exists in the animal world.
And with this the disambiguation was finished.

Potex gave the pen a rest and watched some more TV, but it only showed the advantages of changing your insurance.

Potex didn’t know much about insurances. That’s not quite right. He knew as much about insurances as a guinea pig might know about nuclear physics.

He looked at his page again and read the couple of rows. There was nothing left to say about the term invasion. Someone – either animal or man – conquers a territory that hasn’t belonged to the invader 5 minutes ago. There really wasn’t anything left to say.

Bernie would not have agreed.