O Pós-Modernismo de Sócrates e Aristóteles

Uma versão de filosofia antiga à la Quentin Tarantino.
Republic Dogs, By Nathaniel Daw


(...) Aristotle: [Draws a gun, fires a shot into the air, and points it at Alcibiades] Interrupt me again, motherfucker. Interrupt me again. Nobody's trading with anybody. This is my allegory.
[Alcibiades gestures submission.]
Aristotle: [Putting away gun.] So as the philosopher king, it would be my duty to keep seditious literature out of the city
-- Socrates: I got it. I understand.
Aristotle: Shut up, motherfucker, 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.
Aristotle: Forms?
Socrates: Yeah, motherfucker, 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. (...)