Finn had some essays due in this week, which means for a brief period he learns something about the degree he's enrolled in. The length of time he invests in the degree is governed by the absolute minimum level of effort he thinks he needs to expend in order to get a pass mark for the essay.
Razor's edge level risk assessment is probably the main thing he's learning from his tertiary education. Anyhow, this week I caught him during a period where he's cramming about Kant.
What can we hang onto in this world? What lifeline is there in this journey from the womb to ultimate oblivion? If what Finn is telling me is true - then Kant is saying that I can rely on the scales. Their transcendental identity to me reveals the underlying combination of space, time, gravity and my mass in one penetratingly sharp number displayed every Monday.
And the little armless, one foot wonder that is still wrapped around my midrift - well he's only real to me, but not as a thing in himself. I'm sure that will be disappointing news to him.
What about the Fisherman’s Friends?
As soon as he is still real to you, he will still be a bit happy. What do I mean? Huuh?