What would happen if Friedrich Nietzsche found himself in a field full of puppy dogs?
This is a very serious question. A koan of sorts. The Orange Tree wants to know.
Fearing the destruction of the universe, I have grown weary of the flotsam and jetsam of half-thought questions and misdirected answers. Is the cup half full or half empty? When happiness and sadness mix, what do we end up with? Do you identify more with Nietzsche or with the puppy dogs?
This is an absurd question. Can you imagine?
It’s like Bonnie and Cleopatra racing through the desert on a 1930’s jalopy looking for the lost ark while NYC cops close in. They arrive at the oracle, who asks them, separately, “How often do you have sex?” Bonnie says, “Almost never. Three times a week.” Cleopatra says, “All the time. Three times a week.”