The return of radical empiricism

Scientia Salon

zby Massimo Pigliucci

“All our knowledge begins with the senses, proceeds then to the understanding, and ends with reason. There is nothing higher than reason.” So wrote Immanuel Kant in his Critique of Pure Reason, one of the most influential philosophy books of all time. Kant is also the philosopher credited for finally overcoming the opposition between empiricism and rationalism in epistemology, as he realized that neither position, by itself, is sufficient to account for human knowledge.

Kant was notoriously awoken from what he termed his “dogmatic slumber” [1] by reading David Hume, who had written in his Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding:

“All the objects of human reason or enquiry may naturally be divided into two kinds, to wit, Relations of Ideas, and Matters of fact. Of the first kind are the sciences of Geometry, Algebra, and Arithmetic … [which are] discoverable by the mere operation of thought … Matters…

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FalconCam in Fargo

Why Evolution Is True

I’ve been remiss in posting about animal cams, but I don’t want you to miss this really nice Perigrine FalconCam in Fargo, North Dakota. You can see a live feed here, and I’ve posted a screenshot I just took below.  Isn’t she lovely?

And you’ll be able to watch the chicks hatch and be raised!  According to the information page, the mated pair produced four eggs, but one had a hole in it and was consumed by the parents for nutrition. According to Those Who Know, the eggs should begin hatching in 5-8 days.

You can see another livestream of the same nest, along with a list of current events here. That page also has recordings from past events, and, if you’re of a salacious bent, you can see the pair copulating (it takes just a few seconds).

Don’t miss the livecam, for the resolution is fantastic and the view…

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Bad Management Fads – A Classically Educated List

Classically Educated


Our guest blogger today, part of the Classically Educated core team, has decided to remain anonymous, since they suspect their boss reads this blog. But anonymous or not, we think you’ll enjoy it!


For those who’ve never been corporate zombies, it might come as a bit of a surprise that not everyone in management fits the stereotypes.  Not every manager is a serious-minded analytical guru, not all are whiz-kids, there are nearly no crooks and Dilbert’s boss, though iconic, doesn’t really represent a significant cross-section.  As a blog that self-describes as “eclectic”, we couldn’t let the opportunity of having a look at this, especially as many of us still spend a significant portion of our waking lives at work.

Most managers are just regular people who do regular things.  They have the same feelings that you or I do, have the same questions (What is the meaning of life? Will…

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Party Like It’s 1925

Classically Educated

1920s  House Party

Here at Classically Educated, we think that everyone takes themselves much too seriously.  Hell, we’ll probably be accused of taking ourselves too seriously.  In fact, the very name “Classically Educated” reeks of pretentious big-headedness.  So we are officially declaring this week the “Week of Not Taking Ourselves or the Week of Easter Seriously”, also known by its simple acronym, WONT OOT WOES.  Our article on Thursday will probably poke some sort of  fun at something around Easter, but we had no article for today.

So, in the time-honored tradition of blogs everywhere, we asked a vampire to send us an article about how to party to run on Easter week.  I imagine all the other blogs are doing the same thing.  Well, at least those that recognize the universal truth that vampires haven’t been overdone.  Anyway, H’s post is below.  You may have read it before, but we don’t care.

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Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)


Charles Bukowski

19201994 Andernach , Germany

Charles Bukowski was born in Andernach, Germany on August 16, 1920, the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. His lack of publishing success at this time caused him to give up writing in 1946 and spurred a ten-year stint of heavy drinking. After he developed a bleeding ulcer, he decided to take up writing again. He worked a wide range of jobs to support his writing, including dishwasher, truck driver and loader, mail carrier, guard, gas station attendant, stock boy, warehouse worker, shipping clerk, post office clerk, parking lot attendant, Red Cross orderly, and elevator operator. He also worked in a dog biscuit factory, a slaughterhouse, a cake and cookie factory, and he hung posters in New York City subways.

Bukowski published his first story when he was twenty-four and began writing poetry at the age of thirty-five. His writing often featured a depraved metropolitan environment, downtrodden members of American society, direct language, violence, and sexual imagery, and many of his works center around a roughly autobiographical figure named Henry Chinaski. His first book of poetry was published in 1959; he went on to publish more than forty-five books of poetry and prose, including Pulp (Black Sparrow, 1994), Screams from the Balcony: Selected Letters 1960-1970 (1993), and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992). He died of leukemia in San Pedro on March 9, 1994.

Selected Bibliography


2 by Bukowski (1967)
A Love Poem (1979)
Africa, Paris, Greece (1975)
All the Assholes in the World and Mine (1966)
Another Academy (1970)
At Terror Street and Agony Way (1968)
Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame: Selected Poems, 1955-1973 (1974)
Cold Dogs in the Courtyard (1965)
Confessions of a Man Insane Enough to Live with Beasts(1965)
Crucifix in a Deathhand: New Poems, 1963-1965 (1965)
Dangling in the Tournefortia (1981)
Fire Station (1970)
Flower, Fist, and Bestial Wail (1959)
Grip the Walls (1964)
If We Take… (1969)
It Catches My Heart in Its Hands: New and Selected Poems, 1955-1963 (1963)
Legs, Hips, and Behind (1978)
Longshot Pomes for Broke Players (1962)
Love Is a Dog from Hell: Poems, 1974-1977 (1977)
Love Poems to Marina (1973)
Maybe Tomorrow (1977)
Me and Your Sometimes Love Poems (1972)
Mockingbird, Wish Me Luck (1972)
Night’s Work (1966)
On Going Out to Get the Mail (1966)
Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit (1979)
Poems Written before Jumping out of an 8-story Window(1968)
Poems and Drawings (1962)
Run with the Hunted (1962)
Scarlet (1976)
Sparks (1983)
The Curtains Are Waving (1967)
The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses over the Hills (1969)
The Flower Lover (1966)
The Genius of the Crowd (1966)
The Girls (1966)
The Last Generation (1982)
The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992)
The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966 (1988)
To Kiss the Worms Goodnight (1966)
True Story (1966)
War All the Time: Poems, 1981-1984 (1984)
Weather Report (1975)
While the Music Played (1973)
Winter (1975)
sifting through the madness for the Word, the line, the way(2003)


Barfly (1984)
Bring Me Your Love (1983)
Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions, and General Tales of Ordinary Madness (1972)
Factotum (1975)
Ham on Rye (1982)
Hollywood (1989)
Horsemeat (1982)
Hot Water Music (1983)
Notes of a Dirty Old Man (1969)
Post Office (1971)
Pulp (1994)
South of No North: Stories of the Buried Life (1973)
There’s No Business (1984)
Women (1978)


Screams from the Balcony: Selected Letters 1960-1970(1993)
The Bukowski/Purdy Letters: A Decade of Dialogue, 1964-1974 (1983)

Poetry & Prose

Septuagenarian Stew (1990)


A Buick in the Land of Lexus

This is who's giving writing advice. Why wouldn’t you take writing advice from this man?

The writing gods have buried me.

I’m a ghost trapped in crippling indecision.

Which ME should I write?

smart funny edgy human lovable important literary cathartic informative impressive personal controversial

Enter Charles Bukowski, “so you want to be a writer?”

This poem has always fired me up,

like a pep squad before the big game.

I was the quarterback at the keyboard field; my high school brain hot wired on energy drinks, carb loading and anabolics the coach procured to shoot into beautiful blue teenage veins.

Today  –  you’re an irritant. You’re the PLAGUE.

You’re a bombastic lecture, a tirade of what I’m not and how I can’t and why I shouldn’t.

Fuck you, Bukowski.

Shut yer PIEHOLE.

I can’t corral these

magnetic fields of thought;  brilliant and terrible investigations; verbal threats of transferable love; abandoned novels wishing for a record of having been together, flipping…

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You know that feeling when you arrive into a room and you feel like you are imposing?

Say you end up with a group of people who know each other really well. Everyone is polite and attentive. And then the conversation might fall into the charm and ease of familiarity. A falling, a rolling: shared memories that come up because just a word can be enough to bring them up. The chuckle when she said that, a chuckle that can ripple through the group, accompanied by sideways glances of affection. You don’t mind this at all; you might be sitting back and enjoying that roll. But someone looks up and notices you are not being included in the conversation. There is a checking; a feeling of being checked. And someone else might turn to you and ask you a question. It is such a polite question; the atmosphere becomes more formal. And this tonal shift is a shift of…

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The Pedantic, Censorious Quality of “Sic”

Sentence first

Jessica Mitford, in The American Way of Death,* quotes a text that uses compliment when complement was intended, and adds [sic] to indicate this. What’s of interest here is the footnote she then appends:

I do not like the repeated use of sic. It seems to impart a pedantic, censorious quality to the writing. I have throughout made every effort to quote the funeral trade publications accurately; the reader who is fastidious about usage will hereafter have to supply his own sics.

This “pedantic, censorious quality” is sometimes insinuated and sometimes unmistakeable. Sic – not an abbreviation but a Latin word meaning thus or so – can usefully clarify that a speaker said or wrote just as they are quoted to have done. But it can also serve as a sneer, an unseemly tool to mock a trivial error or an utterance of questionable pedigree.

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