Watch me opine: Philosophic Dilettantism, Didactic Failures, and Pornographic Recommendations

In light of the apocalyptic stylings of recent blogversations, I have decided that I needed to change my venue. To find my way to blue rafters, so to speak. I thought that I would point those of you engaged in a dispute over aesthetic judgments to a passage from Kant that pertains to claims on universal assent:

"Someone who feels pleasure in the mere reflection on the the form of an object...rightly lays claim to everyone's assent, even though this judgment is empirical and a singular judgment. For the basis of this pleasure is found in the universal, though subjective, condition of reflective judgments, namely, the purposive harmony of an object...with the mutual relation of the cognitive powers (imagination and understanding) that are required for every cognition." (Ak. 191)

The translation is Werner S. Pluhar's. If you take "objects" to mean things that can be cognized, then either Film or movies qualify under this general category (though I doubt Kant would consider the term "category" to be of an appropriate scale with this discussion). What I'm basically pointing out is, as long as you have reflected upon it, it seems that all of you have a right to demand our assent as to your aesthetic judgment of the films of Michael S. Bay or S. Soderberg (who, for the record, is a good director, but not one of my favorites; also for the record, I prefer the original Solaris movie as an adaptation of the novel, but the second movie is pretty good for what it is: a remake) as long as you received that pleasure from honest-to-betsy reflection on the form (regardless of meaning or content--LMZ). Sense pleasure does not qualify.

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On another tip, I've had this kid in my classes all summer that I have designated Object Code: Beezelbub. This kid sits up front. He speaks English as a Second Language, and it has ostensibly been my task to prep him for the PSAT. Most of my compatriots at A---, the institution in question, believe that the whole process is just an elaborate sleight-of-hand manoeuvre, whereby we convince ourselves that we are teaching basic English instead of PSAT prep, convince the students that we are teaching something meaningful, and convince the students' parents that we are unaware that they consider us to be cheap daycare for their spawn.

Beezy is incapable of telling the difference between an on-topic question and a tangential one. This leads to interesting queries such as: "How do you spell 'autumn'?" To which I respond, "A-U-T-U-M-N." To which he replies, "No, how do you spill ah atom?" To which I riposte, "A-T-O-M." At which point he gargles: "You never understand! I ha a accent!" And, at the end of my patience, seeing as we were talking about demonstrative pronouns when this whole cat-and-mouse exchange went down, said: "Well, fix it." He says, "How?" I say, "Try to enunciate. Slow down. Say each word as clearly as you can." He comes back with "How do you split an atom?" At this point, we have spent so long on this exchange--and I feel so guilty for my snarky "Fix it"--that I feel obliged to respond. A five-minute digression begins, because, as with all of Beezy's questions, he lacks the foundation to actually understand any meaningful answer. To explain how one might split an atom, I have to ask if he knows what an atom is. He doesn't. So, I have to go through the basic parts and terms of an atom while the rest of the class either leans forward excitedly or balances on the very verge of apoplectic rage at yet another beezified lecture. After class, he asks me how to fix his accent, and I say, "Well, it would help if you could speak English outside of class. Just speaking everyday will help you with your basic ability. From there, you can get specific help with particular problems." He nods, steps outside the classroom, and a waist-high blur tackles him. They begin to grapple on the ground, apparently cursing in Taiwanese. And so it goes.
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Update: Hyapatia Lee is disturbingly pretty.