Jean-Paul Sartre was a real son of a bitch. We all know a guy who is actually really smart and funny and all but whose ego about everything is so toxic you mostly wanna push him into the river. Dude woulda been canceled as hell if heeda been kicking around today (he was the editor of a smartibritches magazine who epically and very publicly feuded with friends and enemies alike) and he’d earn every bit of it for sure. But the catty betch croaked in 1980, so he never got to see the internet. And I think we are all worse off for that.
on Prospects and Projection
