At almost every institution of higher education there is a group of sleek, chiseled man-boys with high cheekbones and furrowed brows. They congregate on the quad, smoke Gaulois cigarettes, and talk loudly about Satre, Derrida, and especially Nieztsche. Despite being so very intellectual, they still seem to spend a great deal of time grooming themselves. Their most common posture is that of the cocky chest-thrust, though some of them also practice the studied slouch. When women walk by, their talking seems to get even louder. If they are alone and can not talk (so sad!), they are forced to brood underneath trees, reading their dog-eared copies of Thus Spake Zarathrusta. Their hair is always just so, and they make sure that their pained visages are frequently available to be gazed upon by (what they must imagine to be) their throngs of admirers. Ah, to be smarter than everybody else! Such a burden!
Now don't get me wrong; I have nothing against philosophy. And I like books (obvs). But I do, however, have a problem with boys who think they are better than others simply because they've read x, y, or zed. I have a problem with boys who feign aloofness among their peers simply because they think it makes them cool. I have a problem with boys who pretend to listen to you only so they can respond by putting words in your mouth (for example, they love to tell you what "you think"). And I have a problem with boys whose favorite sentence is along the lines of "Obviously you've never read ____." Give me a fucking break.