Mix Plato’s Republic and Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs, and you get …
(below the fold for language)
[Thrasymachus is tied up in a chair. Socrates is brandishing a gun in his face]
Thrasymachus: Don’t kill me, man!
Socrates: Are you finished, fucker?
Thrasymachus: Look, look, man, you can have my ten yoke of oxen. My virgin daughters? My pomegranite orchard?
Socrates: You like pomegranites? Shit, motherfucker, I hear they’ve got a fuckin’ all-you-can-eat special going on on pomegranites where you’re headed.
Thrasymachus: Don’t do it, Socrates. Be fair.
Socrates: [Suddenly contemplative] Fair?
Thrasymachus: [Sees an opportunity for survival] Yeah, fair… think about my wife and children —
Socrates: Would you say that to be fair is the same thing as to be just?
Thrasymachus: What?
Socrates: Well, I’m just a dull, wandering street philosopher, so I don’t understand quite where you’re headed with this particular line of reasoning. Perhaps [motions with gun] you could further elucidate your theory of justice.
Socratic dialog (as written by Nathaniel Dew) never tasted so much like blood!
(via BoingBoing)