So I have to get up in the morning and go talk about Kant and the categorical imperative. The will, the good, universal moral maxims, duty...all that shit. So where did I wind up on the evening before lecturing on such an august topic to the young minds of America?
The Clermont Lounge.
For those of you not familiar with Atlanta and its institutions (welcome by the way to our newest customers from Iran, India and Spain), the Clermont is a place where...um...the destitute... go for uh...fellowship. It has successfully resisted years of attempts at gentrification. It never took hold and the Clermont is still proudly repulsive. Not even a gut full of Jameson can make the Clermont, or its denziens, appear attractive in the least.
I went, not from inclination, but from duty alone. What good is an untested maxim?
And someday, when I can afford therapy, I'll tell you about the time I visited with my mom, governor Ann Richards of Texas, and two homosexuals with devious moustaches.
