A lively gathering of seven influential European thinkers ended in spectacular confusion this week, after not a single participant could agree on what it actually means to live a good life.
The group—which included Immanuel Kant, Georg Hegel, Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Heidegger, Jean-Paul Sartre, Michel Foucault, and Jacques Derrida—had reportedly convened at a private members-only lounge known as The Philosopher’s Club for what was billed as an “informal exchange of existential insights over wine and goat’s cheese.”
Despite the promise of shared metaphysical inquiry, the evening swiftly descended into what one observer described as “an extremely well-read shouting match.”
“They were supposed to be talking about the good life,” said the bartender, who wished to remain unnamed. “Instead, they started arguing over whether truth exists, whether history has a direction, and whether anyone had the right to use the word ‘authentic’ without triggering Heidegger.”
By all accounts, Kant opened the discussion by insisting that a good life must be lived according to reason and moral law, regardless of outcomes or desires. This was immediately dismissed by Nietzsche, who reportedly barked, “Spare me your powdered wigs and moral constipation,” before launching into a 14-minute monologue about willpower, goatish passion, and Caesar.
Meanwhile, Hegel attempted to locate the good life within the inevitable dialectical unfolding of Absolute Spirit. Foucault rolled his eyes and accused Hegel of “cosmic mansplaining.” Sartre then jumped in to declare that existence is meaningless, but meaning can still be made—provided one does not get too attached to conventional relationships or trousers.
According to sources close to the event, Derrida was “just delighted to be there,” spending most of the evening scribbling on napkins and muttering phrases like “the trace of desire in the différance of ethics.”
Heidegger reportedly spent two full hours refusing to define the good life at all, instead muttering about Being, fog, and wooden shoes, which several guests initially mistook for a metaphor.
At around 11:47 p.m., Nietzsche was seen gesturing toward a meat tray and declaring, “This, my friends, is how the Übermensch eats,” to which Kant replied, “That’s salami, Friedrich. Not transcendence.”
At time of print, the group had reached no consensus whatsoever, except on the fact that Sartre had smoked all the cigarettes and Foucault had unironically brought handcuffs “in case the discussion got too disciplined.”
The evening ended with Derrida attempting to deconstruct the wine list, and Heidegger wandering into a hedge.
The philosophers are expected to reconvene next month to discuss whether reality exists.
The Afterword 
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