Today I was reminded that I loathe not only the French, but the Greek as well.  Maybe not the people of these origins, but the language.  Life.  It’s one big oxymoron. 

I have two more Soprano’s episodes to watch before I return the set to my Dad.  I’m still somewhat embarrassed to be taking life lessons from Tony Soprano, but, certainly not above it.  You simply can neither discount an Italian heritage nor ridiculous feelings which come to the surface under extreme duress, copious amounts of alcohol, or counseling sessions.  Dr. Melfi was trying to help Tony see why he’s attracted to certain types of women.  Easy peasy.  He pays her enough in cash earned from his Waste Management profession that seemingly, it should be a breeze. 

But alas, things which should be typically never are.  Things which should be vary greatly from reality.  This I know all too well; just like I know that hearing Dr. Melfi say, “L’amour Fou” on a show which could not possibly be any more Italian is almost as asylum-funny as what I was taught in church this morning:

“Philosophy” is a combination of two words: “phileo” – to love; and “sophia” – “wisdom.”

And this, my friends, is where I would end with a smiley face if I used them. 

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