Somehow it seems like the professionalization of philosophy, which began in the 19th century, was a disaster.  I suppose there’s something suicidal in saying such a thing.  If there weren’t such a thing as professional philosophy, then I wouldn’t have a job.  I’ll grant that.  However, when I look at what professionalization has wrought, I wonder if it hasn’t been catastrophic.  Through professionalization, the questions of philosophy have become rarified and abstract, generating all sorts of fascinating philosophical riddles and puzzles, yet one is left– especially the outsider –with the general question “why does it matter?”  At the end of the day, what difference does any of this make?  How pathetic is it that we endlessly pour over Chinese Rooms and what Mary learned and brains in a vat?  This is what we’ve been reduced to?  Grue?  I can, of course, tell a story about why this or that matters…