There is one aspect of being a philosophy professor that I don’t miss: the performance aspect. I mean the giving of lectures and conference presentations. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t much like it either. It doesn’t mesh with the essential work of being a philosopher, i.e., thinking, reading, and writing. You have to transform into being a performer. It’s not that I don’t like performing tout court: I was a drummer and a gymnast, and both are types of performance. I’m not against “showing off”. But philosophy is not inherently a theatrical matter; conversational, yes, but not like acting or dancing. I always felt that performing philosophy was somehow debasing it, besmirching my thoughts. I remember at Oxford once when Julie Jack asked me, “Are you performing this afternoon?” I icily replied, “Well, I am reading a paper”. Then there was the time when I was visiting at UCLA (1979) and a young American guy took it upon himself to advise me on proper paper-presentation comportment: “You need to maintain eye contact, establish communication with the audience”—that type of thing. I haughtily informed him that in England we let our words speak for themselves. He was genuinely baffled. I am all in favor of insulting the audience, just to show that I have no desire to be popular with them. You should always maintain the impression that you are indifferent to the audience’s reactions, truth being your only concern. Anyway, there is always some idiot who thinks it’s time for public combat—a type of competition—and this person needs to be dealt with accordingly. So, my lecturing style was extremely unflamboyant, though not without dashes of humor. I wasn’t there to entertain. I think the theatrical-entertainer model has done significant harm to philosophy in the USA: it has turned philosophy into a branch of PR, a form of social manipulation. I name no names, but pick your favorite philosophical performer. Perhaps the worst kind of philosopher is the one who acts the part of a “serious academic”: the glasses, the jacket, the cadences and posture. Really, one should seem uncomfortable and out of one’s natural element, slightly embarrassed by the whole thing. Anyhow, I no longer have to tolerate this descent into showbiz. I spend my time in the recording studio, so to speak: no more concerts and public appearances. Philosophical performance is distracting and tiring, and not of the essence. If you want to perform, become a musician or an actor or a gymnast. If you want to philosophize, keep away from the spotlight.