"Whose truth? I’ll tell you! The truth of the ruling classes, the oppressors, the species-ists, the meat-eaters, those who believe that because of this thing they call ‘reason’ that they are superior to our fellow species. This is another holocaust, I tell you!"

At this, he reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket.

The security guard was stirring in his sleep and the dreadlocked cameraman was bestirred enough to extinguish his joint.

Our host looked nervous. "Please, professor—"

The spit in the form of white foam was now trickling down Dr. Renegadero’s beard.

"I’ll tell you what those like Dr. Grabar do to our planet!"

Dr. Renegadero held up what he had in his hand.

I saw that it was a good-sized chunk of ground meat.

"See, this is what you logo-centric purveyors of Western phallic ‘truth’ promote!"

I opened my mouth to object but soon got my first taste of beef tartar.

Dr. Renegadera hovered over me, spitting, "I refuse to engage in your mode of discourse based as it is on Western notions of oppression!"

And with that he rushed past the security guard who was yawning and struggling to get his gun out of his holster. The fiery professor slammed his entire body against the door and set off the security alarm.

It was all caught on tape, live, for the 153 viewers at 1:00 a.m.

Dr. Renegadero, as a result of his appearance, received numerous job offers from Ivy League universities, but decided to join his much-admired colleague, Dr. Cornell West, at Princeton, where he is now collaborating on a rap album that includes the grunts of liberated Holsteins and Herefords.

I received my own notoriety and fame and made appearances on "The Big Idea," "The View," and "Larry King Live." But I knew that I had really, really made it, when I was invited on Oprah.

On the appointed day, Oprah greeted me with a big, long hug. I was a solo guest, since no other conservative English professor could be found. I was under the bright lights with an adoring audience. Oprah literally beamed rays of healing and warmth over me. She made me so comfortable.

"So, Professor Grabar, tell us about your experience."

I began by recounting my days as student of Dr. Renegadero.

Oprah, from her side of the couch kept nodding and said, "It’s okay. It’s okay."

I continued with how he had spread the word about my political views to all the hiring committees in the university system of the state of Georgia so that I could not rise above assistant-adjunct-temporary-part-time instructor. Bravely, I told what had happened in those wee morning hours in a one-room television studio in a cinder block building in DeKalb County, Georgia.

It was quite an emotional experience, but I was also excited about the possibility of educating, from Oprah’s couch, a nation of young mothers, retirees, and anyone waiting for a tire rotation about Plato.

"You see, Plato’s idea of philosopher-kings was not as literal kings as we know them, who rule by virtue of lineage, like being female and wife of a former president or being a half-black male, but as leaders who are motivated by their love of the logos and justice. They are gentlemen and gentle ladies who do not engage in crass displays of power, such as flexing their biceps for the ignorant, adoring masses, after gaining a position—like Speaker of the House. They do not pander to voters by giving preferential treatment to certain races. They apply laws equally—even to those who sneak over the borders—"

Oprah took my hand in hers, stopping my enthusiastic lecture. She gave me a very understanding, soulful look.

"I understand your pain, Dr. Grabar. Now tell us: what did it feel like to be hit in the face with a pound of hamburger?"

That’s when I started to cry and woke up from my dream.