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Everyone knows that the finest philosopher ever to be born on April 28th -- the Feast of St. Memnon the Wonderworker -- is Kurt Gödel, a man who was capable of bridging the practicality and more immediate applicabilities of what has come to be referred to as the "STEM" fields with the ancient wisdom of philosophy, a philosopher who traversed the sometimes seemingly large gap between the sciences and the humanities, and who still managed to give religion its due place in philosophy, never lowering it to the level of fideism but trusting it to the equity of reason.
Few, however, know the true story of Dr. Gödel's ultimate fate. Now, thanks to a recent archival discovery by the Young Fenwickians (or was it, perhaps, a boyish manchild who looked like he could have been a young Fenwickian, if not for his advanced age?), that story is ready to be told. That discovery -- which at first appeared to be an ancient text written in an archaic language on a scroll of papyrus, but was later determined to be a proof using modal logic written in pencil on a roll of toilet paper -- was bequeathed to the University archives by Gödel's estate on April 28, 1989 to commemorate what would have been the late-thinker's 83rd birthday.
Following in the tradition of Anselm and Leibniz, Gödel sought to use logic to prove the existence of God. Critics, however, chided Gödel for relying too heavily on assumption, all-too-common among analytic philosophers, that if something looks complicated and mathematical, then it must be true. They also denounced him for having "a puny little brain." (As evidence for this, they compared Gödel's portrait to that of Leibniz and concluded that the latter had to be hiding a massive loaf of gray matter under that wig of his).
Scarred by these rebukes, Gödel turned to his friends in the Vienna Circle for support. They, however, were reading Freud at the time and, interpreting Gödel's "proof" as a veiled wish to finally earn the admiration of his dominant father, they dismissed the whole affair with wry smiles and snide comments about his supposed "inversion."
In the aftermath, as if to prove his critics right, Gödel lapsed into obsessional neurosis, refusing to eat any food not prepared for him by his wife and earning further condemnation as "the man who could trust his reason to prove the existence of God but couldn't trust his palate to taste a bit of beef."
Here is where the latest discovery in the Fenwick Archives come in. For on a fragile roll of TP, yellowed with the passage of time but still in fully intact, Gödel recorded the entire agonizing affair of his profound "costiveness." The manuscript includes a long, Luther-esque prayer to the Almighty to "deliver me from this thorn in my (back)side, this messenger of Satan You have seen fit to allow to torment me!" It also includes detailed drawings of the poor philosopher's convalescence.

Yet in the end, Gödel seems to have found the proof for which he had been searching so fervently. Salvation, he found, came not from logic or the powers of the mind, as the Platonists would have us believe. Rather, it welled up from below -- from somewhere deep within the hidden recesses of his human condition -- and enabled him to ascend to heights to which all of us mortals must aspire.
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