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When I think of Nietzsche I think of my English teacher, who’s sister was a reality TV star, who’s boyfriend was a famous musician, who used to slide her head through the door of the teachers bathroom and ask if we can smell the whiskey on her. Who would put the English schoolbook to the side and sneak out a Nietzsche from her handbag to read it out loud to teenagers. Who later, I found out, was brutally murdered in her apartment during an after-party she threw.