A brief sojourn into the ethical and spiritual riptide of the blogosphere
I have been pondering recently. Mining the rich seams of intellectual pay-dirt that run ever deeper into the confines of my soul. Asking myself the fundamental questions: Do Blackula's get foot fungus? If your house is made of brick, can you throw as many damn stones as you want? And if Gravity is so cool, why doesn't our body fat all roll down and fill up our ankles?
Along with those questions came the fundamental blogosphere conundrum...what makes me think I'm so important that I should scratch my thoughts onto the worldwide bathroom stall, and shout my inner demons into a series of tubes. Then it struck me...I'm a Starship captain. I'm the most important person in my relative spatial bubble. Hundreds of theoretical lives hang in the balance according to my every whim. Sure, you may be saying to yourself, "It's an improv ship...its make-believe." But the only important part of that phrase is "believe." (My power animal is a Unicorn) As an improv captain as well as a Starship captain, literally trillions of people are dependent upon me for survival. Without me they cease to exist, or get trapped in a neural memory, fading with each passing moment. With me, they can go on to suffer starvation, be morphed into a super-being made out of people parts, lose their self-will to a hive mind, or any number of exciting outcomes. The point is that spiritual Destitution and social irrelevance can be bridged directly to Megalomaniacal Despotism and all powerful Delusions of Godhood simply through the agency of that little word "believe." And that means that I am someone worth listening to. My thoughts are no longer a quiet ticker-tape of undiscovered genius, now they are the catalog of an entire dimension of existence. So, just remember that I control the fate of trillions of people...and I will kill off each and everyone of them unless you keep reading this Blorg.
-Captain Kierkegaard
If you didn't understand this entry, trying reading it again, out-loud, to a group of school children, in the voice of Kenneth Mars playing inspector Kemp.
If you don't know who Kenneth Mars is, repeat out loud three times fast, "My soul is empty" and then go watch a Kenneth Mars movie.
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