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In the year 7000 a dog, dying slowly from heat exhaustion, stares at the blank white sky through an immaculate windshield. He can see the swirling eternities bounce like bitches in the all-consuming eye. The moment he was adopted from a shelter on the verge of collapse by a brutally abusive family, through that family's dissolution and his rescue at the hands of a suburban 8 year old dressed as a dinosaur, and further, living the rest of his days knowing that he would outlive the only person he cared enough about to swear his life to -- this small thread of time, of life, disappeared into an immeasurably massive mess of similar threads. It lost all significance in that profound view, until, when the pattern was revealed, that thread too was revealed to consume and coincide with all the others. His small life was not important, in any sense of the word, but it was woven irreplaceably into the tapestry of the universe. Not like a thread, but like DNA. He saw his pups, still young, replicating the line with little variation, and their pups, and theirs. He died in that minivan, waiting for Desiree to finish eating her meatballs in South Dakota's second least successful IKEA.

In the year 29694 a honeybee, having miraculously survived years of stasis in a block of amber, is revived by a Federation archaeologist. With no knowledge of the planet Earth, the English language, or any kind of insect, the archaeologist first tried to determine whether the creature was naturally occurring or constructed by a superior race. In his language, he nicknamed it "The Suicide-flying Softness Hard," after it stung his glove, killing itself in the process. For a space-faring civilization, the goal to catalog all the kinds of life in the universe is thankless and eternal. Extinctions are such a fact of life that more than 99.99% of known species have gone extinct. Still, he sets off for the next planet. There is always more life out there, more to discover, to learn from, to admire and to destroy. He autopsies the honeybee, writes full notes of all of his findings, and drops it into a shot glass. He pours a sci-fi sounding liquor over it and slams the shot.

In the year 2017 a man tries to argue that men shouldn't be allowed to put on dresses and walk into the women's restroom. He has a daughter, and he's afraid his daughter will see the man's penis. She's too young to see a penis. And cross-dressers are weird, even if they have some sort of like problem or something. He's a Christian, meaning he believes that there is a humanoid God perfectly described by the only parts of his bible he knows about. Weird parts of the bible don't matter, nor do any of his actions. He believes that people should only be punished for the choices they make, and never arbitrarily based on any other factors, but also believes that all choices are illusions caused by our incomplete perception of God's divine plan. He doesn't believe in the devil, or in hell. When he was 9 years old he let his Aunt shove a Hershey's kiss up his ass. It would've been okay, but it was one of the almond ones. He hasn't reconciled his hatred for her with his faith, and never will. Still, he knows the truth: traps are gay

In between these isolated, goofy, almost retarded moments are literally infinite others. Portraits of infinite beings, doing infinite things, and they're all fucking dumb. Even if God exists who fucking cares? What good is a revelation that only comes at the last light of your waking life? Does the Federation only employ leagues of archaeologists across the expanding universe to create jobs to continue balancing their fundamentally broken books?

Everything you've experienced, everything you can imagine experiencing, everything you can imagine being unable to experience, the mangled limits of your infinite conception, bring all these threads together and what do they form? What can we see in the final summation? as a writer I literally have no point of reference, know of nothing I can describe that will convey to you the utter stupidity of the image. It's so much worse than dickbutt. So much worse than a pig shitting on his giant balls.

It's fucking retarded dude.

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