There it is, plain and simple. It destroyed itself without any of my slander. This is the lunacy by which we kneel. This is the doublespeak by which we kill. This is the inertia that keeps tradition feared. This is the absurdity by which we walk barefoot with shoes on our heads. Ponder this to get nearer to Nothing. On top of the world, think about it, there's Nothing. An unseasoned meal, monotone spirits, routine homily. Nothing has never been clearer. So kill a cat to keep logic at bay, then eat my body's finest and fell me how it tastes. Is it Nothing too? Does it stink like Nothing? Does it poison like Nothing?