Instead of these feeble words of pretense and hubris, someday, wonderous enlightmenment will appear in this space. It might be a series of crazy cuckoo cosmic connections; an image of The Last Beat Poet; or words of wisdom from Rex Stout, Jack Vance, Edgar Pangborn, and John Irving.
But until then, we must beguile ourselves with the crisp musical resonances of Emile Zola's rarefied piss as it sparkles off the ice in the urinal of some biker bar: "Truth is on the march...and nothing can stop it."
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