... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Saturday, April 07, 2012

565: Fin. ?

That's it: a tipping point, a high water mark, an event horizon. It's happened. I have officially covered every single subject on Earth. Not just Earth, but everywhere else too. Everything from toast to Nixon, barnacles to hot water bottles, ocelots to Reeboks, tree bark to housework, baseball to bacteria, all of recorded history to Brazilian futebol, Finnish television to South coast seaside resorts.

They are all there in this blog that has gone from the B in the Bang, to the restaurant at the end of the universe, and back again. Might as well pack up the internet, save it, print it, box it up and tie a ribbon round it. Stick it on the shelf and forget about it. It's finished. So from here on in this blog will be dedicated solely to showing repeats (reruns) of previous posts. And Hitler documentaries, Friends episodes, and "entertainment" "news". I've consulted the oracle and can tell you nothing else happens. Even Coronation Street has reached its denouement. Can't go on forever.

Some things will go on for as close to forever as is realistically possible. I'll breathe forever as long as I live, but I won't live forever, unless my thoughts can be stored in the central computer's memory banks. Then in ten thousand years I'll be brought back, if realistically possible. Earth will be here forever, until the sun consumes it or a stray bit of gravity boots it into oblivion. The universe will be here forever, until it crushes itself to a heat death, or spreads out and disperses into infinite cold. And this blog will go on forever until it kills me or I kill it. Or broadband becomes forgotten, like the ability to make fire from stones and moss.

Until tomorrow. Don't let the sleeping dogs lie. Let the bedbugs bite. Read your books and change your locks. Bring your potted plants in for the night; free them from the falling frost. Be-still your fans and dowse your embers. Strain your veg and mash your spuds. Calm your raging rash and tame your temper. Stop the clocks, cut off the telephone. Fluff your pillow, find your page, and do it all again tomoz

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