Nobody really knows why they have a persistent feeling of terror, because in order to know that we need to know why we aren't dead right now, and nobody really knows that. Unless they are just keeping quiet about it.
Fully realised wisdom biscuits from the Space Blep Cat - for your poor heathen flannel parts!
Wet your facials here and then bath quietly as the Space Blep Cat's though trumpet empties out all over your back while you cough and weep on all fours.
YOU ARE REBORN
YOU ARE REDEMORALISED
YOU ARE FULLY REALISED
HEED THE SPACE BLEP CAT AND LISTEN TO IT'S SHARP WISDOMS AS THEY PENETRATE YOUR THINK BUCKET AND BURROW INTO YOUR INNARDS. Space Blep Cat is here.
Remember to nearly always pretend you know exactly where you are, and where you are floating towards, and WHY. It can be very offputting when you are eating some dinner to think about how everything is just sort of there for no reason, like train timetables, or litter, or yellow.
Who says a sense of self is meaningless when faced with eternal and utter void? That eternity without self is a never self? WHO? No one really, but let us enjoy our warm slippery bodies anyway
Let's woooooosh back to the void where we all belong, I've had plenty of eggs I'm OK now. Eggs only last a very short time and as all good heron folk know well, short time divided by infinity = 0. So eggs probably don't exist. Without eggs, I am sure most of the people would prefer a return to the enormous cold void, as that is what life would be without the ovoid delightfuls. Right. fin.
As we quiver and gently anticipate our way to the void, we like to actually think we are looking all the way at the egg, but we aren't really. We are about to look at the egg properly, just in a minute, but for the time being we are busily anticipating and polishing, as we do all the way into the massive massive void. The massive void is like Piers Morgan, it is hideously foul and yet pointless and empty at the same time, but more importantly, completely void of egg.
One day we will spend almost all of our time floating around dead, which is bad because usually none of your ear will work when you die. You won't hear anything at all really! Also you won't have your phone so don't even think about using that, or any kind of ladder-escape type of plan you might have been brewing. HASHTAGS.
if blep? then do we cat? Are we even? Somestime even space blep cat don't know nothing. Nothing really is much anyway, but YOU definitely are. I think.
IT IS FRIDAY, ANOTHER DAY OF FLOATING AROUND POINTLESSLY IN THE GIANT COSMIC ABYSS.
Right now everyone is quite worried about ladders; how good they are, how good they should be, and what they might be worth in a few years. That is great, generally. Ladders are important, and the media is quite hysterical about ladders at the moment, which might seem silly. But if the media didn't be silly about ladders, then ladders might become very uneconomical, or they might become rich ladders that hate poor people. But at the same time they are ladders, which are kind of pointless at the best of times. Don't worry about ladders because they are just as transient and meaningless as the rest of existence. They aren't good, like eggs. Maybe just have a lie down and let your trousers dry whilst you contemplate a good calippo, thanks a lot I love you.
Sometimes you feel a bit silly. Maybe your trouser fell down, or you said something mad, or maybe you mistook your eggs for a new bank statement or a part of a ladder. Either way bad for you. But when you remember that one day you will be dead, and everyone else will be dead, then it doesn't seem as bad to have your trouser fall all of the way down at B&Q that time. Once you stop existing, then maybe you never did, and if you never did then it probably didn't matter that you looked like a proper fully realised spoonless buffoon. Thanks
LIE DOWN ON THE FISHFINGER, in the middle of the gaping chasm. It might be OK. Maybe
AND STILL WE DO THE DUSTING / the rearrangement of matter can be a very interesting/occupying/validating thing for some people, and they should do it more, if it means they don't go 7 out of 11 mad! But for everyone else, it is equally useful/futile to lay on a towel and lick a calippo most of the time (78%). Good day.
Why do we sing and cry as we toil, as toil is inevitable while you are spiralling void-wise
Sometimes even space blep cat notices the turbulence during the noisy hurtling descent into the huge oblivions, but ambivalence is always maintained where possible I think.
Why do we be? If we do. Maybe we do. Seven. But does it mean?
If you have been thinking all the time about the Trump and Brexits and the inexorable rise of Justin Beibers and intensive farming and all of that then try to spend at least 7 or maybe even 8 trying to prove to yourself if anything at all actually exists outside of your eye parts. It is a useful exercise, in as much as anything is useful (apart from calippos and those plastic metal things you use to get hot trays out from under the grill) thx
Why does Blep Space Cat believe in nothing, yet concede everything is likely. Well because everything does
ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU DO EXIST, TRY TO REMEMBER. When it all starts to seem a bit too implausible, like when you worry about quantum fields, or why does Piers Morgan happen, just remember, the Universe is so trouser-wettingly inexorably large that everything probably happens at some point, no matter how pointless, upsetting, or how much of a garrulous squinting simpleton they are, thanks very much bye
HULLO. Blep Space Cat likes to blast into space and get a good view on all the things, to tell how rubbish they all are the end thanks
Blep Cat floats in space, he sometimes likes to read, and this makes him quoth pointless quothers. Quoths. Quotes. Thanks.
Hullo thankfully il est Freitag. Enjoy and praise and joy upon the house etc.
space cat reckons NOTHING IS CERTAIN, BE ALWAYS VAGUE AND TRANSIENT like a poorly translated newspaper in the sauna. HAPPINESS IS VAGUE
Some things are important: travelling, not eating all of the eggs at once, and always being interesting. But all will be dust - ladders, biscuit, ovens, red. Everything will be chaos and nothing you did will really have meant anything. Listen to Space Bleps yes?
Some things are important: travelling, not eating all of the eggs at once, and always being interesting. But all will be dust - ladders, biscuit, ovens, red. Everything will be chaos and nothing you did will really have meant anything
Today's Blepism might reduce your resilience reducing caterpillars slightly. I hope. EVERYTHING MIGHT NOT BE. Although it might, and you should defs not take my words for it. Because my words might not be EVEN MORE.
Today's Space Blep Cat Truism is here to help you come to terms with your utter pointlessness. EVEN MORE.
NEVER THINK MORE THAN SEVEN AND EVERYTHING WILL BE OK / put down the diazepams.
Today\'s truthMissile is targeting your silent shouting space and it\'s a corker! Just lie down and remember that you cannot be yourself because yourself does not exist, you are everything and everything is you. Consciousness is a deceit propagated by those who would have you buy their overpriced mattresses. ~~ Accept your place in the cosmos and lie down ~