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?