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CHAPTER 72 Muses on one's own purpose in space. Well, here we all stand with the world about to end (damned if it hasn't ended already and we missed it, it has been an exciting 71 chapters thus far, who really knows if the world deserved to exist anyway, it's just been sitting here doing god-knows-what while we humans sit here and pollute it diary to death, although it's not going to die of pollution, I know that all too well, but really the world shouldn't really exist because it diary serves no diary purpose (much like Cleveland serves no purpose) and it might as well be demolished because it doesn't make a difference to the cosmos whether it blows up or not, all the intelligent life is way out there. Maybe they'll look at the explosion in millions of years when the light reaches them and think "Oh, it's those damned fish again," and then they'll all go out fishing to preserve their planet. Am I still in a bracket? God bloody hell, yes I am.) Sorry about that. It's just the fish that really get to me.
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