History is a plaster cast of the yeti’s footprint, by which the prurient, prodding fingers of science try to quantify the impossible. If every moment is the culmination of prior ones, rather than just a link in a sequential chain of events—that is, if cause has effect—then the present is far more than just the intersection between the utterly possible and the totally inert. It is an inevitable train wreck of a moment, the unavoidable crash of millions of unknowable dynamic futures headlong into each other in mutual self-annihilation. Exactly one emerges intact and, of all that could have happened, history is in sum the one that did. In this way, it is a mere line transcribed. Since we can never know what will happen, and can barely agree on what has happened, endeavor never to lose sight of breadcrumb trail: By whatever unimaginable and roundabout means and for whatever hidden reasons it may have led from there to here, it is sure to return.

"Last night, Darth Vader came down from planet Vulcan and told me that if I didn't take Lorraine out that he'd melt my brain."

...or, you know, words to that effect. it took me a few readings of your thing to recognize why the territory seemed so familiar. i've been here before. i can see the signs.

See, others mentioned that it sounded like the annoying parts of War and Peace more than Back to the Future, but I guess the wonderful thing about my thing is how it's open to interpretation like that. It has no intrinsic meaning, makes no absolute claims. It just is what it is, man. There is no spoon.

war and peace... that's the one with all the russians, right?
paul, there are so many wonderful things about your thing that i can't even begin to bend it.

Um... please don't ever try to bend my thing. That's not appropriate.

Dude, anne, you better not be trying to bend my boyfriend's thing. i know where you live, girl!

ah, corinne. if it bends, it's funny. it's only if it breaks that it isn't funny.