Base Calling

Did you know that for only $75 dollars you can buy a 3-square-foot patch of dirt on the surface of Saturn?

This patch of Saturn is YOURS. Because we wrote on a peice of paper that it is. That this planet, that will last millions (billions) of times longer than you, now has a chunk that's in your small hands.

This patch of land on Saturn is YOURS.

You are its leader. You are its President, its King and/or Queen. I'm gonna say King, because of the Patriarchy.

You are its King.

And now, as you live from day to day, you know that this Saturn dust is in your command.

Maybe someday, after billions of years of the universe's existence, long after your death, the atoms from what was once your body and the atoms from what was once your peice of Saturn will come together. A leader and his people united at last. United as a small clump of dust in the vacuum of space. A small miracle in a large universe.

Perhaps this is always happening.

"Can you chop my head open and pour alcohol directly on to my brain?"

"Can we open the window so when we all throw up, the vomit can flow out? Drainage?"

"Dude, it'll look like the building's pissing vomit."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHHAHA"

Kings.