Atomic pondering

[timpeltje]

The atoms in my body aren’t worried. Why should they be? They will be around, no matter what configuration they are pushed in. If I would accidently cut off my head when having breakfast (‘slice bread, not head, Timmy!’), they would all be standing in line to take molecular buses that would drive them out of me. Some would volunteer to be eaten by maggots (freaky fetishists!), others would happily let fire take them on a carbon dioxide journey to witness first-hand what all that global warming fuss is about (and exacerbating the problem for us, but not for them). Which of course means that molecules too couldn’t give a rat’s arse where they live, no matter how much you tell them you adore them, stroke them or even fondle them every day. The moment they can leave you to be something else, they will abandon you, time and time again. Ungrateful children who deserve a billion spankings, that’s what they are.

Since there is a finite number of atoms in the universe, hugely obese people, having more fat, more cells, more atoms, are actually marginally slightly bigger shareholders in the universe.

Perhaps I should consider obesity to increase my atomic power. Then everyone with less mass than me will automatically be my bitch. It is simple math, really.

Or maybe not...