Bloviating Buttressed Blank Benefitting Butts

I'm so sick of this... Reality... Is that what we call it or can we use some other nonsensical word to describe whatever this instant that keeps moving like a target in a space game of Asteroids or Hemorrhoids of Piles on Targeting Scanners pointing at the imaginary enemies of all that is Good and Sanitary?

Evil is a relative of my second Cousin twice removed from this location. Nonsense you say? Then what is sense? 

Is it a Tweet from some anonymous troll who bloviates before exploding its bile of opinions on electron bits of bytes all over the interwebs of poor taste. Eight grade educated dropouts who believe their opinions merit as much attention as those of Al Gore. Sorry, poor example.

I don't really care anymore. As soon as I tap on the White Tweety Bird Outline up

Pops bloated, dead corpses of discarded disregarded bird droppings of so many different same opinions not worth the magnetic domains they are clogging up on some hard drive somewhere out there in the vast wasteland of the cloudy server farms.

Why do you people bother, care, believe, pontificate about endless tracts of empty minds who agree only to stab you in the back when any opportunity presents itself? Everyone hates everyone else. We even hate ourselves, except we are so perfect in our extremely narrow vision of that mirror of our soulless being.

This has all been written before, mostly better yet mostly worse than this ridiculous prose of profound insight.

Such as it is, so it will be, forever and ever, beyond time's measure; amen. 

Pointless Profundity Progressing Perfectly

Now is constantly being destroyed. The Past fades, the Future uncertain. But as soon as it's now, it's gone. As if it had always been but it never existed until it dissolved.

Memory tells us nothing about Now. The stories are all fictions of the imperfections of Memory. No matter the measurements, they describe nothing as they're all imperfect inaccuracies of what we believe was Real. 

We have to take Existence on Faith. Do we really all agree on Reality? Or is just me forcing my Perceptions on an unwilling Present? Or you? Beyond Solipsistic thoughts of One's own solitary being, is there a True Agreement or just more arguments of philosophic randomness of an Uncertain Universe. 

Depressing isn't it, the Never Sure of What Was Wearing the cloth of Now. Did something counter-spin another Whole Universe of Universes Inverted in some fashion statement? Is God as Arbitrary as we are? Or is She always Certain of His Opinions of what constitutes Its own Existence in each of our Realities    of Disagreement? We can never fully agree on anything. Not even Consensus has any Agreement with the Details in the Devil.

Run along, Now, and take your Past Present for the Future with you into the Emptiness of the Argument no ones arguing about. I have nothing more to... 

Do you?