If you ask me, the end of the world is overrated. It doesn't matter to me if the world ends by the hand of God, tidal wave, hurricane, global warming, or attack by a giant spaghetti monster. Oh, and aliens. Did I mention the aliens? Or better yet! A combination!
It doesn't bother me that the world is probably going to end by 2050. I'm assuming that technology will race ahead to the level where time machines come with the warranties on kid's toys. Then, I can go to back to 2012 and rewrite this blog post. As a test, I have devised this: If there is pi to 30 decimal places on the next line, then I have been back without myself knowing to today and written this without me knowing. The me right now, I mean.
3.141592653589793238462643383279
Ummmm, okay, so that worked. Didn't expect that to happen. Wait, am I writing this or am I writing this? I mean the me whose actually me from the time that I didn't come from...agh! You get the idea.
...Was that me?
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