It’s amazing what you find–

–when you start rooting around in old documents.

I stumbled across this aborted, quasi-philosophical vignette and had no idea what it’s purpose was.

So here. You read it.


In the beginning, there was nothing.

That was before you, your friends, your mom, your day, your stupid Chihuahua or your pompous Siamese cat.

Even before me.

And I’ve been around.

Regardless, there was nothing: no light, no darkness, no Heaven, no Earth.

Hell, there wasn’t even a Hell.

Or a Purgatory.

How, exactly, it is possible to have an absence of everything, while simultaneously having someplace to put all of the somethings that would eventually exist is a problem that has stoked battles between the pious and the reasoned since before time began.

And the idea of a time before time hasn’t helped settle any arguments, either.

Still, there was, in fact, nothing. As in an absence of anything. All there was was nothing.

Confused yet?

Yeah. Chew on that for a while, and then think about your Form 1040, with your salary, interest, and investment income, while trying to figure out whether you should be itemizing your deductions or not. You might come to the conclusion that the IRS is, in fact, only the second-worst organization in existence.

You would be wrong, of course. The IRS is still number 1.

But I digress.

In the face of all of this nothingness, there lurked Him… or Her… or It… or whatever.

Now, of course the real question here is: if there isn’t anything, then where was He/She/It before they made everything?

Does your brain hurt yet? It should.



Weird, right?

Sounds like it  has something to say, but I’m stumped if I remember what. Maybe I was just goofing off.

Either way, I do find the bit about the IRS to be clever (if predictable).

I also like the middle bit, about having room for somethings when there was nothing.

Other than that, I just thought I’d share it here in the Shadow.

You may, if you wish, return to your lives. Or, you may choose to stay here and click upon random postings until your boss walks by your desk.

That choice, as are so many, is yours.


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