There are, at present, amongst the intelligentsia of society, two theories which purport to explain the fundamental nature of reality.

The first theory, popularly known as “cats rule the world”, postulates that everything, from the deepest depths of the oceans to the highest of heavens, from the inner sanctums of the soul to the outer reaches of exogalactic space, from now until forever and from forever ago until now, including, but not limited to, the set of stuff happening which you completely comphrensibly but absolutely inaccurately perceive to be the succession of events constituting the chronology of your experience, the shirt you’re wearing and what you had for breakfast, every choice you’ve ever made, all that you could ever imagine and more, is all just a part of some grandiosely gargantuan, massively monolithic and capriciously complex scheme cooked up by the cats.

The other hypothesis, sometimes referred to as “the truth”, says simply that no one really has even the slightest idea of what’s actually going on. Not even the cats.

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