image pinched from the guardian
the final paragraph [save for the previous two appealing to ignorance] is an indicator, not a climax, of a rewarding read to brighten my frustration at this day's all-seeping celebration of the lack of reason.
snip
anyway, we do know what is going to happen to you, and to everyone else who will ever live on this planet. your corporeal existence, o hitch, derives from the elements released by supernovae, by exploding stars. stellar fire was your womb, and stellar fire will be your grave: a just course for one who has always blazed so very brightly. the parent star, that steady-state h-bomb we call the sun, will eventually turn from yellow dwarf to red giant, and will swell out to consume what is left of us, about six billion years from now.
/snip
