Van Pelt Nanzen Kills A Cat
There it is, plain and simple. It destroyed itself
without any of my slander. This is the lunacy by which we
kneel. This is the doublespeak by which we kill. This is
the inertia that keeps tradition feared. This is the
absurdity by which we walk barefoot with shoes on our
heads. Ponder this to get nearer to Nothing. On top of
the world, think about it, there's Nothing. An unseasoned
meal, monotone spirits, routine homily. Nothing has never
been clearer. So kill a cat to keep logic at bay, then
eat my body's finest and fell me how it tastes. Is it
Nothing too? Does it stink like Nothing? Does it poison
like Nothing?
