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Its an 8lb slab of meat that is powered by irregular pulses of electricity to make sauces
Some people make more bad sause than good sauce, that’s called clinical depression
I thought brains weighed closer to three pounds for everyone.
Yeah, that sounds right. My 8lb slab of meat is elsewhere.
I base my whole life on what this electrical meat decides
We are but slaves to the meat.
I base my life on the sounds people make when they flap their meat at each other.
The mind is a slice of an abstract world inside a concrete world, it’s naturally alien to the universe, of course it acts weird
memes that make me crave the certainty of steel
