In a world where cats rule supreme and the sun never sets, the notion of hope is nothing but a distant memory. Our esteemed editor, Reginald P. Bottomsworth, weighs in on the futility of it all:
As I sit here, surrounded by the endless parade of despair, I am reminded of the words of the great philosopher, Balthazar McSnazz: "Hope is the crutch of the feeble-minded."
Indeed, in a world where the skies are always gray and the coffee is always cold, what's the point of getting one's hopes up? Why bother with the futility of it all?
But, I digress. The real question is, what do we do now? Do we succumb to the abyss of desperation or do we find a new way to be miserable? The answer, my friends, is not a easy one.
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