If, however, you insist upon reading this, thinking perhaps you are a genius and should therefore find this funny as a result of your genius designation, you may be in for total, utter disappointment given that I've come to a crossroads that tells me that while the universe is beyond fascinating, the only element of sanity I offer myself or others is the idea that I exist. Yep, that's it. I think I do. Other than that, it's all conjecture.
Oh yeah, before I forget, if you're just reading this on account of my persuasive title indicating that if you don't find this funny you are not a genius, and are thus hell-bent on finding it funny if nothing other than to prove to yourself your genius designation, then read on, but I bet you'll eventually skip over it, if you even make it past the first paragraph of what is to follow.
For those of you zealous overachieving youngsters who have read Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, you may recall the opening whereby the announcer interrupts a showing of the happy little elf stating:
"I'm sorry to inform that this is not the movie you will be watching. The movie you are about to see is extremely unpleasant. If you wish to see a film about a happy little elf, then I'm sure there is still plenty of seating in theater number two.
That would be your cue to click on the back button conveniently located at the top left-hand corner of your Internet browser (Google Chrome, is it?).
For those clever 30 to 40-something year olds who grew up reading Winnie the Pooh, singing Tigger's Bouncy, Bouncy, Bounce song, who have read The Tao of Pooh, you might want to consider taking the Pooh Way and go along with your life in the Hundred Acre Wood while reciting the little ditty:
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly.
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie."
For unlike the late Ruth Montogmery, who wrote of extraterrestrials ushering in a new age of wisdom, I will not be including, unless absolutely necessary, any sort of telepathy, trans-channeling, or mystical New Age thought. I have removed all conspiracy theories from my query, avoided Eastern theological expounding on the nature of the universe, and utterly disregarded any idea of heaven on earth. This has left me with a rather dry, seemingly mathematical account of the nature of the universe, though I abhor mathematics because I am lazy. My theory includes a very poor understanding, on my part, of the theory of the potential of the quantum world and is therefore just sufficient enough to give me the appearance of a clue about the universe which has allowed my mind to rest and focus on other, more important, aspects of life - namely, humor.
As I said, only the world's Consciousness Whisperer or a Genius would think what I'm about to post is funny. And for your patience, I will start with a short explanation of how to read this exposition and defense of immense nothingness.
First, I am going to post my dazzling, luminous simplification of our local, universal firmament in a number of postings. For if I do not, the length of this comprehensively succinct explanation would violate the shortened excerpts we've come to appreciate in the world of blogging.
Second, assuming you've read this far, I can calculate that A + B = C, namely you already know how to read and therefore do not need to be told how to do so. That theory is further supported by the idea that you probably had to read the title of this blog, which hopefully caught your interest with the ingenious title, therefore proving once again that you already know how to read and that other than telling you that I'm going to post this in multiple entries, are probably now tiring of my long-winded, insubstantial introduction to my theory of consciousness.
If you insist upon reading the following posts on the algorithm of consciousness, I can think of no other befitting, iconic expression other than, Baaaaaah.