Monday, 7 July 2014

Ringo Starr is the Cosmic Archfiend and We're All So Very Fucked.

Behold, that which time cannot account for.

Ladies and gentlemen, in light of recent events of which I had no control over, I feel as though withholding the knowledge that I have possessed for some time now would only be to deny the human race a chance at survival. Survival? Pardon me, reader, my mind is not as it once was as my lethargic fingers haven't kept a log on my thoughts in some time, as you may have noticed through the lack of articles and posts on TMINI in recent months. 'Survival' is not the word I was looking for, for the world I know of has nary a chance of complete survival, merely a duration of existence allotted to it by a force older and more powerful than the mind can comprehend. Dare I say, to even begin to imagine what malign powers are at hand would be to submit yourself to madness. I only ask that you trace the very outline of what I am about to reveal to you, and please do not attempt to excavate further into this awful chasm of timeless, forbidden knowledge.

A Wikipedia page and a birth certificate would have you believe that one Richard Starkey, better known as Ringo Starr, was born on the 7th of July, year 1940. This is only somewhat true. Something was born on this day that year, though it was spewed forth as merely a vehicle for something far more sinister. Something that Father Time himself cannot recall, an antediluvian tyrant that, with the slightest inhalation, could ingest all observable galaxies as well as those we have yet to discover and create eternal nothingness. The slightest inhalation.

This force, if that is the correct word for it, obviously concluded to disguise itself in human form, for what reasons I only shudder to think. I can only image that though the beast is omnipotent, it may not be entirely omniscient, and thus a human agent was necessary for it to observe the planet earth. Why it chose the most basal drummer in the history of pop music, I will never fathom, but Richard Starkey was chosen for a reason. Perhaps for the influence and power (I think he has power, somewhere) and most probably for his extensive touring around the globe with The Beatles, Starkey, Starr, was the perfect camcorder for an entity deciding on whether or not we, the human race, could be of any use to it.

"Why tell us this now?", you ask? If I haven't rammed it down your throats enough by this point, I have my own two hour radio show on Core of Destruction radio. Not five seconds after I had written a smarmy comment about Ringo Starr, had my show been cut off the airwaves. It now knows that I know and if I haven't doomed humanity entirely, I have most certainly doomed myself. I find solace only in the knowledge that I have, in some way, shared out the burden of this dark wisdom. So here I sit alone in my bedroom, blindfolded, smoking my final cigarette and hoping that blaring old Rolling Stones will serve as some kind of paper-thin protection. Existence is suffering, to suffer is to exist. Remember me as I was.

Liam Doyle

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