No.9635375 ViewReplyOriginalReport
I sit in my cubicle, here on the motherworld.
When I die, they will put my body in a box and
dispose of it in the cold ground.
And in all the million ages to come, I will never breathe or laugh or twitch again.
So won't you run and play with me here among the teeming mass of humanity?
The universe has spared us this moment.

-- Anonymous, Datalinks