(no subject)
“The Butterfly Effect theory is, of course, a load of poppycock,” said Sir Reginald to his captive audience.
“Time doesn’t work like that at all. No, it’s not the infallible flowing river that some characterize it as, fixing errors willy-nilly, but it’s also not some delicate fucking flower that will explode if you go back and shoot Hitler.”
“For example, if I go back in time and shoot Idi Amin in the head in front of tens of thousands of people, time may decide that he was sick that day and that the man I shot was a stand-in. It will retroactively cause this to happen with nobody noticing the change. I could, however, go back to last week and choose the winning lottery numbers without adverse effects. You see, time is primarily concerned with what has already happened, not what is currently or will soon happen. There’s very little chance of the history of the universe that will change if I jump back a few days and buy a ticket.”
“Time is both a doting wife and an evil fucking woman that will try to bite off your cock in a back alley if you forgot that today was your 17 day anniversary and then try to steal your wallet before…you have to…” Sir Reginald paused and cleared his throat.
“Now, there is a distinct personal risk to…where are you going? I’m not…oh. Feeding time,” he sighed as he watched the walruses waddle their flabby, slime-covered bodies over to the zoo keeper.
“I suppose it was too much to ask for you to appreciate the gravity of is that fresh herring?” he asked and sniffed the air. Sir Reginald gave a concerted effort to shrug his shoulders-which failed miserably-and waddled his own flabby walrus body to the wading pool for something to eat.
###
“Time doesn’t work like that at all. No, it’s not the infallible flowing river that some characterize it as, fixing errors willy-nilly, but it’s also not some delicate fucking flower that will explode if you go back and shoot Hitler.”
“For example, if I go back in time and shoot Idi Amin in the head in front of tens of thousands of people, time may decide that he was sick that day and that the man I shot was a stand-in. It will retroactively cause this to happen with nobody noticing the change. I could, however, go back to last week and choose the winning lottery numbers without adverse effects. You see, time is primarily concerned with what has already happened, not what is currently or will soon happen. There’s very little chance of the history of the universe that will change if I jump back a few days and buy a ticket.”
“Time is both a doting wife and an evil fucking woman that will try to bite off your cock in a back alley if you forgot that today was your 17 day anniversary and then try to steal your wallet before…you have to…” Sir Reginald paused and cleared his throat.
“Now, there is a distinct personal risk to…where are you going? I’m not…oh. Feeding time,” he sighed as he watched the walruses waddle their flabby, slime-covered bodies over to the zoo keeper.
“I suppose it was too much to ask for you to appreciate the gravity of is that fresh herring?” he asked and sniffed the air. Sir Reginald gave a concerted effort to shrug his shoulders-which failed miserably-and waddled his own flabby walrus body to the wading pool for something to eat.
###