What is the meaning of stuff? Is it something that we have to grapple with head on, or is it something that a monkey could push round a supermarket in a baby’s buggy? Both answers are equally valid, in that they’re both completely false. Apart from the bits that are true.
Imagine a seagull flying in to a caramac. It would be carnage and yet it would be incredibly tasty. Doesn’t that say everything that needs to be said about the duality of existence? You could try saying more; a polo mint is the best way to fight the fascism of breakfast cereal; but you wouldn’t be adding much to the debate.
In summary, might equals right, and yellow equals mellow, while money equals honey.
