Lengthily misplaced breathers and cisterns,
Sorrow at our much unseeing! Many happy returns!
We are under the weather. When will we not be so? Outside a planet's atmosphere there is cosmic weather too, and it is much more deadly than any typhoon. Almost uninhabitable out there unless you are a tardigrade. Moss-piglet. Water-bear. Or pack an awful lot of kitchen sinks. Nuts, bolts, wrenches, pipes, bits of vomit, ball-bearings, clogs: all manner of what-have-you now floats up there making subsequent journeys to get away from conventional weather even more dangerous, and transforming plumbing into rocket-surgery. It is hubris! It is ironical, bionicles. Attempts to remove ourselves from the uncontrollable external forces that govern our existence only result in causing ourselves more bad weather. Just weather the storm my fiends! See you in heck.
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