The utter futility of all things, including adoring or loathing Justin Bieber

This, from Justin Beiber (well, according to The Onion):

Your adoration or loathing of me, a 17-year-old entertainer from Canada, is no more significant than a grain of sand on a beach, disappearing when Earth’s mighty oceans rise and then retreat—as they will hundreds of thousands of millions of times until the sun is extinguished and the pyramids, the Taj Mahal, Rick Ross, the Great Wall of China, and everything else even remotely related to our feeble, fleeting species are but forgotten whispers in one planet’s geochronology.

Forgive me. But please don’t think that because of my fame I place myself above the futile scrabbling of mankind and its ephemeral perception of me as being either “adorable” or “the worst”; quite the contrary. In fact, it is because of my celebrity that I know I matter no more or less than any other human being among the many billions living or dead. When I tweet about the fact that I have cut my iconic hair and it is re-tweeted 300,000 times in a day, there is no better juxtaposition than to place that trifling 24 hours against the 10,000 years it will take Byrd Glacier to move across Antarctica’s vast expanses of silent white.

Sorta makes you think, doesn’t it?

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