As a result, or ironically (depending on what point in history you are speaking from, and currently, you are speaking from none) lanes 1-4 are virtually empty. Also, it is the desert. So you floor it, hoping to just get across and worry about repairs on the other side.

You drive through a barren stretch where they don't even bother to cover over the abandoned nuclear triggers along the roadside with sanitary napkins as is the custom here since the end of last year's Civil Revolutionary War.

And though they (the triggers) are free for the taking, people still buy and sell them for exorbitant prices by bullshitting along the edge of logic and talking along the edge of each others' vocabularies, till a sale is made and everybody breaks out in a broad smile over the continued bright future of detonation.

There has not been enough dope grown in all human history put together that compressed and smoked in one hit could get you through this stretch now. At the very least, you have to pull over and empty your gut in the scrub several times.

But back in the car with your mouth wiped off, you approach the speed of dark, which is double the speed of light so, of course nobody can EVER see you. It's at these speeds that no number of strategic catastrophes can affect the golden rule of selfishness: do unto yourself as you would have others do unto themselves, and let's keep it that way.

In fact the war that created the very desert you are now driving through was fought over this proposition vs. its opposite rival claimant for being the actual golden rule of selfishness: do unto yourself as you would have yourself do unto yourself.

There is no place for others in the golden rule of selfishness, the supporters of this alternate proposition maintained.

Eventually you get to the other side of the desert which you're now so fucking fed up with that when you get home, you immediately sit down and write a complex highly metaphorical novel about the ocean and the train, about a train that runs along the edge of the ocean.

This was clearly the heaviest metaphor possible (including within its domain, for example, stuff like head-on collisions of millions of tons of steel doing 2 X 60 mph being simultaneously washed over by vast intercontinental tidal waves) so when other metaphor writers see it they just throw up their hands and say, well, why bother writing any more metaphors since that's easily the heaviest fucking metaphor anyone could ever possibly write and thereby reduces anyone else who even TRIES to write another metaphor to being just another loser puttering around totally in the shadow of the great metaphor, trying to sprout and grow some nano seed metaphor without water or sun.

And that includes even you, and all your future attempts to use any other possible metaphor in public. But you take it in stride and without missing a beat you start a foundation, a think tank, and a popular journal all dedicated exclusively to metaphors of what it's like to have all your cool new metaphors ignored cause everyone thinks that this one fucking metaphor says it all to the point of blowing away all others, and so if you're not gonna be 110% literal, then just shut the fuck up and take it.

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