This might sound incomprehensible to you, but: before you turned the world into a race track for quasi-retarded zombie ghosts in cars, you should have made the race track. Because there is no race track. Do you get it? The race track isn’t there. Instead it’s what YOU would call a “city”. C-I-T-Y. It’s where P-E-O-P-L-E L-I-V-E. And it’s tiny. And there’s nothing here. And noone would ever willingly “live” here. There isn’t even a “city”. So there is no racetrack. Nor a city. Remains the question why it’s still a race track for quasi-retarded zombie ghosts in cars. Maybe it’s just unbelievably amazing to you to spend every single day, early morning until deepest night doing “that” instead of worthwhile, valuable, humanly relevant things. Even though there is no city. And noone here. And nothing and nowhere to go to, by car or not, in either direction from here. Maybe it’s like sex to you. Like an idiotic, “all powerful” child playing with Lego cars, feeling an unendingly prolonged orgasm from doing that. Who knows! Right? Who really knows. The closest thing to a conversation to be had here is yelling into an exhaust pipe of one of a hundred billion cars belonging to nobody. call your empty trash world whatever you want, to yourself. it’s been 45 fucking YEARs, and I still don’t know what this garbage is supposed to be. fuck you until the end of eternity you fucking nothing