In this world of ours, this wonderful, decrepit, horrific world of ours, there are people.
Not only that, but there are many people, very many people, billions and billions of people.
There are short people and tall people, fat people and thin people, various shades of brown and pink people, people who pray to Allah, people who pray to Satan, people who pray to no one at all, and even people who pray to Joe Pesci.
Some of them are presidents, a few are kings, some are senators, and some are bakers.
Some of these people are mechanics, clerks, dentists, nurses, teachers, thieves, drug dealers, and pimps.
Some of these groups are more numerous, and some are famous, infamous, and unknown.
Some follow the flock, and some are trail blazers.
All of these people matter just as much as any other, all of these people matter just as little, and all of them are equally worthless.
At the end of the day it doesn't matter the size of your house, or your number of friends, your salary doesn't matter, nor does the party you vote for.
No matter whether you're the pope, the president of the united states, or an unemployed alcoholic, the world will go on whether you're there to see it or not, whether you want it to or not.
The sphere of matter that we live on called the earth would continue to make its merry way around the nuclear fireball known as the sun, whether we continued to live on it or not.
What happens matters not, and what doesn't happen matters just as much.
Anything is as right or as wrong as anything else, and it couldn't be any other way, nor should it, because anything else would be just as random, just as arbitrary, and just as impenetrably ineffable as it already is.
Everything is the most important thing in the world, and nothing is.
Whatever you do is right, because whatever you do is the only thing you could have done, it's the only way it could have been, and there is no point in arguing that, unless you are, in which case it must unavoidably follow that arguing it's the right thing to do, just as surely as a hangover follows a drinking binge.