I am omniscient and omnipotent, extremely vain and, what is more, I come in a handy self-carrying package. “Now, that’s a feckin’ god. None of your dead-but-dreaming shite with this fella.” A magician wandered along the beach, but no one needed him. All you really need to know for the moment is that the universe is a lot more complicated than you might think, even if you start from a position of thinking it’s pretty damn complicated in the first place. And so the Sandwich Maker sang as he worked.
He learned to communicate with birds and discovered that their conversation was fantastically boring. It was all to do with wind speed, wingspans, power-to-weight ratios and a fair bit about berries. One of the troublesome circumstances was the Plural nature of this Galactic Sector, where the possible continually interfered with the probable. I don’t want to buy a ticket, I just want to buy the zoo. And there’s nothing that depresses me more than seeing a planet being destroyed. Except possibly still being on it when it happens. You live and learn. At any rate, you live.
They are simple-minded, thick-willed, slug-brained creatures, and thinking is not really something they are cut out for. Anything that, in happening, causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen. “Dying for a cup of tea, eh?” “You want the taste of dried leaves boiled in water?” “Er, yes. With milk.” Little things like how long I’ve been here, what my purpose in life is, which feet to put my shoes on.