Why worry about trade wars and nuclear destruction when an anvil could land on your noggin at any moment and leave you flatter than Wile E. Coyote, deader than rock'n'roll.
Once you're born, the end of the story is no mystery. The chapters between birth and oblivion are up to you. Sorta'. Less if you're not white enough, female, poor, unhealthy in any way or just geographically challenged.
Having been brought forth into all of the lucky categories, during the time of Elvis and the Beatles, I'm more or less obligated to acknowledge my fine fortune and I do.
All you need while you're here is love. That's what I've learned.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
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