I've been thinking.

I believe history is a force. Its unalterable tide sweeps all people and institutions along its unrelenting path. Everything and everyone serves history's single purpose.

What is that purpose, you ask?

Why to produce ME of course! I'm the end result of history!

Think of it: Thousands of generations lived and died to produce my exact, specific parents, whose reason for being, obviously, was to produce ME.

All history up to this point has been spent preparing the world for my presence.


Now, I'm here, and history is vindicated.