Cogito ergo sum, said Descartes. So then, I be. Beyond that we can’t really know much. My consciousness exists. I can go out on a limb and conjecture that yours does too, but … that’s pretty much the extent of what is strictly knowable.

But molecules, you say. Quarks. The seemingly palpable evil that is Orange, and his immigration policy.

Yeah. Maybe. Speculative, if we’re being strictly honest.

“It is what it is”.

No it fucking isn’t.

It is what your conscious chooses to decide it is.

I want to go Home now, wherever that may be tonight, and I want to stay there and I want to proceed with my lively cogito-ing and summing.

I want to feed my cat, assuming she too continues to abide.

At least it feels like that’s what I want.

There’s a lot more that could be filed under that category, but right now it feels like what I want is to say no more.

***

Then there’s your eminently practical question. Maybe everything you say is precisely right old son, but what dafuck do we do about it?

Care A Lot? i suppose, for so long as we have the stomach for it.