I had a lot on my “to do” list today. Legal work. Pay bills. Workout. Watch old Gunsmoke episodes. But today’s weather was awesome, so I blew all that off and went walking. Which got me thinking about movement. Which got me thinking about space and time, or space-time as the libtards call it.

And it struck me that all of existence is premised on moving stuff. Stuff has been moving at least since the Big Bang. We know this with certainty. In 1929 a lawyer named Hubbell, who sometimes messed with telescopes, noticed that another galaxy was moving away from ours at an impressive rate. He turned his telescope in a different direction and saw another galaxy speeding away from ours. This happened several more times. No matter what direction he looked in, other galaxies were zooming away from us. “Hey Grace,” he shouted to his wife, “everything is moving away from us with more speed than a hooker at a Republican convention.”

“That’s nice, dear,” his wife said. “Did you take out the trash?”

Face it, space-time exists only so we can move stuff. And so stuff can move us. If there was no movement of stuff, you would not need space-time. Without space-time, there can be no moving of stuff.

I get motion sickness just thinking about it. Our galaxy is moving at 1.3 million miles per hour. Our planet revolves around our sun at 67,000 miles per hour. Depending on where you stand, our planet rotates around its axis at 1,000 miles per hour. No wonder my dad used to scream, “Be still!” He used to scream that to me and my brother, Roy Jchiacb Cohen, all the time. Especially if were in the back seat of his 1971 Chrysler Newport with the V8. (We once made it from the intersection of the Valley Highway and Yale to the Northglenn Mall in ten minutes. Because my dad wanted to see Patton, and that’s where it was playing).

I once tried to tell my dad that it was impossible to be still because our galaxy was moving at 1.3 million miles per hour, but he sent me to my room and told me to read something useful – like Nixon’s biography. Instead, I opened a philosophy book. Parents, listen to me. Don’t let your kids read philosophy. If you do, they will start thinking. If they think, the will vote for Democrats. Capitalism will crumble and it will be your fault for letting your kids read philosophy. An entire economic system will collapse because you were too weak to force your kids to read Nixon’s biography.

But all this moving of stuff is not just celestial. Our bodies are comprised of about seven billion billion billion atoms. Many of those are hydrogen atoms. Those move at 3,355 miles per hour. Our nerve impulses can move at greater than one hundred meters per second 223 miles per hour. (I’m sorry, but Americans fought and died so we would not have to use the metric system). No wonder I can’t sleep; I can’t get all the moving of stuff to stop. Not even for seven hours.

A bulb in my bathroom went dead today. What did I do? If you guessed that I changed the bulb, you are guilty of simplifying things. (If you came up with a how many Marks does it take to change a light bulb joke, email it to info@themountainear.com). Replacing a bulb requires movement. I moved a ladder so I could reach the bulb. I moved my body by stepping onto the ladder. I moved my arm, hand, and wrist (note the Oxford comma) to unscrew the dead bulb and remove it. Then I stepped down and placed the dead bulb in the waste basket. I retrieved a new bulb from my cabinet, walked back to the bathroom, stepped back on to the ladder, and moved the new bulb into position by twisting it clockwise. (If you don’t know what “clockwise” means, you’re too young to read this article).

Was I done with all the moving of stuff? No. I had to move the ladder back to the closet and then deposit the cardboard container for the new bulb into my recycling bin, which I will have to move at some point.

And speaking of bathrooms, what keeps us alive? Moving stuff. We travel to the store to buy stuff we can eat. We move that stuff around in our kitchen and eventually move some form of that stuff into our mouths. That stuff then moves through our digestive tract. Guess what happens next? A bowel movement. Not a bowel still. It is only because of space-time than any person can enjoy a bowel movement. Without space-time, you would be stuck on the pot – grimacing – for eternity. And you would not even be able to scroll Instagram because you would be unable to move your index finger. Even if you could, all those particles in your phone’s electronics require space-time so they can move. It would just be you and your grimace forever.

Even when our bodies die, we’re not done moving. Someone else has to move our bodies or our ashes. And those dead bodies and ashes consist of atoms. Those atoms are still moving. The movement never ends.

All of existence is about moving stuff. That’s it.