There are no thoughts in that conical brain of his. There’s a single braincell pinging around in his head like the DVD logo at best. If I were to place him in front of works of art such as Goya’s “Saturn Devouring His Son” or Redon’s “The Cyclops” his expression would remain unchanged. The slime is indifferent to all that is and ever has been or will be. Oh, how I envy to be him.