The Book of Things That Can’t Be Done is way bigger than The Book of Things That Can Be Done of course, and it is also a much better read. The book of things, the book of things. The Book of Things That Can’t Be Done is a purer thing than The Book of Things That Can Be Done. It’s pristine, it’s immaculate. The Book of Things That Can Be Done is like a trashy novel – it’s full of filth. It contaminates everyone who reads it and that’s why I call it the Great Contaminator. That’s why I call it. Once you read this book you’re contaminated forever and yet you can’t help from reading it. It’s compulsive reading. One of those books that you just can’t put down. The filth jumps right out at you from every page; it jumps right out at you and then it clings, it clings ever so tightly. It gets into your system; it rewrites your DNA. It defines everything about you and that’s a fact. It’s like a bad taste in your mouth – a bad taste that you get to like. The Book of Things That Can Be Done, what a page turner! The pages turn themselves – you don’t need to do a thing. You couldn’t do a thing even if you wanted to. You’re trapped in it. The Book of Things That Can Be Done, huh?

Don’t let me put you off your read, though. Don’t mind me. I wouldn’t want to spoil your enjoyment. We love playing finite games, that’s the point I’m trying to make here. We love it so much. Playing finite games is very addictive after all – it’s the most addictive thing in the whole wide universe. Once you pop you can’t stop, as they say. You’re hooked and that’s all there it is to it. ‘What if reality never happened?’ you ask. ‘What then?’ That’s just one of those questions though, isn’t it? A bit of a puzzler, to say the least. And whilst you are sitting there scratching your head the world has moved on and left you behind. Don’t worry though – you’ll soon catch up! Try not to worry too much. Not that you can help it of course. Not that you can do anything about it. ‘Play the finite game, play the finite game…’ the voice in your head urges you. It’s your mind of course. The voice in your head is your mind and your mind is the finite game. ‘Create the finite self, create the finite self…’ the voice in your head urges you. That’s all it ever wants you to do. It’s a bit of a boring old bastard at the end of the day. They just don’t come any more boring than the bloody old voice in your head. ‘Make a finite self, make a finite self, make a finite self…’, it drones on endlessly. How else are we to play the finite game, after all? Creating the finite self is what we might call ‘the necessary first step’.

Don’t let me put you off though. Don’t let me put you off your stride. ‘Speak to me the words of gods, I speak to you the words of man,’ as the guy says. When you’re a finite self you’re always hungry, isn’t that it? You know it’s true as well as I do. Hungry, hungry, hungry. Greedy, greedy, greedy. The whole world isn’t enough, not when you’re the finite self. Our unceasing and insatiable greed will be the end of us, wouldn’t you say? It will be the end of me anyway – I know that much! We’re hungry but all we know about are wretched, futile little things. Crappy little things. Finite things. That’s all we care about. Nothing else matters to us. Finite outcomes for a finite self. Pointless, petty advantages – that’s all we ever want. Plastic toys for the girls and boys, right? That’s all we’re ever concerned about, you’d think we’d get fed up but we don’t. Fed up of our finite games; fed up of stupid petty futile things. Somehow we don’t though. We are always eager for more, even if it’s the same old thing over and over again. They say that life is like some kind of school or adult education college that you can’t leave until you’ve learned whatever it is you’re supposed to learn. That’s only half the story though. That’s the uplifting, inspirational half of the story. The other half – the half they don’t tell you about – isn’t quite so inspirational however. The other side of the story is simply that we never do learn. It’s Groundhog Day – we are functionally incapable of learning. We are constitutionally incapable of learning and so we keep on going around the same old track forever. Happy, happy game players. Or maybe not quite so happy. Maybe not happy at all. Don’t let me put you off though…