Later she's with Eddie in the Harmacy, bitching because the Supercollider cost eight billion dollars and twenty-three cents or whatever they have over there, you know, guilders or florins or whatever, and he tells her that actually it's cool. He tries to nutshell it for her, and she waggles her brows at him about "ooh, nutshell!" and he's like, well, okay. You have matter and antimatter, and when they meet they annihilate each other. Boom. She pronounces this depressing.

However, though, but, that means there's no reason for us to be here, or pencils, or God. So: The thing in France, or wherever, shoots a proton at an antiproton and smashes it at the speed of light. (He leaves out the whole doomsday situation where we party in the black hole forever and ever, because Jackie's got enough stress on her plate. Or I have no idea what I'm talking about, or he doesn't, or none of us do. Who really knows. Well, somebody. The people in France, or wherever. But not me. Nobody in this room, right now, with us.) But eight billion dollars, she reiterates. Really?

Yes really, because they are looking -- and I love this, I love Eddie -- they are looking for the particle that "allows matter to connect with other matter and become actual things." You, me, pencils. "It's fucking magic, Jackie! It's the God particle, that's what they're looking for, they're looking for God." I think if God were a particle of anything, it would be like a nice cheese blintz. Something that will stick to your gut but not make you sick, something warm, something a little sweet but with a lot of other flavors going on in there too. Or else Silly Putty because that shit is amazing.