Check out das Beebs AH-MAY-ZING commentary in this week's issue of The Onion on the subject of fame, existentialism, and this "infinitesimal speck of humanity." Here's a taste of his editorial aptly entitled, "Your Obsessive Love Or Hatred Of Me Means Nothing In The Grand Scheme Of Geological Time."

Ask yourself: What then will all your hyperbolic reverence or vitriolic bile even mean? To what do your hours spent online fawning over or vilifying me because of my Grammy performance amount when compared to a recent scientific finding that, as the Pacific and North American tectonic plates collide, the mountains north of Los Angeles will, over the next 100 million years, grow to peaks higher than the Himalayas, only to be eroded down to pebbles by millennia of wind and rain?
I suppose we've come to the point where we should just plainly state the ugly truth of all this: If you expend any energy at all either obsessively doting on me or hating me with the very fiber of your being, then I'm sad to say you are squandering your brief window as a cognizant being in this universe.

EEEEEEEEEEE!!!! OH SWEET GOD, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!!! (Read the whole thing here.) In a related story...

.....after the jump.

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I think the reason "wax Justin" looks so sad is that he somehow knows he will outlive his human counterpart. (See Justin's wise words about the fragility of human existence above.)