The Scientific Alternative, from Rabbit-hole to Nutshell

For the big bangers, faith in the black hole is a certainty derived from the imutably unknown. It represents an encapsulated zone of nothingness, sans shell, into which all passing bystanders are sucked. The closer the flyby, the stronger the pull, the faster the fall. The zone is not a hole but the most dense condition of substance imaginable, sucking even itself into its own nothingness. The greater its material increase, the smaller it becomes, which is also to say, it takes up less space and time itself flies by the wayside. Time becomes nothing, and space itself disapears in a fit of logic. It is the end of criteria, the end of points of reference, the end of data. What is left is half a metaphor, a self-referencing dada-esque language game, a lonely ego not at the center of the universe, but the universe itself, in and of itself, consisting of nothing, the Great Oblivion Dude (god).

Since this end of everything cancels its own beginning, it cancels the first law of physics (as an ultimate transgression against the logic and reason operating in former fabrics of timed space), this law being none other than "from nothing something can never come" and its inversion, "from something nothing can ever be". Materialism's first axiom? "It's always something!" This is the premise supporting every calculation positing a material object of local uncertainty leaving no evidence of itself but the reactionary display by others within its regional influence (which is to say, seduced by its gravity), and the entire scaffold of material history which supported the idea falls away.

Essentially, something becomes nothing, and even loses its cabability to transform into pure potential – it is the end of possibility, the problem of peak energy bringing on the end of everything as we know it. Refusing to accept its own demise, Great Oblivion Dude explodes in a tantrum of cosmic scale, like the ejaculation from a glimmering erection sending seminal sparks helter-skelter throughout the great black nothingness, like an autoerotic resurrection of the dead coming to find order in general assemblies to legislate an astropolitical, transactional dance of the eternal return of the economy, but ever in fear of the insurrection of the coming disharmony, afterwhich everyone is lined up against the wall and shot.