You see, John, it was a few gig-a-jillion years ago when I first had my dream. A dream of perfection, imagination, and realization. And because it was my dream, it would inevitably come true. And every manifestation would be exactly as it should be. Every detail part of the plan. Every grain of sand, chiseled long in advance. Nothing would be left to chance, not one second could ever go astray, and not one chuckle, laugh, or tear hadn't been thought of before history's first year.

So when you realize the degree of attention that was given, and you weigh that each blade of grass was considered, dearest, there's only one possible explanation for the image that has become your own.

You, today, John, are exactly who I most wanted to be.

And being you totally rocks,
     The Universe