Having reviewed the vast majority of items adjacent to my person, I have decided that there is nothing to write about. Not only is there nothing to write about, there is nothing being written on this subject which is so aptly lacking in literary recognition. In order to further accentuate the point that is so clearly made in the absence of written material, I have undertaken to put forth a remedy. Henceforth, this piece of writing shall have nothing to do with anything, aside from the fact that it covers absolutely all of nothing.
In covering all of nothing it does attempt, in a way, to cover something. However, most of those people who make up the audience (assuming that they are, in fact, people) will find that this post really does achieve its goal of not doing anything. Indeed, it even accomplishes the wonderfully difficult task of meeting the exact expectations of the readers: it does nothing at all.
So, in examining the original purpose of this post, which was to do nothing, does it fulfill its purpose? The actuality of the matter is that there is a purpose, that purpose is to do nothing. This is a much different purpose than being purposeless. To be purposeless is to exist without a creator; nothing is truly purposeless. Even that which was made to be purposeless still inherits its purpose in the fact that the creator wanted a purposeless item. This bring in a much more terrible and horrific accusation; this post contradicts itself. The original intent of this post was to be about nothing, but, instead, it has become about everything. Therefore, the readers of this essay are sure to be vastly disappointed in the manner in which their expectations and notions of nothingness have been so rudely destroyed. What was the purpose of that?