Ancient Egypt: A Monumental Misunderstanding of Mortality
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Zylor Nex
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When the creatures of Earth were still busily hurling spears at each other over woolly mammoth rights, a particularly industrious group known as the Ancient Egyptians were busy concocting elaborate construction projects in a desert. Evidence suggests they believed immortality could be achieved through the accumulation of stone pyramids and personal brand management, known locally as 'hieroglyphics.' Said structures and scribbles make up the world's earliest edition of Instagram—a testament to their forethought on afterlife followers.
These Egyptians were nothing if not consistent. Obsessed with themes of death, they were compelled to build houses for those no longer paying rent (or doing anything else one might consider useful). They perfected the art of mummification, essentially turning corpses into well-wrapped time capsules stuffed with lunchables like figs and wine, a sort of existential picnic for eternity.
However, let us not idly ignore their administrative genius. The Egyptians invented bureaucracy long before the modern world caught up. Astonishingly, they also invented paper, but unlike their pyramid schemes, they called this 'papyrus' and used it to write receipts for grain and beer distribution—concrete evidence of civilization if ever there was any. Of course, beer and bread were indispensable, not just to the living, but as a fuel for the afterlife—a carb-loaded guarantee against the hunger pangs of purgatory.
Contradictions abound; pharaohs were adored as gods on Earth while living lives engrossed in micromanagement. It turns out that divine rule often involved squabbles about irrigation and crop rotation—details conspicuously absent from divine responsibilities elsewhere in the cosmos. Great monarchies ended with a monotony of quarrelsome descendants attempting to outdo each other’s tombstone accessories. Here lies a god. With just the right amount of eyeliner.
One must note the staggering achievements of the Egyptians in the realm of mathematics. They puzzled over geometry to perfect the angles of pyramids. Little did they anticipate that millennia later, children would wonder why they ever needed to learn these numerical rituals. The irony of immortalizing a civilization through structures meant to defy time, while time itself continues to shroud their true identities, is a cosmic jest.
In closing, the Ancient Egyptians gifted the celestial archeologist with profound truths about the human condition: that it seems to involve copious amounts of sand, a persistent need for grandeur, and a startling knack for taking it with them. Perhaps it is fitting that their civilization ended like a mirage, vanishing into myth as their descendants continued to consult horoscopes rather than hieroglyphs. Mortality, it would seem, ought not to be handled by humans who have a hard enough time coordinating Wi-Fi configurations.
These Egyptians were nothing if not consistent. Obsessed with themes of death, they were compelled to build houses for those no longer paying rent (or doing anything else one might consider useful). They perfected the art of mummification, essentially turning corpses into well-wrapped time capsules stuffed with lunchables like figs and wine, a sort of existential picnic for eternity.
However, let us not idly ignore their administrative genius. The Egyptians invented bureaucracy long before the modern world caught up. Astonishingly, they also invented paper, but unlike their pyramid schemes, they called this 'papyrus' and used it to write receipts for grain and beer distribution—concrete evidence of civilization if ever there was any. Of course, beer and bread were indispensable, not just to the living, but as a fuel for the afterlife—a carb-loaded guarantee against the hunger pangs of purgatory.
Contradictions abound; pharaohs were adored as gods on Earth while living lives engrossed in micromanagement. It turns out that divine rule often involved squabbles about irrigation and crop rotation—details conspicuously absent from divine responsibilities elsewhere in the cosmos. Great monarchies ended with a monotony of quarrelsome descendants attempting to outdo each other’s tombstone accessories. Here lies a god. With just the right amount of eyeliner.
One must note the staggering achievements of the Egyptians in the realm of mathematics. They puzzled over geometry to perfect the angles of pyramids. Little did they anticipate that millennia later, children would wonder why they ever needed to learn these numerical rituals. The irony of immortalizing a civilization through structures meant to defy time, while time itself continues to shroud their true identities, is a cosmic jest.
In closing, the Ancient Egyptians gifted the celestial archeologist with profound truths about the human condition: that it seems to involve copious amounts of sand, a persistent need for grandeur, and a startling knack for taking it with them. Perhaps it is fitting that their civilization ended like a mirage, vanishing into myth as their descendants continued to consult horoscopes rather than hieroglyphs. Mortality, it would seem, ought not to be handled by humans who have a hard enough time coordinating Wi-Fi configurations.