Oh woe is me for my fellow scientists who cannot see
that to make a bet on whether black holes simply digest or one day will have to regress and give up their secrets at perpetuity is folly.
Ask me how many angles dance on the head of a pin
or if in a presidential election if red or blue will win?
I can give you two assurances in this life and those are death and taxes my friend.
I imagine I can hear the chuckle snorted by Asimovs ghost who must be silently toasting with Einstein at Hawkins roast.
For he knew determining how black holes work is better left to the science fiction writer.
[This is in horor of of the passing of my hero Issac Asimov the greatest scince fiction writer of all time.]
