They gathered, one absurdity at a time.
At first, I thought I was only taking notes:
But the longer I watched, the clearer it became.
The system wasn’t broken.
It was consistent.
Perfectly illogical. Predictably absurd.
John kept performing — and with time, he became John, the Dependable.
I, his silent witness, kept recording.
And somewhere between his endurance and my observation,
the irony took shape — subtle, persistent, and perfectly absurd.
Small, disregarded, yet essential.
From Johnny, the Witness, I became Johnny, the Footnote —
overlooked, ignored, yet indispensable.
I named the archive of my scribbles The Footnote —
because they were essential, though no one ever read them.
From The Footnote, The Natural Laws of Bullshit were deciphered.
They aren’t written to change the world — only to name it.
And so came The Manifesto —
not as a final word, but as a quiet beginning.
A place where invisible laws gain visibility —
and, in doing so, remain intact.
— Johnny, The Footnote. Keeper of The Footnote. An insignificant lawbook of official absurdities.
P.S. John, Johnny, and The Footnote don’t exist — they’re metaphors for the dependable ones who do.
The ones who endure the noise, ignore the nonsense, and keep the record honest.
About the Author: Johnny The Footnote
