Ladies and gentlemen; it is my conviction that we stand at the dawn of the golden age of pancakes.
Humanity stands at the ready, plate and fork in hand, anticipating the challenges of a more glorious breakfast.
Let us look back then, as far as science can allow, to when man and pancakes were but scratch floating through the ill defined pantry of space.
Humankind and breakfastkind are, in essence, recipes. We are the current culminations of the purposeful tinkerings of time.
We know the universe began with a bang; perhaps it was a kitchen explosion and we are but the result of a pancake experiment gone awry.
We should not despair over a universe presented to us by chance, when from these same ingredients we can make such delicious pancakes.
Some believe in a master chef; if true, the universe is ripe with kitchens and unfathomable pancakes may exists everywhere.
Christ said that he had 'other flocks.' He might well have said that he had 'other pancakes.'
Those who sit and debate the ideology of breakfast when they could be dining will only agree that cold pancakes are much less intriguing than warm ones.
Therefore let us dine in measure, knowing that a much larger breakfast will one day appear, demanding to be eaten.
Those who accede to eating anything for breakfast would never agree to marry any man or any woman, yet the consequences can be just as dire.
Although we may sometimes dine in groups, the human/pancake relationship remains deeply personal and transformative for both parties.
The most memorable pancakes are not of our own choosing, for it is surprise which sweetens life, and not the daily syrup of familiarity.
The Golden Age Of Pancakes shall arrive without warning, like a silent armada of behemoth frying pan shaped saucers.
The Golden Age Of Pancakes shall not herald itself via dreams, predilection, subterfuge, city bus, brute strength, or justice-but by wafting scent alone.
The Golden Age Of Pancakes is a sky chariot led by the great dead chefs of humanity, none recognized in life outside of their own kitchens and hamlets.
The Golden Age Of Pancakes shall drop like an album of fire, and no amount of butter and syrup shall extinguish it.