Contrary to the suppositions of religion and science, I've always believed our Universe is contained in a murky fishbowl precariously perched on a rickety desk in the messy bedroom of an irresponsible manchild who exists in another dimension.
Suffice it to say, this manchild neglects to feed the confused inhabitants swimming around inside the fishbowl. Nor does the manchild clean the fishbowl or even refresh the water. Perhaps the manchild taps on the glass from time to time but that is the limit of the attention the child provides to those submerged in the unclean water.
No doubt the fishbowl was a prize in some cosmic fairground, claimed by the simple feat of hitting a trio of dark-matter targets with three space coconuts, then forgotten about after a day or two in favor of more visceral and less boring distractions.
And so the Universe subsists. After all, what is Oumuamua if not decorative fishbowl driftwood come loose from its moorings? Seems pretty obvious to me. Honestly, you don't need a billion dollar Large Hadron Collider to figure this stuff out.
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