It's true you know. Without Professor Proferson's Form Fillin' Bonanza expo in high school, you'd barely know a thing about filing, and who paid for that amazingly fun carnival? Why the inter-dimensional sweeties that's who. They really do, truly do care for you. How could you possibly thank them for reaching into humanity's deep, 3 dimensional pocket and procuring all that was needed to teach you how to fill out the forms that keep them capable of reaching out through the dimensional paperwork to continue pilfering humanity's hard labour.... Hey wait! What kind of sick cycle of entropy is that? Every single skill they ever taught you simply served to keep you working towards continuing their grasp on this reality. What fresh donkey-shit is this? Your mind is final. Never again shall you allow these Inter-dimensional Beuro-Beings to exert their will upon you. Such sneaky devious loops of logic! You've been heavily trained since birth to jump through their sixth dimensional hoops and allow them to piggy-back into your reality. What could you possibly do to end this infinite cycle of diplomatic DOOM!