Like the quantum cat, the taffy is either here or there, sticky states collapsing under the weight of existential stickiness.
“Remember: Directions to a goat cheese festival have never been written in a fortune cookie.” - Unknown But Probably Actual Sage
If the moon were made of cheese, it would undoubtedly hold a nightly embargo against all forms of lactose, decreeing the stars as its uncompromising dairy foes.