Ask a question and then answer it. What is the meaning of life? (bum bum buuuuuuuuuuuuuum) and Describe the terror of the soft cheese as the cheese knife approacheth.

                What a touted question. People make this one thing into such a huge deal. It’s so important, people spend they’re whole life just trying to find out why they’re living it! Seems kinda silly to me, doncha think? Why would life have a meaning of its own? Life’s just chilling, man, it’s not driven by anything! There’s no guy anywhere running the Life Inc. ™ corporation and we’re all his employees out to spend our hard earned life on his wishes. I waited literally billions of years to get this one tiny little life and now I’m supposed to just hop along with whatever it means? Screw that! But thank Glob and Randy Newman that’s not how this shindig works. Life on its own doesn’t mean anything more than a book without a writer. It’s fuckin blank, man. I like to think of life as like a huge bowl and I at the meaning buffet just pickin out all the goodin’s like enjoying the incredibly short moment I get to have sentience (before I go back to being food for some of life’s least appetizing creatures!) instead of some of the crazier ones like giving all glory to the hypnotoad. I tried it once. Not as fun as you might expect, but a great group of people. We used to have knitting club on Thursday nights and gab about all juicy gossip of who gave how much glory and the hypnotoad’s need for more, but I digress. See the beauty of the meaning of life is you get to make it as you go along so worrying about what “the meaning of life is” is the meaning of life! Well can be. But it can be anything else! And as long as it doesn’t too harshly impact the other peeps on Earth’s face I’m totally cool wit dat! As for me, I’m just coastin through tryin to soak up all the great time and get the most outta life experientially and creatively. And to glorify the hypnotoad. In all his immense glory.

The soft cheese fears not the fast approaching knife, for the soft cheese has known its fate all along and thus has had much time to contemplate and accept its impending doom. The soft cheese, henceforth referred to as Gary, had lived a full life. He laughed with friends, enjoyed wine tastings, even went to the moon! Gary had seen all he wanted to see and done all he wanted to do. At his age, Gary was already approaching stage 3 mold and didn’t have much longer to live. In an act of selflessness and a testament to Gary’s love for others, he donated his own flesh to feed starving children all around the world. Gary has achieved the inner peace he had longed to reach as a younger wedge and, having completed his list of life goals written in the 4^th grade (ranging from eating ice cream for dinner to wrestling in a tag team match with Lou Ferrigno against the Nature Boy Ric Flair and Elisabeth the Queen of England), faced his death with the same determined smile he wore every day of his life. Gary was an inspiration to us all. 

What is something you believe to be true, despite a lack of evidence of a presence of evidence to the contrary?

I believe in the Lord of Dance

Dancing is the one bliss, no but's about it. There ain't no God, there ain't no science, there ain't shit if we can't move our bodies. Let me preamble this, though. I envision the entirety of existence as two conflicting (or, at least, dynamic) components: anti-entropy and entropy, anti-entropy embodying all that is living and moving and directed forward, and entropy embodying all that decays, those slowing forces of the universe. These become more apparent to me when I view everything as being made of the exact same particles that make everything else (call them atoms, whatever, I don't care. They're something you can't see, bozo; they could be lil' pieces of cheese for all we know). Stars form, then explode. But the pieces that they send off will eventually travel to form a blue planet far, far away, where someday they formulate an odd looking creature with two eyes, ears, arms and legs and for some reason it can't stop complaining about how long it just spent in the airplane terminal, and how they didn't even offer peanuts mid-flight, Jesus Christ! Sorry, that last bit is more for me than actually conveying my point. Which is, ahem, soon to come.

So these atoms permeate everything that exists and for some reason they change, they decay, they alter themselves into different atoms, but they're never really gone, right? There ain't no END to the fucks. Atoms just keep trucking along. But what about energy, eh? That must be it then. Energy's gotta be the God factor, right? The all-existent, always unseen property that permeates our existence? Well here's me point, buckaroo, King of the Shoes. Energy is the spark of mass (atoms, matter, cheese, you get it) to align itself in a way that is pleasurable. Now rope it back in, Slappy, and think of a human dancing. Is it the way we look when we dance that makes us do it with such ecstasy and fervor? Possibly, but for the most part we just look like morons. For me, it's the molecular rhythm, the infinitesimal beat that we can't even acknowledge, that makes us dance so much. It is the one bliss that nothing else in existence can provide. When I acknowledge my typing of this response as a function of atoms that became self-aware (and are now becoming self-aware of the fact that they are, indeed, self-aware; this is getting weird), thinking suddenly becomes a strenuous effort. It is genuinely hard to fire brainwaves the more cognizant I become of my mass-ness (cheese-ness), because it is that feeling, the awareness that I am physically just a lot of tiny bits stuck together in a suitable pattern, that makes me happiest and most at peace. Happy not in the "thank Cheese they gave us peanuts on this flight" sense, but in the "I'm thinking of absolutely nothing" sense. So go dance. Dance your bones until they resonate. Good vibrations are my religion, and happiness is my drug.

With boogie,

Hoi Polloi