the meaning of my existence (recently discovered while eating cheesy things and watching the best damn show on tv, which would go a long way towards explaining why it was cancelled, seeing as the majority of the planet's population, including its decision makers, is dumber than a sack of armpit hair, and far less pleasant, not to mention attractive) is simple (still with me?):
the meaning of my existence is to complain about the meaninglessness of my existence without doing a thing about it while bitching about how spectacularly messed up the world is, without doing a thing about that.
pretty damn good meaning, i figure. keeps the conversation flowing, keeps the mind active, keeps the body full of wine and cheesy things.
see? i could be sitting in the desert, communing with the divine. i could be handling snakes in a revival tent in kentucky. i could even be washing lepers' feet in india. instead, i am filled to the brim with well written tv, homemade macaroni and cheese, a fine chilean merlot, and slight (and thus easily dismissed) feelings of guilt, listening to my favourite ckua show. if you had to choose, which would you do?
p.s. go and see it and support it and BRING IT BACK! then my life will have a wee bit more meaning. ok? ok. thanks!