Let me be straightforward. I have almost no recollection of yesterday. I got the newest proof of the new book, and then there was my wife’s discovery of an electronic manuscript called “The Punk Omnibus,” 450 pages soaking wet in hot pink panties, and I was so appalled and delighted I passed out as if I’d drunk roofies with my quotidian of vodka.
So. This morning. I was thinking about the meaning of life. Is there one? A meaning. You know. I came up with answers because that’s what I do.
Is there a meaning of life? Yes.
What is it? See the graphic up top.
What is life like? Like nothing else we know nothing of. Fabulous. Horrific. Both. We’ll get by.