So, when I woke up this morning, I had a really good plan for a blog post that would blow all of my other blog posts out of the water.
Unfortunately, I completely and utterly forgot what the heck my plan was, so I devised a new, slightly less cool plan: I would go on a quest to try to remember what it was I was going to post.
Anyways, this is where it gets really weird, as I was forced to travel into my own subconscious á la Inception in order to discover the things I have forgotten.
So an Insane Person, a Beagle, and Cesar Chavez somehow manage to get themselves into someone’s–mine, to be exact–subconscious. As they’re there, the number forty-two floats up and asks them: “‘Cuse me, chappie, y’know wha’ in’a bloody ‘ell’s this meanin’o’lies?” not realising the infinite irony of his question.
Cesar Chavez, on the other hand, being Cesar Chavez, does understand the irony of the question, just doesn’t think its that funny, as he never really liked Douglas Adams that much.
The Beagle laughs, even though he doesn’t get the irony, as dogs just like to please their owners–or, in this case, the number forty-two.
And finally, the Insane Person was already laughing, so the irony didn’t really affect him that much.
And then they all lived happily ever after.
Whoa. First it was a joke, then it was a philosophical juxtaposition of three different positions you could take on life, the universe, and everything; and then it was a fairy tale.
And I didn’t even have coffee this morning!