I recently received a new question for my brother Seth, from our dear old friend Husky.
What do you believe is the meaning of life?
To answer this deep and thought-provoking question, Seth had to travel to the Tibetan highlands whilst walking on stilts. For this reason, his answer may be slightly more deranged than it usually is.
Seth’s Answer (Translated from Gibberish):
The meaning of life, despite popular opinion, is not 42. It is, however, 43. How did this happen, you may ask? It’s simple, really–Douglas Adams is insane. Even more insane than I am. When he meant to type 3, he typed 2, and so he kinda just went along with it, making 42 the most famous number in the history of geekdom completely by accident. Of course, now that I’ve told you, I’m going to be haunted by the spirits of the undead for the rest of my life. Thanks a lot, you silly Aussie and your crazy questions! Thank goodness my brother sacrificed his goat recently, or I’d be completely and utterly screwed right now. By the Wednesday after next, though, I’ll probably be twisting my head all the way around and yodelling my ABCs.
Stranezza: So…Yeah…That was odd. Perhaps Seth needs to take a nap, or something of that sort. No, wait, he’s coming back on…
Seth: I don’t need to take a bloody nap. If you say I need to take a nap again, I’ll stab you with a pretzel.
Stranezza: Ah! He’s gone mad with power! Run away!
Where did you get that fork from? Oh, erm…Ah…Wait! We must unite against the common enemy!
What do you mean “what do you mean by common enemy?” The Judean People’s Front, of course! The splitters!
No, no, Baby Buttton-Eyes! No, no!
What smells like tacos?
And why does this creepy Swedish guy want to play chess with me?
Drat. It would appear that I died again.
Oh well. What harm could one chess game be?