16 December 2012
It's The Big One. Not the rollercoaster at Blackpool or the fat guy that sits next to you on the bus, but the most asked question by philosophers and thinkers alike since man invented the toilet. Why the hell are we here? What is our purpose in life?
"When the seagulls fly over the trawler, by a sea of rusting Volvos, recycled Coca Cola bottles..." Eric Cantona: just why? Well, the only certain thing about life is death. Yeah, the reason we live is to die. But first, it seems, one has to experience cheese rolling, the thrill of running over a dead cat and pelting John Prescott with eggs before they have truly 'lived'. Alternatively you could just stay at home watching football and eating McDonalds every day. That works just as well.
For you see, life is all about making your own choices. Whether to go to work naked or in a chicken suit, to see what happens if you put a rat in the microwave, to poke your manager in the eye with a banana or a custard pie. You live and die by your decisions (or lack thereof, in the case of whether or not to ignore that 'live wires' sign).
And it's not as if anyone is arsed about you. You are just one, insignificant speck on the landscape, a dog hair in your lasagne, another brick in the wall. That is, unless you are a talentless nobody that just so happens to be the offspring of a mega-rich businessman, in which case you can do no wrong.
But what do the people say?
The real meaning of life differs slightly according to one's social status.
Working Class: Be Bumfight world champion by throwing bricks at everyone Middle Class: Get a fricking job. Punch that Robbie Williams square in the face in the square face. And to throw bricks at people better than them. Upper class: Get pissed, nick a trolley from Tescos, ride down the high street at 3AM and throw bricks working class people. So, it seems everyone has particular things in common. We all secretly want to be a tramp and have a strange compulsion to hurl bricks at everybody.
What a waste of time.
Why Are We Really Here? • Opuss № I