42 (Horrible) Questions for the Answer to Life, The Universe, and Everything

Does anybody else lie awake at night for hours contemplating the reason radishes exist?

Maybe that’s just me and I’m alone once again. Typical. Anyway, I’ve been told that the real question I should be trying to find the answer to is the meaning of life. A silly idea, if you ask me, which no one did, because no one cares about my opinion, since the answer to life, the universe, and everything has already been answered. While some people may be set in the idea that 42 is not a reasonable answer to the unknown question, I believe this is just because the human mind is very limited and unintelligent (if anyone wishes to debate this fact, I direct you to the lovely capital of the United States, Washington DC or, if politicians which the entire population of the United states decided to put in charge of our entire lives and traffic violations are not enough to convince your brain of the stupidity of the human race, there is the simple fact that you right now are reading a blog with no purpose except to be horribly pessimistic and are doing so in an effort to procrastinate as long as possible and avoid your actual responsibilities, and if this is not enough to be entirely convinced, I must assume you are actually so unintelligent you cannot realize your own stupidity (If you are currently lost and thinking, “Wow, she talks a lot and I had no idea a sentence could physically last this long” please remember that no one (I hopefully assume, not that it’ll do you much good if this is actually your current predicament. I’m sure somebody might remember your short existence every now and then if you’re lucky) is holding a gun to your head and forcing you to read this and I would be less infinitely depressed and miserable if you just left me alone and continued on with your lovely life, thanks)) and people need to expand their limited view of things. If you are completely lost and have no idea what I’m talking about, now is the time to abandon ship and leave us that are accidentally stuck to the railing by our trousers alone to our own miserable and short-lived devices. I hope you have a nice swim, but there are sharks so probably not. If you have entirely forgotten what this whole thing was supposed to be about, don’t worry, we’re in the same boat (it’s the one we were just talking about. Yeah, the sinking one that we’re stuck on. Sorry, but if you look on the bright side of things (which I wouldn’t suggest), you haven’t been around long enough for anyone to actually care about your existence, so you won’t make anyone upset by dying. It’s nice to be optimistic every now and then (it’s really not, but I thought you might like a bit of positivity in your life)).

So now that I’ve properly explained myself, here we go:

  1. Me: How many trillion dollars are your children going to have to pay to get rid of the US national debt? Me-the-second (we’re short on staff members because I’m an alone human that blogs to stay sort-of (not really) sane and wouldn’t have money to pay anyone if anyone was asking for the job position, which no one is because I’m awful to be around.): I’m so glad you asked (no), the answer is 42.
  2. Me: How many seconds until everyone dies? Me-the-second: 42 (Editor’s note: this one only works if you repeatedly re-read the question until the desired result occurs).
  3. Me: How many bullet points are there going to be in this immensely pessimistic post that no one should be reading? Me-the-second: This is too easy, go read the title again idiot.
  4. Me: How many years until it is kinda beginning to be possible for me to write a cohesive sentence? Me-the-second: 42, optimistically.
  5. Me: How many years is it going to take me to think of all these questions? Me-the-second: 42, or more. Good luck.
  6. Me: How many minutes until 42 minutes from now? Me-the-second: About 42 minutes, give or take a few.
  7. Me: How many years did the turtle grow up trying to reach his dreams before he was hit by a cruise ship? Me-the-second: Forty two miserable years and all you could think about was how some beach was pretty. Shame on you. Shame on your Moose.
  8. Me: How many decades until Sherlock season 4? Me-the-second: 42, not wait, Moffat just made an announcement…*pitiful screams of agony*
  9. Me: How many years until I find a human that can out-do my pessimism? Me-the-second: at least 42, I hope.
  10. Me: How many nanoseconds will it take to find someone who can out-do my optimism? Me-the-second: 42, pessimistically.
  11. Me: How many people have had a heart-breaking experience during the time it has taken to read this post? Me-the-second: 42 miserable souls.
  12. Me: How many times should I re-take school to be sure I don’t fail? Me-the-second: 42. You’re an idiot who didn’t study.
  13. Me: How many quadrillion people don’t want to be my friend? Me-the-second: 42. The ghosts called, they wanted to make sure we counted them.
  14. Me: How many assassins do I have currently trying to kill me? Me-the-second: I suggest you duck, not that it’ll help much.
  15. Me: How many important things could I have done in the time I wasted on this if I were an actually talented person (which I’m not)? Me-the-second: 42, if they made sure if they made sure you didn’t trip on a brick and embarrass yourself to death.
  16. Me: How many horrible questions are there in this post? Me-the-second: I’m leaving.
  17. Me: For how many million years? Me-the-second: 42.

-Apologies, We are having some issues with our limited staff. Please wait while we transport Me-the-second to an insane asylum-

18. Me: How many years will Me-the-second be in the asylum? *silence*

19. Me: How many years will it take for me to stop crying? 42.

20. Me: How long is a length of string? 42.

21. Me: What is life? 42.

22. Me: What is me? 42.

23. Me: In how many years can I get off? 42.

24. Me: What is 24 backwards? 42.

25. Me: Do I know what I’m doing? 42.

26. Me: Why is the answer always 42? 42.

27. Me: Who is even saying that? 42.

28. Me: Guys, I don’t know what’s happening, help? 42.

29. Me: Okay, I’m leaving. ? 42.

30. Me: *runs away* ? 42.

31. ? 42.

32. ? 42.

33. ? 42.

34. ? 42.

35. ? 42.

36. ? 42.

37. ? 42.

38. ? 42.

39. ? 42.

40. ? 42.

41. ? 42.

42. ? 42.

-Apologies, as Me and Me-the-second have left, there is no one to finish this post. We would apologize for the inconvenience, be we are quite sure none of you were enjoying that anyway, which is why this automated system took control of the answering mechanism and saved you from the last few awful questions. You’re welcome. While we hope Me will not be returning for some time, we suggest you run for it now. Good luck.

Wish you weren’t here,



You’re not Welcome, Flee Quickly

I’m sorry you had the unfortunate fate of coming across my dismal blog. I assume you’ll be leaving soon, so I’d wish you a good day, but that would be useless because you probably won’t have one anyway. I would suggest that you not read any of my blog because it is the worst blog I’ve ever seen and will continue to be the worst till the internet explodes from cat video overload.

I guess this is the place where I am supposed to write some deep, well thought-out idea that will motivate my non-existant readers to do great things and enjoy life. Life is like a box of chocolates or something like that. I will fail, but here goes…

Life is like a parking lot, all the good places are taken and you can waste as much gas as you’d like, you will never find one. Chances are you will be in direct sunlight, ten miles away from where you wanted to be, stuck between two people who obviously never passed their drivers test because then they would’ve learned to park better. I would feel sorry for you, but am too busy feeling depressed about my own situation, not that people care anyway.

Now that everyone who decided to burden themselves with continuing to read have obviously left, I get this space all to myself. Yay. I’d be happy, but there are people in the hospital dying of cancer and a small child in Ireland who just dropped her ice cream on the ground. Somebody died in the time that its taken you to read this and millions of people are wasting their lives reading random blogs on the internet. They should really get a life, not that it will do them any good because they will all die eventually. This thought would depress me, but I know that I’m actually so insignificant and tiny in the whole general idea of things that no one will be particularly inconvenienced when I die, a good thing because cat videos are so much more important.

Wish you Weren’t Here,

Charlotte L. Dodgson