According to the ancient art of Conundruminology, the meaning of life is 42.
Or is it 43?
Actually, it's whatever you want it to be, because let's face it, the meaning of life is just a series of confusing, poorly-designed, poorly-maintained, utterly-useless, yet somehow-endearingly-ridiculous machines that we call "life."
So, if you're still wondering, just ask yourself: "What's the point of it all?" And the answer will be, "Oh, you'll figure it out. Eventually. Probably."
What's the meaning of life according to the committee?