I'm not saying I'm having an existential crisis or anything, but I'm just wondering: what's the point of it all? The pointlessness of it all? The futility of our futile endeavors? The futility of our endeavors, I say!
It started with the toaster. My toaster. The one that only works on Wednesdays. And only if I wear my 'I'm with stupid' t-shirt.
I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that the universe is just a big ol' simulation created by a bored programmer. And the programmer is just a bored programmer in a cubicle somewhere, twirling their hair and muttering, 'I've got to get this code out the door.'
So, if we're all just living in a simulation, then what's the point of any of it? I mean, really, what's the point of any of it? Is it just to exist? To experience fleeting moments of joy and beauty in an otherwise desolate expanse of nothingness?
Or maybe it's just to make fun of us? To see how long it takes for us to realize we're just pawns in a giant game of cosmic bingo?
Either way, I'm buying a lottery ticket.
More of my ramblings