Just so we don’t get too serious around here, I’m posting a little piece I wrote maybe twenty years ago.

The Meaning of Life

The Buddha was asked by one of his disciples about the meaning of life.

By way of response, the Buddha held up a flower.

“Do you mean to say,” exclaimed Rami Medran “that the meaning of life is a flower? Just a little flower?”

“The meaning of life is anything you chose,” responded the Buddha slowly, “If you like, the meaning of life is my fat ass.”

“Oh no, oh no,” gasped Suri Ba’an, “That cannot be.”

“OK,” drawled the Buddha, “the meaning of life is your fat ass. Or, if you like, a tiny flea that is crawling around your fat tooches, searching, poor thing, for his meaning of life.”

“Aah! The Buddha means to say that the meaning of life lies within the examination of life itself. The noble quest, the struggle of the mind to make sense of the maya of existence!’ countered Suri Ba’an.

“OK,” said the Buddha. “Let me put it this way. The real meaning of life is the line at the 7-Eleven convenience store.”

“What is this, sire? This 7-Eleven?” they asked.

“It’s a combination of two prime numbers together with too high prices. Don’t you get it, dudes? I’m only kidding.”

“Aaaaaaahhh,” they all sighed.

“Right. I was only kidding. The ultimate in meaning, the bottom line on the meaning thing is Jack Nicholson.”

The disciples then huddled under the Bodhi tree. Suri Ba’an was selected to present the Buddha with their collective decision.

“The disciples believe, sire, that you are definitely full of shit.”

“Don’t take it so hard,” said the Buddha.

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