Today I was asked could I, per chance and perhaps if I had the time, figure out the meaning of life? A tall task for a short mind. It did not take me long to come up with the answer. No. I could not, in fact figure out the meaning of life. I could, of course, live a life of meaning. I could also mean well in life. Alternatively, I could be mean in life. Or live a mean life. I could also seek, along with the median and mode, to find the mean of life. I could find a means to support my life, whatever that might entail. I mean, after all, life allows for a lot of different means. I could even live out of my means, though it is advisable to live within one’s means. Means, means, means what does it mean. And when I repeat the word means, like means, means, means, the word blends together and loses its meaning. When it loses its meaning I can only speculate as to what it means. So there it is, a lot of means, but hardly any meaning. And as for the means to an end, well here we are. – Zachary