The Meaning of Life Explained by Don Taco

The Meaning Of Life, Explained 

 I was casually meandering across my college campus one afternoon when my friend Danny, headed the other way, stopped purposefully, shoved a small microphone in my face, and asked pointedly, "What is the meaning of life?" I hadn't noticed it, but he was doing this to everyone he met. Little did I know that this encounter would actually lead to me discovering the answer. The answer that has attracted, mystified, provoked, puzzled, tempted, eluded, taunted, haunted, and flaunted itself in the face of uncounted generations of scholars, pundits, mystics, misfits, and philosophers since the beginning of time. I was unprepared for the question, which was Danny's intent, and stumbled out some lame response. Not only not profound, but not even worth repeating. Or remembering. Danny was assembling data for some class assignment. A Philosophy or Social Studies or Communication or Religious Studies or I don't actually know what assignment for some class he was taking. He was expecting to compile results that showed a spectrum of responses, and, I believe, the depth, or lack thereof, of the average responses, as well as the range of responses. Little did he know what he would also reveal. He had one of those very 1960's household tape recorders, with a leather case and a strap, so he could sling it behind him and catch people unawares. The microphone had a slim cord long enough to allow him to thrust it in front of you unexpectedly as he asked his question, and it had a switch on the side he could start the tape rolling as he did. To conserve tape, he wasn't recording himself over and over, just the responses. This was a tiny reel-to-reel, long before cassetes, among the earliest generations of portable recorders. He probably couldn't even afford to own it. It probably was checked out, like a library book, from the college's audio-visual department. I'm sure he had to supply his own tape, though. He gathered hundreds of responses, many hundreds. I don't think he got into the thousands, as that would have required attacking every one of the 1600 students and going out into the community beyond, which was Malibu Beach, and would have been more or less evenly distributed between surf bums and people too rich to talk to you. And that's a good way to get arrested. The overwhelming majority of the responses was, "Uh. To live." Over 90 percent. Perhaps 5 percent of those actually were, "To live," but "Uh. To live," was the hands- down common response. I think that's what I said. I'm not proud of it. 90 percent of the rest were slogans, lame aphorisms, and other pat short answers of no depth or consequence. The overwhelming bulk of these were religious, which was no surprise, as we were at a small bible-belt-baptist type of college. Most of these young folks had not yet been exposed to critical thinking and other analytical skills, and hadn't ever delved into this question any deeper than repeating what had been spoon-fed them. That left a dozen or two respondents who didn't blurt out the first phrase that popped into their head. Some took their time, and gave it some measured though. Some had answers more or less prepared. Most were insightful, thoughtful, meaningful. Some were tidy, some were open-ended. Some were religious, some not at all. Some said there was no answer. Few of them overlapped. But. But but but... But then, there was this one guy. This one guy, when asked about the meaning of life, answered without hesitation, without pause for reflection, without clearing his throat. He answered with complete sincerity, with utter conviction, with the clarity of truth. I heard the tape. He knew the answer. He knew. He knew the meaning of life. It could not have been any more clear. Or any simpler, really. I was instantly convinced. Without even a pause for breath, yet with breathtaking conviction, he replied, "The meaning of life is to eat as many cheese enchiladas as possible in twenty-seven minutes." As quick as that. As simple as that. As clear as that. And ever since the day I heard that tape, I have not had to to ponder the meaning of life, nor search for it, consider or reconsider it, engage in discussions regarding it, worry about it, or spend time on it in any way. I have no need of any of that. I know the meaning of life. It was gifted to me, quite by accident, when I was still quite young. I have always been grateful for that. When I consider the countless hours, years, centuries, aeons, that men have spent pursuing this imponderable, I am simply astounded. If they only knew. To eat as many cheese enchiladas as possible in twenty-seven minutes. I offer you this gift.