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What's the Answer, Cheif. before/after What's the answer. Fuck dude, what does this boil down to? This rat race. You can make sense of it, for where it relates to itself, but what does this have to do with the rest of the universe? Like a guitar, this Society that we have built, can tune to itself, with no sense of harmony to anything else, but when you strum it, it feels fine. It makes sense unto itself, but seems so disharmonious to all other precepts for which I believe to be true. No harmony. Not with anything else. Not at all. What's the fucking answer? What is this seeming anomoly that we have built? I have found peace by not giving a fuck. Now the mantra is "I'll be okay." 'Cause when you pull back far enough, everything seems to be bullshit. Look at it. Look at it! In the Grand Scheme, it does not matter one bit. Not one fuckin' bit. So who cares? I guess I'll just keep enjoying whatever the fuck this is that I am in. FUCK DUDE! WHAT'S THE FUCKIN' ANSWER! I'll keep enjoying myself so as to be oblivious to the fact THAT I DON'T HAVE A GODDAMN ANSWER. None. Not a one. Not a fuckin' clue. So just fuck you, for right now. I'm getting high. Excuse me. motherfucker.
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