Mmm yeah, definitely
In my thousands of years researching the subjects of cosmology and metaphysics—as a space-time-travelling silver surfer guru of the most sacred mmm yeah—all signs indicate that, indeed, everything definitely means something.
The definitely of everything manifests itself, insinuates itself, impregnates its own mantra of being here, while simultaneously creating and destroying possible worlds imaginable only by the purest essence of existence. Do you understand what I’m telling you? It’s perfectly reasonable if these things sound ridiculous at first. But true ridiculousness lies in denial of definitely.
Obviously, this is too short of a column to explain the entirety of my hypothesis that everything definitely means something. Important nuances such as the concepts of lih, sow and jast necessarily require extended lecturing. So if you are truly interested in the truth, meet me at the next String Cheese show at Red Rocks and I will definitely tell you things that definitely explain that everything definitely means something.
Just feel the infectiousness as you for an eternity chant: “Mmm yeah definitely, mmm yeah definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely.” It cannot be denied. Find harmony in your own salvation—on your voyage to definitely something.
—Jebuiz Y'har
Where did my cigs go?
Does everything definitely mean something? Definitely not—life to me is like Cherry Dr. Pepper sans carbonation: sweet but masochistically corrosive.
God is dead. God remains dead, as do my social and sex lives. Cigs are my only friends. But even nicotine means literally nothing besides relief from my ever-present migraine.
It’s an honor to be engaged in this debate with the venerable Jebuiz Y’har—transcendent of temporal, spacial and material chains. Frankly, it seems unfair to have me, a mildly depressed crust punk, debate an entity of unlimited knowledge. But here’s my best shot:
When I look into the abyss that some call society, I feel nothing. This isn’t just some lame post-high school angst. There is no proof to show we aren’t simply shouting into a massive void with all our pointless human endeavors. I was literally raised by wolves. Nothing means anything in the wild.
Is that not evidence enough to conclude not everything definitely means something? Or, at least, everything not definitely means something. Everything definitely means not something? The point is: If everything definitely means something, shouldn’t things evoke some sort of visceral reaction from me? Wait, that might mean something...
—Thor Von Killpenstien
