Meaning of Life... (Initially published April 19th 2006)
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By Bengt Johanstroemmer in TravelBlog Published: Friday, 16 February 07 - 08:22 PM (GMT +01:00) |
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Matz took a deep breath and dialed the number. "You only get to call once, Matz, you know like when arrested or submitting your självdeklaration, so don't blow it," he muttered, trying to keep the shudder out of his voice. He brought the receiver to his ear and sweated for what seemed an eternity, had another sip on his beer and waiting for the line to connect. Finally, he heard the other end ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click. "Hello, Matz," a deep, rich voice said. "What can I do for you?" Matz swallowed hard and thought about his sweet daughters feeble future . "Uh...um...Is this really Göran Persson, prime minister of Sweden?" "Yes, it really is. Now get to the point, Matz, I'm a very busy increasing taxes and duties and getting SSU Anna off the hook." There was just the slightest hint of irony in Görans's voice. "Well...uh....You see, I just wanted to know, uh, what's the meaning of... uh... you know... life, i.e or why paying taxes." "The Answer," intoned Göran Persson, prime minister of Sweden, over the phone, "is the Question, and the Question is the Answer." "Er," began Matz, sorely perplexed and with and increasing discomfort, "Er, how so?" "Well, Matz, I've been around for a long time. A really, really amazingly huge amount of time, you know like back when I was a chairman of the board of the local municipal government of Katrineholm in Sörmland. So long that even I do not remember my own origin, or whether I even have one. Because of this, I have spent countless eternities pondering my own purpose in life, other than getting discounts of purchases at Systembolaget (thru my dear wify). I could never come up with a satisfactory reason for my own existence, and I have therefore concluded that I cannot find such an answer due to my paradoxical nature, i.e. being born in the forties and still being a communist, even after the fall of USSR and the demise of Gudrun (not fair after all she was never a communist, only in love). So I created Sweden or better known as Folkhemmet and all of the Life in it to find out the answer for me (and Bosse Ringholm). Do you understand now, Matz you cog in the great socialdemocrat machinery?" "Yow," Matz replied, hoping he didn't appear too dim in the slightly dimmed eyes of the prime minister of Sweden. "Not quite," he said. Göran gave forth a truly thundering, earthquaky and cosmic sigh that even have the scaffoldings shaking at his newly purchased mansion in Sörmland that’s going thru an extreme makeup. "It is my hope, Matz, that somewhere within Life's infinite diversity in infinite combinations there will arise a final, conclusive and easily digestive to the red (communist coalition partner) and green (environmental friendly coalition partner) solution to the meaning to it all, at least to the next budget negotiations begins in four years or so." "Uh," spake Matz, "could you maybe put it in, uh, simpler terms?" Again, Göran Persson sighed. "I'll put it as simply as possible for you, Matz: The Meaning of Life is to discover the Meaning of Life or maybe to shoehorn in a few more taxes and duties." "But," Matz sputtered, "but that's recursive - it keeps addressing itself in its own definition! How will we ever know when we've found it?" "I'm sorry, Matz, but your two minutes are up, anyhow the självdeklaration is on the www." Click.
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