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What is the meaning of life?

Since this is a human question, we felt it was most important to go to the source of life itself, your God. As we mentioned in our "Now Apocalypse" answer, your under-haired Lord is hanging out here all the time. He's over in our Pepsi Serenity Garden, playing Bridge with Lincoln, Pocahontas, Steve, and The Honorable 18th Emanation of the Eternal, Enlightened, Shri-Harmonic, Incantation of the Wheel Within the Wheel Buddha. We asked Him, but, tragically, it seems that He made you with no purpose, not even for His own amusement. He finds you generally boring, actually. He said, "How could I even set them a purpose? Have you heard how much they talk? Blah-blah-blah! They'll be like 'That purpose is stupid,' or 'Our purpose sucks!' Jerks!" He said, "Tell 'em to just make one up."

We did find out an interesting tid-bit, though. It seems Biblical character Jacob fought God because he was so upset that there was no meaning to life. Jacob said, "I mean, I finally get to talk to God, and ask Him about the meaning, and He said there was no meaning, and, worse, He seemed so smug about it. I just snapped!!! There was this move that Esau had taught me that worked on a couple of Giants, so I tried it. God just wasn't ready for it." Quite a tale. It musta been a bad day for God, though, because, man, we've seen Him fight Satan, and, damn God has a lot of good, powerful attacks. We wouldn't survive one of those Omnifists, you bet. Ouch!

We Super Apes are a little more lucky, as our god gave us the purpose of "complete cleanliness of any bodily secretions or excretions." We accepted this goal, and we have created an amazing system of integrated hygienic tools, leeches, pneumatic disposal systems, handi-wipes, and normal apes who contentedly lick our hair, all leading to a Godly, shining cleanliness. We have completely mastered the collection and safe removal of all bodily fluids, earning us several "Best Fastidiousness in a Fictional Species" Trophies from Miss Manners. We are blessed and happy.

Some Super Ape monks have found a state of being where they can stop externalization of their fluids completely. These wise priests are revered and pampered during their short lives. They may be lords over their oils, puss, tears, sweat, phlegm, and pee and poo, but they cannot change universal truths. The liquid does not just vanish, so it goes inside. These incretions tend to make the body swollen and distorted, leading to an eventual explosion. As all other deaths are handled at the Ask Boz Compound, Monk explosions are greeted with magnificent celebrations, as well as retching human cleaning crews. Your people will do anything for the right price.

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