If you apply meaning to a thing you have made, then you have art. If you apply meaning to a person, then you have love. If you apply meaning to the universe, then you have God. Meaning is free. There is an inexhaustible supply of meaning. So what’s the fucking problem? The problem is, of course, that meaning is not fixed. It ebbs and flows like the tide. Sometimes you are drenched in the stuff, and life is self-evidently worthwhile and full of purpose and humour. And at others, it all drains away, and you are left with the horrors. In Cosmic Trigger, Robert Anton Wilson shows us how to
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