[an error occurred while processing this directive]		Clifford Harris Splat! -- crashland into being. Confronted with sensory overload, the doctor's whamsmack, you screamcry. If you're lucky and born into developed west you survive. Being human, at a certain point you begin wondering why. The daunting, dangerous horrifically futile quest for meaning. Perhaps your parents comfortably conclude unpleasant questioning by passing down ancient doctrine to which they continue ignorantly to cling. Or maybe you recognize truth in proliferating New Age ideology. Maychance, blessed with independant intellect, you reject simplistic solutions to troubling, complicated quandries. Rather than superstition, you seek truth in reason's bright sunburst. Your quest, an intellectual odyssey through philosophic word forests, wind swept sociological planes, historical jungles, daedalian labrynths of psychological mystery, swirling whirlpool seas of ambiguous scientific puzzles. Inevitably, you arrive upon dismal void shores illuminated by truth's oblique ghost light: The univese, inexplicable randomness; your life, a blank slate. It seems meaning, self-created, found in tenacious pursuit of career, true love, hedonistic pleasure dances, fighting overwhelming odds for the cause of justice, always remaining aware of the void toward which, beings-unto-death, we inexorably progress.....