One Isn’t Necessarily The Loneliest Number That You’ll Ever Do
July 21st, 2007
One isn’t just NOT necessarily the loneliest number that you’ll ever do, but it’s pretty much no WAY the loneliest number that anyone would ever be, do, represent or institute.
I understand that every human being’s purpose on this planet is to find someone else to be with before their day comes, and I’m sensitive to the fact that sharing your life with someone else can be a rewarding, emotionally-satisfying experience. I also get that finding that one soulmate can be the greatest thing to happen to anyone. But the number one? The loneliest number?
Guess again, people.
Personally, I think the number 10 is a way more lonely sounding number than 1. At least being the number 1, it’s just you sitting around there by yourself. But if you have to sit around there by yourself with a huge ZERO next to you? A huge chasm of nothing? If that doesn’t get you starting to think about how insignificant you are and how the universe has no finite end to it and how black holes just suck up everything around them, then I don’t know what number does.
Except for 100.
The number 100 is by far way more lonely than 10. And far more lonely than 1. In fact, every time I watch Deal or No Deal and I see those attractive women holding those sparkling cases with numbers on them — I don’t know why, but it’s the girls holding the #10 case that always look the loneliest out of all those 50 girls. Thing is, no one ever guesses 10 anyway because it just looks so…god, how can I say this?
Sort of lonely.
But if that show had 100 cases, you can bet your brother’s blanket that the girl holding the case with the number 100 on it would look far lonelier than the girls holding the #1 and the #10 cases. That’s because, while it’s bad enough being the “so-called” loneliest number ever (i.e. #1) — it’s far more depressing being the number 100. Because there you are, by yourself, with two double zeroes of nothingness next to you. And while the semi-lonely #10 can easily shrug off the random chance of being stuck next to a hole of nothingness (sort of a fluke, he’d probably say) — the guy stuck with two holes of suckage can only think one thing: “Well, one hole of nothingness is a random happening. But two? This must mean something.”
That meaning? Ultra-loneliness.
You could say the number 1000 is more lonely than the number 100 and keep adding zeroes and crap like that, but everyone knows that if you have more than two zeroes alone in a room, you’ve got a party of zeroes. And a party of zeroes may be a group of nothingness, but a gaggle of nothingness is technically a gaggle of somethingness.
But 100?
Loneliest number that you’ll ever do.
As for 1?
Suck it.
