Did I mention Cats?
Non. Exisitential ennui is the fundamental realization that a cold and indifferent universe does not even deign to notice Cats and the futility of action is absolute, or as Tom Stoppard puts it-
Did you ever think of yourself as actually dead, lying in a box with a lid on it?
No
Nor do I, really. It’s silly to be depressed by it. I mean, one thinks of it like being alive in a box. One keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is dead, which should make all the difference, shouldn’t it? I mean, you’d never *know* you were in a box, would you? It would be just like you were asleep in a box. Not that I’d like to sleep in a box, mind you. Not without any air. You’d wake up dead for a start, and then where would you be? In a box. That’s the bit I don’t like, frankly. That’s why I don’t think of it. Because you’d be helpless, wouldn’t you? Stuffed in a box like that. I mean, you’d be in there forever, even taking into account the fact that you’re dead. It isn’t a pleasant thought. Especially if you’re dead, really. Ask yourself, if I asked you straight off, “I’m going to stuff you in this box. Now, would you rather be alive or dead?” naturally, you’d prefer to be alive. Life in a box is better than no life at all, I expect. You’d have a chance, at least. You could lie there thinking, “Well, at least I’m not dead. In a minute somebody is going to bang on the lid, and tell me to come out.”
“Hey you! What’s your name? Come out of there!”
I think I’m going to kill you.
And that’s the thing about cats actually, they would eat you if they could. Dogs on the other hand would only eat you if they’re hungry.