Why Ben is Not a Christian

Ben, whose Southern can is in my possession, once proudly claimed that life was, in essence, life. As aphorisms go, it wasn't the most revelatory, but it still served to illustrate Ben's illustrious passion for philosophy. Indeed I can't remember a single exchange I've had with him where he didn't start a sentence with: "you know what life is?". Of course the answers to these self-posed questions were invariably "life" with a big fat question mark, but you could tell that he was, at the very least, thinking about the bigger picture.

One rainy morning, we were in each other's company at a small café and I spoke.
"Silly, bad and silly, you know?" I said.
"I'm not sure I follow, O Soldier," said Ben.
"I'm talking about these two words, you see?"
"I think I do! What words are these two words?"
"These words are: "blog" and "zine"."
"Ah, I see. One's short for "web log", the other's short for "magazine", 's'at right?"
"Yes, that's right! Isn't it odd that both of them are specifically – in most cases – amateur projects?"
"That is odd. Speaking of which, have you heard about life?"
"I've heard that it's life, yes."
"Ah, but have you heard that it is what it is, my Sword Swallowing Friend?"
"Not in so many words, no."
"Well now you have!"

One day we were holed up in the Chelsea Marina Hotel Off Chapel and we found each other in the lobby.
"Hello Ben, my beautiful, my beautiful balloon," I said.
"Hello you Silly Sailor. I've got a brand new angle on life now, don't you know?"
"Oh boy! What is it?"
"Life is nothing much."
"Wow. That's the best yet."

Ben eventually married a large, sweaty warthog who wore a small but well-tailored floral dress. They lived happily ever after.