The Final Fifty

The panel saved these for last. Linda wept. Brent pretended not to.

951. If I read this whole book, do I get a diploma?

You get a sense of accomplishment and a strange urge to talk to geese. That's better. You'll also gain the ability to answer any question at a party with a weird fact, such as the Groom of the Stool (see question 593), the immortal jellyfish (see question 809) or what space smells like (see question 505). People will find you either fascinating or exhausting. If you really want a diploma, Marjorie has agreed to issue one, handwritten on the back of an overdue notice, granting you a Bachelor of Dumb Questions with honours. It's not recognized by any university. It's recognized by three geese and a crab. That's enough.

952. Is a question still dumb if it's asked very seriously?

The more serious the face, the dumber the question. That's the rule. A question asked with a furrowed brow, a pause and a slow lean forward, like "if a tomato is a fruit, is ketchup a smoothie?", becomes 10 times funnier than the same question asked with a giggle. Comedians know this. They call it "deadpan," and it's the secret to a great joke: say the ridiculous thing as if it's the most important question in history. This entire book is built on that principle. Every question was asked by someone very serious. Most of them were holding a clipboard. One of them was a goose.

953. What's the opposite of a question?

An answer, or a very confident shrug. Other opposites of a question include a statement, an exclamation and that thing your uncle does where he answers a question nobody asked at Thanksgiving dinner. Grammatically, a question ends with a question mark, an answer usually ends with a period and a shrug ends with an eyebrow raise. Some answers are so confident they become questions again: "Obviously the sky is blue, right?" Then you're back where you started. Questions and answers are like two sides of a coin (see question 382). One has a head, the other has a tail. You need both to buy anything.

954. Can a question mark be used as a fishing hook?

It has the shape. It just lacks the commitment. A question mark hook would catch only curious fish, the ones who wonder "what's this?" and bite. That's most fish, actually. Some historians believe the question mark came from the Latin word "quaestio," which scribes shortened to "qo" and eventually squished into a curly Q over an O, which became the shape we know today. That's not certain, but it's a nice story. The exclamation mark, by the same story, came from the Latin word for joy, "io." So an exclamation mark is a little shout of joy. A question mark is a little fishhook of wonder. Use both.

955. If nobody answers my question, does it echo forever?

It bounces around the internet until someone replies "same." Online forums are full of unanswered questions from years ago, such as "Has anyone found a fix for this?" with 47 replies from other people saying "same problem," and nobody ever posting the fix. The original asker probably solved it and never came back to say how. That's the saddest echo in the world. In real life, a question asked in an empty room bounces off the walls and comes back unanswered, like a ball you threw for a dog that's asleep (see question 929). If you have an unanswered question, ask Marjorie. She answers everything. Eventually.

956. Who asked the first question?

Probably a baby, pointing at something and saying "eh?" We've been asking "eh?" ever since, especially in Canada. Babies start asking questions long before they can talk, by pointing, looking at their parents and making questioning sounds. By age four, many kids ask hundreds of questions a day (see question 958). Researchers believe asking questions is one of the most important ways humans learn, and that this curiosity is one of the reasons our species did so well. So the first question was probably "what's that?", the second was "can I eat it?" and the third was "why not?" (see question 966). We've been asking those three ever since.

957. Can I ask a question without knowing what I'm asking?

Yes. That's how most meetings start (see question 705). You'll raise your hand, open your mouth and realize halfway through that you don't know where the sentence is going. "So, I was wondering, about the, um, thing... with the... yeah." Then everyone stares at you. Then someone says "good question" (see question 986) to save you. These are called "thinking out loud" questions, and they're more common than you'd think. Sometimes they lead to a brilliant idea. Usually they lead to a 10-minute discussion that nobody understands. The meeting then ends. Nobody remembers what was asked. Least of all you.

958. Is there a limit to how many questions one person can

ask?

A four-year-old once asked 300 in a single day. Their parents are still recovering. Surveys of parents suggest preschoolers can ask hundreds of questions a day, many of them before breakfast. Typical questions include "why is the sky blue?" (see question 757), "where do babies come from?" (see question 751) and "why?" repeated 40 times in a row (see question 977). Parents often run out of answers by mid-morning and begin saying "we'll see" (see question 782). There's no official limit. If there were, kids would hit it by 9 a.m. and spend the rest of the day asking why there's a limit.

959. Why do I think of the perfect comeback in the shower?

The shower is where your brain goes to replay arguments it lost. In the moment, under pressure, your brain freezes and you say something weak, like "oh yeah? Well... you too." Then, three days later, while shampooing, the perfect response arrives fully formed. There's a French phrase for this: "l'esprit de l'escalier," meaning "the wit of the staircase," because you think of the perfect comeback while walking down the stairs after leaving the party. The shower also gives you your best ideas (see question 488), your best singing (see question 627) and your worst timing. You'll never use the comeback. It's too late. It just lives in the shower now.

960. What's the smartest thing a goose has ever done?

Refusing to answer question 13. Brent knows when to stay quiet. For a goose, that's an incredible act of restraint. Brent has an opinion about everything: bread, ponds, minivans, humans, swans (see question 679) and whales (see question 823). But when asked whether geese are in charge, Brent simply looked into the distance and said nothing. Experts call this "strategic silence." Other geese call it "weird." The second smartest thing a goose has ever done was Linda's decision to marry Reginald (see question 654). The dumbest thing was Brent's attempt to water-ski. We don't talk about that.

961. Do librarians know every book?

Marjorie has read 40,000 books. She says the best one is still the dictionary. "It has every word," she explains. "Every other book is just the dictionary rearranged." Librarians don't know every book, but they know how to find any book, which is a much more useful skill. They also know which books are overdue, who returns books with sticky pages and who uses a slice of cheese as a bookmark (that was Brent). Marjorie can locate any book in her library within 30 seconds, blindfolded, by smell. She has a list of everyone who has ever damaged a book (see question 184). Your name might be on it. Be careful.

962. If I ask a question in a dream, will I get the answer

when I wake up?

You'll get an answer, but it'll be "bananas." See question 947. Dreams are full of questions with answers that feel profound in the moment: "The meaning of life is... a really soft towel." You'll wake up thinking you've discovered the secret of the universe, write it down (see question 901) and find, in the morning, a note that says "towel = yes." Some people do solve problems in their sleep (see question 943), but most dream answers make no sense in the daylight (see question 934). Still, keep a notebook by your bed. One day, the bananas might be right. You'll be famous.

963. Why does "why" have a "y" in it?

So it can ask itself questions too. "Why" comes from Old English, where it was spelled "hwī," and it's related to "who," "what," "where" and "when," which all once started with "hw." Over time, the spellings flipped around to "wh," which is why so many question words start with the same two letters. The "y" at the end of "why" is just a leftover from old spelling habits. Interestingly, "Y" is also a letter that sounds like "why," which means the word "why" ends with a letter that asks why. It's a question that questions itself. That's very philosophical. And confusing. Mostly confusing.

964. Is curiosity really what killed the cat?

The full saying adds "satisfaction brought it back." Cats got a great deal. The original version of the saying, from the 1500s, was actually "care killed the cat," where "care" meant worry or sorrow. So worry was the original villain, not curiosity. Over time, "curiosity" replaced "care," and someone later added the happy ending about satisfaction. Cats do get into a lot of trouble because of their curiosity: stuck in trees, trapped in drawers, climbing curtains (see question 495) and sitting inside boxes too small for them. But they almost always come back. Nine lives, as they say. Each one curious.

965. Can a question be too long?

Yes. If you need a snack halfway through asking it, it's too long. Long questions are common at public events, where someone grabs the microphone during a question-and-answer session and tells a five-minute story about their life, their opinions and their cousin's dog before finally saying "so, I guess my question is... what do you think?" Everyone in the audience sighs. The speaker blinks. The question was not a question. It was a speech wearing a question costume (see question 976). The longest sentence in literature runs for thousands of words. Don't try to beat it. Your audience will leave.

966. Is "why not?" a good answer to "why?"

It's the best answer. It's how people invented skydiving, sushi and this book. Somebody once said "why would you jump out of a perfectly good airplane?" and somebody else said "why not?" and jumped. Somebody else looked at a raw fish and said "why not?" and created a delicious cuisine. Someone looked at 100 dumb questions and said "why not 1,000?" (see question 995) and here we are. "Why not?" is a dangerous answer, though. It's also how people invented the blender-full-of-money idea (see question 391) and the decision to marry a mannequin (see question 670). Use it wisely.

967. Do the geese have any questions of their own?

Just one: "Is that bread?" They ask it about everything. Rocks. Leaves. Shoes. Cars. Tourists. Small dogs. Each time, the answer is no, and each time the goose looks personally betrayed. Linda once asked it about a frisbee for 45 minutes. Brent asked it about the moon (see question 504), which is also not bread, but is round and pale, so it was a reasonable question. The goose who declined to be named once asked "is that bread?" about an actual loaf of bread, and when told yes, refused to believe it. Please don't feed geese bread, by the way. It's bad for them. Bring peas or oats instead. They'll still ask.

968. If I put a question in a time capsule, will the future

answer it?

They'll answer it, then add a new question: "Why did they think this was important?" Time capsules often contain newspapers, photos, letters to the future and objects like a phone, a toy and a snack wrapper. When they're opened decades later, people mostly laugh at the hairstyles. Some time capsules have been lost because nobody remembered where they were buried, which is the most human thing ever (see question 466). If you bury a question, make it a good one. Like "do future people still argue about pineapple on pizza?" (see question 697). The answer will be yes. It will always be yes.

969. Is it rude to answer a question with a question?

Is it? Why do you ask? Does it bother you when people do that? Have you ever done it yourself? Wouldn't you agree that some questions deserve more questions? What if the answer is another question? Who decides what a proper answer is? Isn't that what this whole book is about? Would you like us to stop? Are you sure? Can you feel your eye twitching? Is that normal? Should we see a doctor (see question 602)? Is the doctor an actor? Have we gone too far? Is this paragraph a question or an answer? Does anybody know? Is Marjorie glaring at us right now? Yes. Yes, she is.

970. Can I trademark a dumb question?

You could try. The geese have already claimed "Is that bread?" (see question 967). Trademarks protect brand names, logos and slogans, and people have trademarked some surprising phrases. But a trademark office would probably laugh at a request to trademark "can I eat the snow?" (see question 779). Linda filed the bread trademark in 2019, with a honk as her signature. It was rejected, but she considers it approved. Brent tried to trademark the word "honk." The ducks objected. There was a hearing. It did not go well. Several feathers were lost. The case remains open.

971. What's the dumbest answer ever given?

"It depends." It's technically always correct and never helpful. Ask a lawyer, an economist or a doctor any question, and you'll often hear "it depends," followed by an hour of other things it depends on. Other famous dumb answers include "because," "I don't know, what do you think?" and "ask your mother" (see question 782). The prize for the dumbest answer ever given goes to a quiz contestant who, asked to name a famous painter called Leonardo, confidently answered "the one in the blue mask with the swords." Okay, we made that up. But it should be real, and he's not wrong that it's famous.

972. Why do teachers say there are no dumb questions?

Because they haven't read this book. Teachers say it because they want students to feel safe asking anything, which is genuinely important. Many students stay quiet because they're afraid of looking silly, and so they never learn the thing they were wondering about. The truth is, most "dumb" questions are ones half the class was wondering about too. One brave kid asks, and everyone else secretly sighs with relief. So the teachers are right: there are no dumb questions in a classroom. Out here, on the other hand, there are exactly 1,000. We counted. Marjorie counted twice.

973. Can a question be a gift?

A good one is. It makes someone stop and think, which is free and doesn't need wrapping. The best questions show someone you care: "how are you, really?", "what's your favourite memory?" and "what was the best part of your day?" A grandparent asked "what was it like when you were young?" will light up and talk for an hour (see question 794). A friend asked "do you want to talk about it?" will feel less alone. A child asked "what do you think?" will feel important. Questions are gifts you can give every day. Unlike socks, they never disappear (see question 451).

974. If I ask the same question twice, will I get a different answer?

From your parents, yes. The second answer is usually "I already told you." The third is "ask your father" and the fourth is a long sigh. Kids use this strategy deliberately, asking the same question until they get a yes, a technique known to parents as "wearing me down." It works surprisingly often. Robots, on the other hand, give exactly the same answer every time (see question 883), no matter how many times you ask, which is why kids find them boring. Magic 8 Balls give a different answer every time, which is why kids love them. A Magic 8 Ball is the opposite of a parent.

975. Do question marks get tired of being at the end?

In Spanish, they get to be at the start too. It's a vacation. Spanish uses an upside-down question mark at the beginning of a question, like ¿this?, so you know a question is coming before you start reading it. That's very considerate. English question marks have to sit at the end of every sentence, waiting patiently, like a goalie. Sometimes they get doubled up for confusion (??) or combined with exclamation marks (?!) for shock. There's even a rarely used symbol called the "interrobang," which combines a question mark and exclamation mark into one character. It was invented in 1962. It never caught on. It deserved better.

976. Is "what's up?" a real question?

It's a greeting wearing a question costume. The answer is always "not much." Even if your house is on fire, your cat is on the roof and you just won the lottery (see question 369), the answer is "not much, you?" Then the other person says "not much," and the conversation is complete. It's a ritual, like a handshake (see question 599). Other fake questions include "how are you?" (answer: "good"), "how's it going?" (answer: "it's going") and "you good?" (answer: "yeah"). If you actually answer one of these honestly, the other person will panic. Never tell a cashier how you really are. They have a line.

977. Why do kids ask "why" so many times in a row?

They're digging. Eventually they reach "because I said so," which is bedrock. A typical dig goes like this: "Why do I have to go to bed?" "Because you need sleep." "Why?" "So you can grow." "Why?" "Because your body needs rest." "Why?" "Because cells repair at night." "Why?" "Because... science." "Why?" "BECAUSE I SAID SO." Each "why" goes one layer deeper, like a tiny archaeologist digging through the parent's knowledge. Eventually they hit the bottom. It's not a sign of annoyingness. It's a sign of a curious brain (see question 956). Encourage it. After a nap. Your nap, not theirs.

978. Can I answer a question with interpretive dance?

Yes. It won't be clear, but it will be memorable. Asked "what time is it?", you could perform a slow, sweeping arm movement representing a clock, then a dramatic spin symbolizing the passing of time, followed by a collapse to the floor representing a nap (see question 924). The person will be confused but moved. Interpretive dance has been used to express emotions, stories and, in one famous competition, entire scientific research papers. Scientists dance their PhD research every year, and some of the results are wonderful. If you answer a job interview question with interpretive dance (see question 737), you probably won't get the job. You'll get a story, though.

979. Who checks the answers in this book?

Marjorie checks them. She disagrees with 412 of them but has run out of red pens. She has used 37 red pens on this book so far, along with a highlighter, a pencil and, at one point, a lipstick, which she found in the library's lost-and-found. Her most common notes in the margins are "citation needed," "absolutely not" and "who let the goose write this?" She has checked every fact, rolled her eyes at every joke and laughed out loud exactly once, at question 97, which she will deny. She also corrected the spelling of "moustache" 14 times. Thank you, Marjorie. You're the real hero of this book.

980. Is there a question that has no answer?

"What's for dinner?" has been unanswered in most households since 1952. Every evening, someone opens the fridge, stares inside (see question 467), closes it and asks "what do you want for dinner?" The other person says "I don't mind, what do you want?" Then they both say "I don't know" and stare at each other for 20 minutes. Eventually someone suggests pizza, someone else says "we had pizza yesterday" and the cycle continues. Scientists have studied this question for decades and have only found one solution: cereal (see question 796). Cereal always wins. Cereal is the answer to the unanswerable.

981. Why do I ask questions I already know the answer to?

For reassurance. "Is it cold outside?" in an Edmonton January is not a real question. The answer is yes. It's always yes. It's −30 °C and your eyelashes are freezing together. But we ask anyway, because asking makes us feel like we're part of a shared experience. Other questions people ask while knowing the answer include "are you awake?" (to someone clearly asleep), "is this seat taken?" (on an empty bus) and "did you get a haircut?" (to someone with an obvious haircut). These questions aren't for information. They're for connection. And sometimes for small talk in elevators (see question 719). Very small talk.

982. Can a book have a sequel if it ends with question 1,000?

Yes. There are always more dumb questions. People are making new ones right now. Somewhere, a child is asking whether worms have best friends. Somewhere, an adult is asking their smart speaker whether ghosts can use Wi-Fi. Somewhere, a goose is asking "is that bread?" (see question 967). The sequel will be called "The Thousand Dumbest Questions Ever Asked 2: The Geese Return" (see question 604). It will be longer, weirder and even less accurate. Marjorie has already prepared her red pens. Brent has asked to be on the cover. The crab has asked for a speaking role. Negotiations are ongoing.

983. Do the geese get royalties?

They're paid in bread. It's an excellent deal for them and a terrible one for their health. Their contract states that each goose receives one breadcrumb per question in which they appear, plus a bonus slice for any question where they're named. Brent has calculated that he's owed 47 slices. Linda has calculated 52. The goose who declined to be named has refused payment, saying "I do this for the art." Experts warn that bread is bad for geese, so their agent has renegotiated their royalties into peas and oats. The geese are furious. They've gone on strike. They're honking outside the publisher's office right now.

984. What happens to a question after it's answered?

It retires to a small cottage and tells younger questions about the old days. "Back in my day, nobody had search engines. You had to ask a person. Sometimes you had to wait for weeks!" The young questions roll their eyes. The cottage is in a quiet village near Lintland (see question 451), next to the island where lost socks live (see question 774). The retired questions play cards, drink tea and argue about which of them was the dumbest. Question 1 ("If I microwave a salad, is it soup now?") is the village elder. Everyone respects it. Nobody has an answer for it. Not even now.

985. Is wondering the same as asking?

Wondering is asking with your mouth closed. It's a question that hasn't decided whether to go outside yet. People wonder while staring out of bus windows, lying in the bath, waiting in line and looking up at the stars (see question 518). Wondering is how every great question starts, before it's brave enough to be said out loud. Some of the most important discoveries in history started with someone quietly wondering "what if?" (see question 989). So wonder freely. Wonder often. Wonder about strange things. Then, when you're ready, open your mouth and ask. The world needs more questions. Especially dumb ones.

986. Why do people say "good question" when they don't

know the answer?

It buys them four seconds. Four seconds is a lot. In those four seconds, they'll take a sip of water, look thoughtfully at the ceiling and frantically search their memory for anything useful. Other stalling phrases include "that's a great question," "I'm glad you asked that," "let me think about that" and "well, it's complicated." Politicians are masters of this, often saying "good question" and then answering a completely different question. Teachers say it too, then turn it back on the class: "What does everyone else think?" That's not an answer. That's a very clever escape.

987. Can I ask a question to the moon?

Many people do. The moon listens. It's never answered, but it's very polite about it. People have been asking the moon questions for thousands of years: lovers asking if they'll see each other again, sailors asking for safe passage and kids asking it to stop following their car (see question 531). Poets have written thousands of poems addressing the moon directly, and the moon has never replied to a single one. That's not rude. That's just the moon. It's 384,000 kilometres away and has a lot on its mind. It does reflect your question back to you, in a way. That's its answer. Think about it.

988. Is the answer always 42?

Only if you're a fan of a certain science fiction book. Otherwise, it's usually "maybe." In that book, a giant supercomputer spends millions of years calculating the answer to life, the universe and everything, and finally announces: "42." Unfortunately, nobody knew what the actual question was. That's a good lesson. An answer is only useful if you understand the question. This book has the opposite problem: we know exactly what all 1,000 questions are, and the answers are all slightly useless. So maybe the real answer is 42. Maybe it's "bananas" (see question 947). We'll never know.

989. Can a question change the world?

"What if we put wheels on it?" changed a lot (see question 557). So did "what happens if I push this button?" Other world-changing questions include "why does the apple fall down?", "can we fly?", "what's on the other side of the ocean?" and "what if we put cheese inside the crust?" Every invention, discovery and adventure started with someone asking something that sounded silly at the time. The Wright brothers were laughed at. People thought the telephone was a toy. Someone once asked "what if suitcases had wheels?" and it took until the 1970s for anyone to try. Ask your dumb questions. One might change everything.

990. Should I ask my geese for advice?

Only about bread. And ponds. For everything else, ask Marjorie. Geese are excellent advisers on a small number of topics: where to find the best grass, which park has the most generous tourists and how to stare down a minivan. They're also experts on migration, loyalty (see question 654) and holding your ground. But don't ask a goose about money (see Chapter 16), relationships (Brent has none) or careers (Brent's career is honking). For anything that requires a book, ask Marjorie. She'll find the answer, hand you the right book and remind you it's due in two weeks. She will not accept bread as a late fee. Brent has tried.

991. Is this book on the reading list for the next school year?

Not yet. But we've sent a copy to every school, addressed to "the curious ones." Some teachers will hide it in their desks and read it during lunch. Some will use it to start class discussions, like "if you microwave a salad, is it soup now?" (see question 1), which will cause a 45-minute debate and a fistfight over croutons. Some librarians will shelve it under "Reference," which will confuse students looking for real facts. Marjorie has suggested it be shelved under "Humour, Questionable." If it ever makes a reading list, there will be a test. It will be multiple choice. Every answer will be "bananas."

992. How many questions did the panel reject?

About 3,000, including "Is a hot dog a sandwich?" which caused a goose fight that's still going. Linda says yes. Brent says no. The goose who declined to be named says a hot dog is a taco, which caused a new fight. Marjorie said the question was "too dangerous for publication" and locked it in a filing cabinet. Other rejected questions include "is cereal a soup?" (too controversial), "do fish get thirsty?" (too philosophical, see question 700) and "can a goose be president?" (Brent submitted it, and was not allowed to vote on it). The rejected questions are in a box in the library basement. It hums at night.

993. Can a question be lonely?

Yes, when nobody's around to ask. That's why we wrote it down. A question floating alone in your head, unasked, is like a sock without its pair (see question 451). It wants a partner: an answer, a laugh or at least someone to say "huh, good question." Some questions stay lonely for years, stuck in people's heads because they were too shy to ask them. This book is a home for lonely questions. Every one of these 1,000 questions was once asked by someone, somewhere, who wondered about it. Now they live together in one place. They're not lonely anymore. They have each other. And the geese.

994. Is there a question that makes everyone happy?

"Do you want a puppy?" Except for landlords. Other universally happy questions include "do you want the last slice?" (see question 659), "should we order dessert?", "is it a snow day?" and "do you want to go to the beach?" Kids also love "do you want to stay up late?" (see question 771) and adults love "do you want me to handle this?" The only person who isn't happy about "do you want a puppy?" is the landlord, who imagines chewed baseboards, scratched floors and a lawn full of holes. Also the cat. The cat is never happy about the puppy. The cat had a good thing going.

995. Why are there exactly 1,000 questions in this book?

Because somebody asked for 100, and then somebody asked for 1,000. We didn't ask why. That's the most important lesson in this book: when someone asks for something absurd, sometimes you just say "why not?" (see question 966) and do it. The first 100 questions were written in an afternoon. The next 900 took much longer and involved a lot of geese, coffee and one very tired librarian. Then someone asked for every answer to be longer, more detailed and more absurd, and here we are, many thousands of words later. Nobody regrets it. Except possibly Marjorie. And her red pens (see question 979).

996. Will the geese write their own book?

They've started. It's 300 pages of honking. Linda says it's very emotional. Chapter 1 is called "HONK," Chapter 2 is called "HONK HONK" and Chapter 3 is a single, sustained honk printed across 40 pages. Critics who have read early drafts describe it as "challenging," "loud" and "surprisingly moving in the middle part." Brent wrote the foreword. Reginald drew the illustrations. The goose who declined to be named wrote an epilogue but refused to sign it. The book has been rejected by 14 publishers. One sent it back with a note that said "please stop honking in our lobby." They did not stop.

997. Where did Marjorie go?

Home, finally. She says she'll be back for volume two, with snacks. She walked out of the library at dusk, turned off the lights one row at a time, locked the door and put the key in her cardigan pocket. She stopped by the pond and fed the geese a handful of peas, which they complained about. She nodded at the crab, which nodded back. Then she walked home, made a cup of tea, ate a small piece of cheddar (see question 927) and fell asleep in her armchair with a book on her lap. It was the dictionary (see question 961). She was smiling. She'd never admit it.

998. Does the crab from question 18 forgive us?

The crab has sent a short letter. It reads, "Maybe." We'll take it. The letter was written in sand on the beach, at low tide, and photographed just before the tide came in and washed it away. The crab has been with us since question 18, walking sideways along the edges of this book, quietly judging, occasionally stealing fries (see question 805) and growing more confident with every chapter. It grew up in a tide pool (see question 846) and has now appeared in a published book. That's a remarkable journey for a crab. "Maybe" is a big step. Next volume, we're hoping for "probably."

999. What's the second-dumbest question ever asked?

The one right before this one, if you're asking us. Or the one right after this one, depending on how you count. Or question 1 (see question 1), which has been in the running since the very beginning. Or question 969, which was just a page of questions. The panel has debated this for weeks. Linda nominated question 504 (the moon and cheese). Brent nominated his own question, which is not in the book. Marjorie refused to vote, saying "they're all the second-dumbest." In the end, the panel decided the second-dumbest question ever asked is this one, the one asking what the second-dumbest question is. That's very meta. Now turn the page.

1000. Is this the dumbest question ever asked?

After 999 questions, the panel met one final time, at the pond, at sunset. Linda honked. Brent honked. Reginald, who had never spoken in a meeting, honked once, softly, and everyone turned to look at him. The goose who declined to be named honked twice, which nobody had ever seen. The crab clicked its claws. A seagull tried to steal a fry and was escorted out. Captain Bubbles watched from a nearby fishbowl (see question 850). Then Marjorie put down her tea, closed the book, looked over her glasses at everyone and said, "Yes. It's still the dumbest." And somewhere, a crab nodded.