Why?

Who, what, when, where and why are the five questions any story should answer. And the most important question is "Why?" So I'm sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly black leather poppa chair in my living room thinking about the whys in my life.
For example, why do I leave the expensive house I live in, and get dressed up in expensive clothes, drive through tough traffic in a car I'm still paying for, to get to a job that I need to pay for the clothes, the car, and the house I'm not in, because I'm at work? And is the reason it's called work because all the other four letter words were taken? And on the subject of words, why should I trust that the words in the dictionary aren't misspelled? And why are loneliness and cheeseburgers such a dangerous combination?
Why don't we just quit voting to see if the politicians will all just go away? If stop lights are timed for 35 mph, why doesn't that mean they're also timed for 70mph? If sex is so dirty and shameful, why are we supposed to save it for someone we love? And on that subject, why don't women ever say "Let's go to bed and have sex"? Yes, why don't they? And on that subject, don't you just hate it when some guy says, "We're pregnant." BS. SHE's pregnant and he's usually scared spitless.
Worse yet, is "We're working at getting pregnant." That's WORK? Work, work work away is what I say. Let's do overtime.