Sarcastic and decidedly unfriendly, this view of big questions (and of professional "wisdom lovers" who obsess with them) is held by many people, which should not be surprising since the view is largely correct. I didn't say 'entirely correct' because there are rare exceptions when big questions -- e.g., about space, time, determinism, causality, infinity, proof, truth -- are motivated not by idle speculations, but by deep theoretical problems in science and mathematics. In such cases, the answers -- if possible at all, and even if incomplete and to some extent provisional -- are mathematically precise, empirically meaningful (in science), and often of great aesthetic appeal to those who understand them. Only these answers never come from professional philosophers, but always from scientists and mathematicians, albeit those with a pronounced affinity for conceptual analysis.
In the mean time philosophers continue to pride themselves on being good at asking big questions. That they are. But being good at asking questions is like being good at foreplay: if that's all you're good at, you shouldn't be surprised when those on the receiving end of your talents regard you with frustration and disappointment bordering on contempt.