Happiness: a warm puppy or a million bucks?
There are certain words one should never say in public. Those with four letters. They’re nothing but trouble. Why just this week, we spotted an old friend we hadn’t seen in a while — actually, he’s not that old, but you know what we mean — so we called out a cheery greeting and asked how he was. He scowled. He glared. He foamed at the mouth and spittle flew as he rared back like fireballer Goose Gossage and hurled a four-letter invective right down the center of the plate.
Fine, he snapped.
That was unexpected. But having long ago read the Boy Scout manual from cover to cover, we were prepared with our own witty rejoinder. Although we must admit we waited until we were well out of earshot — about a hundred miles away — before uncorking a fireball of our own, courtesy of 1980s motivational speaker Leo Buscaglia.
Then why don’t you tell your face?
You’d think being only 2½ weeks away from celebrating National Happiness Happens Day would have everyone grinning from ear to ear — what with gas prices having fallen 75 cents a gallon, the supply chain backup being cut in half, and the fair opening on Sunday. Instead everyone’s in a rotten mood. Like the apoplectic fit so many threw over the record number of signatures for ballot proposals they’re determined to defeat. No happiness there, and who can blame them. Imagine what would happen if voters overturned the veto-proof laws they’d worked so hard to put in place.
The world would end for sure.
And the powers-that-be at Adrian City Hall are none too happy either. Not only did most folks tell them installing pickleball courts at West Park makes about as much sense as deciding what the number 6 smells like, but they’re also dealing with more than 115 households that sent their trash totes back. And 260 more that did the same with their recycling ones. Ah, but sunny days are in store. For the Purdue University beancounters have figured out what it takes to put everyone in a state of eternal bliss.
An annual salary of $105,000.
Now we know what you’re thinking. How come you’re an old grouch who bites everyone’s head off if you only make $104K, but the moment someone slips you an extra hundred ten-spots on National Hamiltons Day you start applauding to beat the band because you’re happy and you know it and that’s what the song says you’re supposed to do. Unless you live in luau country. Then you need nearly double to escape the dungeon of despair. Fortunately, happiness comes on the cheap in Michigan. A mere $95,800. Why so little? Don’t ask us.
We’ve never understood a thing those Purdue engineer-types had to say.
Maybe that’s a good thing. Like most people, our yearly income has never soared to the stratospheric levels the Boilermakers deem necessary for life membership in Stimpy’s “happy-happy, joy-joy” club. And our Mega Millions numbers went bust in the most recent drawing. But think you’ve got it tough? Try doing what we did last weekend ago at a disability awareness benefit. Eating with no utensils.
And no hands.
There we were slurping down spaghetti like we were in “Lady and the Tramp” — our faces covered in sauce and noses full of ranch dressing from diving deep into our salads. We may have been messy. But we were still pretty darn happy. For the main course could have been something much more difficult to swallow.
Boiling hot soup.
Stuff that burns, burns, burns?
Only Johnny Cash could be happy with that.
Talk Back with Doug Spade and Mike Clement is heard every Saturday morning from 9 a.m. to noon Eastern Time on Buzz 102.5 FM and online at www.dougspade.com and www.lenconnect.com
This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Talk Back: Happiness: a warm puppy or a million bucks?
