Tully Considers Happiness

What's happier than being happier? Than feeling that warm, sugary sensation that makes you feel like nothing could go wrong? Nothing, that's what. Who could've known a simple release of endorphins could be so freakin' awesome?

How is one happy? How does one achieve this... perfect state in which the world turns pink and everyone is Robin Williams (I have weird fantasies, sue me)?

I have absolutely no fu**ing idea. It just happens. One day you're walking down the street, then WHAM, you get hit by the happy stick and spend the rest of your day covered in a healthy, warm glow.

There's nothing in the world that's better than being happy. Hell, even a really good lay is merely a stepping stone towards feeling happy until the buildup starts bluing your balls (I'd like to note here that the constant references to getting laid are merely an artistic choice and obviously not resulting from my own sexual repression).

Being happy is an end state, an achievement, a goal, if you will. It's what so many people strive for and fail, what countless others tried to hit and missed, that cherry on the cake you just can't seem to remove from the frosting without the bridesmaid wacking you upside your head with a folded up newspaper.

It's something indescribable. It, like a machine, is much more than the sum of its part and, as such, could never properly be defined, for it changes from person to person. It's an abstract, ever-present concept that makes our lives better.

So, try to get there. Go out and make yourself heard, yell out in the wind if you have to! Cut loose, put on your Sunday shoes and try not to do anything that would get you arrested! Make the world know that today you'll be happy, godamnit!

Because it's YOUR DAY! YOUR FREAKIN' DAY! AND YOU BLOODY DESERVE IT!

NOW GO OUT THERE AND GET IT!

...

Pardon me, I get excited sometimes and forget I'm supposed to be a cynic.

See you next time. Thank you for tuning in.