Root hog or die
by Jon Worley

The strangest things can ruin a person's day. Trivial stuff, like the death of a loved on or the defeat of a favorite team in the playoffs. One little thing, and a happy existence can be turned upside down. There must be a lot of these little occurrences, because most of the people I know are dreadfully unhappy with their lives.

One truly insignificant determinant: the latest Oklahoma City bombing trial. It's bad enough that there were lots of people whining about the "unjust" Terry Nichols verdict. One week later, these same people were wringing their hands over the "unjust" split national college football championship shared by Nebraska and Michigan. I wouldn't be surprised if some enterprising oddmaker was making book on the Nichols verdict.

'Cause, see, that's what makes our society tick. Numbers. Particularly numbers put in opposition with one another. The new movie Wag the Dog has is perfectly: the president's re-election slogan is "Don't change horses in mid-stream." Coupled with film footage of jockey in the paddock, the "Bet on a winner" message is easy to discern. Hell, even churches today are measured not by the breadth of their spiritual vision but by the number of people filling the pews.

The Grammys and the Oscars were intended to reward excellence and not merely crown the top moneymakers. But as such popularity pony shows like the Golden Globes and the American Music Awards stole ratings (and money) from the so-called "quality" entertainment trophy ceremonies, Milli Vanilli and Forest Gump kept cropping up as "winners". I remember when E.T. lost out to Gandhi for best picture. I was hacked. But I was 13, and there's no way I would have sat through a three-hour-plus biopic on some skinny Indian guy. Five years later, once I figured out who Mohandas K. Gandhi was and actually did view the opus, I could see the error of my ways.

Our society, in general, doesn't want to go through a similar maturing process. Each time Demi Moore has pumped up her bosom, her paychecks have increased. Yes, such titanium, er, treats are effective in distracting viewers and critics from the obvious fact that Moore is, at best, a horrific actor. I still cannot understand why anyone would encourage such silly behavior.

A book I read recently (I can't remember the title; it concerned a reporter who became a spy for all the right reasons) had a passage where the main character reminisced about all his old college friends. They had left their interesting careers (social work, journalism, activism, you name it), gotten MBAs or law degrees and settled for large paychecks. The character saw this as a lack of ambition. After all, making money is the antithesis of ambition.

Sounds wise enough to me. So wise, in fact, that almost no one believes it. Our American society is playing the Milton Bradley game of Life. Score a pretty spouse, pump out a few puppies and die a millionaire. You only have an Accord? I've got a Lexus. All this materialistic one-upmanship is beginning to really piss me off (to steal a phrase from Cartman on South Park).

"All the rich people I've ever met are utterly stupid," a friend of mine recently told me. "Well, it doesn't take intelligence to get rich," I said. "But, see, intelligent people often have a little thing like happiness to contend with. And it's hard to get rich and be happy at the same time." He agreed.

I know a few very bright people who have done stupid things like live apart from their families for years on end, working 80-hour (or longer) weeks scoring huge paychecks. And then, at 30, they completely burn out and spend two years drinking themselves silly. That's if they're lucky. The unlucky ones end up dead or sporting horribly mutilated souls.

I'd like to present a different model of quantifying success. I know this has been presented many times before, but I'd like to add my endorsement. Plain and simple: The happiest person wins.

How do we quantify happiness? Well, you can't. That's the beauty of the system. You gotta rely on yourself for a judgment. If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands. Chances are not many folks pressed the flesh just then. If you're not happy, why not? Figure out what it takes to get happy, and do it.

There's no excuses, folks. You only have one life. Who cares if you have enough cash to score five grams of blow a day until you die? If you want that much nose candy, your life must really suck. Get with the program.

Jon Worley is reasonably pleased with his existence. That opinion took a nosedive at about 7:05 p.m. Sunday when Elvis Grbac's fourth down pass fell incomplete.

return to the Shut up, I'm talking page
return to the LIES home page
return to the A&A home page