Lowbrow Answer: Happy
Stop smiling all the time. What are you, a golden retriever? Happy people blow. I hope those kids who go out to bars every night of the weekend and party like they're still at their frat houses in college get hit by a bus. A big bus with AIDS and Cancer smeared all over the front of it. Cheerful pricks.
You never see happy people getting anything done. They're always just lying around on the couch, stoned and watching Golden Girls re-runs. And they're too busy enjoying themselves with their friends and family to have edcucated themselves. You try and talk to them about Adorno or Marx and they just regale you with stories about riding jet-skis with their cousins last Friday.
Middlebrow Answer: Denial
Denial can be fun. It's like a Get Out of Jail Free card. Have abusive parents? Just forget about them! Your wife having an affair with your dog? No she isn't! Have a cancerous lump in your back? Ignore it! It's not happening! It's the magic eraser for everything bad in your life!
Denial is lame though because it turns your friends into unstable emotional timebombs. You'll offer your buddy a powdered donut one day and she'll suddenly burst into tears. Little did you know that her father was eating a powdered donut the day he molested her, or something horrific like that. You were just trying to share your pastry and now you've accidently unearthed 15 years of trauma. Nice going.
Highbrow Answer: Bitter Resentment
Life is shit. Nuclear bombs are dropped on Japanese cities, Holocausts happen, and Arrested Development gets canceled. The only way to deal with such tragedies is to be fucking miserable. All the time. It's not much fun, but it's not supposed to be. This is life, not a tea party in Barbados with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.
Look at how much bitter people accomplish. They write poetry, they compose symphonies, and they paint beautiful art. Sure, a lot of them kill themselves before they reach 40, but who wants to live past 40 anyway? I say get in, create some epic art, and get out. Fuck being elderly; I'm more content to end up as a blood spatter pattern on my curtains when I'm 39.
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