Every week or so there's yet another breakthrough 'scientific' survey to tell you which city is the healthiest, or the least obese, or the richest, or the most educated, or whatever. There's a new one out -- a poll by Gallup-Healthways that has determined that the "happiest" place in the entire U. S. of A. is my very own city B---ld--r, C-l-r-do. I don't have the slightest idea how the pollsters chose to define happiness, but I do know that the conclusion drawn by the B--ld-r Camera (a dreadful gray newspaper that could not possibly add the least dollop of joy to the life of any subscriber of intelligence, imagination, or self-respect) makes no sense at all. The Camera suggests that people who want to be happy should move right here to B--ld-er. Can't be right: if everyone came, the cheerful and morose alike, we'd immediately and automatically fall right back to average. Actually, we'd fall even below average, because of the misery caused by the spike in traffic.
Perhaps we're all dancing on our toes because we've legalized marijuana.
I suppose that the news that I'm happy should make me feel better, but instead it just makes me anxious. Even though I'm of a moderately equable temperament, but I do have my gloomy spells. When I'm in a funk, or a brown study, or I'm feeling the blues -- tell me, am I failing in my civic duty? If I'm not pulling my own happy wagon, am I discomfiting some other poor soul. Putting a burden on him to be inordinately cheerful in order to maintain our reputation.
Gosh, living in a happy city is so guilt-provoking.
On the whole, I was a lot more cheerful before I learned about the poll.
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