Happiness is for Idiots

It's impossible for useful people to be happy and vice versa. Happiness is the domain of ridiculously stupid dogs and Alzheimer's patients, everyone else is just faking it. This is because real happiness inhibits your ability to do everything except sit around like a drooling tard. That's why it is dished out in minute doses like orgasms, and candy bars, and the wind blowing people's comb-overs up.

If your only goal in life is to be happy, your life is pointless. You can never achieve this. Happiness is a bitch-goddess who wakes you up early with a blow job, then makes you coffee, and then dumps a steaming cup of it on your crotch and punches you in the throat. She is one gnarly lady. I don't know how she even comes up with that shit.

In case you're not familiar with metaphor, what I'm trying to say here is that Happiness is a zero-sum game. If something good happens to you, several bad things have to happen to someone else, probably also you.

Just for the record, happiness converts to unhappiness at a rate of roughly 1:2. For every whiff of new car smell, the universe owes you two incidents of running your shin into the table leg and a heaping helping of getting old and death.