Happiness for Liberals by Dr. Empire

If you know me, you know there’s nothing that makes me happier than trashing Harvard, the Ivy League and their graduates.

It’s not really hard to do. So many of them have gotten a free pass in life. So many of them are accustomed to people swooning before them. And they have ready access to the New York Beobachter and the Wall Street Fascist. They only snap their fingers and a phone call is made.

The original purpose of this article was to dissuade you from ever reading again the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal.

They are organs of the fascist state that has arisen in the United States of America. They both overwhelmingly support war. They support the superstar culture. And they support big business, aka Corporate America.

They are flip sides of the same coin.

In no way do they support anything decent.

I wanted to talk about the subject of mass obedience to the empire’s rags because I’m in the airport and because I picked up a copy of the New York Times.

Was I crazy, or just bored?

It is two days after Thanksgiving in 2021.

Scanning the headlines, I see that the staff of the New York Times is focused on the Omicron variant, and the all important (it’s not important) Dow’s response to it.

The article on Omicron has a few quotes from our resident sage, Dr. Fauci.

In so many words, he stokes the flames of fear, then laughably asks us not to panic. I love Dr. Fauci, not because I love him, but because I hate him.

On the last page of the first section is a giant picture of Jay Z and Beyoncé, two of the fascist empire’s top entertainers.

Well …

Fuck Beyoncé.

Fuck Jay Z.

Fuck Dr. Fauci.

Fuck the Omicron which the empire created and now uses against us.

And, last but not least, fuck the Dow.

Never, ever, ever look at the Dow again. It is nothing, it says nothing, it portends nothing. It is the mother of all lies.

But that is not the purpose of this article. The purpose of this article is now a feature on the editorial page entitled, How Liberals can be Happier, by Brad Wilcox, Hal Boyd, and Wendy Wang.

Brad Wilcox has a degree from Princeton. Hal Boyd has a degree from Yale. Wendy Wang may be the only normal author in the article.

Wow, I never would have guessed that these authors came from the Ivy League. I wonder if they’ll say something smart.

Nope.

I wouldn’t have written this article if they had.

First, you should know something about me. I’m half nut-job commie and half nut-job conservative.

That owes itself to a fractured personality in adolescence.

But I have wavered over the years. I used to be full-bore conservative until I saw chicken-hawk, pseudo-conservative Jack Kemp, tell an interviewer that he thought life was fair.

Which brings me to this article written by the afore-mentioned authors.

What’s their purpose in writing this article?

Is it to transform liberals into Jack Kemp? He’s dead now, but you know what I mean.

Should liberals desire to be Jack Kemp?

Are liberals really unhappy?

And should someone saying they are happy be construed as a definitive marker that they are.

I picked up a book many decades ago that was filled with stunning truths that resonate with me today. The book was entitled, Taxi Driver Wisdom.

One of the maxims, collected from New York City taxi drivers, was: “You say you’re happy; you’re not.”

You have to love a book like this. In a few words, a taxi driver, who people generally think is not educated (they’re wrong), can dispel studies from elite institutions.

So are liberals unhappy?

And where does happiness come from?

Well, the authors must not know because they have to quote Arthur Brooks from Harvard (Jesus Christ, he must be smart) who says: “A lot of our happiness is beyond our control, based on genetics and circumstances. But some of it we can control. It requires we invest in four things each day.” Those things are faith, family, friends and work, according to the author.

Well, it’s pretty hard to argue with that because he encompassed the entire realm of human activity, but I’ll try.

I knew a doctor who had nearly everything in life. He was wealthy; he had community respect; he had a seat at the table. He also had kids and grandkids. Everybody liked him. But there was one thing he didn’t have: He wasn’t able to do the specific job he was trained for because of a medical issue (not drugs or alcohol).

I saw him in the airport about a year before he killed himself. He was able to see patients, he told me, but he couldn’t do surgery anymore. He seemed down about it.

I’ll never forget this doctor because he had so many things I do not. I don’t have a wife, nor kids, nor grandkids, nor fabulous wealth.

As an urban hermit, I don’t even have a lot of friends. That’s my choice. I don’t want to be Bill Clinton. Do I have to be Bill Clinton? Is having forty-five million friends now mandatory?

The authors seem to think that body count is important. Statisticians generally do.

I also don’t have a seat at the table. In fact, by virtue of my rabid attacks on the empire, I have a seat somewhere outside the stadium. I’m one of those guys who the emperor keeps in waiting at the seventh outer gate.

To boot, I have no family living in the immediate area.

I have to travel – far.

Which is why I’m on this flight. I was visiting my mom who is 95 years old.

Life is tough for her now, as it is for me to watch her decay in pain.

But I’m happy to be with her.

When I visit, we sit there in the room together. She sleeps the vast majority of the time, but I am happy being with her.

I am happy because I choose to be happy.

The authors in their article point to faith as a reason for happiness, and they equate faith with church.

I don’t go to church anymore. I haven’t since I became a member of the church over fifty years ago. I didn’t find God there.

But I did find God in nature, in books, in my work, in hanging out with Pat and Mary, in visiting my old friends Garry and Laura, and my blog which you are reading now. I also find God in exposing a truly satanic and un-American school, Harvard, and system of schools, the Ivy League.

Church for me is something different.

I chose a different church. Perhaps liberals do also.

Perhaps liberals don’t know that they are happy.

Let’s sum it up and not be coy.

Happiness is not a thing to be found in a church, in a family, or at work. It is but it isn’t.

You don’t pick up happiness in the supermarket next to the Leseur peas.

Happiness is a choice. It’s all around you should you choose to grasp it.

The authors seem content in advising liberals to abandon their beliefs and habits in order to attain a happiness that will elude them in the comforts of a country club.

What liberals will become if they follow the authors’ advice are fat, oblivious, chicken-hawking pseudo-conservatives, like Jack Kemp, who are satisfied with the status quo and who see no unfairness in life.

The world will be a poorer place – literally.

What I advise liberals to do in order to attain happiness is to stick to their beliefs and be happy for having done so.

Better yet, return to the hippie activism that liberals used to stand for.

Stand up for something rational and productive, not this crazy, statue-destroying, city-burning, police-defunding mania that Corporate America has herded you into.

Don’t join Corporate America as the authors occultly desire you to do; defy it.

Defy Jamie Dimon. Defy Warren Buffett. Defy Charles Munger.

Develop a healthcare system that is decentralized, locally based, non-corporate driven, accessible to all, and affordable.

Oppose America’s sweatshop imperialism.

Tear down the CIA.

Moreover, be who you are and choose to be content.

Stand up against the man.

And if you don’t have kids, choose to be content.

Ditto to fabulous wealth and forty-five million friends.

As John Milton said: The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

Ta da.

There it is. I’ve checkmated you again, Harvard.

Fuck you, and fuck your fascist empire.

LOL.

I’m choosing to be happy.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2021 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

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