The pursuit of happiness

It's the very foundation of contemporary western civilization, is it not? Writers, poets, thinkers, statesmen have devoted a vast deal of time and effort to this crucial topic, and written about it accordingly. The pursuit of happiness: how noble and inspired this phrase sounds to our ears. Unfortunately, nobody's ever bothered to mention how fast the bastard can go. One should make provision for a pursuit, especially if one's quarry is comparable to a cheetah that's had a fistful of chilli peppers shoved up its rectum.

The speed at which happiness flees our hopes and desires would be enough to make the chase an arduous one; what makes it nearly impossible is the fact that, by the time the poor straggler has finally managed to identify the thing that swished past as his or her happiness, the bitch turns a corner and disappears from sight. Choices. Dilemmas. Do I go left or right? If I make the wrong decision I'll never catch up with the elusive roadrunner on which my fulfilment depends.

Invariably, you go the other way, like a goalkeeper trying to save a penalty kicked by Diego Armando Maradona. I mean, honestly, what chance did you have in the first place? Do you think happiness will stop, or at least slow down while you try to figure out where you went wrong? Well, it won't. Wiley as you may be, and as many gadgets you order from Acme, your attempts will result in utter and humiliating defeat. You'll drag your scraggy arse back to the headquarters of squalor you call home and drink yourself to sleep, but not before emitting a prolonged series of mournful, heart-rending wails, until the banshees come and tell you to fecking knock it off and let them get some sleep.

Jaysus, Joseph and Mary! Stop whoining already! I can't take it anymore!

So, what options have you got left? I remember a Chinese proverb saying something to the effect that if you wait by a river, sooner or later your enemy's corpse is bound to float by. Well, Asian people are clever, aren't they? There must be some truth in that. So, I think a plan may be hatching here...

Me, a drinking buddy and an inordinate amount of alcohol. A river. A long wait. And, eventually, the corpse of my happiness, to be taunted and vilified at my leisure.