...making a mockery of all you hold dear...

Does this imply that happy people generally earn incomes five times that of unhappy people -- or am I reaching unproven conclusions?

If only it would work that way. Then the secret to wealth would be:

CHEER UP!

I'd say you're onto something there, Matt, since full-time happiness requires a certain amount of blind naivete and backstabbing soullessness, which are often very visible attributes of the extreme wealthy.

It's not so much that being wealthy is satisfying...it's that being poor is accompanied with such life stressors that mental, emotional, familial health are generally much more in jeopardy. Of course there are exceptions, but overall, less stress makes for more life satisfaction.

There are plenty of middle-upper income folks with plenty of stress, though. That's a whole other can of worms.

Accident of birth. I think if one is divorced from the necessities of having to earn a living or the horrors of poverty, then doubtless a greater measure of happiness might be achieved, simply because one's energies are not devoted to survival and can be channeled to other things, other pursuits.

happiness is a warm gun

Ahh, one of my favorite lines..."A warm, yes it is, guuuuuuuuun."

Of course, Ari is quite correct, and he would know. Have you read his website? Not exactly a canon of joy, but a good record of meaningful, well-considered existence, and arguable chinoiserie.

I have seen a lot of poor people who were quite happy as long as their fundamental needs were met and they were also not living under the burden of envy.

I also know buttloads of egregiously wealthy people, some of whom are quite contented. But there are also those who cannot seem to enjoy what they have because their goal is always More. So blah blah blah. There is nothing new to discuss here. It's all been said.

Except this: Even though I am working my ass off, and I'm not at all sure I can keep this many balls in the air, and I'm flying in a whole new sky, and my ignorance is hanging out like toilet paper stuck to my shoe, and I STILL CAN'T GET NO SATISFACTION, I am nevertheless feeling SO much better.

Why? Because I can finally pay the friggin' water bill on time. You'd think I'd be really relishing being able to start investing and accruing again, finally, finally, finally, five years after Asshead cleaned me out and left me flat, and thrust me unwillingly back into single parenthood, leaving me hostage in this hateful, homophobic backwater thousands of miles from home. In these circumstances, with sudden good income, some might even be reveling in a little flaunting or neener-neenerism, of sorts. My sainted husband says his policy is not to get mad, nor even to get even, but rather, to get ahead.

This does not motivate me much. I just wanted an explanation, and since I've accepted that I'll never get one, I do not really want to get back at her or ahead of her, or whatever else.

So what the hell is the matter with me?

All I want to do is sit by the river and teach lovely girls to write poetry and well-structured essays about neologisms and power tools.

Or start a cult. I thought about that, too.

It sounds like those last two options could be combined into one very meaningful, peaceful and happy option?