Poll: 99 Percent of Americans Support Happiness

any purported to be surprised by the results of a random poll Thursday of living Americans to find high numbers in support of happiness and/or general well-being all around. While the poll results don't show express support for the administration or opposition to the war on Iraq, many responders suggested that happiness for everyone was something they favored.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being "most strongly agree" and 1 being "most strongly disagree," nearly 99.3% answered with 10 the question, "Would you like for everybody to be happy?" With a 3% margin of error, .6% ranked between 1 and 9 in their responses to the same question, while .1% were undecided on whether they wanted everyone to be happy.

According to the report, the results were clear across demographic boundaries. Republicans, Democrats, and independents were all generally in favor of happiness for everyone, as were women and men, most whites and members of minority groups. Incomes ranging from high to very low, even poverty levels, responded similarly, as did Christians, Muslims, and those of other faiths. In general, uncertainty was expressed among 28-year-old white middle class Christian men named Trevor Bancroft, who sounded like they might have been drinking a little.

A very high number of respondents also expressed a distaste for bad things. Many stated that if they had their way, they would do away with bad things altogether, while a small number expressed a philosophical opinion that bad things might be sometimes necessary for the twain purposes of breaking up monotony and making good things seem better.

While varying numbers expressed support or disagreement with military action in Iraq, high numbers again responded in favor of everyone getting along with each other. Some suggested putting aside differences in favor of working together in harmony, but their suggestions were batted aside with sarcastic statements that the poll wasn't a democracy.

The poll results follows a confusing month for pollsters, who have been reporting seemingly contradictory results that show Americans have strongly supported U.S. troops and at the same time have been against war. Polling companies are saying it's a pleasant change to find so many Americans agreeing on the subject of happiness.

Poll experts, which we are assured exist, are describing the high numbers as a rare artifact in polling. Such high similar responses in a poll have not been reported since 1995's poll on whether or not child abuse was good, 1992's poll on whether or not people were afraid of dying, and 1985's poll on who preferred Pepsi to Coke, taken by the Coca-Cola Company as part of an advertising campaign.

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All that writing about accidental TV nudity last column got me thinking about one thing: big hair, bare bottoms, and the Decade of the Streak. That's right, the 1970's. Actually, to be totally accurate, the 70's weren't really a historical decade, though they are often mistaken for such. In reality, the 1970's were actually just one giant fad. Sucks for those of us who were either born in the 70's or were the president then, but there are worse things that presiding over the biggest fad in the history of the world.

But back to the bare bottoms. Streaking was the third best thing to come out of the 70's, after Griswald Dreck and taking drugs at work. Random, naked people in public? Forget about it. People even went to baseball games in the 1970's, because that seemed to be as good a place as any to see streakers.

The 1978 film Animal House inspired the toga party, probably the lamest of the 70's fads. What might have been a fun trend and excuse to get fat was done in by the fact that nobody knew how to tie a toga right, and as a result there were more bare asses and exposed flab at your average toga party than there was at a streaker's convention. The toga party fad quickly and quietly died out when people realized "Hey, let's all get together and look like shit!" wasn't really as much fun as it sounded.

Every decade has its own dangerous fad designed to weed out the deficient from the population, it's nature's way. In the 70's, it was glass eating. Linebacker Greg Luzinski started the trend when he accidentally ate an entire beer mug while drunk, thinking it was a beer popsicle. The trend spread across the nation at the speed of stupid and before long college kids everywhere were eating light bulbs whenever they didn't have time for a sit-down meal. University facilities budgets went through the roof and Charmin released a new line of red toilet paper that hid evidence of inconvenient anal bleeding. Unfortunately, the fad proved short lived when Luzinski did, dropping dead of a glassasscopy in 1977.

Every decade, or pseudo-decade, also has its brilliant way to bilk doofuses out of their cash, and the 70's version was the pet rock. Created by a California inventor who dreamed of finding a way to turn the rocks on his front lawn into weed, and unleashed on a public tired of feeding freeloading animals and starving African children, the pet rock was an enormous hit among Americans who didn't know what to get their brother's kids for Christmas. The versatile pet rock also served a dual purpose, both as a gag gift and a weapon to be thrown at gag gifters.

No overview of 70's fads would be complete without a mention of disco, which was not so much a fad as aural wallpaper for the fad of the 1970's themselves. What more can be said about the most misguided musical idea since Mozart's tuba sonata? Not much, though in all fairness you could do worse if you want a soundtrack for doing cocaine and screwing your sister. What you couldn't do much worse than, however, is "Disco Duck," 1976's answer to New Age theories that there was no Satan.

As you're probably starting to catch on, everything in the 1970's was a fad, and thank God. One of the more embarrassing was the practice of talking to plants, originated by hard-up stoners chanting "Grow, weed, grow!" to their closet garden creations and crossing over to the flakiest strata of the mainstream, who took the April 1st edition of Scientific American at face value. Other notable fads originated in this "April Fool's" issue include aromatherapy and cancer research.

Nixon brought acupuncture back with him from China like a rat in his suitcase, and this fad spread faster than you could stick a sewing needle into a yuppie's ass. While certainly high on unintentional humor factor, acupuncture sacrificed some of its usefulness as a fad by looking really uncomfortable and causing people to cringe at the same time as they were laughing at the yoyos being stuck with the needles.

The 70's fad that probably least deserved to die was EST therapy, a revolutionarily hilarious idea based on putting the patient into a room full of assholes and yelling at them. The suicide rate during treatment was 100%, and as a result the fragile members of the species were weeded out of the herd in time for the alpha dog orgy known as the 1980's. The psychiatric profession has seldom known a treatment so efficient or fun to watch, and EST will be sorely missed.

The 70's also saw the invention of the hacky sack, which finally gave American teens something to do while they were in college. George Abrams, the inventor of the sack, was inspired by watching a Massachusetts mental patient who would compulsively kick himself in the nuts as if he were playing one of those ball-string-and-paddle games. Abrams was struck with the idea of how fun this might be if in didn't involve getting kicked in the balls so much, and something sort of like a sport was born.

While 8-tracks, CB radios and hideous string art creations all held their own as ridiculous 70's time-wasters, the moped really takes the cake as the defining piece of 1970's crap. With all the danger and inconvenience of a bicycle, but none of the exercise, the moped captured the cheap-assed imaginations of a country that thought gas was expensive. Hundreds of thousands of mopeds were sold during the Mideast oil embargo in 1973, with every last one of them being traded away for pocket fuzz and spare buttons at garage sales or pushed off a cliff six months later when the Arabs turned the gas tap back on. Which, if you've ever tried to ride a bike in bellbottoms, you know was probably the best thing that happened during the 70's.

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Ladies and genitalmen, I am filled up to my ears with Christmas cheer! And, to a lesser extent, liquid opium. Each year around this time I am amazed and bewildered when the same ol' jingle bellsy, silent nightish, away-in-a-mangeresque feeling creeps back in like Rudolph guiding Santa's sleigh flying low under radar. In some ways, when it comes to Christmas, I'm just a big kid, and I mean in a good way, not like the rudenik teenagers making fun of me as I shop for suits in the children's wear section of Sears refer to me as a big kid.

Which prompts the question, why is Christmas celebrated only once a year?

Around this time, as people's thoughts turn to the needs of their fellow man, and his live-in girlfriend, as children stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed with their sloppy noses pushed up against toy store windows with wonder until the fire hoses are turned on them, as children hang their stockings or those of dad's mistress by the fireplace with hopes of sugar hill gangs and such in their head, some people become a little misty-eyed and get a lump in their throat wondering, why can't Christmas be every day of the year?

Well, that's moronic, it would lose all meaning to have it happen every day of the year. Such a preposterous notion clearly is the work of someone who has little or no foresight or clue as to how the world actually works and makes me want to grab said person or persons and shake them until one of us has a stroke. No, that's ridiculous, we need a way to preserve how special Christmas is and yet still not have to wait a whole other year for it to occur. So I've come up with the perfect solution: Two Christmases!

Obviously the key ingredient is spacing it out properly. Having Christmas in November would steal all the joy out of the original Christmas in December, and we'd be eating enough turkey to slip into a seasonal winter coma from all the L-triptophane. Likewise, if we put it in January it would begin to grow on your nerves. Sure, I like the idea of getting a second chance to buy a better gift for some loved one based on how poorly they reacted to the first, but the logical answer here is to space the second Christmas out far enough to really appreciate it.

The clear answer for me is July. When in July? I was getting to that, you needn't be so pushy.

I say July 4th, good people. What about the Fourth of July, you ask? What about it?

Let's celebrate Christmas in the middle of summer, feelin' hot! Hot! Hot! A shorts-and-tank-top Christmas, a Jimmy Buffett-by-the-fireplace Christmas, a tequila-and-ribs-for-Santa Christmas. Let's start new traditions, I say. Let fireworks light the way for Santa! The kids can hang their wet swimsuits on the porch for Santa to fill up with presents; whimsical and practical.

New Christmas specials for a new holiday. It's A Christmas Sunburn, Charlie Brown!, Perry Como Live From Rio de Janiero. Bing Crosby's Dreaming of A Sweltering, Fuzzy Christmas. Sure, most of those people are dead already, I don't keep up on new celebrity but surely someone could fill their fossilized shoes.

Christmas is way too special to be just once a year. And people say Christmas is about the birth of Jesus and the celebration of his life, but I say Christmas is more than that: It's big, glossy, commercialized and holds little to no religious meaning. Why limit that to only once a year?

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