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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I think I finally found my niche in the world. I was watching those VH-1 shows about the '80s and the '70s and all these people talking about cool things. It's the kind of show you watch and you say, "I remember that!" But not me. I had to sell my memories in 1990 or they were going to repossess my apartment, with me in it. The guys who bought them left me the memories of my mom and dad and family, they said those had no resale value, but I can't really remember much of anything else. Which is a shame, because everyone keeps telling me the networks never gave Tales of the Gold Monkey a chance, and that sounds like the kind of show I'd like.

But my niche. Like I said, I found it. I'm going to be the first guy to have '90s nostalgia. I'm even going to copyright it so everyone else has to pay me when they want it. I can do '90s nostalgia. That shit was awesome, as I remember it.

Like remember M.C. Hammer? His pants were big. He always hung out with a lot of guys and jumped around, and sang some of those famous, unforgettable songs. Like the Addams Family one. Like he said, don't touch him, remember? That was awesome. I expect to get $1.50 out of that one, on average.

After that we came up with grunge. I still remember the big bands from those years. Like Joan Osbourne and Dishwalla. They were in-your-face, like punk, but everybody could like them. They said God was a bum and they wanted to hear what you thought, which was cool. I wrote a song and sent it to Dishwalla and I guess they had a creative writing block or something because they haven't gotten back to me yet. That's probably worth about $4. $5, if I throw in Tracy Bonham's mom.

They had a ton of cool movies in the '90s, too. Remember Braveheart and Schindler's Lab? I didn't see them but lots of people did. From the box you could tell Mel Gibson had long hair and was a roadie or something. I bet that was cool. He was crazy, wearing that dress and all. And Schindler's Lab was in black and white, judging by the back of the box, so I didn't see it. But it was pretty tempting, because they had those cool Matrix-looking numbers on the front. It was probably an awesome computer movie like Johnny Nemamonic, another kick-ass '90s movie. Which I didn't see. I'll only charge about $1 for all those, since I didn't see them. But reminding other people they saw them should be worth something.

And who could forget the music? But we did that already.

Remember when Chris Farley and Princess Diana were killed in that car crash? That sucked. They were so funny. I'd like to take a long pause to remember them, and charge about $10 for it.

T.V. was completely "fresh" in the '90s, too. I didn't have one, but it was. Sometimes I would watch them at a friend's house, or through the neighbor's window. There were lots of doctor and lawyer shows, because they can afford televisions. What do you think that's worth, about $1.30? Not too much, but something.

Anyway, since I lost my job this will be a nice way to pay the bills. And keep my memories! So consider this an invoice for $18.80. Cash and check are fine, but I can't take credit cards. I'm looking into Paypal.

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To those of you out there who think you can bust down my heavily barricaded office door with your flimsy limbs and pathetic, jerryrigged battering devices, I say bring it on. Unless you happen to be a huge and well-built muscleman, in which case I say don't come in here, I'm naked. And if you'd like to pick up some spare change for your supplements and muscle fuel, kindly pound the rest of my staff into quivering, mutinous jelly while you're out there.

Welcome to day two of the commune staff's soon-to-be-unsuccessful coup against yours truly, Acting-Editor Ramrod Hurley. They may think they can outlast me out there, what with their access to the outside world and all, but I have a secret weapon those dolts don't even know about: a case of army rations from WWII that Red Bagel had stashed away under the suspicion that they contained alien fetuses. Whatever kind of fetuses they have in them, they're delicious.

So don't expect me to crawl out of this office on my hands and knees waving a white flag any time soon, communers. Sure, I could use some medical attention for a gangrenous paper cut on my ankle, and using the windowsill for a toilet got old about 30 hours ago, but they can have this office when they pry my stiff, emaciated corpse out from behind the file cabinet, where I've built a makeshift fort in case the outer wall is breached.

It all started last week, when I found the office staff gathered around a television set playing grainy home-video footage of a mysterious figure striding across a street in some unnamed US city. Nobody wanted to say anything while I was in the room, but it was obvious everyone knew what this was.

Red Bagel. Alive.

It was then that I began to feel my igloo of lies collapsing in around me. Sure, I'll admit it, I'd been telling the staff Bagel died within a month of his disappearance, in a gas station bathroom during a botched abortion attempt. It was the only way I could demand the respect and obedience of the staff, get them to stop calling me "dickface" and end the childish outbursts of "You're not my real editor! I'll stay up as late as I want!" all the time. And now my roosters had come home to roost. Proof of Bagel's survival, writ large on the small screen.

Leave it to the commune staff to get all up in my head with mind games, like pretending there hasn't been a coup at all. That the coffee has always been this bad and that the staff was just watching Signs last week, the creature seen waltzing across the street on TV just some bugged-out space alien from the film. Nice try, commune staff. But anyone who's sat a mile in Red Bagel's office chair knows that he would never risk techno-viral infection by setting foot on a Hollywood movie set. Hurley: 1, Coupers: 0.

Besides, I've seen the effigy of my likeness they had strung up in the office last week, and I don't buy the claims that it was just a piñata. I know a piñata when I see one, and that thing was clearly a jackass, an obvious reference to the staff's term of endearment for me, Acting-Editor Ramrod Hurley.

So let's drop the charade and bring the noise, commune staff. I'm stocked to weather this storm. And I'll be here waiting to accept your unconditional surrender once you realize the hopelessness of your situation, on one condition: That you bring pizza, beer and toilet paper with you. And don't forget the TP.

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