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.

aoul Dunkin, insert your own slanderous insult here, reporting for the commune from Paris, France. Somehow my job is to cover a war in the Middle East, though your guess is as good as mine on how to do so from Paris.

The best explanation for how I landed this assignment is that dullest tool in the drawer Ramrod Hurley, Acting-Editor and possible Bachman-Turner Overdrive member, thought anti-American sentiment runs so high here I'd be ripped apart upon stepping off the plane. Having already sent danger magnet Ivan Nacutcha-whatever to the front lines, this probably seemed like the best option for getting me rubbed out, as I have no doubt the lunatic thinks I'm bucking for his job.

Fortunately for this commune whipping boy, I speak fluent French and my own anti-American sentiment runs so high I fit in pretty well with the locals. I've joined in a few local protests at the local McDonald's, but mostly I've been spending my time drinking the world's best wine, smoking thin cigarettes, and living the high life on Ramrod's expense account. Did you know you can actually buy some of the paintings at the Louvre? Surprised me, too.

Anyway, by the time Bagel gets back and has a look at all the damage Hurley's done I wouldn't be surprised if he finds himself the new public enemy number one. Fine by me. I've had enough shit from those yokels to last Bagel's lifetime. Oh, by the way, if you should ever get to France and they don't ridicule you back to the stone age for being American, you should try some of the cuisine. The women are exceedingly naughty, too. Hot mamas.

I suppose I should report on the war at any rate. Not much to say, to tell the truth. I'm looking out a window facing the western sky right now and I can see no sign of impending missile attacks or bombing raids of any sort. I thought I heard an air raid siren sounding an hour ago but it turned out to be a couple of cats getting familiar with each other. I threw a block of cheese at them (or fromage) and they ran off. No reports of any cat casualties or anything.

I asked the concierge and some other folks about the possibility of chemical weapons, and while there is some notable body funk in the air, I don't think there's too great a risk of attack. I'm still going to go down and buy a canary tomorrow. If there is a chance of a biological weapon attack, it will be an early warning sign, but mostly I just want to some company.

Yesterday I thought I saw a small group of Iraqis surrendering in front of the hotel, but they were actually just selling souvenirs. I bought a T-shirt with the Eiffel tower on it and they retreated into Baghdad. Baghdad Café, that is, a little coffee place up the street. Nice guys, very fair.

As you can see, it hasn't been extremely eventful in this area. But I promise to stay with this story until news breaks, or until my plane ticket demands I return home. For the commune, this Raoul Dunkin, snickering his ass off.

"Over 250 million servile."

I'm supplementing my income with work lately. Or like my landlord said, supplying my income with work. Either way it's nice to finally have an income.

It all started when the landlord showed up knocking on my door before 4 p.m., waking me up and getting all in my face about the rent. I told him he was doing the same thing last month and he gets pissed and says I never gave him the rent. I showed him my receipt but he wanted a receipt that he had signed or made in some way, so I guess he's pretty swift on the uptake.

If you're like me and never had a job before, I don't recommend it. You basically go into this place and they get to totally tell you what to do and you have to do it. It really stinks. If you tell them they should jump sideways up your ass then they give you demerits or something, you get in trouble and if it happens again they won't give you any money.

At my job everybody has to dress the same so they know you work there. I don't know why, anybody who's ever been to a McDonald's knows the guys on the kitchen side of the counter work there and the guys on the other side are there to buy food. I wouldn't think if they didn't have the uniforms the customers would be poking around the kitchen dressing their own burgers, it's not as much fun as it looks, really.

The place is practically under surveillance, too, so don't try to pull a fast one. They count the money in the cash drawers, they keep track of all the food stock in the back, and if a customer doesn't get a meat patty on the burger they're probably going to complain and you'll just get in trouble for eating their food. They have a form they write you up with for that.

The real scam is they don't even pay you at the end of the day. You have to wait a couple weeks for your check to come in—yeah, they pay you with check. As soon as I found that out I had to give them my real name, that's another part of the scam. Now if you walk off some of the equipment they can just look you up in the phone book and show up at your house with the cops.

I hate the place. I'm going to save up my money, though, and open up a competing place across the street from them. And they won't be able to compete because I'm going to stock everything and if a customer asks for anything, anything at all, I'll have it and cook it for them. Or better yet, hire some guys and pay them every six months and then fire them before they get their checks so I never have to actually pay anyone. Alamo's will be the top place to get an Alamo Roast with Alamo Scalloped Potatoes and an Alamo Tab to drink.

Maybe I'll save on refrigerators and stock by having customers bring in their own food. It's B.Y.O.F. and we'll cook it. People could bring in all sorts of things for us to cook, even if they don't want to eat it. Except for firecrackers and shit that explodes.

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