the unhappiest place in america.

so there's this scientific survey...
it rated the happiest places in america by state,
including the district of columbia.
y'know,
so people in sunny warm places can gloat about it.
new hampshire is right in the middle area-
and that makes sense, too.
we keep it really real.
but just how happy can you be with reality, anyway?
it gets way better than that, though;
true to my black-ops detecting observations,
number 50, right down at the waste port of doo-doo buttery despair,
is the nutmeg capitol of weak sauce, nancypantsed waterbabyishness,
and epic human fecal misery.
connecticut, according to me, and now according to researchers, too,
is a terribly unhappy sh!t-salad sandwich.
it's science, ya'll.
maybe i should've put on a lab coat when i made my decree?
i knew that years ago.
of course, i told you so.

speaking of unhappy;
we failed.
it's true.
i'm reporting an incredible miscalculation of frigid fallacy.
i came home last night,
in negative degree weather,
and the house was 40 degrees.
INSIDE.
it gets cold overnight, but we're toasty under the covers.
we wake up, crank up the woodstove, and warm up.
y'know, around 4 a.m.
duders,
it was only 6:30 p.m.
that's fookin' crazy.
i shiver to think on how dumb-cold it would've been at midnight.
have you seen my wife?
she's not well-insulated in a thick human meat parka of fast-food blubber.
she's a wee lass, y'heard?
there's not much to keep hypothermia away, i'm sayin'.
kids,
we turned the furnace on.
i know it's not as woodlsy,
but c'mon,
forty indoor degrees?
that's so flippin' horrible.
it makes me wonder why i bought such a palatial expanse of old bustedness.
and then i remember that cold or not,
it's brutally fresh,
and a fortress is pretty much the only dastardly domicile
for any worthy barbarian battle-beast of winter warcraft.
plus,
with the real heat on,
the woodstove puts out seemingly way more hot fire.
so that's cool.
still, it's not even actually winter yet.
i can't help but feel like i could've just worn
some bear skins or something, instead.
not that i have any, or anything even close...
i'm pretty sure a dog hair covered blanket is not as intimidating,
or warm.
bummer.
now IS the summer of my discontent,
made glorious by the coming of the news
that connecticut really does suck balls.
don't shoot the messenger, ninjas-
truth tellers can never stop;
never quiet, never soft.....