Why Happiness?
Mike Pudd’nhead
A few minutes before bar close the other night my friend said he was glad to
hang out, that for a while there he hadn’t seen much of me. I said yeah, I just went
through a period where I wasn’t going out too often. He said he’d been there. And then I
said, happiness will do that to you. Keep you shut in like some sort of lunatic. But I’ve
learned my lesson. Never again with the happiness.
That’s why I’ll be spending this Valentine’s Day alone. Happiness – and I’m
talking about the lovey-dovey kind with the smooching and the orgasms – requires a
certain level of commitment. An investment, say, of time, feelings, and breakfasts. Well I
have lots of writing and radical organizing to do, and I really don’t have time to cook
breakfast.
*
When I was in college I took a Russian History class and I remember Professor
Stavrou1 telling me this anecdote about Lenin. I don’t remember the exact details - I
spent my last year in college blacked out on vodka and vomiting in buckets – but I can
paraphrase.
The story was that Lenin and this scorching hot Bolshevik girl had climbed to the
top of some mountain peak and were enjoying a picturesque Russian afternoon
together. The sexy bolshy girl was talking about the landscape’s natural beauty and
making rising sun metaphors and other suggestive banter. But all Lenin could talk about
was those damn Mensheviks2.
Now granted Lenin obviously got a couple things wrong and we can’t take his
word as gospel. But I think it’s fair to say that in the history of workaholics, this fellow
stands out as a guy who accomplished quite a lot. And Lenin didn’t give a damn about
smart sexy ladies.
*
I mentioned my drinking earlier and I feel I ought to clarify a couple points.
I only drink because I’m interested in organizing revolutionary labor unions.
Union organizing in my experience is all about looking good and acting cool. Nobody
wants to risk their job on the ideas of a bespectacled loser. And regardless of what
television would have you believe, only losers drink O’Doul’s.
Also asking somebody to join an organizing drive is kind of like asking somebody
on a date, and usually your chances improve if they’re really trashed.
All by way of saying that my being alone on Valentines Day really has nothing to
do with my “alcoholism.”
You may know him from the sandwich named after him at Victor’s, a competitor
of my current employer
2 Competing Communist contemporaries of Lenin’s who are now only a footnote in
Russian history
1
*
Another Russian historical figure with famous facial hair who shares Lenin’s take
on relationships is Tolstoy. Tolstoy was a party boy in his younger years, but as he grew
older and became more of a rock star literary dude, he started thinking – I bet I could
start my own religion. So he did.
A big part of Tolstoy’s religion was the idea that no one should have sex ever. He
explains this position clearly in the epilogue to the Kreutzer Sonata3. You can also see
his anti-sex trend in the popular Anna Karenina. Levin, the main male character, is
mostly interested in crops and God. He ends up with a bumping farm and does not die
in the novel. Anna is mostly interested in love and doing it. She ends up throwing herself
under a train. Case closed.
Tolstoy sees chastity as an ideal, and he thinks we should always strive to be
perfect. I’m kind of a perfectionist myself – I walk several miles a day4, I eat lots of
vegetables5, I smile often and try to make a good first impression6 – and that’s basically
why I never have sex.
*
When you’re talking to your coworkers about forming a union, the first step is to
get them agitated. You have to ask a bunch of questions until you figure out what it is
about their job that they hate the most. So for instance:
How long have you worked here? Do you always work the night shifts? Your
hours change week to week? How much notice do you have for your schedule? Doesn’t
that make it hard to have a life outside of work? Have you ever had to back out on
commitments because you got scheduled to work?
Thing is, folks will generally agree that the bosses don’t pay enough, that the
managers can be dicks, that paid sick days would be radical, etc. But unless they’re
really pissed off, they’re not going to pick a fight with management about it.
That formula translates to all aspects of life. Maybe you dislike your Shakespeare
teacher. He’s pompous and calls his students inane and insular. But you’ll probably sit
passively and suffer through class unless:
A. He threatens to fail you
3
On original sin and why we can do better:
“This would, in reality, be the same as though a farmer should not
consider as a sowing that sowing which gave him no crop, but, sowing in
a second and third place, should regard as real sowing that which was
successful.”
Makes perfect sense to me…
4 To and from my car, mostly
5
Veggie Lovers Pizza - Fresh mushrooms, red onions, green peppers, tomatoes
and black olives make this a veggie-fan's favorite.
6 Two $3 tips = one 6-pack of tallboys
B. He starts making passes at that cute girl with the pink-streaked hair who you’ve
been meaning to talk to but the situation hasn’t manifested yet.
In the case of A, maybe you send an e-mail to the Dean of the Liberal Arts College. In
the case of B, maybe you work up the courage to talk to your classmates 7 and organize
a standing-on-your-desks “Oh Captain My Captain” moment where you put that bastard
in his place.
People don’t pick fights unless they’re agitated. And this world contains several
fights worth picking, what with the capitalism, patriarchy, racism, homophobia, and so
on. If we’re serious about combating oppression, we can’t risk finding happiness.
It’s like in Red Dawn when the downed American pilot tells Charlie Sheen that
“all that hate’s gonna burn you up inside, kid.” And then Charlie Sheen says, “It’s what
keeps me warm.”
*
Do you know what Adolf Hitler did the day before he died? He married Eva
Braun. They had been in a loving relationship for sixteen years but could never marry
because of Hitler’s celebrity. With the Red Army closing in they were like, what the hell,
let’s go crazy!
Hitler is also famous for being a fascist mass-murdering maniac. Further
evidence that love does strange things to the mind.
*
Before I got serious about union organizing, I had a couple decent relationships
myself. I remember limiting my drinking to a day or two a week, working on a novel,
having sex, etc. It horrifies to me think of it now, but for a while I was even looking into
grad schools!
Academia is a wasteland of hypocritical pretty boys. You can write papers about
revolutionary labor unions all you want, but you can’t do any union organizing sitting
behind a desk grading essays. Thankfully I wised up and got a real job.
*
This Valentine’s Day falls on a Thursday, and I’ll be working all night. I’ll probably
be good and agitated, so I’ll drink beers in the basement with my coworkers and talk
about our bullshit jobs. I’ll toss out a lot of what if’s – what if we went downtown to the
franchise office and demanded a raise, what if we had a casual dress day and all left
our stupid uniforms at home, what if we all told the manager we were closing early
tonight so we could go to the bar.
By now I’ve become better at agitating than at flirting anyway, so Valentine’s Day
falling on a Thursday works out pretty well. I’ll have a good night of slurred
But not that girl with the pink-streaked hair. She’s probably sleeping with
the professor by now.
7
conversations, give my coworker a ride home, and probably wander back to the house
around 6am.
At home I’ll make some food out of a box, brush my teeth, check my email/Myspace, and then pass out cold. I imagine I’ll be drunk enough that I won’t
remember my dreams. Which is handy, because in truth I sometimes dream about sex
and it’s awful tempting. But I’m above that now.
*
So cheers to all the agitators out there rocking the celibate life. Don’t get too
down on yourself this Valentine’s Day, and if you do then turn it into something positive
by agitating about something totally unrelated, like your job.
Oh, and to all the popular guys who drink responsibly with their smart sexy
girlfriends – happy fucking Valentines Day, Hitler.