I'm in the midst of a potato brain famine. When Edy's Grand triple cookie fudge sundae ice cream is the only exciting development in my life worth writing about, I know I've hit some lean times. Luckily, my friends have recognized the warning signs of drought, and have been kind enough (or bored enough with my entries) to send me real life ideas from the news, hoping to give me some inspiration.
According to a Gallup poll, the happiest man in America is a Chinese-American Jew from Hawaii. Interesting. I of course wondered immediately whether Mr. Wong (doesn't sound Jewish!), who is sixty-five and appears to lead a rather unremarkable life, has more exciting things going on than the discovery of an orgasmic new ice cream variety. So I pored through the article, looking for hints as to what makes this man so extraordinarily content. I refuse to believe his happiness stems from his very ordinariness, his ability to live his days as your average "everyman" and still smile.
The happiness factors were subtle but compelling. First, the man lives in Hawaii. Duh. Nothing bad ever happens in Hawaii, except for the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and that mess was cleaned up long before Mr. Wong had his bris. As I sit in my kitchen watching the cold rain that just won't quit and fretting about the muddy dog prints on my floor, I long for a trip to Hawaii. I can recall marveling at the nice arrangement the island of Maui seemed to have with the weather gods. Sure, it rained constantly, but in the mountains, not where all the people lay soaking up the sunshine on the sparkling beaches. Who wouldn't be happy to spend his days in soothing dry and cloudless warmth while still being able to gaze at a full rainbow in the distance?
Then, there's Mr. Wong's impressive stature. He's Chinese and Jewish, yet he measures a full five foot ten, well above average height for his somewhat unusual dual heritage. Though my experience is purely anecdotal, I'm willing to bet he could eat peanuts off the heads of a good number of Jewish and Chinese men. To be sure, many men rely on penis length as the primary measure of their worth, but height is certainly up there in the top five (along with number of emails missed while taking a bathroom break and number of conference calls scheduled).
Let's face it, though. The root of Mr. Wong's happiness must indeed lie in his roots. The whole is generally greater than the sum of its parts, and how awesome must it be to be both Jewish and Chinese? Reportedly, he keeps kosher, but I think that just means he eats his stir fried chicken with a rabbinically blessed bird and without MSG. To be sure, there are no pork or seafood dishes for Mr. Wong, and his eggrolls are probably vegetarian, but that's a small price to pay for a culinary existence filled with matzoh balls and moo shu. This is a Jew for whom every day is Christmas; he can eat Chinese food any time, even when all the other restaurants are closed.
I'm going to try to take a page from Mr. Wong's book. My guess is he doesn't enjoy manic highs or suffer manic lows, and he probably doesn't sweat the small stuff. So, even though I feel duped, I will not file a complaint with the FDA regarding the misleading label on Edy's triple cookie fudge sundae ice cream, which claims the container I purchased held twelve servings. I counted only four.
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