"It's a small world a-fter all". Guh. I want to puke.

I have been said to write 'depressed' articles. Well, dear very few people who are my readers, I am here before you today to announce the dawn of a new era, the era of the "Shiny, Happy People"...

The shiny, happy people are the people who never worry. Not about themselves, not about the others, not about the world, not about anything. The shiny, happy people just smile, and spend their time in the "Small World" attraction of the Disney resorts.
The shiny, happy people are some kind of fluffy, pastel coloured living teddy-bears. The shiny, happy people always agree with one another, so they can't discuss subjects.
The shiny, happy people are all the same, so they can't discuss other people either.
The shiny, happy people are very boring. Luckily they don't notice, or they'd go all Lester's American Beauty on us.

The point is that the complaining maketh the person like the clothes maketh the man. Complaining makes you human. Arguing with others makes you interesting. Fighting with others brings you back to being as stupid as the shiny, happy people because then you are their evil twins, never talking about subjects because you hate them all, never talking to any people because you killed them all. You spend all your time in the renewed Disney attraction "It's a smelly world after all". You enjoy burning things, smashing things, tearing things up, throwing things around, and splash all the remains in the blood of a freshly killed shiny, happy one. You're a smelly, unhappy one. Some kind of stinking punk-style kid.
If you're a shiny, happy one, you spend this relentless struggle for survival, stupidly enough, trying to convert the smelly, unhappy ones to your shiny, happy way of living. And what's more: sometimes you succeed.

Of course, all the converted smelly, unhappy ones have Stockholm Syndrome. You know what I mean, they're brainwashed. Quite literally. After having been captured by some fluffy traps, they're taken away to the "Happy Farm" where the people live on Prozac (an anti-depressant)and rose-scented water. And they're intensely scrubbed. Not only to get the ghastly smell away, but also to get all the filth out of their soul.

Unfortunately, the process is rarely completed, because the smelly, unhappy ones just want to kill, kill, kill and will take great pleasure in killing their caretakers in the farm. Resulting in the lovely pink colour the Farm's floors, ceilings, walls and windows are tainted in.

Wouldn't we love such a society. The shiny, happy people who breed like rabbits would compensate for all the people killed by the smelly, unhappy ones, cutting short our overpopulation problem, bringing in the natural balance. If there aren't enough shiny ones to kill, the smelly ones will just kill each other or themselves (because they hate themselves too) until balance is restored.

I propose we implement the Shiny, smelly, (Un)Happy era as of tomorrow.