True Suffering

I could be lonely. I could be sick. I could have a child and have no means to care for it and no paper on which to write a letter to the Sisters of Mercy for his doorstep basket. I could be starving, or under fire. I could be losing my wife to man with big muscles and golden hair and more income. I could be disabled. I could have just accidentally swallowed some poison that looked exactly like lemonade. I could be the thrall of some alien tyrant on a frozen planet in another solar system where thralls are worked mercilessly for twenty years and then tortured to death for thirty. I could be really, really ugly. (Like, bulldog ugly.) I could be friendless (perhaps as a result of my extreme ugliness). I could be dying. I could be wanted for a crime I did not commit. I could be inexplicably depressed. I could be a brilliant singer who was born without a voice.

But I am not.

I'll tell you one thing, though: if this idiot behind the drive-through window doesn't hurry up with my coffee, I'm going to lose control. One thing I cannot take is slow service. It drives me nuts.

Degas: Melancholy

Bradley Smiles

TIP: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Tip Blinkton here with another exciting of episode of WHO HAS IT THE WORST? -- the show where you, at home, decide which of our panelists has it the worst of all. The prize? Understanding of the human condition.

Let's meet our first panelist. Johnny?

Well, Tip, Ellen is a 65-year-old housewife with three grown kids. She's from Idaho. She's a retired dental hygienist and her interests are soap operas and shows about soap operas. Ellen! [Audience joins in] WHAT'S-YOUR-PROBLEM?