We all want to be happy. Studies show that happiness improves our physical health, adds years to our life expectancy, and makes us less likely to pretend to fall asleep on the bus so that we can smell a stranger’s hair.

Happiness is also something of an enigma. Witnessing the birth of our first child; being released from prison right as the bus pulls up; peeing into receptacles filled with cold chocolate milk — we all agree that these are moments of extreme happiness. And yet, we also say that we are happy just because we have our health or because someone left their glasses unattended at their desk and now we have a new pair of glasses.

Merriam-Webster defines happiness as a state of contentment and well-being, but in order to recognize and appreciate this state, we must know it’s opposite. Thus, we can say that happiness is the state of slipping on a banana peel and skinning our knee, then realizing that it’s not a banana peel we slipped on but a pile of gold shillings, then limping our new gold shillings to the bank, slipping again — this time on a legitimate banana peel, then suddenly waking up in our bed to realize that the whole thing had been a dream but that we still get to keep the gold shillings.  

Speaking of skinned knees, doctors note that happy people are better at enduring pain than those with depression. Most doctors also agree that happier folk are less likely to become ill, obese, or legally blind mole men whose fleeting existence is defined by perpetual confusion and crippling paranoia.

Sometimes people want us to believe that they are happy even when they are clearly miserable. Bald men, for example, will never taste the same fruits of happiness the rest of us can savor, but they may nevertheless insist on telling us that they are somehow “happy” or “fine” or that they “don’t need us to drive them to the nearest wig store.” In most cases, these confused men can be subdued with a generous amount of chloroform, at which point they can be safely dropped off at the nearest wig store.

Humans aren’t the only beings capable of experiencing happiness. Our ne’er-do-well cousins the animals can be happy too, though their happiness is of course derived purely from debauchery and other pornographic interests. Because the animal’s noblest pursuit is base pleasure, the happiest creatures are those whose sordid lives most closely resemble a never-ending string of hedonistic free-for-alls and power-orgies — namely the water buffalo, the giraffe, and the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who lives up the block from us, occasionally watching from the gaudy bedroom window with his smug smile and his “I have more passion in one hindquarter than you have in your entire body” eyes.

After observing various groups of people around the world, psychologists have determined that happiness is often achieved when we find meaning from things that are bigger than ourselves, like religion or retweeting celebrities. These findings show that happiness can also come from helping those in need, so you might want to rethink buying yourself that new Louis Vuitton bag and instead buy that new Louis Vuitton bag for a starving child in Africa. Then again, you may want to just keep the bag, find yourself a nice wig, and start going to church. Whatever makes you happy.

Illustration by Hallie Bateman

Photo by Julie Faith

The other day I landed on an article titled “A Social Media Addict Tries to Disconnect.” Something about the headline felt familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I started reading.

As the headline suggests, CNN producer Kiran Khalid attempts to disconnect from social media. Sort of. Resolving to kick her “appalling addiction,” she makes the difficult decision to spend her five-day vacation in Antigua without electronic communications. At this point, I realized I had heard this one before; another I-disconnected-from-the-Internet/social-media piece. In Kiran Khalid’s case: a lavish Caribbean beach vacation can actually be kind of enjoyable even if you’re not obsessively tweeting the whole time. Who could have guessed?

It’s time to put this story to bed. And while we’re at it, let’s go ahead and confirm that yes, we’ve heard that young people are evidently all addicted to technology. What’s apparent is that we also seem to be addicted to stories about being addicted to technology. It would probably be worth examining the underlying question here, which is why people like me continue to click through to these stories. But rather than do that, I’d prefer to sidestep that issue completely and instead appeal directly to the writers themselves.

If you are considering writing one of these types of articles, don’t. Yes it will be easy to write, and yes people will probably read it, but you’ll be attaching your name to something almost as played out as the numbered list. Instead, try out one of my five suggestions below, and transform your tired drivel into a totally original nugget of quasi-journalistic gold!

1. Opposing Viewpoint

If it’s the subject of technology addiction you’re drawn to, consider approaching it from a fresh new angle. Sure, you could add another ricochet to the echo chamber, or you could take a stand and be the brave, lone voice of resistance, the first writer to finally question the authenticity of this trend from a fundamental perspective. Maybe no teens are texting. Maybe there are no teens. Write an article about that.

2. Noun Replacement

If it’s the structured premise of these articles you’re stuck on, try replacing just one or two of the key nouns you’re working with. For example, instead of writing a story about the four days you spent away from your Twitter account, why not do a story about the four years you spent living in a Siberian snake farm, subsisting on nothing but heartworm medication and Capri Sun? Or, instead of asking if America’s teens are addicted to texting, why not ask if America’s Steves are addicted to Demerol? There’s a subject that has not been adequately explored by the mainstream media.

3. Narrator Switch

Instead of writing an article as yourself abstaining from texts for a week, try writing the story from the point of view of your phone. What story would your phone have to tell after that experience? How would that story differ from your own version of the events? And what kind of narrator is your phone? Can we trust him to tell the truth? How do we know your phone is a he? Don’t answer that. A little mystery goes a long way.

4. In Medias Res

If there’s one thing that can be said for just about every technology addiction article out there, it’s that they are totally linear. What if you started your story halfway through? The article begins as a teenager plummets to the depths of an unimaginable hell. What’s wrong with her? We don’t know. She appears to be going through some form of withdrawal — perhaps from drugs, but who can say for sure? FLASHBACK — it’s three days ago and she’s being told that she won’t be able to access Facebook for the next couple days. Bam! You’ve served up your technology story, but with the suspense and payoff of a Hollywood blockbuster.

5. New Medium

You know it will result in another needless facsimile, you’ve attempted to change your angle, your nouns, your narrator, and your starting point, and yet you still find yourself uncontrollably compelled to rehash the same old technology addiction story. So be it—apparently there’s no stopping you. But have you considered weaving this derivative tale outside the confines of the written word? Perhaps you could better demonstrate how your obnoxious social media habits have crippled your personal relationships by creating a scrapbook, a cactus garden, or a simple watercolor painting.

Though I’d like to think otherwise, it’s conceivable that this friendly entreaty will not mark the death of the technology addiction article. It may even be possible that resisting such a phenomenon is absurd, given the ineffably vast mediasphere which demands impossible amounts of content and cares little about things like pointless repetition or social media addiction fatigue (yes, you heard that phrase here first). But then again, absurd is an increasingly difficult thing to discern in the context of said mediasphere. Maybe there is no absurd. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure there’s a good watercolor painting in there, somewhere.

Myth #1: During their freshman year, college students typically gain 15 pounds, experience slower metabolisms, develop lesions all over their bodies, lose most of their vision, gain 45 more pounds, lose their hair, and begin involuntarily urinating from their belly buttons.

Reality: Fear not! Incoming freshmen will be relieved to learn that this is simply not entirely true. Depending on the school that you attend and how often you get out, you may encounter several students who experience virtually none of these changes during much of their freshman year.

Myth #2: If your veins flow with 100% Native American blood, you are permitted to pour one oversized pot of boiling “vision water” into the front of your least favorite professor’s trousers during the week preceding spring break.

Reality: Not so fast, chief! Policy varies from school to school when it comes to a professor’s pre-spring break physical retribution at the hands of unimpressed Native American students. Experts recommend waiting until the other majority of the other pure-blooded Native American students in your class have already poured their boiling vision water into your professor’s trousers first before partaking.

Myth #3: At any given moment, the number of history majors receiving unlubricated hand jobs is roughly equivalent to the number of fish in the ocean.

Reality: Hm, this one could actually be true. Let’s think about this for a second: Are we talking about fish in any of the oceans, or just one particular ocean? Do fish in pictures count? What about a fish swimming in a river that flows into the ocean — he should be included, right? Or no?

Myth #4: …are you waiting for a response from me? I was under the impression I would just be providing these bizarre unbelievable myths, and you would be sort of half-debunking them in unexpectedly nebulous ways.

Reality: Yes that was the setup, but then I wasn’t totally sure if I could debunk that last one at all.  

Myth #5: I see. So did this just regress into another one of those self-reflexive deconstructionist humor pieces? Hasn’t that been done enough already?

Reality: It has, but now that it’s become self-reflexively self-reflexive, maybe it’s excusable?

Myth #6: I don’t think so.

Reality: Alright just give me another myth quick before this whole thing totally collapses on itself. And make it easily debunkable this time.

Myth #7: College was invented in the 1990’s by an Amish teenage magician named Zebadiah College. Zebadiah later went on to become the President of Zebadiah Logs; on his death bed, he traveled back in time to 1969 and changed the name of his company to Lincoln Logs (a nod to the surging popularity of the Lincoln Zephyr among transgender Haitian longshoremen).

Reality: How about something slightly less ridiculous, but still entirely unbelievable.   

Myth #8: Earning a college degree will get you a good job when you graduate.

Reality: Perfect! And I think this could be a good one to end on.

Myth #9: Agreed.

Photo courtesy of the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

1. Tardigrades can survive extreme conditions that would kill any other animal known to man.

Fact. Tardigrades are able to withstand 5,000 gamma rays of radiation, temperatures from 304 °F to near absolute zero, and ten years without water. Furthermore, they are able to live and reproduce in the vacuum of outer space, and they can hibernate indefinitely. Because of their excessive adaptability, tardigrades welcome the prospect of nuclear apocalypse, a return to Ice Age, or any other doomsday scenario in which they will be handed the opportunity to float around and explore space while all other life on Earth perishes.

2. Tardigrades are sometimes called “water bears” because bears are their closest living relatives.

Fiction. The name “water bear” comes from the way the tardigrade walks — which resembles the gait of a bear, but the similarities end there. The bear is a simple animal; he enjoys fishing, knocking down the front doors of cabins, and surprise entrances. He’s been known to partake in the occasional mauling, but at least you can respect what he stands for. He’s a bear; mauling is part of his rich culture! What is a water bear’s culture? Does he even have any? Why is he constantly judging us? Perhaps we could get some answers if we could look into his eyes, but you need a microscope to even see him at all because he’s tiny. And stupid.

3. Tardigrades are cute.

Fiction. Tardigrades are not cute; they’re short and overweight, with poorly articulated limbs and claws on their feet. Their bodies are covered in cuticles of proteins, chitin and lipids (gross), and the males only have one gonad.

4. Tardigrades feed on plants and bacteria.

Fact. The majority of tardigrades subsist on plant matter and bacteria, although some species will occasionally eat entire organisms, such as rotifers.

5. Tardigrades are harmless.

Fiction. While most of us will probably never be personally assaulted by a tardigrade, this does not mean that they are harmless. In fact, their very existence is deeply detrimental to our mental health. We understand that there’s virtually no escape from these water bears; they’re hiding beneath the ice in the Arctic Ocean, at the top of the Himalayas, in our backyards, and everywhere in between. Even if we can’t see them, we can feel their presence and sense that they are awaiting our demise. Their silence is deafening.

As humans, we struggle to cope with this dark reality; the long, sinister shadow cast by tardigrades shapes our identities and prevents us from forming “healthy relationships” with other people. We often find ourselves unable to sleep, our minds victims of the night as they become caught in infinite water bear thought-loops. In our moments of weakness, we can’t help but wonder: What if there was a pill or an elixir we could take that would transform us from human to tardigrade? Would we consider taking such a thing? Perhaps, if we did take it, we would realize that we have in fact been living a lie; that, all along, we were actually tardigrades trapped in human bodies. Once corrected to our true form, we would command respect from our fellow tardigrades and be elected to a prestigious position with much responsibility. The important work we’d accomplish would earn admiration from our peers and maybe even the love of a beautiful female water bear with whom we could settle down and start a family. Our parents would finally see that we aren’t the disappointments they always thought we were. For the first time in our lives, we’d feel accepted, appreciated, and loved.

Illustrations by Hallie Bateman

Congratulations! The fact that you’re reading this book means you’re on your way to achieving your WILDEST DREAMS. You want to be a dentist? I’m going to make it happen. And guess what? It only takes four hours. Let me repeat that: in four hours, you will be a dentist. Take a deep breath and get ready for the ride of your life. Welcome to the 4-Hour Dentist.

Listen: I was once just like you — weak, pathetic, not practicing dentistry. I was a lonely turd spiraling down the toilet of life. Now I’m the most successful dentist in the fucking cosmos. Wake up! You can’t even imagine how amazing my life is. Knock knock. Who’s there? Oh hey look it’s me, earlier this morning, eating foie gras off the flawless naked body of a nineteen-year-old Brazilian supermodel. Fact: I can literally produce more semen in ten seconds than a pack of adult wild boars can in ten years. I’ll let that sink in for a second — okay time’s up! Here’s a true story: I’m writing this from a Bavarian castle right now while my butler shines my $15,000 shoes. How did I get this awesome? Was it because I went to “dental school” or obtained a “license”? Get real!

Here’s what I want you to do: Take everything you thought you knew about becoming a dentist and write it down on a piece of paper. Now, crumple up that piece of paper and stuff that bad boy all the way down your throat until you can’t breathe. Find the nearest mirror. Are you turning blue yet? Okay pull that shit out before you die. You’re welcome — I just saved your life; now shut up and pay attention because here come the three rules of the 4-Hour Dentist.

F for Fermented Cod Liver Oil. I inject 16 ounces of fermented cod liver oil (FCLO) directly into my brain every day — and that’s just before breakfast (which consists of two almonds and a large capsule of fermented cod liver oil). There is no limit to how much FCLO you can take, but the more the better. A healthy dose of this stuff to your central nervous system, along with a solid intake of human chorionic gonadotropin and your daily bloodlettings, and you’ll be ready for anything — from 12-hour tantric sex marathons to cagefighting rabid silverback gorillas to using that little mirror to check for cavities.

R for Reality. This is the most important step for the 4-Hour Dentist. Several years ago, I was snowboarding down Mount Everest after giving Bono singing lessons when I struck a tree and died instantly on impact. At first I just laid there, totally dead, a complete loser. Then something occurred to me: Being dead sucks! I’d totally rather be having wolverine sex with the entire cast of 7th Heaven circa 1997. Bam! It happened. Moral of this fucking awesome story? Success comes to those who force reality to bend to their will. Objectivity is subjective, and the laws of science are for victims. You’re not a dentist until you determine that you are a dentist. Visualize the tiny cups of fluoride; smell those disposable gloves; grab your beautiful young dental hygienist and give her the most epic orgasm of her life. It’s all already happening!

D for drugs. I find that taking extreme amounts of assorted drugs on a daily basis is a must.

Now that you know the rules, give yourself a pat on the back and locate your local soft rock station; you’re a dentist! What happens next is entirely up to you, but understand this: being a dentist blows! If you want any success in your life, the only chance you have is to become an astronaut immediately. My new book, 4-Hour Astronaut, is in stores now — buy it today!

Illustration by Cahill Wessel