Can’t you all just go away now?
Because I don’t believe you and I’m definitely not drinking the Kool-Aid.  No one can be THAT happy all the f’ing time without having a secret stash of voodoo dolls to stab and/or mirrors to break.  Or chemical intervention.  I feel like people with no rage are ticking time-bombs.  They’re the ones who go through life with a smile plastered on their faces (that I desperately want to smack off of them); then one day someone cuts them off in traffic or fails to hold an elevator door FOR THE LAST TIME and BAM – the long-suppressed rage monster tears through the smiling facade and they scratch someone’s eyes out.
Everyone needs an outlet, is what I’m saying.  I prefer booze and imaging things like telling people who tick me off to go f*ck themselves.  I used to like kick-boxing, but I’m fairly certain it made my ass bigger.  So I had to stop.  Seems we all have our crosses to bear.