Great news for all the miserable sods out there: Happiness isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.
This just in from the Lancet, which followed 1 million middle-aged women in Britain for 10 years only to find that the belief that happiness leads to a long and healthy life is not exactly right. Not according to the Million Women Study, which recruited women ages 50 to 69 from 1996 to 2001, tracking them with questionnaires and official records of deaths and hospital admissions.
Being miserable is not the answer and can lead to harmful outcomes in the form of suicide, alcoholism or “other dangerous behaviors,” stated Richard Peto, author of the study and a professor of medical statistics and epidemiology at the University of Oxford, according to the New York Times.
Our unscientific analysis: There’s probably a “happy” medium.
Let’s hope he doesn’t call for the expulsion of bald eagles.
The video of Donald Trump posing next to America’s iconic symbol, a 27-year-old eagle, for the cover of Time has gone viral. The shoot occurred last August and the short behind-the-scenes look gives viewers an amusing moment as the Republican presidential candidate, after being air-blasted by the eagle’s powerful wings, asks the crew how his hair looks.
But it’s when he’s seated at his desk next to the eagle and reaches for an aspirin and causes feathers to flutter that Trump really seems to “jump.” He reportedly said he wasn’t scared, according to Politico. At least, we assume, not as scared as some of us are at the promises he’s made – if he becomes president.
For persuasive evidence that, when it comes to popular culture, people are willing to overlook personal weaknesses and focus on performance, consider the enduring legacy of Frank Sinatra.
The greatest singer ever of American popular song was born 100 years ago Saturday, and almost 18 years after his death, he remains the personification of the saloon singer. Nobody has ever done it better, with more charm or more magnetism. Even compared to other top-flight singers, including Tony Bennett, Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby, Sinatra was in a class of his own, and one that he invented.
It didn’t matter that he was a womanizer, a loudmouth or a bully. Those things didn’t matter once Sinatra opened his mouth to sing.
The Great American Songbook doesn’t have that many exponents these days, but we still have Sinatra. That’s good because sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, no one else will suffice.