Happy Horseface

Hyperbole: Exaggeration for effect, not meant to be taken literally.

I think if I were pressed on the point I would state that I am a relatively happy person. Somewhat well adjusted with a reasonable attitude about things. I'm not Earth People well adjusted, of course, but I'm no longer a danger to myself or to society. I'm more Insane Asylum well adjusted. I would be a model citizen in the asylum, quietly watching Simon Bar Sinister duke it out with Boris Badenoff on the TV, grappling with all of the rather profound cultural references contained in those two names. The attendants in white coats would say to the visiting psychiatrists: "Oh, that's just Horseface Steve. He's a good guy."

It may seem that I am constantly at war with the world. It may, in fact, be true. What do I know? It's just that the world treats me so unfairly all of the time and it MAKES ME SO MAD.

Maybe I should tell a joke. I'm not a very good joke teller, unfortunately. I don't do very well with silly things. I rarely unleash a big deep belly laugh. It's not that I don't think things are funny, it's that I have a terrible, whinnying kind of equine laugh.

A guy is walking along the top of a cliff. He slips and tumbles over the edge. As he is plummeting to a certain death on the jagged rocks below, he reaches out and grabs hold of a branch. He starts yelling for help.
A deep, booming voice answers: "I can help you."
"Thank you," he yells. "Who are you, my friend?"
"It's God," comes the answer. "I can save you. All you have to do is let go of the branch."

The dude thinks for a minute, hanging there, arm muscles burning, grip loosening, the branch beginning to pull from the rocky soil.

"Is there anyone else up there?" he shouts.

We do not like to ask for help.