Happy as a Mormon

I want to be as happy as a fucking Mormon without the doctrinal chickenshit bullshit.  But I want to preserve my secular and honest intellect, too.  George Bernard Shaw proclaimed that the faithful folk are happier than non-believers to the extent that drunks are happier than sober people.  Words to that effect.  I rewind to the Mormons I've known, and they all have one thing in common:  they're ostensibly happy, funloving, but totally brainwashed people.

Now I'm not going to use Mitt Romney as an example because although he's a bona fide Mormon, he also happens to have at least $100 million dollars in his IRA's alone.  That kind of cash might even make Eor (the depressed donkey in Winnie the Pooh) click his hoofs.

I believe that religion gives its devout followers a sense of well-being that is simply not available to the faithless.  But that is not the point.  The point is this:  how do I achieve the level of contentment and happiness borne by these faithful Mormons without surrendering myself to their silly fantasy?

I could go to church now and then.  I know a couple of skeptics who attend regularly.  Their attendance is fueled by their spouses, who are indeed among the faithful so far as I know.  But, then again, these church-going atheists don't glow with that cult-like ardor I am referring to.  I want that Mormon glow.

I attended a funeral service in Morristown's First Baptist Church a year or two back.  The sanctuary where we were seated was cavernous.  It had that new sanctuary smell. And the air, it seemed pure; almost enriched.  In fact the air reminded me of a novel I read many years ago, entitled Fools Die, authored by Mario Puzzo, the author of The Godfather.  In it Puzzo claimed that the Las Vegas casinos piped pure oxygen into the air conditioning system so that the gamblers would be enlivened, and continue to gamble, which, mathematically means that the profits swell for the casinos.  I'll always be curious about the air at First Baptist Church.  I mean I really wanted to go back just to soak up the ambiance of the great chasm.  I suppose Baptists are happy, too.  But not like Mormons.  Mormons smile.  Baptists grin.

Mormons believe that a man, named Joseph Smith received a message from God himeself while Smith was residing in the United States, . . . well, you get the gist.
Since this post emerged, static impermanence has indeed delivered change, as it always has. Big change. You don't have to believe in silly nonsense to grab the smiling orb and swallow it whole. You just have press pause, get fit, stay fit, mentally, physically and aurally, then slide down the bank into the thing that apparently cannot be named, trusting its circuit absolutely.