Our weekly tour around the web to find positive news stories, have a happy day my friends ~ Rev Kane
Special Wheel Chair Makes Kid with Cerebral Palsy Star at Skate Park
Cop Buys Woman Groceries and Books Her Hotel Room During Storm
A person who has never made a mistake has never tried something new ~ Rev Kane
As I have been traveling across the country heading back to California I seem to be having trouble with noticing that I’m changing time zones. A couple of days ago I checked into a hotel and the clerk said you’re a little early. I looked at my watch, I was fifteen minutes early, I was a little confused at what the problem was but checked in and went on my way. Then when I got into my room and turned on my phone I saw that it was an hour earlier, I had crossed into mountain time. I trotted back down and apologized to the clerk and we had a good laugh about it.
Today, I did it again. I had a check-in time at my hotel in Las Vegas and purposefully took my time in the morning at the hotel. Left right at check-out, went to the bank, stopped for a little something to eat before I hit the road. As I rolled along I knew I’d still be an hour early so I had planned to stop at Hoover Dam. Pulling off that exit I soon realized Sunday afternoon is a really bad time to go to Hoover Dam. Traffic was really backed up and I had time to kill but really didn’t want to spend an hour in traffic. Then I saw the notifications for the security check point and thought about how difficult that could be with a packed car. So I pulled off to a wonderful overlook and got some great views of Lake Mead. Then it hit me, it was my phone again, I was now on Pacific Standard Time. I know had two hours to kill, aargh. Still not interested in waiting in traffic I decided to drive on to Vegas.
Just outside of the dam I saw a sign for the Lake Mead visitor center and decided, mostly to use the bathroom, to pull in. It was a nice little visitor center and the views were nice enough that I got out my cameras. I’ll post some of those shots later in the week. Being at the visitor center I also ran into a really nice couple from Southern California and there big old Basset Hound. We had a really great conversation and it was a wonderful way to spend some time.
I then hit the road and decided to get something to eat and with the time I had available I decided to skip the fast food options. I pulled off an exit and just drove around and stumbled into a little Japanese restaurant. The food was really good, nothing special just a teriyaki chicken bento box and a couple of sushi rolls but it was a really enjoyable lunch. Had I not screwed up on the time zone issue I would have missed out on both of those opportunities.
The lesson in this of course is that we all screw up and yet, those mistakes can often be opportunities if we keep our mind open to the possibilities. So the next time it happens, instead of getting mad at yourself, see what possibilities you can create and have a happy day my friends ~ Rev Kane
Fear is Killing Your Happiness
Our Best Happiness Posts of 2015
So as readers of this blog are aware I completed 1000 miles on the AT last year before a knee injury ended my adventure. One of my primary goals in attempting to do a thru-hike was to get enough material for the book. I’m happy to say that as of this week I’ve finished the first rough draft of the book. The work is far from over as I start the editing and re-editing process and then work through the publication process. But, as a thank you for the support I have received while I’ve been working on the book, I wanted to put this out plus a couple little snippets that I hope you’ll enjoy.
Four Trolls on a Bridge
So today on the trail at a point where the trail crossed a little stream over a footbridge, a tall, pretty younger, blonde woman came down the hill. There she found four older sweaty hikers taking a break by the stream. She smiled and said in the sweetest little southern drawl you’ve ever heard, “look, four trolls on a bridge.”
It was said in good humor and we laughed. She stopped and chatted for a few minutes, she lived nearby and was out for a day hike. Of course after a month on the trail, almost anything she said would have been charming.
As she walked by I found myself slightly enchanted. I began to think about the river scene from Brother Where Art Though. I wondered if she was a land siren and if I followed her up the trail, would she perhaps turn me into a toad? Such is life on a hot sunny day on the Appalachian Trail.
The Three Questions
What are the three questions? What was the most beautiful thing I saw (encountered) today? What did I learn today? What made me happy today?
These questions were created for a couple of purposes. First, I have always been frustrated by the fact that when I travel I fall behind in my journaling then end up trying to catch up and often end up missing days during the trip. I wanted a way to capture each day in a way that I would even be willing to complete at the end of long days when I was tired and a method that would be to easily catch up if I missed a day. The three questions fit that criteria but also served an additional purpose, by recording these positive thoughts at the end of the day they act as a reminder, even on the really hard days, that good things were happening every day. And because I knew I would be answering these questions at the end of the day, it made me think more about and focus on the beautiful, happy things that I encountered throughout the day. I changed the first question from the original beautiful thing I saw each day, to the most beautiful thing I encountered. Sometimes the most beautiful thing was a sound, a smell or an act of kindness.
March 4th – My first day on the Appalachian Trail, pre-Springer non-counting miles. The most beautiful thing that I saw was an absolutely Tolkeinesque spot on the trail. I came around a corner and over a small rise to encounter a set of stone steps that were surrounded by bright green moss and ferns. Like a small piece of Middle Earth in the fog. I learned that day that five miles on the Appalachian Trail with a forty plus pound pack is possible. What made me happy was just finally being on the trail, after months of preparation and thinking about it, after quitting my job, traveling across the country and making my way to Georgia I was finally doing it. That and the presence of my good friend Jim Cooper who met me at the Len Foote, Hike Inn and hiked me in on my first day. All in all a fantastic day!
Rev Kane on his first day on the Appalachian Trail
March 5th – Springer Mountain, first actual countable miles on the trail. The most beautiful thing I saw was the summit of Springer Mountain, mile zero. The view was foggy and cold, I met my first thru-hikers on the summit and two trail angels I’d met at the Hike Inn. The day would turn from cold and foggy to cold and rainy, I hung out at Stover Creek Shelter trying to decide whether or not to sleep in the shelter. Every time I started to leave the rain kicked up harder. Finally, knowing I wouldn’t sleep comfortably in the shelter I pushed on and set up my hammock in the forest at a place called three forks. The rain had changed over to sleet as I set up and what I learned was that even under completely terrible conditions I could set up camp and stay warm. Everything made me happy that day, the beauty of the first real day on the trail, the hard walking with too much weight, setting up in lousy weather, crawling into the hammock, even all of the noises I heard at night that I was sure were bears coming to eat me, every bit of it made me happy, I was finally on the trail.
My first night on the trail
My favorite AT photos from 2015
My Appalachian Trail Resources Page
Appalachian Trail Happiness: Trail Community
Appalachian Trail Happiness: Precious Moments
Appalachian Trail Happiness: My Favorite Little Hiker
I was a weird kid, which probably goes a long way to explaining why I’m a weird adult. I was the only kid I knew who didn’t like parades. I mean really, go sit on a curb for an hour or so, you know so you don’t lose your good spot. Watch a bunch of old guys and little kids all bored out of their minds come walking by, marching bands, bad marching bands. A few fire trucks, some really sad-looking clowns all for what? Never got the excitement around them.
Then some years ago I checked off a bucket list item and attended my first Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I wandered up St. Charles and took a spot in the crowd near one of the barriers and waited on the parade to come. There was a bit of a flashback, there early, by the curb waiting. People seemed generally happy and were very friendly. Little kids propped up on ladder seats, people with coolers, who once they found out it was my first parade started sharing all sorts of food and drinks with me.
Then the parade came, this was not the lame old parade I was used to in my childhood. First the floats were huge and really well done. The marching bands were really talented. You could hear the crowd screaming with joy as the parade came down St. Charles. Then the first float arrived and the krewe on the float was throwing beads and stuffed animals and cups and medallions. People were going nuts for these throws coming off of the floats and honestly it’s almost impossible to not get completely swept up in the madness, I was not immune. I was instantly in love with Mardi Gras parades.
I often tell people that I love Mardi Gras and I typically get, “not me, all the nudity and drunkenness is a turn off.” It’s at that point I know they’ve never done a Mardi Gras parade. What they are relating is the drunken debauchery, the giant frat party that Bourbon Street has turned into during Mardi Gras. literally the place I spend the least amount of time when I’m in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I love attending the parades and I love shooting photos in New Orleans, at the parades and around the city in general and then there is the food, my god the food. New Orleans is an eaters paradise. At any level of culinary snobbery there are places to eat. I’m not a five-star restaurant guy I prefer beignets and the cafeteria magnificence that are places like Mothers and Willie Mae’s Scotch House. Give me a muffaletta at the Central Grocery and I’m a happy man. Opportunities for Gumbo and Po’boys abound, eating there is such a pleasure.
In the south I always hear from folks, “well, you’ve never done Mobile, that’s the real Mardi Gras, it was the first Mardi Gras in America.” That is true by the way, Mobile was having Mardi Gras celebrations before New Orleans was even a city. Mardi Gras in Mobile is fun, the parades are good, the floats well done. The parades are a bit smaller than the ones in New Orleans, the throws are a bit different. They actually throw food in addition to beads and stuffed animals, etc… Little Moon Pies are really popular, but I’ve seen cookies, peanuts, gum and candy. I caught a bag of peanut M&Ms and the most interesting throw I’ve ever gotten, a pack of chicken flavored Top Ramen!
What I will say is that there are a lot more premium throws here in Mobile. More stuffed animals and balls and hoola-hoops. The parade route isn’t as crowded as in New Orleans and the kids make out really well here. If I was taking kids on a trip to Marid Gras for the first time this would be the place. They’ll get a TON of stuff and likely nice big stuffed animals, they’ll have an absolute blast. They’ll also be in smaller crowds and it’s not quite as insane as the parade route in New Orleans. In Mobile, the route, non-weekend parades, are a couple of rows deep and at places you are alone at the barriers. Weeknight, Sunday, I’ve never seen a parade route spot in New Orleans that wasn’t at least four rows deeps. The exception, the weekend before Fat Tuesday on the day when there are like four parades in a row and by the fourth and smallest parade, people have mostly bailed because the first parade started eight hours earlier.
If you’re an adult without kids and you’re going to your first Mardi Gras, go to New Orleans. In Mobile, most of the restaurants are chain fast food and sports bar. There are a sprinkling of nicer restaurants along Dauphin Street the main social area downtown. I’m sure there are great restaurants in Mobile but the options on foot and downtown are limited. I don’t drink very much at all, but there are plenty of bars to visit in Mobile. Scale is the real difference, there are hundreds of restaurants in the French Quarter alone, innumerable bars and then everything else that makes New Orleans so unique.
I have one more night in Mobile and have gotten lots of great throws to send up north to my nieces and nephews. I’ve had fun her in Mobile but I head for New Orleans in two days and I’m excited. Happy Mardi Gras and have a happy day my friends ~ Rev Kane
Fear is Killing Your Happiness
Our Best Happiness Posts of 2015
My favorite Appalachian Trail Photos of 2015
Our weekly tour around the web to bring you positive and happy news ~ Rev Kane
Video of a sweet little 2 year-old boy with Down’s Syndrome reciting the alphabet.
Baltimore pays teens to shovel sidewalk for elderly and disabled
Strangers form human chain to save trucker from fall
Mosque opens it’s doors to stray cats to keep them safe and warm
Our weekly tour around the web to bring you positive and happy news stories ~ Rev Kane
From the Huffington Post, 5 Headlines that will restore your faith in humanity
Woman Drinking Coffee
How to Hack Your Day, So You Can Have the Best Monday Ever
Cat rescued by 3 Huskies made part of the pack
Video of Panda at the Washington Zoo Enjoying the Snowstorm
Some people go crazy, what horrible lives they must leadTonight I feature my favorite poet the quotes are his as well. I first discovered him through his books and stories, Ham on Rye, Post Office and sprinkled through the books there were poems that I found interesting. I did not know he was actually far more well-known as a poet. I myself had been writing poetry for a couple of years at that point and had literally told no one. Not a single person had ever seen or read one of my poems. In addition to all of the normal fears that any writer has about their work I had an additional anxiety about my poetry. You see my only real experience with poetry growing up was from the poetry we read in school. I liked some of it, Shakespeare, William Carlos Williams but in general the classic poetry we were fed didn’t resonate with me at all, and all of the poetry we were fed had some common characteristics. The language was flowery, lots of twenty-five cent vocabulary words, there were certain structures that had to be followed, generally things had to rhyme. It all seemed like writing meant to point out to you that if you weren’t highly educated and well-spoken that poetry couldn’t be created by you, and should be read as a world you aspire to but can never have. It was a false opinion but I had limited exposure.
In contrast, what I wrote was not flowery, it was direct, dark, I swore it looked and felt nothing like the poetry I had read before. Then, I was introduced through his books to the poetry of the Poet Laureate of the Gutter, Charles Bukowski. He didn’t write flowery positive pieces about beauty and love, he wrote about how hard life was, being drunk, feeling inadequate and alienated. He was distinctly middle class, his subjects included other drunks, hookers, and bums. He bared his life and his soul and made no excuses for it not being pretty and it wasn’t.
But there is a difference between pretty and beautiful and although Bukowski’s soul was pretty, it was absolutely, horridly beautiful and it connected with me. He pointed to the same absurdities in life I see every day. He felt like an alien on earth and I identify with that feeling completely. Seeing his work, seeing people react positively to it gave me the courage to share my work. This is why I have said on many occasions that Charles Bukowski gave me permission to write poetry and I thank him for it. My writing has become an outlet that has made me a saner and happier person.
So here are a few pieces by Bukowski for your enjoyment. I’ll share links for more of his stuff and other poets below, you see knowing about Bukowski opened a door for me into a whole world of poetry I never knew existed. Through that door I’ve found folks like Peter MacWilliams, Sapphire, Warsan Shire, Doug Draime, and most recently Ashe Vernon. Their writings are raw, brutally in your face, unapologetic for their hard views and in doing so they make you have to deal with the realities of the world. In my literature I like escapism, in my poetry, harsh reality. Enjoy and have a happy day my friends ~ Rev Kane
Our weekly tour around the web to bring you positive and happy news stories ~ Rev Kane
Iranians Create Kindness Walls to Help Out Homeless
Valedictorian anonymously posts positive comments about every one of his classmates.
Anderson Cooper outfits all K9’s in Virginia Police Department with Bulletproof Vests
Ellen Degeneres Wins Humanitarian Award, Donates $200K to St. Judes
Tonight for my weekly arts post I decided to reach back and drop a quick sample of three of my favorite poets, Sapphire, Warsan Shire and my newest, Ashe Vernon. A piece by each with a link back to where you can get more of their work, enjoy and have a happy day my friends ~ Rev Kane
Excuses for why we fail at love
I’m lonely so I do lonely things
Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same.
You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood.
I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home.
You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave.
I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember.
I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless.
It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth.
I couldn’t love you, you were a small war.
We covered the smell of loss with jokes.
I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents.
You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.
I’m not a dog.
We were trying to prove our blood wrong.
I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things.
Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother.
No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot.
He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me.
You were too cruel to love for a long time.
It just didn’t work out.
My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back.
I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth.
I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.
The women in my family die waiting.
Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you.
I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me.
You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.
He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.”
His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile
We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love.
Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you.
I’m a lover without a lover.
*****************************************
You were melt-in-my-mouth—
Tuesdays under the sky.
I picked your words like
fruit from the vine;
we were decadent.
Stretched out in the sunshine-touch
of each other’s lips,
your skin hot like a Texas summer,
I could have spent forever
tucked against the apple orchard of your chest.
My sundress hiked up around my thighs.
The two of us, laughing, with
“Someday” on our tongues—dripping down our chins,
all gold and vibrant.
We were ripe for eating.
We were sticky-sweet.
We were less Forever than we thought.
And when the cold set in,
I was still eating apples
even after you’d dug up your roots and gone.
(You said I held my hands too still.)
I wasn’t doing nothing.
I was putting down seeds
and waiting for Spring.
*******************************
And I´m running,
running wild,
running free,
like soldiers down
the beach,
like someone
just threw me
the ball.
My thighs pump
thru the air
like tires
rolling down
the highway
big & round
eating up the ground
of America
but I never been any
further than 42nd Street.
Below that is as
unfamiliar as my
father´s face,
foreign as the smell of
white girls´pussy,
white girls on the bus,
white girls on TV
My whole world is
black & brown & closed,
till I open it
with a rock,
christen it with
blood.
BOP BOP
the music
pops thru me
like electric shocks,
my sweat is a
river running
thru my liver
green with hate,
my veins bulge out
like tomorrow,
my dick is
the Empire State Building,
I eat your fear
like a chimpanzee
ow ow
ow whee
ow!
My sneakers glide off
the cement like
white dreams
looking out at the world
thru a cage of cabbage
& my mother´s fat,
hollering don´t do this
& don´t do that.
I scream against the restraint
of her big ass sitting on my face
drowning my dreams in sameness.
I´m scared to go
it hurts me to stay.
She sits cross-legged
in front the TV
telling me no
feeding me
clothing me
bathing me in her ugliness
high high in the sky
18th floor of the projects.
Her welfare check buys me $85 sneakers
but can´t buy me a father.
She makes cornbread from Jiffy box mix
buys me a coat
$400, leather like everybody else´s.
I wear the best, man!
14 karat gold chain
I take off before I go wildin´.
Fuck you nigger!
Nobody touches my gold!
My name is Leroy
L-E-R-O-Y
bold gold
I got the goods
that make the ladies
young & old
sign your name across my heart
I want you to be my baby
Rapper D
Rapper G
Rapper I
my name is lightning
across the sky
So what I can´t read
you spozed to teach me
you the teacher
I´m the ape
black ape
in white sneakers
hah hah
I rape
rape
rape
I do the wild thing
I do the wild thing
My teacher asks me
what would I do
if I had 6 month
to live.
I tell her I´d fuck her,
sell dope & do the wild thing.
My thighs are locomotives
hurling me thru the
underbrush of Central Park,
the jungle.
I either wanna be a cop
or the biggest dope dealer in Harlem
when I grow up.
I feel good!
It´s a man´s world,
my sound is king
I am the black man´s sound.
Get off my face whining bitch!
No, I didn´t go to school today
& I ain´t going tomorrow!
I like how the sky looks
when I´m running,
my clothes are new & shiny,
my tooth gleams gold.
I´m fast as a wolf
I need a rabbit,
the sky is falling
calling my name
Leroy Leroy.
I look up
blood bust
in my throat
it´s my homeboys
L.D., C.K. & Beanbutt!
Hey man what´s up!
I got the moon
in my throat,
I remember when
Christ sucked my dick
behind the pulpit,
I was 6 years old
he made me promise
not to tell no one.
I eat cornbread &
collard greens.
I only wear Adidas
I´m my own man,
they can wear New Balance or Nike
if they want,
I wear Adidas.
I´m L.D.
lover
mover
man with the money
all the girls know me.
I´m classified as mildly retarded
but I´m not
least I don´t think
I am.
Special Education classes
eat up my brain
like last week´s greens
rotting in plastic containers.
My mother never
throws away anything.
I could kill her
I could kill her
all those years
all those years
I sat
I sat in classes
for the mentally retarded
so she could get
the extra money welfare gives
for retarded kids.
So she could get
some money,
some motherfuckin´ money.
That bitch
that bitch
I could kill her
all the years
I sat next to kids
who shitted on themselves,
dreaming amid
rooms of dull eyes
that one day
my rhymes
would break open
the sky
& my name would
be written
across the marquee
at the Apollo
in bold gold
me bigger
than Run DMC
Rapper G
Rapper O
Rapper Me
„Let´s go!“ I scream.
My dick is a locomotive
my sister eats like a 50 ¢ hot dog.
I scream, „I said let´s go!“
„It´s 40 of us
a black wall of sin.
The god of our fathers
descends down & blesses us,
I say thank you Jesus.
Now let´s do the
wild thing.
I pop off the cement
like toast outta toaster
hot hard crumbling
running
running
the park is green
combat operation
lost soul
looking for Lt. Calley
Jim Jones
anybody who could direct
this spurt of semen
rising to the sky.
soldiers
flying thru
the rhythm
„Aw man!
nigger please
nigger
nigger
nigger.
I know
who I am.“
My soul sinks
to its knees &
howls under the
moon rising full,
„Let´s get a female jogger!“
I shout into the twilight
looking at the
middle-class thighs
pumping past me,
cadres of bitches
who deserve to die
for thinking they´re better
than me
You ain´t better than
nobody bitch.
The rock begs my hand
to hold it.
It says, „Come on man.“
T.W., Pit Bull, J.D. & me
grab the bitch
ugly big nose white bitch
but she´s beautiful cause she´s white
she´s beautiful cause she´s skinny
she´s beautiful couse she´s gonna die
cause her daddy´s gonna cry
Bitch!
I bring the rock down
on her head
sounds dull & flat
like the time I busted
the kitten´s head.
The blood is real & red
my dick rises.
I tear off her bra
feel her perfect pink breasts
like Brooke Shields
like bitches in Playboy
Shit! I come all over myself!
I bring the rock down
the sound has rhythm
hip hop ain´t gonna stop
till your face sees
what I see every day
walls of blood
walls of blood
she´s wriggeling like
a pig in the mud.
I never seen a pig
or a cow
´cept on TV.
Her nipples are like
hard strawberries
my mouth tastes
like pesticide.
I fart.
Yosef slams her
across the face with a pipe.
My dick won´t get
hard no more.
I bring the rock down
removing what she
looks like forever
ugly bitch
ugly bitch
I get up
blood on my hands
semen in my jeans
the sky is black
the trees are green
I feel good baby
I just did
the wild thing!
I’d like to live as a poor man with lots of money ~ Pablo Picasso
This week’s Powerball jackpot is 1.5 billion dollars as I write this, the worlds largest ever lottery jackpot. Yes I have tickets and yes I’m good at math. I completely understand the odds of a single ticket winning is 1 in 292.2 million, I know that I have a hugely better chance of being struck by lightning. But what I paid for is not a realistic chance of winning, the fact is someone will eventually and it’s utterly unlikely to be me. When I normally play the lottery I play the fantasy 5 games that have long, (but if you’re going to win huge money the odds will always be long), but better odds of winning. I figure it’s worth $2 a week to try to win a few hundred thousand. Besides, no matter what people say, that $100 a year properly invested is not likely to make much of an impact on my finances.
No, what I’m paying for with my Powerball tickets is the opportunity to fantasize for a few days. Sure, I can sit around all day long without a ticket and dream of ways of spending that money. However, having even just one ticket in my pocket makes that fantasy actually possible and that ups the ante on the fantasy and makes it that much more enjoyable. I mean you can play poker all day long with peanuts as a stake but the game is infinitely more fun even at just a penny ante level. It’s the same principle at work here.
So if I win, no I won’t be going back to work. Yes, I’ll still be doing the Ministry of Happiness and writing. I’ll get to do a lot more adventure travel and travel in general. I’d move toward a life of travel and writing, the same thing I’d do if I could make an equivalent living from writing instead of being an educational administrator.
The beauty of the big money however is that I’d have a house on the ocean. A really nice cabin in the mountains to go with it. I’d be a bit decadent for sure, I think we all would. But I’d also take care of all of my nieces and nephews educationally, I’d surprise some good friends with some great gifts. I’d bless a few charities with some significant help. I’d have really good season tickets to the Steelers.
So great, the Powerball ticket allows you to do a bunch of frivolous daydreaming, so what? Well, positive day dreams are fun, they make us happy and that by itself would be worth the $2 ticket but there’s a bigger reason this can be important to your happiness. You see your daydreams tell you something important. Those what if daydreams are showing you what you love, what you want, what you are passionate about.
In mine, I’d become a full-time travel writer, well that’s what I’ve been gradually working toward for the last few years. I may not get there until I have enough retirement set up in my current gig. But this says I’m passionate about writing and travel. I hope you know those things about yourself already, but if you don’t, this just might be a way to figure them out. And I’m sorry in advance for suggesting the idea, you see when you do this, you might leave out some people and things that you feel should be important, that’s telling you something as well. Below are a couple of links on how daydreams and happiness intersect.
Creativity, Happiness & Daydreaming
TED talks – Surprising effects of a wandering mind
So drop $2, daydream away and have a happy day and maybe you’ll even hit the jackpot and have a very happy day my friends. Besides, if you’re suddenly a billionaire, you can become Batman! ~ Rev Kane
The Ministry of Happiness 