Read Candide. Do it. You will laugh more than you thought possible and will subsequently be appalled at the things you are capable of laughing at. The story involves red sheep, syphillis, philosophy, biglugs, and unruly pirates. I am not going to pretend to be a literary critic or even literate, but as a complete plebian I had obscene amounts of fun reading it.
After I finished reading Candide, I went fishing for the first time yesterday. Illegally, with a stick and some line, kickin it old school Huck Finn style. I can understand the merits of sitting outside, contemplating the ripples and joking with one's compatriots about the utter pointlessness of it all. This is pretty much what life is supposed to be like, I feel. I'm grateful to have snatched a few halcyon moments to grin about when I'm a crotchety old lady sitting on the front porch knitting dishrags for the neighbourhood annual alfa-alfa pickling competition. Actually, that doesn't sound all too bad, and thus I venture forward into life with perennial optimism.
All is for the best.
