The Happiest People on Earth

The Happiest People on Earth

By Warren Boroson

Unlike Hamlet, most Danes are not melancholy. In fact, according to several polls, they’re the happiest people on earth.

     Just why are they so damn happy?

    Donna Skeels Cygan, CFP, in her new book, “The Joy of Financial Security” (Sage Future Press), claims that low taxes are NOT the reason. Denmark, in fact, has very high taxes.

    Here are some of her explanations:

   *free health care

    *free job training

    *free child care

    *free college education

   * free elder care

   * up to four years of unemployment benefits

   * six weeks of vacation.

   Also, the average Dane retires on 87% of what he or she made while working.

Meanwhile, Denmark has the lowest poverty level in the world, and the smallest disparity between the incomes of the rich versus the poor.

   Cygan’s conclusion: “Although it may not be feasible  to emulate every aspect of the Danish culture, it seems clear that happiness can be increased through government policies.”

   Another persuasive explanation for Danish contentment includes a warm, welcoming social life: “Hanging out with other Danes just may be their happiness secret. Ninety-two percent of Danes belong to some kind of social club, dancing, singing, even practicing laughing with other Danes. Get a few people together who enjoy model train building, for example, and the government will pay for it. In Denmark, even friendship is subsidized.” (ABC News)

   The Happiness Research Institute, a think tank in Copenhagen, offers still another reasonable explanation: “Denmark holds the highest level of trust in the world (Danes happily leave their babies in strollers outside shops and cafés while running errands)….” 

    I’m sure there are lots of other causes at work here, but my own suggestion is: Danes constitute a fairly uniform society. It’s when your neighbors are very different from you—in the way they talk, or dress, or walk, or look—that suspicion and hostility begin to breed. The United States is very different from Denmark—we pride ourselves, legitimately, on our multi-cultural society. But the incredible variety of our people may help explain our full prisons, our high levels of violence, and our mistrust of one another.

    E pluribis disunion.

Is Carolyn Elefant the Worst Lawyer in the U.S.?

Maybe not. So far as I know, Carolyn Elefant has never been disciplined. But I certainly would stick her into the bottom 1%. I wouldn’t hire her to defend me against a jaywalking ticket. She might succeed in getting me assessed $250,000, then hanged.

     You see, I had written this article saying (1) everyone needs a lawyer, and (2) other things being equal, hire a lawyer in a group. Because you want someone looking over any one lawyer’s shoulder.

    So this Elefant writes that I have accused her of being unethical! Well, no I didn’t. I don’t even know her. (Thank God.) All I wrote was that solo lawyers, in general, may not be as ethical as lawyers who practice in a group. There’s evidence to that effect—though it may apply only to solo physicians.

   Not only does this Elefant woman seem unable to read. She writes: Who you calling unethical? Is she familiar with the word “whom”? Accusative form of “who”? I wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t. I mean, this woman can’t even spell my name right!

  Anyway, what pisses me off about this Elefant woman is that she keeps hitting on her article attacking me—so that if you Google my name, her stupid article always comes up.

  I guess she’s desperate for attention.

  So I’m going to hit on THIS article every day from now on, giving Elefant the prominence she deserves…. as perhaps the worst lawyer in the U.S.

   She’s in Washington, D.C.

   Don’t jaywalk in Washington, D.C. You might wind up with her defending  you.

My summer vacation....

What I did on my summer vacation….

Very expensive 8-day cruise—the Trade Routes of Spain and Portugal, by Gohagan of Chicago—I’ve since seen  less expensive, longer trips—and this one didn’t even include Barcelona, unless you had an add-on! (Though we left from the Barbelona airport.)

I thought the cruise was only for Columbia graduates, but other schools’ alumni were there, too—Notre Dame, Case Western--

VERY expensive—I misplaced my sunglasses, wanted to buy some on board--$299! I asked for a cheaper pair, was told that all sold for $299—I’m ashamed to tell you what my own sunglasses cost--

But plenty of free wine—(and chamapgne)--plenty of food—free slippers and bathrobe—in short, a luxurious cruise for people accustomed to luxury—which, alas, didn’t include yours truly—as a Time Inc editor once told me, you can take the man out of West New York (the industrial town I came from), but not the West New York out of the man—(I wrote an article for Money magazine about private schools—I was awed—the editors decided it was a mistake to assign a lower-middle-class person, who had attended a small ragtag public high school, to write about fancy private schools--I remember writing: A private school is what God intended all high schools to be.)

Boat staff was very friendly and helpful—but a “welcome back to the  boat” celebration when we returned from a few-hours land excursion, complete with pianist, was excessive—

Food aboard ship was variable—I’ve learned that if you don’t recognize the fancy words describing the dish, it’s probaby no damn good—nothing inedible, but little  memorable—same was true of the wine--

Also, it was a rather small boat—lots of seasickness the first night when the boat rolled like mad—yes, I succumbed to mal du mer—staff gave out free dramamine pills--

On our daytime excursons, too many cathedrals! I wanted museums—of history, art—concerts—fortunately, no bullfights—read something about real bullfights—horrifying--

A highlight: We visited a former monastery, where George Sand and Chopin lived during one winter—giant models of them—also sheets of C’s music, her mss—we even heard a Chopin concert—Chopin himself, body buried in Paris, his heart in Poland, must have rolled over in both places—pianist was no damn good—wrong notes, no subtlety—but he must play the same stuff all day long for new visitors—still, a highlight of trip—proud of pix of me with chopin/sand images in background--

I bought Sand’s book, A Winter in Mallorca … in which she derided the inhabitants—they didn’t like HER either—started book, clearly a formidably intelligent woman—she once said, to understand all is to forgive all—which B Shaw described accurately as the Devil’s philosophy—but now she has risen in my estimation—

A terrific book I also read on board: Writers in Hollywood—Huxley, Faukner, Fitzgerald—comprehensive; judicious observations--

Started Anthony Trollope’s autobiography—surprisingly good—

Gibraltar: more than just a rock—a thriving community—with apes! The little ones were cute—

Re fellow passengers: didn’t make any new friends—partly because most lived far away—but generally they were rich and sophisticated—travel-wise—people interested in making new friends turn off people not interested in making new friends—for one thing, they’re suspicious—one of the curses of being rich: you think strangers are after your money—which, in many cases, they are--

Sorry we never got to madrid—or saw more of barcelona—but there were spectacular views and spectacular sights—on water and land—I even saw a nude beach!

And, as usual, I should have read more, beforehand, about the countries--

I had been worried, before the trip, that my difficulty in walking would be embarrassing—(I have spinal stenosis)—but most of  my fellow passengers were older people, too, several also with walking problems—and where I had to, I took cabs—

A good idea: Tell the airline you’ll need a wheelchair—you’ll speed right through customs and security--

The Case of the Unusually Avaricious Dentist

I recently encountered an unusually money-minded dentist, and I am set on warning you about her and her practice, which is in New York State.

   She was recommended to me by an old retired dentist, and she charged $400 for all first visits. I didn’t know that; a member of my family had made the appointment. And had I known about the $400 for a first visit, I would have avoided her like the plague. Later, when I told a top-notch dentist in New Jersey, Dr. Jones, he was positively flabbergasted that she would do something like that.

   Why the $400? I figure it was because she wanted only rich patients, those could readily afford excessively high fees. People willing and able to pay $400 right off the bat

   Also, I suspect that she wanted patients to succumb to the “sunk-cost” fallacy. If you’ve already spent $400, you might as well continue your treatments—because of all the money you’ve already spent. If you spent $400 having a car fixed, most people would agree to spend more – because of all  the money they have spent already. Why waste it?

   Now, for $400, she and her hygienist didn’t do much. The hygienist cleaned just my top teeth; she said she would clean the bottom ones on a subsequent visit. The work she had to do, she told me, was so extensive, I would need an anesthetic.

   What else? I had X-rays taken. And the dentist herself said I needed two back teeth extracted.

   Now, a previous dentist had said that two of my back teeth had decay under the caps, and I would have to have them re-capped. She didn’t tell me how much it would cost, but she said that she would need at least an hour for each tooth.  The possible total cost was frightening.

   The dentist’s assistant, by the way, told me to buy a special toothpaste—which I might buy at a particular drugstore, and save several dollars. At this point I knew I was being manipulated. She was so determined to save me a couple of dollars—after having charged me $400!

  I asked a retired dentist friend: What should I do? His advice: Ask for my X-rays back and see another dentist.

   So, at that point, with my X-rays, I returned to my old dentist in New Jersey, Dr. Jones.  He was shocked to hear that any dentist would charge $400 for a first visit.

   Anyway, Dr. Jones took new X-rays. He said that the ones I had brought with me were “dirty.” He also said that I didn’t need an anesthetic to have my bottom teeth cleaned, and I didn’t.

   Then he examined my two back teeth. No, they did not have to come out, he told me.  And that dentist in New York, he said, was probably going to propose expensive implants. But all that those two teeth needed, he said, was filler to close two gaps. Dr. Jones added that some dentists are all too eager to extract teeth because insurance pays them more for extractions.

    Dr. Jones said that he was worried that so many physicians in general are so concerned with insurance payments that they don’t necessarily do what’s economical for the patient, but what’s remunerative for themselves.

   Anyway,  I had left Dr. Jones, the New Jersey dentist, because I was leavimg New Jersey for New York State. Now I realize:  Top-notch physicians and dentists are so rare that you should be willing to drive 90 miles to see them.

   By the way, Dr. Jones’ office gave me that special toothpaste--for free.

The Outside Cat

The Outside Cat

He’s big and black and Persian. He is, we suspect, the father of our little sweet strange black cat—who is half Persian and half Siamese. (We have two purebred Siamese.) We keep changing the names of our cats, so I won’t tell you their current names. (When in doubt, I call each of them “Schmoopdoop.” “Hey, Schmoopdoop, look what I brought for you to eat!”) The little black cat is strange because…well, for one thing, sometimes she’s loving, sometimes she treats us with utter disdain.

The outside cat, obviously, isn’t allowed in. He might carry diseases he might give our cats. Besides, he doesn’t want in. He’s afraid of us. But he’s been hanging around, often coming onto our porch to eat food the inside cats haven’t finished. We recently broke down and began feeding him regularly. Tremendous appetite! Maybe three big cans of cheap catfood a day. He-–so to speak—wolfed them down.

   We don’t know if anyone owns him. We actually put an ad in the local paper, but with no response.

   Now we have a big problem.

   Winter is coming.

  How will the outside cat keep warm in frigid weather?

   I’m planning to construct a small cat house, out of cardboard and rags, hoping the outside cat will be smart enough to crawl inside.

  But I know what’s going to happen.

   We’re tender-minded, not tough-minded.

   The outside cat is sooner or later going to join the ranks of the inside cats.