I
Take a fellow, reasonably young, personable enough, health perfect.
Suppose he has all the money he can reasonably, or even unreasonably,
use. He is successful in a number of different fields of work in which
he is interested. Certainly he has security. Women? Well, maybe not any
woman in the world he might want. But still, a very nice, choice
selection of a number of the very finest physical specimens. The
finest--and no acute case of puritanism to inhibit his enjoyment.
Take all that. Then add to it the positive assurance of continuing
youth and vigor, with a solid life expectancy of from 175 to 200 more
years. Impossible? Well--just suppose it were all true of someone. A
man like that, a man with all those things going for him, you'd figure
he would be the happiest man in the world.
Wouldn't you?
Sure. A man with all that would have to be the happiest--unless he was
crazy. Right? But me, Johnny Barth, I had it.
I had all of it, just like that. I sure wasn't the happiest man in the
world though. And I know I wasn't crazy either. The thing about me was,
I wasn't a man. Not exactly.