{∅, {∅}, {∅, {∅}}} : Rage Against the Meat Grinder

That link leads to Wall Street Journal teaser paragraph.

Ramsey died at the age of 26 probably from leptospirosis (bacteria from the feces of animals) contracted by swimming in the river Cam.  His death made his friends and family (including his brother Michael, who later became Archbishop of Canterbury) question the meaning of life.

 Something Ramsey wrote that might give you pause.  I can't blame him for wanting to "live well."  It is the best revenge, after all.  And yet ...

My picture of the world is drawn in perspective, and not like a model to scale. The foreground is occupied by human beings and the stars are all as small as threepenny bits. … I apply my perspective not merely to space but also to time. In time the world will cool and everything will die; but that is a long time off still, and its present value at compound discount is almost nothing. Nor is the present less valuable because the future will be blank. Humanity, which fills the foreground of my picture, I find interesting and on the whole admirable. I find, just now at least, the world a pleasant and exciting place. You may find it depressing; I am sorry for you, and you despise me. But [the world] is not in itself good or bad; it is just that it thrills me but depresses you. On the other hand, I pity you with reason, because it is pleasanter to be thrilled than to be depressed, and not merely pleasanter but better for all one’s activities.

OK, so applying this logic, my being thrilled to witness the pointless misery of existence unravel is better than being depressed by it.   I don't believe tin this kind of happiness.  This happiness (being thrilled by unfathomable uncertainty) does not really exist.  It is a lie other people tell you in order to make you feel worse ... even if you are one of the few who actually embraces your depression as a sign of intellectual honesty and integrity.