He judges not as the judge judges, but as the sun falling round a helpless thing
and declaring himself to be Mr Sunshine. Mr Sunshine, he insisted, did not dwell on the gloomy, the negative, the unhappy, Mr Sunshine radiated, spreading happiness and light wherever he went.
Carnivorous Cow nearly choked on her whipless mocha. Mr Timberland didn't *look* different - attired, as always, in his Timberland outfit, in Timberland colours. He had no moles on the wrong side of his face, didn't pick up his coffee with the wrong hand or any of the giveaways that blew the cover of doppelgangers in spy novels. All that she could see that was different was, well, his mood.
Since men didn't have the excuse of hormonal fluctuations to explain away their mood shifts, Carnivorous Cow sought other answers. Had he been smoking something potent and uplifting? He denied it. Perhaps his medication had reached the desired threshhold and kicked into therapeutic territory? No medication. Perhaps something he'd eaten? Well, he admitted to artichokes, but artichokes only tweaked moods indirectly via libido stimulation which still required acting upon that to produce the endorphin hike necessary for a mood shift of this nature.
Carnivorous Cow was completely stumped. Back in her office she scratched her head and asked Gramsci the spider what he thought might be the cause. Happiness on Campus was unheard of; in fact, there was probably a policy against it listed somewhere in the back of Handbook no 3 General Rules and Policies, next to "no drugs on Campus" and "no guns on Campus". Gramsci shrugged his eight shoulders nonchalantly, and ventured, "Perhaps it's just spring?"