Were you depressed because your soul had been snatched by a million souls taking your picture, flashing their mobiles in callous adoration, uploading your short life to squees by a million others, then turning their backs on you?
Did your feverish dreams already come crashing down when you realised you were pinned to a single spot under a soggy sun?
Or did lame duck jokes and their ilk get too much to bear, like the weight of all the corn in the world?
Leave all this nonsense to the quacks. Let’s go stuff all the rubbish in the Great Pacific garbage patch into giant rubber duckies like you but not like you (really rubbery tough guys, unlike, say, deflatable ducks), and make the world a better place. Or at least a better duck pond.