You think you've got problems? You think your life is a mud ball of misery? You think your days resemble those of Sisyphus, the ancient Greek sentenced to push a giant rock uphill every day -- only to helplessly watch it roll down the other side?

You don't have it half as bad as Tom Torriglia.

Because Torriglia, you see, has dedicated his life to popularizing the accordion.

And as everyone knows, the accordion is the Rodney Dangerfield of the music world -- it gets no respect.

Want proof?

OK, what's the difference between an onion and an accordion? People cry when they chop up an onion.

What's the definition of a gentleman? Somebody who knows how to play the accordion but doesn't.

What do you call an accordion player with a pager? An optimist.

Funny stuff? Maybe. But I don't hear Torriglia laughing.

For years, the California man has been trying to convince people that the sounds you get from squeezing an accordion are better than the sounds you get from squeezing a cat.

In 1989, he established June as National Accordion Awareness Month.

In 1991, he co-produced the first San Francisco Accordion Festival and the Ms. Accordion Pageant. Six years later, he founded an in-line skating accordion-playing duo called Bellows and Blades.

And that's just the tip of the squeeze box.

Torriglia will tell you the accordion is the official musical instrument of San Francisco. He'll tell you Lucy Liu, Billy Joel and Barry Manilow play the accordion.

"The accordion makes people happy," he says. "It automatically puts a smile on everyone's face."

He's right. I can't think of an accordion without laughing.

Torriglia will also admit, though, that accordions aren't exactly flying off the music-store shelves.

"The biggest reason (for the accordion's decline) was that in the late 1950s the accordion didn't make the transition from an acoustic instrument to an electric instrument very well," says Torriglia.

Torriglia also lays some of the blame at the feet of the man known as "Mr. Wunnerful."

"You had kids in the '50s rebelling against everything their parents liked, and their parents liked the Lawrence Welk Show because it was wholesome and nice," says Torriglia. "And young people looked at this show and said, 'These guys are a bunch of nerds and they play the accordion -- ergo, the accordion is a nerdy instrument.'"

Torriglia admits that in North America, the accordion still struggles with an image problem.

"I don't see a lot of kids playing the accordion," he says.

It's true. And it's sad. So I ask Torriglia if he knows any jokes.

"Sure," he says.

And he tells me the one about the guy who leaves his accordion in the back seat of his car and goes to lunch. When he returns, he sees the car windows are smashed.

"Oh no, oh no, oh noooo," he wails. "My accordion!"

Then he looks into the back seat -- and finds five more accordions.

And you think you've got it rough.